and you're one of those talented people too!! c: it's a blessing to be able to talk to such talent tegifudsjk and get a peak inside your brain hahahaha
legit, rip atsumu's image of pretending to be all sway and cool in front of everyone. any time he seems to be that way, suna just whips out another pic from his blackmail box and be like, "this is the real miya atsumu. don't be swayed by him, he's an actual idiot" erfshidjkn
though, i also think that blackmail folder definitely has some pictures of atsumu that you would rather like to keep c': and put it as your lockscreen to have him freak and cry a lil (because he's on your phone <3) when he sees it rfdskj
JDKDKSNS stopppp if anything my writing skills have gone on a decline 😭 but gah you’re so sweet mwah <33
omg please whenever people search ‘atsumu miya’ the first profile hit is suna’s instagram because it’s chock full of atsumu’s unglams 😭 and his google images are all funny dorky faces thanks to suna JDKSKS (suna also makes it a point to mess with him by changing his wiki all the time to ‘professional clown’ lmao) AND YES i’d totally put a funny pic suna took of atsumu as my wallpaper, purposely let everyone see it too jdjdkdd and as his contact pfp too, poor guy can’t catch a break lmao 👀
suna x f!reader, drabble, angst to fluff, established relationship | note: sorry, i hc that suna swears a lot in his head :’) also ty @boosyboo9206 for proofing!
suna thinks it’s pretty fucking stupid.
how many times has it been this week? three? five? ten? it feels like a hundred fights already at this point. all over the same old thing too.
sometimes you’re tired, you nag at him to wash the dishes for fucking once, as if he doesn’t do it every single day without fail. well guess what? he’s tired too after a shit day at training. if it’s not you then maybe he’s the one exhausted, and he’s the one yelling at you to maybe be considerate and leave the toilet seat up—you have hands, don’t you?
which is actually pretty fucking stupid.
because he doesn’t actually care about that, just needs to let off steam. and because you actually do have a habit of putting the toilet seat up, but sometimes you just forget.
but lately that’s what it’s all been—one fight after another. and over the most idiotic reasons. maybe it was that show is shit, can’t we just watch something else? if not it’s come on, i already took the trash out yesterday, it’s your turn.
frankly speaking, he doesn’t even remember what the hell you two fought about earlier. doesn’t know what to tell osamu now that he’s invaded his apartment and lounged on his couch and copping a monster from his fridge. doesn’t even think he wants to be here.
why is he here?
osamu’s asking something about how suna feels, three months after moving in with you. suna doesn’t feel like answering. if he answers now it might be a lie. he might say it feels like shit. or maybe that he’d even rather live with atsumu.
he huffs—yeah, no one would ever believe that.
“would you rather live alone?” this time, osamu’s voice is crystal clear. mainly because he’d realised that suna wasn’t listening and decided to move closer to get his questions through to him.
suna leans back against the couch, head tilted up to the ceiling. would he? when he lived alone he had all the freedom in the world. the toilet seat would always be up. the dishes would always wait patiently. the channel would never be rom-coms. it was everything to his liking.
god, this is pretty fucking stupid.
he groans, getting up without even answering osamu once this entire ten-minute visit. he leaves behind an unsatisfied half of a twin, leaves behind a full-minus-one-sip can of monster on the coffee table, leaves without so much as a care about osamu grumbling at him to finish his goddamn shit, at least.
suna doesn’t know what osamu’s talking about. he is going to finish what he started. luckily osamu lives only a five minute walk away so suna doesn’t have to wait that long to see you again. not that he doesn’t know what he’s going to walk back in on: you, knees to your chest, hugging a pillow and watching a rom-com to try and lift your spirits.
osamu’s question rings like a reminder in his head, like the 9ams on saturday for extra training, like the kind he hates, but needs. because yes, he loved living alone. nobody nags, nobody cramps his space, total freedom to do whatever the fuck he wants. but no, he’d rather not, because for some reason the universe decided to be nice to him, to treat him extra special, because it let him meet you—because he loves you more. even more than some stupid notion of freedom.
so when he sees you on the couch, a mere twenty minutes after your fight, he meets you halfway. lips capturing yours, arms round your shoulders—he can’t help thinking this is like one of those rom-com kisses you swoon over so damn much.
this is where he always caves. he doesn’t care about the stupid dishes or the damn toilet. he’ll turn into a dishwasher if that makes you happy. he’d pee in the shower if he had to, he doesn’t care. what he does care about is you. so what if you fight over stupid stuff sometimes? he expected that coming into this. you said you were worried about moving in with him and here’s why. suna told you he’d compromise so here he is—he’ll try. he’ll try and try and try, over and over and over, even if he has to take an entire lifetime to learn how to do this (he won’t, he’s a fast learner, he knows).
because yes, he thinks this entire fight is fucking stupid. and love can be shit. and toilet seats are annoying. but guess what? suna thinks you’re worth everything in the goddamn world. every fight, every rom-com, every can of monster he has to steal from osamu.
“i’ll do the dishes,” he mumbles once he decides the both of you actually need oxygen to survive and kissing forever isn’t practical. you know what he means though, right?
even with your foreheads pressed together he can see the biggest grin on your silly little face. “and i’ll put the toilet seat up.” see, he knew you’d understand.
because love can be hard. and life can be shit. and suna rintarou can sometimes be a little bitch, can have a thousand different ways to say ‘i love you’, but you’ll always get it. you get him. and he gets you. you love him and he loves you.
and, sometimes, that’s all he needs to remember to make everything okay again.
suna x f!reader, drabble, angst to fluff, established relationship | note: sorry, i hc that suna swears a lot in his head :’) also ty @boosyboo9206 for proofing!
suna thinks it’s pretty fucking stupid.
how many times has it been this week? three? five? ten? it feels like a hundred fights already at this point. all over the same old thing too.
sometimes you’re tired, you nag at him to wash the dishes for fucking once, as if he doesn’t do it every single day without fail. well guess what? he’s tired too after a shit day at training. if it’s not you then maybe he’s the one exhausted, and he’s the one yelling at you to maybe be considerate and leave the toilet seat up—you have hands, don’t you?
which is actually pretty fucking stupid.
because he doesn’t actually care about that, just needs to let off steam. and because you actually do have a habit of putting the toilet seat up, but sometimes you just forget.
but lately that’s what it’s all been—one fight after another. and over the most idiotic reasons. maybe it was that show is shit, can’t we just watch something else? if not it’s come on, i already took the trash out yesterday, it’s your turn.
frankly speaking, he doesn’t even remember what the hell you two fought about earlier. doesn’t know what to tell osamu now that he’s invaded his apartment and lounged on his couch and copping a monster from his fridge. doesn’t even think he wants to be here.
why is he here?
osamu’s asking something about how suna feels, three months after moving in with you. suna doesn’t feel like answering. if he answers now it might be a lie. he might say it feels like shit. or maybe that he’d even rather live with atsumu.
he huffs—yeah, no one would ever believe that.
“would you rather live alone?” this time, osamu’s voice is crystal clear. mainly because he’d realised that suna wasn’t listening and decided to move closer to get his questions through to him.
suna leans back against the couch, head tilted up to the ceiling. would he? when he lived alone he had all the freedom in the world. the toilet seat would always be up. the dishes would always wait patiently. the channel would never be rom-coms. it was everything to his liking.
god, this is pretty fucking stupid.
he groans, getting up without even answering osamu once this entire ten-minute visit. he leaves behind an unsatisfied half of a twin, leaves behind a full-minus-one-sip can of monster on the coffee table, leaves without so much as a care about osamu grumbling at him to finish his goddamn shit, at least.
suna doesn’t know what osamu’s talking about. he is going to finish what he started. luckily osamu lives only a five minute walk away so suna doesn’t have to wait that long to see you again. not that he doesn’t know what he’s going to walk back in on: you, knees to your chest, hugging a pillow and watching a rom-com to try and lift your spirits.
osamu’s question rings like a reminder in his head, like the 9ams on saturday for extra training, like the kind he hates, but needs. because yes, he loved living alone. nobody nags, nobody cramps his space, total freedom to do whatever the fuck he wants. but no, he’d rather not, because for some reason the universe decided to be nice to him, to treat him extra special, because it let him meet you—because he loves you more. even more than some stupid notion of freedom.
so when he sees you on the couch, a mere twenty minutes after your fight, he meets you halfway. lips capturing yours, arms round your shoulders—he can’t help thinking this is like one of those rom-com kisses you swoon over so damn much.
this is where he always caves. he doesn’t care about the stupid dishes or the damn toilet. he’ll turn into a dishwasher if that makes you happy. he’d pee in the shower if he had to, he doesn’t care. what he does care about is you. so what if you fight over stupid stuff sometimes? he expected that coming into this. you said you were worried about moving in with him and here’s why. suna told you he’d compromise so here he is—he’ll try. he’ll try and try and try, over and over and over, even if he has to take an entire lifetime to learn how to do this (he won’t, he’s a fast learner, he knows).
because yes, he thinks this entire fight is fucking stupid. and love can be shit. and toilet seats are annoying. but guess what? suna thinks you’re worth everything in the goddamn world. every fight, every rom-com, every can of monster he has to steal from osamu.
“i’ll do the dishes,” he mumbles once he decides the both of you actually need oxygen to survive and kissing forever isn’t practical. you know what he means though, right?
even with your foreheads pressed together he can see the biggest grin on your silly little face. “and i’ll put the toilet seat up.” see, he knew you’d understand.
because love can be hard. and life can be shit. and suna rintarou can sometimes be a little bitch, can have a thousand different ways to say ‘i love you’, but you’ll always get it. you get him. and he gets you. you love him and he loves you.
and, sometimes, that’s all he needs to remember to make everything okay again.
suna x f!reader, drabble, angst to fluff, established relationship | note: sorry, i hc that suna swears a lot in his head :’) also ty @boosyboo9206 for proofing!
suna thinks it’s pretty fucking stupid.
how many times has it been this week? three? five? ten? it feels like a hundred fights already at this point. all over the same old thing too.
sometimes you’re tired, you nag at him to wash the dishes for fucking once, as if he doesn’t do it every single day without fail. well guess what? he’s tired too after a shit day at training. if it’s not you then maybe he’s the one exhausted, and he’s the one yelling at you to maybe be considerate and leave the toilet seat up—you have hands, don’t you?
which is actually pretty fucking stupid.
because he doesn’t actually care about that, just needs to let off steam. and because you actually do have a habit of putting the toilet seat up, but sometimes you just forget.
but lately that’s what it’s all been—one fight after another. and over the most idiotic reasons. maybe it was that show is shit, can’t we just watch something else? if not it’s come on, i already took the trash out yesterday, it’s your turn.
frankly speaking, he doesn’t even remember what the hell you two fought about earlier. doesn’t know what to tell osamu now that he’s invaded his apartment and lounged on his couch and copping a monster from his fridge. doesn’t even think he wants to be here.
why is he here?
osamu’s asking something about how suna feels, three months after moving in with you. suna doesn’t feel like answering. if he answers now it might be a lie. he might say it feels like shit. or maybe that he’d even rather live with atsumu.
he huffs—yeah, no one would ever believe that.
“would you rather live alone?” this time, osamu’s voice is crystal clear. mainly because he’d realised that suna wasn’t listening and decided to move closer to get his questions through to him.
suna leans back against the couch, head tilted up to the ceiling. would he? when he lived alone he had all the freedom in the world. the toilet seat would always be up. the dishes would always wait patiently. the channel would never be rom-coms. it was everything to his liking.
god, this is pretty fucking stupid.
he groans, getting up without even answering osamu once this entire ten-minute visit. he leaves behind an unsatisfied half of a twin, leaves behind a full-minus-one-sip can of monster on the coffee table, leaves without so much as a care about osamu grumbling at him to finish his goddamn shit, at least.
suna doesn’t know what osamu’s talking about. he is going to finish what he started. luckily osamu lives only a five minute walk away so suna doesn’t have to wait that long to see you again. not that he doesn’t know what he’s going to walk back in on: you, knees to your chest, hugging a pillow and watching a rom-com to try and lift your spirits.
osamu’s question rings like a reminder in his head, like the 9ams on saturday for extra training, like the kind he hates, but needs. because yes, he loved living alone. nobody nags, nobody cramps his space, total freedom to do whatever the fuck he wants. but no, he’d rather not, because for some reason the universe decided to be nice to him, to treat him extra special, because it let him meet you—because he loves you more. even more than some stupid notion of freedom.
so when he sees you on the couch, a mere twenty minutes after your fight, he meets you halfway. lips capturing yours, arms round your shoulders—he can’t help thinking this is like one of those rom-com kisses you swoon over so damn much.
this is where he always caves. he doesn’t care about the stupid dishes or the damn toilet. he’ll turn into a dishwasher if that makes you happy. he’d pee in the shower if he had to, he doesn’t care. what he does care about is you. so what if you fight over stupid stuff sometimes? he expected that coming into this. you said you were worried about moving in with him and here’s why. suna told you he’d compromise so here he is—he’ll try. he’ll try and try and try, over and over and over, even if he has to take an entire lifetime to learn how to do this (he won’t, he’s a fast learner, he knows).
because yes, he thinks this entire fight is fucking stupid. and love can be shit. and toilet seats are annoying. but guess what? suna thinks you’re worth everything in the goddamn world. every fight, every rom-com, every can of monster he has to steal from osamu.
“i’ll do the dishes,” he mumbles once he decides the both of you actually need oxygen to survive and kissing forever isn’t practical. you know what he means though, right?
even with your foreheads pressed together he can see the biggest grin on your silly little face. “and i’ll put the toilet seat up.” see, he knew you’d understand.
because love can be hard. and life can be shit. and suna rintarou can sometimes be a little bitch, can have a thousand different ways to say ‘i love you’, but you’ll always get it. you get him. and he gets you. you love him and he loves you.
and, sometimes, that’s all he needs to remember to make everything okay again.
suna x f!reader, drabble, angst to fluff, established relationship | note: sorry, i hc that suna swears a lot in his head :’) also ty @boosyboo9206 for proofing!
suna thinks it’s pretty fucking stupid.
how many times has it been this week? three? five? ten? it feels like a hundred fights already at this point. all over the same old thing too.
sometimes you’re tired, you nag at him to wash the dishes for fucking once, as if he doesn’t do it every single day without fail. well guess what? he’s tired too after a shit day at training. if it’s not you then maybe he’s the one exhausted, and he’s the one yelling at you to maybe be considerate and leave the toilet seat up—you have hands, don’t you?
which is actually pretty fucking stupid.
because he doesn’t actually care about that, just needs to let off steam. and because you actually do have a habit of putting the toilet seat up, but sometimes you just forget.
but lately that’s what it’s all been—one fight after another. and over the most idiotic reasons. maybe it was that show is shit, can’t we just watch something else? if not it’s come on, i already took the trash out yesterday, it’s your turn.
frankly speaking, he doesn’t even remember what the hell you two fought about earlier. doesn’t know what to tell osamu now that he’s invaded his apartment and lounged on his couch and copping a monster from his fridge. doesn’t even think he wants to be here.
why is he here?
osamu’s asking something about how suna feels, three months after moving in with you. suna doesn’t feel like answering. if he answers now it might be a lie. he might say it feels like shit. or maybe that he’d even rather live with atsumu.
he huffs—yeah, no one would ever believe that.
“would you rather live alone?” this time, osamu’s voice is crystal clear. mainly because he’d realised that suna wasn’t listening and decided to move closer to get his questions through to him.
suna leans back against the couch, head tilted up to the ceiling. would he? when he lived alone he had all the freedom in the world. the toilet seat would always be up. the dishes would always wait patiently. the channel would never be rom-coms. it was everything to his liking.
god, this is pretty fucking stupid.
he groans, getting up without even answering osamu once this entire ten-minute visit. he leaves behind an unsatisfied half of a twin, leaves behind a full-minus-one-sip can of monster on the coffee table, leaves without so much as a care about osamu grumbling at him to finish his goddamn shit, at least.
suna doesn’t know what osamu’s talking about. he is going to finish what he started. luckily osamu lives only a five minute walk away so suna doesn’t have to wait that long to see you again. not that he doesn’t know what he’s going to walk back in on: you, knees to your chest, hugging a pillow and watching a rom-com to try and lift your spirits.
osamu’s question rings like a reminder in his head, like the 9ams on saturday for extra training, like the kind he hates, but needs. because yes, he loved living alone. nobody nags, nobody cramps his space, total freedom to do whatever the fuck he wants. but no, he’d rather not, because for some reason the universe decided to be nice to him, to treat him extra special, because it let him meet you—because he loves you more. even more than some stupid notion of freedom.
so when he sees you on the couch, a mere twenty minutes after your fight, he meets you halfway. lips capturing yours, arms round your shoulders—he can’t help thinking this is like one of those rom-com kisses you swoon over so damn much.
this is where he always caves. he doesn’t care about the stupid dishes or the damn toilet. he’ll turn into a dishwasher if that makes you happy. he’d pee in the shower if he had to, he doesn’t care. what he does care about is you. so what if you fight over stupid stuff sometimes? he expected that coming into this. you said you were worried about moving in with him and here’s why. suna told you he’d compromise so here he is—he’ll try. he’ll try and try and try, over and over and over, even if he has to take an entire lifetime to learn how to do this (he won’t, he’s a fast learner, he knows).
because yes, he thinks this entire fight is fucking stupid. and love can be shit. and toilet seats are annoying. but guess what? suna thinks you’re worth everything in the goddamn world. every fight, every rom-com, every can of monster he has to steal from osamu.
“i’ll do the dishes,” he mumbles once he decides the both of you actually need oxygen to survive and kissing forever isn’t practical. you know what he means though, right?
even with your foreheads pressed together he can see the biggest grin on your silly little face. “and i’ll put the toilet seat up.” see, he knew you’d understand.
because love can be hard. and life can be shit. and suna rintarou can sometimes be a little bitch, can have a thousand different ways to say ‘i love you’, but you’ll always get it. you get him. and he gets you. you love him and he loves you.
and, sometimes, that’s all he needs to remember to make everything okay again.
suna x f!reader, drabble, angst to fluff, established relationship | note: sorry, i hc that suna swears a lot in his head :’) also ty @boosyboo9206 for proofing!
suna thinks it’s pretty fucking stupid.
how many times has it been this week? three? five? ten? it feels like a hundred fights already at this point. all over the same old thing too.
sometimes you’re tired, you nag at him to wash the dishes for fucking once, as if he doesn’t do it every single day without fail. well guess what? he’s tired too after a shit day at training. if it’s not you then maybe he’s the one exhausted, and he’s the one yelling at you to maybe be considerate and leave the toilet seat up—you have hands, don’t you?
which is actually pretty fucking stupid.
because he doesn’t actually care about that, just needs to let off steam. and because you actually do have a habit of putting the toilet seat up, but sometimes you just forget.
but lately that’s what it’s all been—one fight after another. and over the most idiotic reasons. maybe it was that show is shit, can’t we just watch something else? if not it’s come on, i already took the trash out yesterday, it’s your turn.
frankly speaking, he doesn’t even remember what the hell you two fought about earlier. doesn’t know what to tell osamu now that he’s invaded his apartment and lounged on his couch and copping a monster from his fridge. doesn’t even think he wants to be here.
why is he here?
osamu’s asking something about how suna feels, three months after moving in with you. suna doesn’t feel like answering. if he answers now it might be a lie. he might say it feels like shit. or maybe that he’d even rather live with atsumu.
he huffs—yeah, no one would ever believe that.
“would you rather live alone?” this time, osamu’s voice is crystal clear. mainly because he’d realised that suna wasn’t listening and decided to move closer to get his questions through to him.
suna leans back against the couch, head tilted up to the ceiling. would he? when he lived alone he had all the freedom in the world. the toilet seat would always be up. the dishes would always wait patiently. the channel would never be rom-coms. it was everything to his liking.
god, this is pretty fucking stupid.
he groans, getting up without even answering osamu once this entire ten-minute visit. he leaves behind an unsatisfied half of a twin, leaves behind a full-minus-one-sip can of monster on the coffee table, leaves without so much as a care about osamu grumbling at him to finish his goddamn shit, at least.
suna doesn’t know what osamu’s talking about. he is going to finish what he started. luckily osamu lives only a five minute walk away so suna doesn’t have to wait that long to see you again. not that he doesn’t know what he’s going to walk back in on: you, knees to your chest, hugging a pillow and watching a rom-com to try and lift your spirits.
osamu’s question rings like a reminder in his head, like the 9ams on saturday for extra training, like the kind he hates, but needs. because yes, he loved living alone. nobody nags, nobody cramps his space, total freedom to do whatever the fuck he wants. but no, he’d rather not, because for some reason the universe decided to be nice to him, to treat him extra special, because it let him meet you—because he loves you more. even more than some stupid notion of freedom.
so when he sees you on the couch, a mere twenty minutes after your fight, he meets you halfway. lips capturing yours, arms round your shoulders—he can’t help thinking this is like one of those rom-com kisses you swoon over so damn much.
this is where he always caves. he doesn’t care about the stupid dishes or the damn toilet. he’ll turn into a dishwasher if that makes you happy. he’d pee in the shower if he had to, he doesn’t care. what he does care about is you. so what if you fight over stupid stuff sometimes? he expected that coming into this. you said you were worried about moving in with him and here’s why. suna told you he’d compromise so here he is—he’ll try. he’ll try and try and try, over and over and over, even if he has to take an entire lifetime to learn how to do this (he won’t, he’s a fast learner, he knows).
because yes, he thinks this entire fight is fucking stupid. and love can be shit. and toilet seats are annoying. but guess what? suna thinks you’re worth everything in the goddamn world. every fight, every rom-com, every can of monster he has to steal from osamu.
“i’ll do the dishes,” he mumbles once he decides the both of you actually need oxygen to survive and kissing forever isn’t practical. you know what he means though, right?
even with your foreheads pressed together he can see the biggest grin on your silly little face. “and i’ll put the toilet seat up.” see, he knew you’d understand.
because love can be hard. and life can be shit. and suna rintarou can sometimes be a little bitch, can have a thousand different ways to say ‘i love you’, but you’ll always get it. you get him. and he gets you. you love him and he loves you.
and, sometimes, that’s all he needs to remember to make everything okay again.
your words count so much!! it makes me really warm and fuzzy inside whenever someone says that about my art so i'm very thankful <3 <3 plus, stickmen are hard hahaha
oh definitely!! there is a video out there, and it was recorded by suna HAHAHHAHA he knew immediately something was going happen the second atsumu suddenly whipped out the cherry and walked over to you, but he never imagined atsumu choking on it HAHAHAHA it's his most prized ✨stupid thing atsumu ever did✨
plus plus the fact that he also managed to film you being all flustered and shit the second you wrapped your arms around him to help totally made it higher on the list of blackmail material too tefdi
i also doubt that it's his only time having done that c': i just hope he learnt his lesson the next time around, but considering it's atsumu, i doubt lol
your art really is gorgeous and i will always remind you!! hehe pls i’m so blessed to have talented artist friends here?? so many of you on tumblr are so talented 😭
lmaoooo suna has a whole album dedicated to him: “atsumu & his fuck ups” 😭 makes it his life mission to show the world how embarrassing atsumu is especially whenever he’s acting cool and shit :’) jdjdkdn and please, with you in the picture he gets soooo much more blackmail material, you’re right 🥲 now he has one more person to torture <3 jddjkdk