sometimes iwa plays along w oikawa’s antics and oikawa cant contain his joy

simpler times

rintarou's sheets are scratchy.

they're new, and haven't yet gone through the wash enough times to properly soften. they haven't been slept on enough times to be fully broken in. you know he bought them because you always used to tease him about his old sheets: faded with some holes in them—a mismatched fitted sheet and top sheet in two different shades of blue, unbefitting of a grown man making grown man money.

so, he got new ones.

these new sheets are green, in the exact shade you like so much—the one you always point out when the two of you are walking in the park near your office on your lunch break. he sent you a picture of the package when he got them home, fishing for praise you refused to give him for doing the bare minimum. they're nice sheets, though. expensive, organic cotton with a high thread count.

but right now, they're scratchy.

and they're irritating you as you lay tangled up in them, the top sheet wrapped around your waist like a belt and twisted around one of your bare legs. you must have been tossing and turning a lot in your sleep, because when you properly rouse from your slumber to take inventory of your surroundings, the first thing you notice is that you're practically knotted into the stiff, new cotton.

Rintaro feels the eyes plastered onto him.

He feels every bat of their lashes, every movement of their glances at his sleeping face, his subconscious acknowledges it, and slightly goes into fight or flight. He whines as he forces his heavy eyes to open-

Only to gasp in fear as his subconscious was right: there’s two eyes watching him, unblinking as they stare intently at him, their gaze puppyish and innocent.

He groans, “Sachie, Sachiko, please.” He presses the heel of his hand against his eye to rub them awake, “we talked about this; you can’t scare mommy and daddy awake like this.”

“We sowwy,” Sachie whimpers.

“Just wan’ some wata,” Sachiko finishes. The twins always had a knack for that- being able to finish each others thoughts and sentences.

At any other time, rintaro would be incredibly enamored by it.

Right now, however? Not so much.

Rintaro chuckles softly at their cuteness before looking to the sky, as if to ask for patience. Next to him, you whimper at all the noise, hiking the blankets higher. Rintaro smiles. “Okay, angels,” he says softly, swinging his legs from under the warmth of his covers. “I’ll get you some water.”

“T’ank you,” Sachie murmurs. Sachiko nods at her sister’s appreciation. Rintaro ruffles their hair and gets up from his bed, hands scratching his stomach as he bonelessly shambles to the kitchen. He grabs the cabinet door and opens it to retrieve two cups with lids, making sure they’re clean by sniffing them. He shrugs and makes a move to the fridge, pressing the cups against the water dispenser to fill them enough for the girls to get through the night.

He yawns as he fills the other, eyes growing heavier and heavier the longer he’s vertical, as if the sandman himself is throwing pebbles into his eyes.

He wastes no time in capping off the two cups and making his way back down the hallway to his little girls room, cocking a brow when their two tiny beds are empty.

He spins on his heel to make his way to his bedroom, and god, he’d be so mad if it wasn’t so cute.

Sachie and Sachiko, his precious terror twins, are curled up next to you in his spot, Sachie sucking on her thumb while Sachiko clings to your night shirt. The must’ve tugged you onto your side, because instead of your original position facing away from them, you’re curled against them, one of your arms strewn across them to cuddle them close. You’re drooling softly, and Rintaro can’t fathom the precious sight.

He yawns and plants the small cups on his nightstand before curling up behind Sachiko, trying to get comfortable in the all too small sliver of bed he can just barely fit on. His arm drapes over them both too, burying his face in Sachiko’s soft hair and trying his best to drift back asleep, despite the already deep cramping forming in his back for the uncomfortable position.

Not that he’d dare move them. Nor have it any other way.

Rintaro loves to pretend he doesn’t care.

There’s a nonchalance that carries around your man, one that comes from years of training of gaslighting the twins and making them turn against each other, or the scoldings from Kita-San that could’ve got so intense with his disappointment Rintaro could cry.

He’s gotten good at keeping a stoic emotion and making you act out. He loves to pretend he doesn’t care.

“It’s because he doesn’t,” Atsumu assures, playing with the strings of his hoodie.

You roll your eyes, “trust me, he cares. You just don’t see it.”

“And I never will. Because it doesn’t happen.”

You raise your brows in challenge, and he matches your brow raising. “Wanna bet on it?”

“Wager?”

“If I can prove to you Rintaro actually is a dork for my attention, I want a signed Kiyoomi jersey.”

He scoffs, “can’t you just ask Kiyoomi for one?”

“Komori tells me not to bother him after games.”

Atsumu rolls his eyes, “okay. And when he doesn’t show he’s a loser, I want all you can eat at Onigiri Miya and you pick up the bill.”

“….”

“What?”

“Osamu doesn’t naturally give you all you can eat?”

“No?”

“Oh…”

“Does he GIVE IT TO YOU?!”

You give him a cheesy smile and quickly move to grab your keys, his jaw slacked in betrayal, only for him to roll his eyes, “whatever. Either way, we’re going when I win. What’re the keys for?”

“You’ll see.”

You jingle your keys with a small smirk, making sure to do it loud enough for him to hear down the hall. Atsumu shakes his head in disbelief, only for his hand to cover his mouth as socked feet quickly become louder as Rintaro barrels down the hall.

A lanky frame fills the doorway, “where you goi-“

Atsumu and you let out a string of cackles, his hand smacking his knee while Rintaro scrubs his face with his free hand, the other one holding a controller for his, hopefully, paused game.

“Dawg I hate you for real,” he sighs, coming into the room to kiss your head. You smile and angle your head to kiss him for real, which he complies with happily and making Atsumu gag. His green eyes dart to glare at Atsumu, “I wish osamu was an only child.”

“Damn, bringing guns to knife fights,” the blonde snorts. “Not my fault you got caught in 4K, dickhead.”

“Not my fault you’re a single loser.” He leans down to kiss your lips, “where’re we going?”

“No where,” you hum happily. “Just wanted to make sure you were still obsessed with me.”

He beams down at you while Atsumu groans in disgust.

“Always.”

RINRINRINRINRIN

suna "we're just friends" rintaro who's actually in a secret relationship with you, but feels the need to keep it a secret until it gets more serious because he's scared. except the miya twins have caught on, and they have a running bet going for who's going to spill first. atsumu thinks suna would rather keel over than admit to them he's dating someone, but osamu is smugly convinced that his friend's resolve is weaker than yours. so they decide to put it to the test.

it starts off . . . weird. osamu is putting moves on you, and you have no idea what to make of it. he's asking to walk you home and tells you that you should come to watch them practice. he even shoves atsumu out of their usual seat in the cafeteria to invite you to sit next to him. he seems really interested in you, and you don't want to be mean, but you also can't lead him on.

you're too focused on osamu's strange behavior to notice that he only acts this way when suna is around. so you don't see the way your boyfriend clenches and unclenches his fists when he overhears osamu wanting to walk you home after school. you don't hear the huff he lets out or how he slams his locker door a little harder when osamu invites you to watch them play with a well practiced smile. and you certainly don't realize the sheet white paleness that grows on his face when osamu shoves atsumu off the bench to make space for you.

suna doesn't blame you. his friends are idiots and getting on his last nerve. but everything comes to a screeching halt when osamu puts his arm around your shoulder, and suna absolutely loses it.

"we're dating!" it's the closest he gets to yelling without actually, but it's loud.

"damn it!" atsumu shouts, but suna doesn't hear. he practically has tunnel vision, zeroed in on where osamu connects to you.

"we're dating," he repeats through gritted teeth. "so get your grimy slimy spiker little hands—" he stalks over to osamu with surprising speed to knock his hand off of you, "off of my—"

"rintaro," you scold softly, and the twins try not to react when their usually unbothered and finicky middle blocker . . . listens?

"he—you're my—i'm—" he erupts in an aggravated groan and quickly decides to pull you to his side, away from osamu.

suna starts mumbling things under his breath they can't hear. his words are clearly reserved only for you, but the twins watch quietly anyway as you smooth away the worry lines growing on his face from his furrowed eyebrows and press a soft kiss to his cheek that has leaves them dusted in the slightest pink. he's whipped, and suddenly the only thing the miyas could think of was—how the hell did they not notice sooner?

yes i'm a soft lovesick sunarin truther. that man is a simp and i take no arguments

suna rintarou who comes fresh out of the shower with damp hair and a towel slung around his neck, strands falling into his eyes.

he's had a long day, a longer practice and a long night awaits him, and you are there right in front of him, sitting on the couch, legs crossed, in your cute fuzzy pyjama set.

with a sigh, suna lets himself fall onto your lap, all sprawled out, a hand of his behind his head, the other dancing over your shirt.

"hi, baby," you smile, hand coming down to bury in his hair, the dark strands silky between your fingers as your nails scratch his head.

he's quieter than usual, you notice; where he may have at least smiled back at other times, he's only tilting his head up at you with a glazed look in his eyes now. his face has a faint blush decorating his warm skin, slightly tacky from the shower.

you breathe out, voice quiet; an inquiry and warning at once, "rin."

his long fingers find their way to your jaw, thumb pushed between your lips into the hot cavity of your mouth. you nip at the residue scent of his body wash, teeth biting down with light pressure.

his own mouth parted slightly, tongue peeking out, eyes half-lidded as he watched you suck his finger. when he pulled on his thumb, you let go and watch him guide his hand to his own mouth, watch him take his own thumb into his mouth, licking off the remnant of your spit.

he keeps his gaze on you, like hypnosis, intent, making it hard for you to look away. with a rough voice, he says, "give it to me."

"what's that?" your nails rake through his hair, your other hand travelling over his his abdomen, over his belly button, over the dark happy trail to rest over the bulge in his sweatpants.

a slight squeeze of your fingers around his clothed dick, "what do you want?"

his eyes narrow, "brat."

"come on, rin, if you don't tell me, how would i know?" you ask sweetly; your fingers in his hair grabbing a fistful of the strands as you yank, and instinctively, he opens his jaw, tongue curling out.

he points to his awaiting mouth, his eyes daring you to play your games with him. daring you to purposefully misunderstand what he wants you to do, what he knows will get him off within a few minutes.

leaning over him, you spit in his mouth; a fat dollop landing right on his tongue and his breath stutters in tandem with the palming grip you have on his dick. he swallows and asks for another, and another, and you keep spitting, little droplets trickling down the side of your mouth.

sometimes you miss, but he's quick to lick it up again.

the blush on his face grows stronger, his hips bucking up to grind against your hand; a frustrated huff leaving his lips when you pull back for a bit.

you hold out your palm towards him and the nasty sound of suna gathering his saliva together to lather your hand with it has heat coil low in your abdomen. his back feels heavy on your legs, the muscles tensing and relaxing when he moves to push down his boxers hastily, and your pussy pulsates, begging to be relieved.

a low whine escapes him when you resume touching him in the way he likes, when you continue to use his mouth as your own personal trash can to spit in, and his hips rut against your hand freely now, desperate.

the slick sound of skin meeting skin and the taste of your saliva down his throat has him cumming within seconds, shooting a hot trail of white over his chest and coating the coarse hair underneath his belly button, dripping onto your hand.

you lean over him again to kiss him senseless, hand still stroking his cock sloppily, strings of his cum and spit between your fingers; to kiss him greedily because oh, he's been taking so much from you and your mouth feels so dry.

TAGLIST | @takes1 ; @lale-txt (you are hereby sentenced to read spit smut forever and ever) ; @sugacor3

It would be so funny if whenever you meet Suna's friends and they tease him about how much he's always on his phone, you genuinely have no clue. Like everytime Rin is with you, he's putting his sole focus on you and doesn't have a reason to always be on his phone. The only times he's on his phone around you is when he's taking pictures of things you like or showing you videos that make him think of you

lil headcanon doodle

Love these two 💕

LN 7 chapter 18:

next volume later, he fucking did

motoya getting absolutely plastered on a night out with you and suna, early on in their friendship but well into the two of you dating, and crying as he tugs on rin's sleeve because he's worried you guys are in a toxic relationship.

"she's so nice to everyone else but she's so mean to you!" he slurs with big, watery eyes, full of concern for his teammate and friend.

and suna just blinks at him in shock and is like. "yeah, toya. i get off on that."

I just want to make him worse

he hates milk... is that even milk???

imagine not liking nanami and this is what he’s up to 🍅 🥖 [old drawing]

prepare for trouble & make it double!