kalinawtokilig

[kalinawtokilig]

suna's parents divorced when he was eight.

he doesn't remember a lot of the finer details as he's gotten older, mostly just that there used to be a lot of yelling, but he does remember the two piles of belongings that stacked up in the empty living room of his childhood home: one consisting of his father's and his own, and the other comprised of his mother's and his little sister's. their entire life, their entire family, packed up into cardboard and then divided down the middle.

the apartment he moved into with his father was always too quiet. it was in aichi, far enough away from where he spent the first decade of his life that he didn't have to be reminded of it every time he left the house, but since his father worked so much it still left him with plenty of time to think. to grieve. though maybe he didn't recognize it as that at the time. he played video games his father bought for him after school. ate convenience store bentos or whatever leftovers were set aside for him in the fridge for dinner. he put himself to bed at night. it wasn't a bad life, though maybe a bit lonely.

he was scouted to play for inarizaki when he was 14.

the lonely apartment turned into a lively dorm. he had new friends (his teammates) to play video games with. his convenience store bentos were replaced with hot meals from the meal hall. the loneliness of the apartment in aichi was a distant memory, but still lingered.

"i'm home."

rintarou drops his training bag in the genkan as he toes off his shoes, calling into the apartment to announce his return.

"welcome home!" you call back from further in the apartment, and the sound makes him smirk a little to himself.

you've been coming over to his place a lot lately, ever since he gave you his spare key. he's not upset about this in the slightest, but it doesn't mean he won't take every possible opportunity to tease you for it. he plans how he's going to make fun of you as he pads into his home towards the sound of your voice. he almost has it all planned out—his delivery on the very tip of his tongue—when he falters to a stop.

"how was your day?" you ask him without looking up from what you're doing.

and suddenly, anything rintarou may have wanted to say—joke or otherwise—is beyond him.

he watches as you set a plate of food down on the already full table just off his little kitchen. the food that covers the surface is still hot enough that steam curls up into the air above it, its preparation perfectly timed to his arrival home. his apartment is warm, and smells good, and there's music playing from your cellphone on the other side of the room that you must have been listening to while you cooked.

his chest feels tight.

you turn to look at him when he doesn't respond to your question.

"rin?" you ask again, a lilt of worry in your tone. "you okay?"

"what's all this?" he manages to ask, nodding towards the table where the meal you prepared is still waiting.

"oh, i've been craving my mom's recipe for the past few days, i just thought i'd make it for dinner," you say, tugging at your fingers nervously. your entire countenance is a bit different now, strained like you're worried you've done something wrong. "hope that's okay?" your words lift at the end like a question.

rintarou's never seen so much food on his table. can't remember the last time he even sat there to eat a meal—let alone a home cooked one. his face feels hot, and his eyes sting, and he just can't bring himself to look at you.

"yeah," he says, and if you notice how his voice is a bit croaky, you're nice enough not to tease him about it. "'course it's okay."

you smile, and you look relieved. "wash your hands then, it's getting cold."

you eat your dinner together and talk about your days. you take a shower while he cleans up the dishes. you fall asleep tangled up together on the couch with a movie playing in the background.

his home isn't quiet anymore. he isn't lonely.

and it's thanks to you.

[kalinawtokilig]

bros the type of boyfriend to go on a shopping spree behind your back and buy you hundreds, maybe even thousands, of dollars worth of stuff all because of one thing;

“what the hell- why’d you buy all this??”

“well because i yelled at you when i shouldn’t have 2 months ago”

“..i got over that like 2 days after it happened..”

“but i didnt, this is my apology”

“you’ve apologized a million times ever since it happened what do you mean-”

REO., rin, sae, ISAGI, kaiser, itadori, GOJO, oikawa, ATSUMU, suna, CHUUYA. , tecchou,+ your fav(s)!

ohh ummm hey guyssss…..erm i’m not really back but i had this half assed thought so here u go!! also first time “writing” anything for jjk so uh sorry if it’s ooc just bear with me here

[kalinawtokilig]

The more things change, the more things stay the same 🌊💞

[kalinawtokilig]

[kalinawtokilig]

doodle for @metukika

Teru knows Shou is all bark, no bite

[kalinawtokilig]

boys that would do this

GOJO, ITADORI, INUMAKI, KAMINARI, SERO, HAWKS, HINATA, sugawara, NISHINOYA, TANAKA, OIKAWA, KUROO, TENDOU, ATSUMU, SUNA, TERUSHIMA, hoshiumi

————————————————————————

I’m down to make out😏

made January 8th 2024

[kalinawtokilig]

“Rin,” you whine, perching your chin on his stomach, eyeing him despite the phone that blocks your view. He’s aimlessly scrolling, just like he always does before bed, and you’re keen on stopping him. Your stomach grumbles and you call his name again. “Rintarouu.”

Without looking, he plops a hand onto your head and tells you, “Sorry, it’s after business hours.”

“Rin,” you’re not above groveling as your voice dips into a whine again, “can we go get food?”

“It’s almost midnight.”

“So? That McDonald’s down the street is open. I already checked.”

Rintarou’s hand moves to start massaging your scalp, though he still refuses to look at you.

“And, when have you ever turned down late-night fries?”

His phone tilts to the right and his pretty face comes into view, faux annoyance crossing his features. “But I’m sleepy, and it’s cold out.”

Making a show of batting your lashes at him, you jut out your bottom lip. “Please, babe. It’ll be my treat. You don’t even have to order if you don’t want to.” You shuffle up his chest to invade more of his space. “I’ll do anything.”

“Anything, huh?” He quirks a brow, putting his phone aside to pull you towards his chest. “I like the sound of that.”

“Rin,” you redirect, “the food. That’s priority number one.”

His lithe fingers curl around the back of your neck, guiding you forward until your lips meet. He pulls away after a few, sweet seconds, but not before nipping at your bottom lip. “Alright, fine. We’ll go.”

He pinches the plush of your warming cheek and grins. “But only because you beg so pretty.”

Rolling your eyes and pushing against his chest, you move to stand, pulling on his hand to force him to make good on his promise.

When you reach the front door, clad in his EJP hoodie that’s a size or two too big, Rintarou tugs the hood up onto your head and pulls on the strings, making it scrunch around your face. He ties them before bundling you up in his coat next.

Affection creeps into the corners of Rintarou’s gray eyes as he inspects your form. “C’mon stinky, let’s go. My baby’s gotta eat.”

Five minutes later, you’re standing in the lobby of McDonald’s, cheeks rosy from the cold and Rintarou’s fingers entangled with yours as he earnestly inspects the menu. When you’re up, he tugs you along towards the counter, and speaks before you even have the chance to open your mouth, ordering your usual and then his, making a point to slip his card into the machine.

“Hey,” you hiss once the order is placed, squeezing his hand in yours. “I said I’d pay.”

He stoops a bit to press a kiss to the crown of your head, right atop your hood. “Don’t you worry yer pretty lil’ head about it, okay? I wanted to.”

“But-”

A click of his tongue stops you in your tracks as he slings his arm around your shoulders. “Nuh uh. No buts.”

You sigh at his insistence, but nevertheless you tell him, “Thank you, Rin.”

Pleased, he hums, “Mhm.”

The food comes out moments later, and with his arm still resting on your shoulders, he guides you home. And as a winter chill nips at the tip of your nose, you snuggle closer to Rintarou’s side, excited to share a late-night snack with him.

[kalinawtokilig]

babies iwachan, bokuto & noya fighting with their stick-swords :') based off this extra from the manga!

[kalinawtokilig]

[kalinawtokilig]

[kalinawtokilig]

in their cunty era

[kalinawtokilig]

if i speak… it will be VERY VERY nasty.

[kalinawtokilig]

"You really don't want to come out with us tonight, Suna?" Komori asks ruefully. "Washio has some friends coming to meet up with us at the bar."

"No thanks." Suna barely looks up when he answers, eyes leaving his phone for a fraction of a second. "I've already got plans."

Washio and Komori might be gossiping on his way out; he can feel eyes on him as he closes his locker but it doesn't matter.

He could not care less about going out.

He just slings his duffel bag over his shoulder and starts reading through your texts, smirking.

Look, I saw a squirrel today! Doesn't he kind of look like 'Samu? {1 image attached}

Yaaaaaaas, buy one get one frrereerererereeeeeeeee {2 images attached}

When are you going to get out of practice? I'm so bored

Okay but who would be the mafia boss...Kita or Aran?

As you continue the one-sided conversation debating with yourself the strengths and weaknesses of a criminal organization run by Kita versus Aran, Suna's smirk turns into a smile.

His phone gives the cheery chime and the thread shifts up as you text him again.

It's a series of GIFs this time and Suna laughs under his breath wondering what the fuck you searched to find Elmo flailing his arms in front of a wall of fire.

I SEE THEM MARKED AS READ BITCCHHH

YOU'RE ON YOUR WAY HOOOMEEOAISFJOSDIGJSODIGJSOIDFJEWNOAIHEFOIJSAJDVOIJ

You send him two pictures after that; the first is of your shared coffee table covered in your and his favorite snacks, tv in the background with The Wind Rises queued up to play.

The second is of yourself on the couch in his hoodie snuggled up under your favorite blanket and gesturing dramatically to the empty spot next to you:

I'm saving you a seat

Suna could not care less about going out.

Travel safe <3

The only place where he wants to be--

>Be there soon babe

--is with you.

[kalinawtokilig]

oh my god no thinking of dad tendou calling his kid “my little monster” and now i want to SOB

he just makes cute little scary faces at them and they do the same. they think they’re so so scary and you absolutely must pretend to be frightened when they yell rawr at you. satori is a menace and teaches them that monsters bite so now you have two tendous chomping at you all around the house. they walk around with their fingers like little claws and hiss and growl at the house cat. they make themselves a monster costume and refuse to take it off until it falls apart. they tell everyone at school that they’re a big scary monster and then cry when everyone runs away (except one little girl, who you find out is ushiwaka’s daughter). they spike their hair up like their daddy’s because of course they want to look like the monster king. they stick a construction paper sign on their bedroom door that says “monsters only” which means only satori is allowed to go in.

they love being daddy’s little monster, and you love how satori’s taken a part of him that was so broken and turned it into something so… good.

[kalinawtokilig]

A/n: lol don’t judge me. suna’s (me) a weirdo but i’m once again pushing the agenda that suna is the most reliable person there is.

Your timing, as always, is perfect. No matter what you think or what it looks like he’s doing, there is no better time than now (right now, later now, tomorrow now, or even yesterday now) for you to walk into his life. Even if now means dodging a 70 mile per hour spike and leaving an unsuspecting Komori to fend for himself. Suna yells out ‘time!’ and immediately begins walking off court.

Washio stops him with a hand on the shoulder, “Are you alright, Suna?”

But he’s already jogging off backwards your way with the cheesiest smile on his face, “I will be now that the love of my life is here.” Suna swishes a hand in the air, “You guys wouldn’t know anything about it.”

“Let him be.” Motoya comes up behind the old Fukurodani member with a fond look comparable to a proud parent. “He gets like that. It’s adorable, isn’t it?”

Washio watches as his fellow middle blocker takes two wide steps towards you with his hands held out like he’s demoing what to do when you come across a bear in the wild before gathering you into a grand embrace.

“Adorable,” Washio repeats only because he’s too stunned to come up with his own vocabulary, “is a word.”

Suna promised an open door policy the first time you asked and he’s meant every word of it. Whenever you need him, however you need him, he’ll be there. How else could he repay you for all the stupid joy you bring into his life?

Love, at one point, was a joke. It was laughter at midnight and soda snorted through his nose. It was one quick heh when he showed you a funny video while scrolling through his phone and tangled on the couch and it was sneaky giggles in Kita’s kitchen when you both offered to make more popcorn only for him to shove kernels down your shirt.

Now, love is a promise. Love is telling you he’ll make the bed and he does without any complaints. Love is calling you on his commute back home and reminding you he misses you only to prove that he does once he walks through the door.

Love is swearing that whenever you’re sad, his sole reason for living is to make you happy.

“There’s the love of my life. What’s wrong?” He lines the crown of your head in swift pecks. You’d texted him earlier if you could come by and just by the lack of punctuation in your messages, he was already concerned. You don’t even have to ask, is his repetitive response that sometimes he considers making a shortcut for it. What could be more important than you? “Is my baby upset? Are you being a little crybaby?”

Your eyes grow wide at the question and your bottom lip dips out like wild grass bending in the wind. A grin tugs at the corner of Suna’s mouth as he brushes into the divot underneath your quivering lip. An indulgent chuckle escapes him and it’s like you take it as a challenge because your eyes gloss over immediately and whine into his chest.

He loves his little crybaby who plays up the theatrics because you know there is always a reserved vacancy for you in his arms. You make him feel like the most important man in the world, like it’s only him that you can rely on and he you can truly be vulnerable to. Of course, whatever you want, he’ll give. He’ll kill. He’ll blackmail. Why else would he incessantly take unseemly photos of others for?

“Why are you sad?” Suna tilts your head away from his chest to look at him. Kissing your forehead, he sets his aim downward. Then, he bites.

“Is it because I took your nose?” Suna curls his lips over his teeth and begins nomming your nose, exaggerating his sound effects (nom, nom, nom) in hopes of a favorable reaction. He inhales your giggles and it elicits a tremble in his own chest like you’ve just jump started his heart.

“Give me back my nose, Rin.”

“No.” Suna grins and stands at his full height to lean away from you. He obnoxiously chews with his mouth open. “It’s yummy.”

You squeeze, poke, and prod at his cheeks. The soft skin gives and bounces back up with a pink splotch appearing where you’ve irritated it. “Give it back! It’s mine.”

“Fine.” His breath is hot when he leans down, a deceptively charming smirk along his lips before he places a wet, juicy kiss back onto your nose and then peppering your whole face after. “Now you have fifty noses.”

Your real one, the one that is anatomically correct, scrunches up. Lines form at the bridge of your nose like cobwebs capturing the disgust right in the middle of your face. You’re so cute. He wants to squeeze you like a stuffed gremlin he cuddles to sleep. Not that he’d know anything about that.

“You give me fifty noses inside a gym full of sweaty men in the middle of volleyball practice? Do you hate me?”

“I hate whoever made my crybaby upset.”

You’re immediately back to pouting again and if you defied the laws of physics or chemistry or liquids or whatever, he knows you’d turn to goo in his arms.

“I’m not sad anymore.” You say, blinking those beautiful eyes at him. Tender and appreciative, they speak when you don’t. Because of you.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m okay now.”

“Hmm,” He pinches your cheek between a curved index finger and his thumb. Even if you know it’s coming, you can’t help but jolt at the cold temperature of his skin. His eyes gleam as he appraises your expression carefully. “I don’t know about that.”

“I’m fine!” You insist but Suna shakes his head.

“Normal people don’t have fifty noses.” He kisses you again and again, squelches of his lips filling the gym as he repeats the practice over and over. “I think I’ll have to double check and make sure.”

[kalinawtokilig]

best friends to lovers with rintarou suna where he unexpectedly asks if you want to go out for a late night drive around the city at the untimely hour of 3am because he knows for an absolute fact that you’re awake as well. 

oh and rintarou thinks it’s fucking hilarious to pull into an empty parking lot, stop his car, recline his seat and say some “so, what you tryna do?” with his trance inducing hooded eyes and a shit eating lazy grin. LIKE BITCH WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT??? he doesn’t actually want to do anything (yk unless you want to wink wink), he just thinks your reaction is both the funniest and cutest thing ever.

your jaw drops immediately as your soft eyes widen slightly. “the fuck you mean, what am i tryna do?” 

the bozo starts cackling and wheezing like a car engine at your words and expression as he starts up the car’s engine once again.

this man will be the death of you.

✩ sincerely, b. <3

[kalinawtokilig]

sleep is what he wants to do—what he wants to be. it's his current goal. battling time versus his consciousness, his eye twitches at another failed attempt. two, three, twenty-four minutes pass, and here he is, sprawled out like a starfish, counting sheep on the ceiling. only at times like this does he remember the useless methods his mother forced him to use. these atrocious methods never seem to work when they need to, much to his dismay.

maybe he's going insane, or there's a very high, one hundred percent chance that there are in fact chickens yelling. he's in disbelief, shock, and concern. there's no way he's spent the entire night warring with sleep and himself. a total of whatever number of hours have been spent writhing in bed without a lick of sleep—not even a two minute cuddle with you. oh, he's definitely going to feel miserable.

housing eyebags, red nerves boldly introducing themselves in his eyes, and a frown on his face, he listens to the blaring alarm sound go off on his phone. no, he's not going to do anything about it. it's only fair that you also suffer, right? the vow was in sickness and in health! you shall abide by it, so he allows the alarm to continue until you wake up.

“are you deaf or dead?” you slur out your words, sleep evident in your voice. clearly someone's well rested, unfortunately for him. you rub your eyes awake, stretching every limb, including your back, in random positions to dust away the slumber. can't forget the classic yawn! after your routine, you drop your limbs, looking at the culprit who took away the remaining time of your sleep—out of pure jealousy, of course. 

he gives a bright grin much lighter compared to his sleep deprived face. loving the company to his misery, he finally speaks, “slept well?”

“what do you—” you're cut off by another yawn taking the stage. covering your mouth with a hand, you finish, “think?”

he smiles, enjoying the fresh view of you, who's wide awake now thanks to him. isn't he such a good partner? scooting closer to you, he gives you a peck before rolling off to dress for work. if he could, he would've taken this day off, but he's already run out of excuses to take sick leave. to you, the gracious view of him is delicious. to him, he's about to fight whichever entity made him stay awake all night. 

now, back to you; he looks quite edible. scrumptious, even. there's just something about your husband that attracts you. he can be dressed down in mud and rags, but you'd still salivate. he likes to sleep without a shirt—he complains about how “heated” it gets at night. so, every night, his pajama outfit is just a random pair of sweatpants. no shirt, no vest, nothing. just him and his defined torso.

“stop looking at me like that.” “no.” “okay.”

a simple conversation takes place. between him, who's running around like a controlled body in a game, and you, who's laying in bed tangled in the covers, he's not winning. in fact, he accepted defeat the moment you made the first move on him. a loser in love is what he is. completing his thirty-minute routine, he diffuses the scent of his cologne to every corner as he moves on to adjust his cuffs to his suit. blessing his lips with his (your) shea butter lipbalm, he relishes in the soft feeling before turning to you, “baby, do i look good?”

nodding three to four times, you put your hand out on the stage, showing him a thumb's up in approval. right now, you do not care how he looks, your answers will always be the same. are you really in love if you don't think your significant other looks heavenly in all ways? probably.

smiling proudly to himself, he walks to your position, leaning down with both hands in pockets to kiss you. taking one hand out, he pinches your cheek, “bye-bye, don't miss me.”

— gojo. ran, wakasa. suna, kenma. or whoever.