moonlilith

[moonlilith]

@giftober 2023 || Day 17: MIRRORS

CASTLEVANIA: NOCTURNE (2023) mirroring CASTLEVANIA (2021)

[moonlilith]

tashy, she/her, twenties, @moonliilith

hurt/comfort lover, beach lover, sun&moon lover

given enthusiasts, webtoon lovers!

masterlist

↬ Genshin Impact

↬ Haikyuu

[moonlilith]

𝔪𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱

↬ mondstadt

↬ liyue

↬ inazuma

✨ and suddenly, we became strangers - kamisato ayato

↬ snezhnaya

#genshin impact masterlist #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x y/n #genshin impact imagines #genshin impact headcanons #genshin impact scenarios

[moonlilith]

Splintered Heart Masterlist

*contains spoilers for Ayato's story quest and the irodori festival

" no matter where I go, I treat my memories as my most important things...things I want to hold onto for the rest of my life "

Ayato looks at the h/c haired girl, her eyes are looking up at the sky that was lit up by beautiful fireworks, their color reflecting in her eyes just as the sun would beam down onto a jewel, leaving beautiful rays of color.

He looks away, his heart beating rapidly, maybe this wouldn't be so bad if he had her by his side, he thought.

Kamisato Y/n, was formerly known as L/n Y/n, childhood friend and wife of Kamisato Ayato by arranged marriage

(" Loveless marriage or not, I promised to be by his side during difficult times " - Kamisato Y/n )

Kamisato Ayato, head of the Kamisato clan and Yashiro Commissioner, husband and childhood friend of Y/n

(" Ah, two lovers becoming husband and wife, what a joyful occasion but atlas, I can't say the same between my wife and but worry not, we're fine now " - Kamisato Ayato )

Kaedehara Kazuha, a wandering samurai, was the childhood sweetheart of Y/n before his clan fell—no longer on speaking terms until recently

(" It seems like fate has separated me from my loved ones once again"- Kaedehara Kazuha to Y/n )

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 6.5

Chapter 7

Updates are always two to three days.

There's a tag list so if you want to be in it just send an ask and I'll add you!

#genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #kazuha x reader #ayato x reader #im obsessed with ayato #loving this so far #tashy reads #tashy rb

[moonlilith]

fck i love ayato so much im crying

put a ring on it.

premise. snippets of daily life between a humble servant and an increasingly clingy master.

word count. 5.2k

note. reader full of snark + dumbass in love ayato = gratuitous amount of banter. i have to say that ayato never goes out of line though, and you're not actually bothered by his advances; you're just a massive tsundere.

“With all due respect, I don't believe being your headrest is part of my duty, my lord.”

“Is that so?”

The noncommittal response pointedly marks the end of his acknowledgement as Ayato makes no effort to sit up, remaining slumped against your frame. His head rests upon your shoulder, a ticklish sensation blooming where your neck and chin meet. Light blue hair trail prickling heat where it grazes your skin, an itch you can't quite scratch away.

Even so, the discomfort doesn't reflect on your face, frigid expression carefully layered with blankness. His sinking weight fails to impede your immaculate posture, refined poise a great disparity from his leisurely disposition. It paints an odd picture, the ordinarily faultless heir lacking decorum—though granted the freedom to do as he wishes in the private confines of his room, it is a mystery why a servant such as you is... graciously permitted to bask in his exclusive company. In the private confines of his room. You feel the need to emphasize that detail.

In his hands lay a scroll concerning governmental affairs, urgent matters that demand his attention, so you can't begin to comprehend why he insists on using this time to harass reward a lowly servant with his valuable presence when there is business to attend to.

He leans more of his weight to your side, and he—you nearly sputter indignantly—mimics an action that can almost be described as nuzzling. “Mhm. This is convenient for me, since I've hardly found the time to rest today. Do you find it intolerable?”

Ignoring the last bit, you advise, “Perhaps it would be more effective if you were to rest in your chambers. I will come call when the Kanjou Commission asks for you.”

He pretends to consider it for a moment, the silence filled with the quiet jingle of wind chimes. But predictably, the corners of his mouth hook up to an impish smile. “I would prefer to stay, if you don't mind?”

Resigned to your fate, you can only say, “Of course not, my lord.”

For reasons you cannot fathom, the head of the Kamisato household harbors a strong attachment to you.

In normal circumstances, this fact would be taken as great news; presently, you are little more than puzzled and unfeeling. Rather than delight, dread stirs in your stomach whenever he calls your name in a volume louder than necessary—a conscious decision, you presume, since he seems to interact with other servants just fine. Curt and polite, keeping his words concise, preventing further delay from addressing his responsibilities.

Had you not known better, you wouldn't be able to identify him as the same man who indulges in trivialities when he invites you to share snacks, engaging in frivolous chatter over tea and pastries. With increasing frequency nonetheless, and with varying refreshments each time to boot, an assortment of wagashi exquisitely produced only by the best. Strawberry daifuku on one tea break, mizu-yokan on the next, sakura mochi on the day after that... You've been serving him for a considerable amount of time, but he's never been much of a sweet tooth until as of late.

Ayato hums thoughtfully, savoring the sweet taste on his tongue. “The mild flavor is pleasant. I believe it might be to your liking.”

He offers you a cup, steam curling above the warm brew. The pink beverage glistens beneath the sunlight, rippling with movement when you take it into your hands. It doesn't require much thinking to conclude the tea leaves must've cost a fortune, but it leaves you plenty of questions just as well. Why would a benefactor give you a taste of luxury?

But you would be a fool not to appreciate it while it lasts, so you lift the cup for a sip.

The flavor of spring bursts in your mouth, fragrant and tasting of sweet nectar. Your frosty guise wavers under the bribery, bliss crossing your face before your lips quirk up to a small, almost imperceptible smile.

Deeming your elated reaction satisfactory, Ayato nudges the plate of confections towards your side of the table. “Eat. They pair well with the tea.”

Who are you to say no to your lord? Therefore, the correct choice must be to accept his gifts with gratitude!

(Distracted by desserts, you fail to see his amusement in the way you stuff your cheeks full adorably like a chipmunk.

But he's aware it's not the right time yet, so he suppresses the urge to pinch your face.)

Kamisato Ayato is often praised for his intellect and cunning mind, but sometimes you wonder if he'd finally gone stupid after all that overthinking.

“My hand feels cold,” he laments, as if he hadn't chucked away his gloves ten seconds prior. “Can I hold yours for a moment?”

Ayaka, for her part, looks ashamed on her brother's behalf. With a graceful flick of her wrist, her fan snaps open and obscures the mortified expression on her face. Thoma's bottom lip quivers, valiantly repressing his bubbling laughter though he turns quite ugly in the process.

Sending a prayer to the heavens, you hope your face looks as unreadable as you think it to be. “...I'll fetch you a pair of gloves,” you say, side-stepping the pair he just abandoned on the floor.

“Mhm. That won't be necessary,” he counters, tugging on the edge of your sleeve. “You see, I heard those granted Pyro Visions have warmer body temperature...”

That is undoubtedly a lie he conjures up on the spot.

“...So I was hoping to sate my curiosity today,” he finishes, looking far too pleased with himself. Ayaka avoids your gaze when your eyes sweep past her (she absolutely knows it's an idiotic idea because going by that logic, she should have a colder temperature... but that is obviously not the case), and Thoma is blatantly ignoring your requests for assistance, whistling an awkward tune.

You have half a mind to shift the duty to another retainer similarly bearing a Pyro Vision, who is currently trying his hardest to stifle his pained grunts when you pinch his forearm admonishingly, but there's really no way out of this. Ayato would certainly craft another bullshit reason to coax you anyway. (A part of you thinks it might be fun to keep up the charade just to hear what he'd say next.)

“Right.” You hold up your hand, and Ayato's eyes flicker with mischief. His slender fingers wrap around your wrist, brushing over the jut of your bone. He marvels at the size of it, dwarfed by his large hands, and he curls his fingers tighter.

...He doesn't seem to be assessing your temperature.

But you are mindful of his, a searing heat devouring your senses. His light touches settle heavily on your skin, a prominent warmth amidst the cold gale. Where his fingers rest leave imprints of fire, trails of scorched ash in his wake.

Experimentally, his thumb rubs circles on your palm, tracing over the lines. He rolls the soft flesh, staring at the small cuts and calluses with an attentive eye. Burning the image into his mind. Fiddling with the shape of your fingers. Then, following a brief hitch of his breath, he fits his own in the spaces between yours.

His hand is soft, you think to yourself. Without the presence of leather, it is fully bare, pale and dusted with pink. His knuckles are pronounced, palm surprisingly unscarred in spite of vigorous sword practice, but a writer's callus lay on his ring finger. It is easy to imagine his frame hunched over his desk, pen between his fingers, ink running dry from writing back to missives and signing endless contracts.

(And responding to engagement offers. You would know. They clutter his workspace, scented letters branded by wax seals of a distinguished family's emblem.

He barely throws a cursory glance at them before giving his never changing answer.)

When he gives your hand a squeeze, you finally ask, “Is it warm?”

“Yes.” He sounds somewhat strangled, there, less confident than he was before he took your hand. “Very warm.”

He reluctantly parts with it, stepping back to reduce your close proximity. Ayaka fans herself as she scrutinizes his reddening complexion, and Thoma—partial to the lord, you see, even though he wasn't very eager to lend you a hand before—makes some excuse about a meeting he has to attend to (some beetle fight with Itto, most likely) and if you'd kindly excuse their presence.

“...Please pardon my brother's strange behavior,” Ayaka murmurs when only the both of you remain in the room. “He could be quite straightforward when his curiosity is piqued. He doesn't have weird intentions, really.”

She doesn't appear to believe it herself, but you appreciate her attempts to clean up Ayato's mess.

“It's no trouble, milady.” You flash a placating smile for good measure, reaching down to collect the discarded gloves Thoma nearly tripped on in his way out. “But I'm afraid I'll have to take my leave now as well...”

“Yes, of course! You may go.”

Following her affirmation, you scramble to take a duster and retreat to clean the library.

At least she doesn't comment on your flushed cheeks and colored ears. Small mercies. (There's only so much composure you can exhaust within one day.)

For all that you (privately) complain about the extensive list of chores to tackle in the Kamisato Estate, you find tending to the garden fairly enjoyable. Alas, you can't exactly spend the whole day pruning the shrubbery; the smile on your face drops when you're sent to go on a shopping trip. Worse still, with no one to assist you in carrying the groceries. Thoma has already promised to accompany Ayaka for a mission, and everyone else is busy preparing for the Kamisato head's upcoming business trip.

Said Kamisato head is apparently “free” and “has the spare time to help” despite being the one who should be busy holing himself up in his office.

Regardless of your protests, Ayato insists on tagging along to the market. Which brings you to your current situation, your employer dutifully carrying bundles of cloth and a basket of radishes and carrots with an easygoing smile, while your hands remain empty. He is... considerate, if you were to speak in flowery words. He is stubborn, if you were to be blunt.

However, he is relatively obedient, save for the handful of times he rushes off to chase something that caught his eye. As a result, he keeps purchasing cheap trinkets he'll probably have no use for and his pocket is brimming of candy he sometimes stuffs your mouth with when you have something to scold him for. (To be fair, it's very effective for shutting you up.)

“Please don't interrupt me from speaking,” your words are partly muffled, mouth still chewing on the confection. Ayato smiles innocently, pressing another piece of sugar to your lips.

“Where are we headed next?” He questions, looking around the bustling streets as he tucks the jar of konpeito candy in his sleeve. “Do you still have vegetables you need to buy?”

You shake your head. “No, the cook said he's only missing radishes and carrots in particular. I've also gotten the materials needed to mend clothes Thoma asked for.”

He deflates at that, disappointment painting his expression. “I suppose we're returning, then?”

You purse your lips, considering your options. It isn't like you were told to come back an appointed time, and you could always blame Ayato for your tardiness... “Does my lord wish to visit anywhere specifically?”

The river of stars in his eyes twinkle ever so slightly, flashing a thinly-veiled childish gleam. “Not anything I could think of at the top of my head. Do you have any recommendations in mind?”

“Recommendations?”

“Places you like to visit.”

During your free time, you usually look around to shop for clothing or accessories... but they're nowhere near the quality befitting of nobles. The yukata isn't tailored to your size, made from cheaper cloth of cotton, and aren't as decorative to what your lord is used to; it's what makes it affordable. Whereas Ayato is often dressed in luxurious silks, embellished with golden thread and customized to his liking.

“It's no harm to bring you there... I guess.” You scratch your cheek. “Though I can't guarantee you'll like it.”

“Nonsense.” He smiles amicably. He reaches for the basket before you can grab it, gesturing for you to start walking. “I'm sure I'll have a good time regardless where it is.”

And... he does. He marvels at the extravagant brocades displayed at boutiques, wondering how one could possibly wear so many heavy layers. Though he doesn't buy clothes for himself, he decides to buy a cute purse he thinks his sister would appreciate.

Ayato expresses interest in ornaments and cosmetics as well, to which the shop owner proceeds to happily introduce her entire catalogue for a man she knows has deep pockets. He doesn't disappoint.

“You don't want anything?” He asks when you only answer his questions pertaining to Ayaka's preferences, two steps behind, never taking the opportunity to roam and search for potential additions in your wardrobe.

It's not that you haven't seen anything you'd like to take home, per se. More like everything is too expensive for your pocket money in this high-end portion of town. “No,” you say instead, because it's easier to explain that way.

He tilts his head inquisitively, but doesn't push the topic. “Help me choose a hair pin then. You know what fits Ayaka best.”

He leads you to the display case housing rows of hair ornaments, each one more remarkable than the next. The last one, undoubtedly the most costly whose price would make you weep, teeters on the edge of gaudy. Adorned with silver butterflies, tear drop sapphires, gems delicately shaped like dewy petals and white pearls sitting atop carved gold, they almost blind your eyes.

“...She'd look beautiful in everything,” is the conclusion you come to, because you speak nothing but the truth. “But please don't buy everything. She will get mad at you.”

“I know,” he sighs. “That's why I needed your help picking one.”

You almost drill holes to the items with how hard you're staring at them, but you eventually point at the pin with pink blossoms. “This would contrast nicely with her hair.”

“Mhm. If you say so,” he hums approvingly, tracing the sculpted leaves.

“Then if that's all, I'll go pay...”

“Ah, which reminds me.” He spins on his heel to face you, lips shaped into an apologetic smile. “I'm nearly running out of parchment paper. Could you stop by the stationery store up front? I'll handle things from here and meet you by the entrance.”

“Of course, my lord.”

On your way outside, you resolutely do not allow your curious gaze to steer towards the tables of sparkling jewelry.

--

The trip back to the estate is uneventful, and the rest of the afternoon passes like any other.

Perhaps the only inconsistency in your repetitive days is the accidental nap you fall into, blanketed in warm rays of sunshine and caressed by the refreshing breeze slipping past ajar doors, your cheek resting on the surface of the table you were supposed to be cleaning. How uncouth of me, you think as you wipe your mouth to check for signs of drool. Your only respite is not having anyone witness you in such a state, otherwise you would've long been rudely awakened and received an earful of chastising.

...Is what you think, until you spot a foreign ring you definitely do not recall putting on.

It curls around your finger, dotted with crystals in a hue of blue you're all too familiar with. You see it everyday, gleaming in mischief, darkening with intrigue. Framed by long, long lashes, crinkling at the corners when filled with mirth. Crashing torrents that freeze in displeasure yet inexplicably gentle the moment it meets your eyes, like gentle sea waves that pad to your feet.

(You wonder if this is why he insisted on touching your hands so much, just to roughly measure your ring size.)

“I hope you fare well during my absence. Fear not, I will do my best not to prolong my leave.”

The way his words sound so self-assured and full of conviction doesn't sit well with you, and the genuine pity reflected in his irises almost makes your eyebrow twitch. You haven't even spoken a word before he began his theatrics.

“Take as long as you need,” you reassure him. “My lord mustn't rush his work.”

He wilts, but he perks right back up, “No need to put up a front. I'll come back for you.”

Incorrigible.

“Then I await your safe return.” You bow deeply as you swallow back a sigh of defeat, the other servants lined up on either side of the street moving accordingly.

“Please be careful,” Ayaka bids when she walks in front of him. “I've heard of bandits intercepting carriages to steal... I don't mean to undermine your abilities, but you should still be vigilant of trouble.”

Ayato laughs at that. “You don't have to worry, Ayaka. They'll sooner surrender before they lay a single scratch on me.” Glancing at the supplies being loaded on his carriage, he grimaces slightly. “I better get going. I'll see you all in three weeks.”

He climbs to the interior, giving you a final smile before closing the door. You stare at the carriage until it fully disappears, the trotting of horses out of earshot. When Thoma begins to walk back to the estate, you fall into step with him, matching his strides.

“The lord hasn't left for this long in a while,” he comments, to which you hum in agreement. “Think you'll miss him?”

“Three weeks is hardly a long time,” you retort back, complacent for the rare period of peace to follow the next month. “He'll return in no time, as if he'd never been gone in the first place.”

Thoma eyes you strangely at that, but says no more. “If you say so.”

--

The first day is bliss. No disruptions in your work, no unwanted conversation partner as a distraction, no midnight snacks needed to be prepared for the clan head a weird mix between workaholic and slacker.

The second day proves to be the same. No incessant chatter in your ear as you sweep the floor, no complaints for a stack of paperwork to be done within the day, no sudden requests of a shoulder massage for a job well done deserving of a reward.

The third day, you feel like your schedule is lacking, blank spots of free time sprinkled in between.

Ah, right. The tea breaks.

You tell yourself you only miss the fragrant tea, the selection of treats given to you by the young master's generosity. Not his thoughtful commentary for the taste, the chuckles spilling from his lips when you respond to his quips, the brief moments of eye contact before you resume your respective duties.

The fourth day, you're sent to hang the laundry. You tell yourself you don't miss a certain someone's abrupt appearance, poking a head through the sheets to startle you, huffing bright peals of laughter when he attains his desired reaction.

The fifth day, the cook requests your help to prep dinner. My lord doesn't like this dish, the sentence almost leaves your tongue as your eyes track down the recipe when you remember right, he's not here, and milady likes this dish, so it's one of the few chances she gets to eat it.

The sixth day, you clean his office. You organize the account books, restock his collection of pens and paper, and shuffle through his mail to sort them by category (definitely not noting down the number of letters asking for his hand in marriage). Your face flushes slightly when an unassuming bookmark falls out of a book you pick up from the floor, familiar flowers pressed thinly to fit between the pages. (You have only given those flowers on a whim, plucking fresh blossoms from plants you grew outside the Kamisato's garden. You didn't think he'd keep it around; they're not nearly as fancy as what his family owns.)

By the seventh day, you check the calendar and determine time is a social construct. There is no way it's only been seven days.

--

“How do I look?”

“Positively charming,” you say dryly.

“You're not looking.”

Your eyes flit to Thoma's attire. “I am.”

He shakes his head, taking off the robes he'd been trying on. “You're always daydreaming nowadays. What are you thinking about?”

Reminiscing the last time you visited this clothing store, which is when you brought the young master in your shopping trip. But he doesn't need to know that. “It's nothing. Are you buying it?”

“Since you kindly gave an approving opinion, sure.” His tone drips with sarcasm as he takes out his money pouch, paying for the clothes. “I think I don't need the answer from you, actually. I'm confident I have an accurate guess.”

Your eyebrows knit together. “What do you mean by that?”

“Who else would linger in your mind?” Thoma sighs in dramatic fashion, stepping out of the premises with you not far behind. “Distance makes the heart grow fonder, after all.”

Bristling, you vehemently refute, “I'm not thinking inappropriately of the lord, if that's what you're implying.”

“I didn't mention any names.”

“But you clearly meant him.”

He holds up his hands. “If that's what you want to believe, suit yourself.”

His gaze drops to the ring wrapped around your finger. The ring has been a topic of interest for the gossip mongers within the estate, wondering who you could've received it from; what other implications can wearing a ring have? Your cold exterior is no secret, your heart guarded with thorns, so who was able to sweep you off your feet in the end?

Thoma only needed one look at the shade of blue to make a correct guess.

“...I'm sure at this point, you know of his intentions,” Thoma says slowly. “And I have plenty of reasons to believe his affections aren't entirely unrequited.”

If they were, you would have brushed off Ayato already, just like you always do with the others. He may be persistent, but he knows how to back off. Yet the most you do is sigh and spoil him, albeit in (fond) exasperation.

“Even if they aren't...” you fidget with the hem of your shirt, averting your gaze from his blazing eyes, “...it doesn't mean we'll work. I'm certain he has better prospects for a spouse, anyway.”

“You mean those daughters from noble families?” He snorts. “He'd barely give them the time of day before running back to you. You should know that by now. Don't you remember when he faked being sick in that lunch meeting so you could take care of him?”

Of course you do. He had pretended to be in a dizzy spell, collapsing on your shoulder and making furtive hand signals asking for your help to get the lovesick maiden off his back. There really is no way to reject people like her without offending his business associate, so he tended to evade confrontations in roundabout ways.

You could excuse his clingy behavior out of necessity; it would be disgraceful to collapse on the floor, after all. The problem lies with the aftermath where you had already steered clear of the trouble but he insists on requiring treatment, body calculatively feeble as he gives you woeful pleas.

In another world, perhaps this would've been a heart-rending experience: a cold man who didn't share his burdens with others asking help from you specifically, because you were special and he trusted you the most.

In this world though, the act is only deserving of a derisive snort. He pulled off this plot for who knows how many times. How would holding your hand help with his throbbing headache anyway?

(You ignore the fact you indulge him each time regardless.)

“In any case, the lord is returning in a week. Not much time left for you to mope,” he laughs, even as you elbow his side.

A week.

(That is one week too long.)

--

When Ayato returns five days short of three weeks, you aren't there to greet him.

Instead, you are sick in bed, bundled in a pile of blankets, and suffering from a stuffy nose.

Ah, and delirious from fever. Very much so.

So when Ayato miraculously appears in your bedroom earlier than scheduled, you only sniff in response and brush him off as a hallucination.

But of course, your dismissive attitude isn't enough to discourage him from pestering you and running his mouth. He hovers by your bedside, noting with glee that you keep his ring on a nightstand close by. “This is rare. I don't think I've ever seen you ill.”

But you've seen him plenty, frail and weak after days straight of sleepless nights. He doesn't look too pretty in such a mood, quick-tempered and sharp-tongued at the slightest annoyance. He only ever softens when your expression flits to dismay for a fraction of a second before dutifully offering him prescribed medicine from the family's physician, the saddened expression gone like a mirage.

“How are you this annoying even in my dreams...”

As it turns out, you're even more of a worse case than he is.

“Mhm. Your filter is completely shut down when you're sick, huh.” Ayato laughs, amused at the surprising revelation. He doesn't get to be the receiving end of your blunt words very often. “Alright. How bad do you feel right now?”

“Terrible, since it's the ass crack of dawn.”

It is not the ass crack of dawn, but you wouldn't know any better with the curtains drawn. “Do you have an appetite? I'll have a servant bring a meal.” Then, he slyly adds, “I can feed you, if you want me to.”

He doesn't know which part of that statement appeals to you the most but you sit up straight, attentive.

Interesting.

Though Ayato meant it in jest, he has no complaints scooping spoonfuls of porridge to bring to your lips. He patiently coaxes you into drinking the bitter medicine after, quickly soothing you with bite-sized cut fruit to wash away the acrid taste.

“Good job,” he compliments, chuckling when you glow at the praise. Your lips are shiny with juice, trickling from the corner of your mouth.

Absent-mindedly, his hand lifts to caress your cheek, the pad of his thumb wiping it away. You jolt, a startled sound escaping you, and you hasten to clamp a hand over his mouth.

He blinks at you owlishly, dumbfounded.

“Don't,” you speak, your face decorated with a lovely pink. “You'll... you'll get sick.”

Ayato takes an embarrassing amount of time to process what that means. However, when he does, you can feel him grin beneath your fingers. He takes your hand, his huff of laughter tickling your palm.

“I thought we were in a dream? You don't get sick from kisses in dreams,” he teases, pressing a light kiss to your wrist. Your heart stutters in bewilderment but you make no move to pull away, only twitching when he kisses your fingertips.

“It's better to be careful...” your brows knit together, and he kisses the crease away too.

“Okay. Let's do it next time then, when you're truly awake.” He gently pushes you to your back, fluffing up the pillows for your comfort and tucking you in the blankets. Then, indulgently, he presses a final kiss to the crown of your head. “Rest well so I can get that kiss sooner, hm?”

“That's a stupid reason to recover...” you murmur defiantly, stubbornly blinking your drooping eyes open.

In the end, you fall asleep to the sound of his laughter, the fingers combing through your hair, and the rhythmic beat in his chest.

--

When you wake up, you admonish yourself for having such a shameless subconscious, but you acknowledge that you had a good dream.

Then your eyes land on a pair of discarded gloves on your nightstand, one that you remember Ayato putting away before he began to spoonfeed you your meal.

...Fuck.

“With all due respect, I don't believe being your headrest is part of my duty, my lord.”

A thoughtful hum answers you, preceded by a curious glance at your expression. Your legs are folded underneath you, back straight and eyes overlooking the garden instead of the weight resting on your lap. You can feel him shift, turning over where he faces against the porch, his robes wrinkling where they lay below.

“Are you suddenly becoming shy because a maidservant passed by?” He places down the novel in his hands on the wooden floorboards, watching your face burn in embarrassment. “I doubt this is the first time she's seen us, though.”

“My apologies. I'm not as thick-skinned as you are.”

“I'd prefer the term 'proud,'” he pokes the sash around your waist, smiling cheekily. “Who wouldn't want to show off their lover?”

He feels you stiffen, sees the flush of pink crawling outwards to the tips of your ears. “It's inappropriate. We're in a public setting.”

“That's only because you refuse to enter my chambers.” Ayato sighs and you look positively mortified. “I wouldn't ravage you, if that's what you're worried about?”

“My lord, please be reasonable. Whether you do or not, I will still be seen as your bed warmer. Did milady not advise us to be discreet? Inazuma would be in an uproar if they learned you were... you were...” you purse your lips, unable to spit the last word.

“Wedded.”

“I'm afraid we haven't gone that far, my lord,” you deadpan.

“So will you consider it?”

“My lord.”

“What?”

You give him a look, and he sighs in acquiescence. But he turns to face the opposite direction, expression hidden fron view. You can practically hear the pout in his voice, “I see. [Name] only sees me as a fling. My heart breaks to know this bliss is short-lived, but I will cherish our remaining time together.”

He's begun his theatrics again, you think tiredly, accustomed to his stunts. “In any case, we must be careful. We never know who has loose lips around here...”

He's still not facing you, resolutely looking away.

...Is he sulking for real? Was that a genuine marriage proposal?

“My lord?” You call out softly, in a lover's tender voice. He doesn't respond. Quieter, you whisper to his ear, “Ayato?” yet that doesn't earn a reaction either.

You start to panic, wondering if you were acting too indifferently. The change in your relationship had been a recent one, and you're still settling in a period of adjustment; even if you wanted to properly flirt with him like normal lovers do, bickering came more naturally to you.

You reach for his shoulder, hoping to turn him over and see his face. But then he catches your wrist, and you only have a second to catch a glimpse of his triumphant smirk before he captures your lips in a chaste kiss.

“Mhm, I see. So you're more considerate towards me when we're dating,” he cheerfully notes, tucking a stray lock of hair behind your ear as if he can't see the way your shocked gaze morphs into a cold glare. “I truly am privileged.”

“Incorrigible.” The word drips with poison, but he laughs and kisses you again, thumbing at the ring around your finger.

“Too bad you're stuck with me forever, huh?”

#genshin impact x reader #genshin impact #ayato x reader #ayato owns my heart #tashy reads #Tashy rb

[moonlilith]

thinking you are pretty doesn’t make you self absorbed. thinking you deserve good things doesn’t make you needy or whatever. it’s not bad to think good things about yourself

[moonlilith]

nuisance.

pairing: sakusa kiyoomi x gn!reader

wc: 2k

tags: fluff, manager!reader

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Sakusa has heard it once, he didn’t need to hear it a thousand more times.

It’s been repeated to him often enough that it was now indoctrinated into his own self-image – a seed planted into the soil of his psyche, and watered by every off-handed comment about his mannerisms from strangers that hardly knew his name until he’d accepted it as a part of him just as much as his limbs.

Sakusa Kiyoomi was… difficult.

His family often referred to him as “fussy”, countless stories repeated back to him about his childhood days of only drinking his milk if it’s been heated up to exactly thirty seven degrees, or refusing to leave the house unless he was wearing his mask. He didn’t like it when his mother forced him to hug his relatives, and family dinners outside of the home could only happen if he was the one that chose the restaurant.

He didn’t really think this made him difficult … he was just a little particular.

That’s what he believed throughout the preamble of his adolescence, convinced that the dramatics lied in others, and not him.

But the reputation he had inadvertently garnered during his academic years had only served to prove his issues.

He didn’t have a lot of friends, the closest one to him being his own cousin — not that he really minded. He found nothing wrong with choosing to focus on his passions instead, even if it meant eating his lunches alone in class.

Unapproachable, is what Komori had called him, and Sakusa was finding it difficult not to be offended. Sure, he knew he wasn’t the friendliest, but he certainly doesn’t remember ever being uninviting.

Though, there was a rumor that spread throughout his second year that he was afraid of germs after he had spent seventeen minutes chewing out a first year for leaving the bathroom without washing his hands. He admittedly kind of liked the thought, and never bothered to correct anyone about it.

And, yes, he’d be the first one to click his tongue at the girls screaming in the hallways at seven in the morning. He wasn’t afraid to loudly shush at those speaking louder than they ought to in the library, and he’d clear his throat a little forcefully whenever there was a crowd blocking the doorways.

But how does that make him the rude one?

He didn’t understand it, but he had heard it so many times, so he figured it must be true.

“I can never really tell what you’re thinking,” Atsumu had admitted to him once, tipsy from the three cocktails he drank too fast, excited about Sakusa finally joining one of their ‘boy’s night out’.

Atsumu, Hinata, Bokuto were reminiscing about their high school days, laughing at the days when all four of them were battling it out in separate courts, far from the games they now shared behind the same net.

Sakusa had begrudgingly admitted that his teenage self didn’t have nearly as much as the other three did, and Atsumu was much too quick to throw in his two cents.

“I dunno if you like something, or if you hate it,” he slurred out, sloshing his drink when he points a sticky finger at Sakusa, “I can’t tell when you’re joking or what… It’s always a hit or miss with you! It’s unsettling.”

Unsettling. That was a new one.

You had been the third person in four months hired to manage the MSBY Black Jackals.

“Be nice to this one, Omi,” Bokuto mumbled to him during team introductions, and it had struck a nerve somewhere deep within Sakusa. There was a sort of implication that Sakusa was trying to be unkind, that his actions were spiteful in nature, but that wasn’t the case.

He didn’t know he had been a problem in the first place.

At the end of your first week, nearly the entire team had practically forced you to let them treat you to dinner – an official welcome into the deranged business known as the MSBY Black Jackal’s franchise. You had done well so far, all things considered. Sakusa knew from first hand experience that his teammates were not the easiest to get along with, but you seemed to be able to handle all of them with easy grace.

Sakusa hasn’t even had to complain about you once, and this was a fact that was quickly brought into the spotlight by the rest of the table.

“You should have seen the look on Omi’s face when Fujikawa-san scheduled him for an entire spread on GQ,” Bokuto nudged your shoulder, Sakusa cringing both at the mention of the old manager and at the force of which you flew to the side, “He nearly had an aneurysm right then and there!”

“You know what an aneurysm is?” Sakusa says coolly from above the rim of his beer, eyes slipping closed as he sipped and ignored Bokuto’s whining.

“That’s nothing,” Meian laughed, “Remember when Sakiyama-kun forgot to tell Sakusa that they were filming interviews in the locker room? That was the first time I ever heard him actually snap at someone.”

“At least it wasn’t directed at you,” Hinata groaned, dropping his forehead down onto the table, “When I first joined, he…”

The floodgates had been opened then, and if Sakusa had heard it once, he'd heard it a thousand times before.

When I first met Sakusa-san, I thought he was terrifying!

Be careful what you say around Omi, he can be a little grouchy sometimes.

Don’t worry about Sakusa-senpai, he likes to be difficult with everyone.

Omi-omi freaks me out, I never know what’s going on in his head!

Sakusa doesn’t enjoy being troublesome, he doesn’t like to be seen as strict and accommodating. He just likes things the way he likes them.

“I don’t think Sakusa-san is all that difficult,” you chuckled, “Maybe you guys are just having a hard time understanding him?”

You laugh out loud at the collective groan around the table, throwing your hands up in defense as everyone continues to try and prove you wrong. The desperate defamation of his character at the hands of the people he spends nearly all his time with should probably peeve him a little bit more than it does.

But you had stopped for a moment, and gave him a cheesy grin that lasted only for a blink, and for the first time in his life, Sakusa chased after the fleeting thought that maybe it wouldn’t kill him to be a little more agreeable.

He had kept this philosophy swimming somewhere in the back of his mind, and over the next few weeks, Sakusa could slowly feel a turn of the tide.

He no longer had to hunt down the janitor of the stadium every morning to open up the gym, always finding the door unlocked with a towel ready in his locker. He’d come back to a single banana and a bottle of that kombucha he absolutely hated but can’t seem to stop drinking placed innocently on top of his gym bag, and a note with a smiley face that didn’t need a signature for him to know who it’s from.

He was always placed in conference panels next to Atsumu and Bokuto, the two always eager to answer enough questions for Sakusa to avoid speaking too much into the mic. His training sessions were scheduled a half hour before everyone else’s, always giving him enough time to finish and get into the shower before the last black jackal could even step foot into the weight room.

The irritation he usually felt hiding beneath the surface of his demeanor had disappeared, and for some reason his coworkers all started speaking to him more. We

His life began to move forward as effortlessly as a well oiled machine, and it really didn’t take much for him to figure out why.

And it wasn’t as if you were giving him any special treatment. He knows you drive to the convenience store twenty minutes past the stadium because it’s the only one that carries Hinata’s favorite sport drink. You’ve shown him the dozens of fake twitter accounts you’ve made to tweet Bokuto good luck before every game. You make sure to steam Atsumu’s entire uniform before each game because a single wrinkle can throw him off the edge.

He sees you.

He was glad now for the part of him that Atsumu had found unsettling.

Because he wouldn’t want them to understand why he’s suddenly bringing an iced green tea with honey to work every morning and bringing it directly into the back offices. He doesn’t need Atsumu to figure out the reason why he started packing extra bentos for practice after seeing you work through lunch one too many times.

He allows them to think he stays later after games so he could have the locker room to himself, because that’s the way Sakusa’s always been, right? He’s gotta have things his way, or no way. And it definitely wasn’t because he wanted to wait for you to finish your work, and wanted to be the one to see you home safely.

He tells himself it’s simply out of kindness, to show his gratitude with what you’ve done. Who’s to take care of you after you’ve taken care of everyone else?

He wouldn’t mind if it was him.

He hopes you suffer from the same affliction as his teammates, unable to read the blank face hidden behind a plain white mask. He wouldn’t want you to think he likes the exasperated smile on your face when you see him waiting, or the excited hop in your step as you fall into pace with him. He doesn’t give away that he actually enjoys your ceaseless rambling, and that you never took offense to any of his teasing.

But something tells him that you understood anyway.

“Can you believe it’s been six months already?” You mentioned, sticking your hands deep into the pocket of your coat. Your steps were slow, feet dragging behind in a pace that Sakusa was more than willing to indulge.

He shook his head because no, he could hardly believe it’s only been six months, because he could hardly remember what his life was like before you walked in it.

But he doesn’t say that. Instead, he says, “We should celebrate.”

Your eyes brighten up at him with excitement, clapping your hands together with a big smile.

“Yay, let’s celebrate!” You cheer with a little pump of your fist, and Sakusa could feel the corners of his lips tug up into a smile.

“We should invite Shoyo and Atsumu, and the rest of the team! The karaoke bar down the street is open late, they’ll love that,” you say with such enthusiasm, Sakusa felt guilty for how fast his smile dropped to the ground.

He was thankful enough the mask on his face managed to hide his idiotic smile, but he was even more grateful now for covering his disappointment. He continued to follow the length of your strides, silently walking you to the train station just as he’s done in the past.

He doesn’t say much else, simply nodding in agreement. Honestly, he should have known you’d think that’s what he meant. It would only be natural to celebrate a milestone like this with the rest of your coworkers, wouldn’t it? He was too presumptuous to think you’d want to be alone with him. God, he was starting to feel like a real idio—

“Jeez, no need to act so gloomy,” your voice cuts through his thoughts like a scalpel, and he turns to see you snickering into your palm, “I was just joking!”

He doesn’t know what to say, so he says nothing, blinking down at you confusedly as you roll your eyes.

“I won’t invite anyone else. We can celebrate, just us two,” you smile, reaching up to ruffle your fingers through the tufts of his curls, “Gosh, you’re so easy to read, Kiyoomi.”

He tugs his mask up higher on the bridge of his nose, praying to God you don’t see how much he enjoyed that.

But the soft smile on your face tells him you do, and maybe Sakusa likes that.

Because with you, Sakusa Kiyoomi felt easy.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

a/n: this was supposed to be a drabble

rbs v appreciated <3

#haikyuu x reader #tashy rb #sakusa x reader

[moonlilith]

crying and shaking and screaming and throwing up, suna please this is too cuteee

suna rintarou x fem reader, 3.2k

you drunkenly confess to Suna. he tries to confront you. your fight or flight instincts are activated.

You want to die. You’re ready to throw yourself out the window of your dorm. You almost send a text to your mom telling her how much you love her because the afterlife? That’s where you’re headed.

And no you’re not being dramatic. What you are however, is fucked.

You should have known better than to let yourself get carried away and trying to outdrink the Miya Twins at some stupid party.

Now you’ve woken up with a headache massive enough to compete with Atsumu’s big head. Honestly, this isn’t your first rodeo with hangovers- you’re a college student, and mixed with your inability to say no, parties have become a somewhat weekly thing. Plus you’re sure you can outdrink the Miya’s at some point.

The hangover isn’t the end of the world. The memory of what you did last night however- it’s enough to convince you to give up alcohol forever.

Playing beer pong with your best friend.

Losing because you have the worst hand-eye coordination.

Volunteering for karaoke and singing horrible off-key.

Trying to call for a ride home and dialing the wrong number.

Accidentally calling Suna—

God, you can’t even bring yourself to think about it, but your brain hates you. The vivid memory replays in your head over and over again. You feel sick.

Rin, you had said. I’m so in love with you, you confessed.

You said a lot of other things before that too, but really you just want to remember what Suna had said in response. You don’t think he said anything. Did you hang up immediately? Who the hell knows?

If you remember correctly, Suna was also at another party last night too. You’re hoping he was, because maybe he was also too drunk to even remember anything. Maybe the party was too loud and he didn’t even hear any of it. Besides, there were no missed calls or messages from him after that so you think you have a good chance. Suna was definitely the type to call back after receiving a confession like that.

It’s that hope that pushes you to agree to go to brunch with your group of friends. You know you could skip it and easily blame the hangover to avoid Suna, but one part of you needs to know whether he remembers the confession. You can’t live with the suspense. You have to know right now so you can decide whether to live life as normal again or whether you have to drop out of college, fake your death and move to a different country.

When you get to the brunch spot, everyone is already there. Hope begins to bloom in your chest at the prospect of getting away with it when you arrive and Suna acts normal towards you. And by normal, you mean he immediately begins teasing you.

“Damn Y/N, you tried to outdrink Atsumu again?” he asks, a smug grin on his face as you sit opposite him.

“Too loud, please shut up I’m recovering.” You respond, trying to look disgruntled rather than fucking nervous.

Suna laughs in response, the way he always does when he knows he’s getting under your skin, but his response is comforting.

“It’s ok, I’m recovering too.” he says smoothly, taking a sip of coffee.

You look at him and use what little energy you have to suppress an eyeroll. Suna looks great compared to everyone else at the table; Atsumu is unnervingly quiet as he wolfs down his food, Osamu looks like he might hurl any second, and your friend Miwa is lost in her own world as she stares at the wall.

Suna, of course, looks like a model next to your barely put together outfit consisting of sweatpants and whatever jumper was on your floor. What kind of hungover person has the time to put on a nice jacket, classic white t-shirt and fashionable black pants? Suna Rintarou apparently.

It’s not fair and you’re tempted to say something until you remember you’re trying to keep a low profile (and if you open your big mouth, you might blurt out something that definitely should not be asked over the table in front of everyone).

So you quietly order your food, listen to Atsumu boast about his upcoming game, listen to Osamu about how much he has to do for the week and ignore Miwa when she tries to convince you to run for student council with her. You avoid looking directly at Suna for too long, because you know you’ll end up looking like a tomato.

Brunch ends before you can even comprehend anything, and you’re ready to walk away from the scene with confidence that Suna either doesn’t remember what you said last night, or he’s pretending not to and won’t bring it up. Either way, you’re grateful for one less headache.

When you all get up to leave though, and you’re ready to deuce the fuck out and suffer silently in your room, you hear Suna call out your name.

You hold your breath.

“What’s up?” you ask, turning to him.

“Are you okay?” Suna asks, scratching the back of his neck. His nervous habit he never seemed to grow out of. “You’ve been quiet all morning, when usually you could compete with Atsumu for being the loudest.”

“Yeah, I'll be okay.” you respond, trying to act cool. You are the queen of casual conversations. “Nothing a good nap won’t be able to solve.”

He nods at that.

You nod back.

A heavy silence falls between the two of you, and you think this is the cue for your getaway. “Think I’m gonna go—”

“Actually,” Suna cuts you off and you look at him in anticipation for his next words. He looks nervous, not meeting your eyes as he glares holes into the wall beside him. He fiddles with his fingers. Cracks his knuckles. Takes a big breath. It’s a rare show of hesitance and nervousness for him and a pit of dread starts to build in your stomach.

Fuck, you internally scream, fuck.

Suna clears his throat, seemingly over whatever internal battle he was fighting. He still can’t meet your eyes though.

“You…” he starts, “do you remember anything from last night? Because you called me and—”

Suna doesn’t get the chance to finish the rest of his sentence because you immediately bolt out of the restaurant.

He has always activated your fight or flight response, and though you’re usually up for the challenge, today your body decides this is a flight only option. Despite Suna and his athleticism, you were on the track team for high school and you have never been more grateful for it than today when you sprint like the wind around the streets. You can hear him chase after you, calling your name, how he just wants to talk.

But you will not stop for him. You’re not ready for the talk, especially not when you’re hungover and look like shit. Besides, you’re not sure you can even formulate a convincing lie to get yourself out of it and Suna has always seen right through you.

You run fast enough that he doesn’t seem to be able to catch up to you, and when you spot a small bookstore, you immediately rush inside and hide in one of the shelves in the back. You hope he didn’t see you come inside.

You try to catch your breath, standing there pretending to look at the books while you try to rationalize your situation. You stay there for a good five minutes, then another five just to be safe. Only when the sales assistant gives you a suspicious look do you leave.

You don’t go back to your dorm immediately. Suna knows where you live. Instead, you choose to hide away in Miwa’s dorm and nurse your hangover there. She seems distracted enough that she doesn’t question why you aren’t doing it from the comfort of your own room and you end up spending the night. It’s not until the next morning when she’s running around getting ready for class do you decide to put on a brave face and head home. Thank god you have Mondays off.

For the next week you live in fear of Suna catching you off-guard around campus, so you devise a plan to leave at odd times to attend your classes. You begin taking alternative routes as well, avoiding all the places you frequently go to. You’re extra careful walking home, jumping at every noise that even sounds vaguely similar to him and running away.

Your stupid evasion tactics don’t last long though. After a week of hiding, Suna catches you just as you’re about to leave your apartment to go for a grocery run, corners you at your front door and declares, “You can run back inside and hide, but I’m not leaving.”

You gulp, knowing you're backed into a corner. You live on the fifth floor too, so sneaking out isn’t an option. Shit.

“Hey, what’s up?” you try to ask casually, fake smile on your face.

Suna looks far from impressed.

“You’ve been avoiding me for a whole week. We need to talk.”

You meekly nod, sighing and opening your door wider to let him into your room. If you’re going to be rejected, you’d rather it be in the safety of your own room than in the hallway with your nosy neighbours. You steel yourself for what’s about to happen.

You aren’t a coward Y/N. You were bound to get rejected at one point, let’s do it with a little dignity.

Suna stands a safe distance away from you, standing next to your window while you remain by  the door. You look anywhere but him, hoping he would just get it over and done with.

Suna lets out a sigh when he sees the look on your face.

“Can you stop looking like I’m going to yell at you? It’s just me, I don’t bite.”

“That’s just my face.” you pout. “Besides, I don’t want to have this conversation; can we just drop it?”

“Will you look at me?” Suna says, “You’re making me nervous. And don’t think you can run away just because you’re next to the door.”

You nod reluctantly, but you still won’t meet his eyes. Your cheeks are already starting to heat up.

“You’re really not going to look at me?” He asks, tone softer than usual that you start to feel bad. “I just want to talk to you, I promise. I’m not even angry at you, just— frustrated.”

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. This is Rintarou, the soft side of him you’ve only been lucky to catch a glimpse of a handful of times; this is the guy that you daydream about, the one who tells you he likes you back in some alternate universe. Rintarou is more terrifying than Suna, because you can never say no to him.

“Y/N, please?” He pleads. “I haven’t seen you in a whole week. Please just look at me.”

Already, you’re lifting your head to look in his eyes. See? This is what he does to you, soft spoken words and you’re already putty in his hands, willing to bend over backwards just to make him happy. Almost like a reward for your bravery, Suna flashes his signature smile at you, and you almost melt.

“Ah,” he says softly, walking towards you and cupping both your cheeks in his hands, “there she is.”

Your cheeks heat up even more, and you try to turn away once more but he holds your head firmly in place.

“Will you be honest with me?”

Do you have any other choice? You nod, slowly, hesitantly, but it’s enough for him.

“Last Saturday night, when there was a full moon, you called me super duper drunk,” he starts, “and said, Suna Rintarou I hate you and your stupid face and your stupid smile and your stupid hands I think about holding all the time, did you mean it?”

Oh my god. You want the ground to suddenly open up and swallow you whole. You want an asteroid to suddenly hit the earth and destroy all living things. Anything  to get you away from the scene unfolding before you.

You stare at the little freckle on his cheek. “Yes.”

“You’re a terrible liar. My mother says I’m very handsome, so why would you call my face stupid?”

In between your thoughts of curling into a ball to feel sorry for yourself and bolting out of the room far away from Suna, you manage to roll your eyes.

“Where are you going with this?”

Suna completely ignores you.

“Moving on, you said, why are you so stupid Suna Rintarou? You’re so stupid when it comes to doing your homework on time and making all those stupid jokes. You always tease me more than anyone else, and it’s not fair that you target me when Atsumu literally exists—”

“Oh my god,” you interrupt, “did you memorize this or something?”

“Studied it better than any of my notes for a test.” he teases. “But don’t worry, I haven't even got to the good part yet.”

You could punch him right now. You really could.

“And after that you said, I hate how you make me feel special like that, you make me delusional enough to think that maybe I am special to you and that’s why you always choose me as your target. I hate that you’ve been blessed with everything but a goddamn brain, because if you did then maybe you’d realize it before I even had to tell you.”

“Maybe,” he heaves out a breath and smiles at you, “maybe if you did then you’d realize that I’ve been in love with you for the past year and a half.” Suna looks into your eyes then, and there’s a glint in his eye you’ve never seen till now. “Rin, you said my name softly like that, I’m so in love with you.”

“I—” you try to start but he’s left you speechless. You can’t believe he remembered everything you said.

“Though, my favourite part is when you said all those sweet things then proceeded to yell ‘you suck!’ into the phone then hung up before I could even say anything.” Suna giggles, he giggles, and you realize he thinks this whole situation is funny. He sobers up quickly, then his eyes seem to start analyzing you, searching for something. “I tried bringing it up with you last week, but you ran away before I could even say anything. And all this time, I’ve just… I’ve been wondering whether you meant it.”

You stare at him blankly, still trying to process his words. You’re sure that you’ve lost all your brain cells in a week because you’re still at a loss of what to say. But there’s nothing left to hide anyway, is there?

“Yes, I meant it. The last part,” you gulp, “I really meant it.”

“The part where you said that I sucked?” he asks, eyebrow raised questioningly.

You scowl at him. “You know what I mean! The last part!”

“The part where you said I’ve been blessed with everything but brains? Or the part where you called my jokes stupid?”

You can’t believe the nerve of this guy. Stupid, stupid, stupid motherfucking Suna Rintarou. You hate the fact that he’s teasing you over your feelings like this.

“You really do suck. So much. You’re the worst person I know. Fine. Yes I meant it, yes I’ve been in love with you for the past year and half you idiot. It’s all true okay.” you finally admit, exasperated. “So can you just stop wasting my time? Reject me already, so I can cry about it and glow up and make you regret your life decisions and—”

“Do you know how long I’ve waited to hear those words from you?” Suna asks suddenly, looking at you so earnestly you stop your rambling. “This isn’t how I pictured you saying it, and honestly I figured I would do it first, but this works too I guess. It was meant to be a lot more romantic, and you weren’t insulting me every five seconds when declaring your undying love for me—”

You cannot believe what you’re hearing right now.

“But… this works too.”  he says. “I’m in love with you too, been in love for a while now actually and I never really knew how to say it. So when you confessed last week, I just thought it was the perfect time to… you know.”

Now he’s the one blushing.

“What the fuck?” is all you can say right now.

Suna can sense that you’re about to ramble and ask a million questions so he beats you to it.

“I think we should kiss right now.” is all he says, before leaning dangerously close to you.

You immediately put your hand on his chest to stop him, effectively stopping him in his tracks.

“Hold on! What the hell, I’m still processing this Rin!”

Suna looks at you in confusion, already pulling you in closer again. “What is there left to process? I waited a whole week for you already!”

“You had a whole week to process my feelings— you’ve given me like five minutes!” you exclaim. “I don’t even think I’m awake right now, quick pinch me so I know it’s real.”

“Maybe if you come and kiss me you’ll know it’s real.” Suna says, stupud smirk on his face. “Come on pretty girl, process it later, I want my kiss.”

“Who says I want to kiss you?” you counter, but your resolve is already crumbling by the second.

He shoots you an incredulous look. “Seriously? You’re going to play hard to get right now? I’m here ready to kiss you and—”

You bolt away from his hold, giggling as you run towards the door but Suna doesn’t let you take more than two steps away from him.

“I’m serious, Y/N. I’ve been thinking about this for the past week, been dreaming about it much longer than that. Can I please kiss you?”

You would be a fool to deny him when you’ve been dreaming of the exact same thing as well. So you offer him a small nod, and that’s all it takes before he pulls you towards him, so gently, as if you’re fragile.

He cups your cheeks in his hands, smiling at you as if you are the sun itself. The light from your window seeps in at that moment and lights up his eyes in a way that makes you fall in love all over again.

He brushes his nose softly against yours, eyes closing as you smile in anticipation. Just when you can’t wait anymore, you feel his lips against yours and you can’t help but melt in his arms, your body flush against him.

You don’t know how to describe what it feels like to finally kiss him. He tastes of mint, lips languidly moving against yours, not too harsh but just enough that it leaves you wanting more and more (you don’t know if you’ll ever get enough of him).

After a considerable amount of time, you both pull away, chests heaving as your foreheads bump against each other.

“Well?” you ask, still basking in the moment as you gaze up at him.

He smiles back. “I’m glad you called me.”

“I’m glad I did too.”

a/n: I wanted to read a drunk confession fic with Suna but couldn't find one so... I wrote it. (I am the change I want to see in the world.)

likes and reblogs are appreciated!

#one suna rintarou please #a bf like suna please #suna rintarō #suna x reader #tashy rb #tashy reads

[moonlilith]

suna rintarou x reader, 1k

you can't find the right picture despite Suna claiming you look good in all of them. (or, you and your husband are looking through your wedding photos.)

Suna holds up another photo. “How about this one?”

“I don’t like that one.” you say, wrinkling your nose at him.

Suna sighs. This is the fourth picture you’ve rejected.

“What’s wrong with it?”

You glare at the picture in his hand, scrutinising every little detail. Your mouth forms into a grim line, eyebrows scrunched together as you find a flaw that he’s completely oblivious to.

“I look really weird in it, don’t I?”

Quite frankly, Suna has no idea what you’re talking about. But you’re looking at him all serious, and he knows that if he laughs now he would end up a dead man, so he just hums.

“I don’t think so, but whatever.”

You huff. “Well fuck me for wanting to look good in my wedding photos, I guess.”

“I’m just saying you look good in all of them!” Suna reasons, because he was right and he needed you to see it. There wasn’t a single photo where you looked bad, and though you might endlessly protest it, it was just a fact of life. You didn’t look bad in photos because you never looked bad, period.

The sky was blue, the Miya twins were insufferable, and you never looked any less than perfect in his eyes. These were all basic facts, and he’s frustrated that you seem to think different.

“My eyes look funny in this one, it’s just not right!”

It’s a photo of you two at the reception, sat down at the table listening as everyone gives their toasts to the new couple. Judging from the look on his face, Suna deduces that it was Osamu’s turn. (Osamu had begun his speech by retelling the story of how Suna had tried to ask you out for the first time, not sparing every single excruciating detail. Suna’s face had never recovered, his face flushed a bright red during the whole speech.)

You were staring at Osamu, eyes sparkling as you clung to every detail and mouth wide with joy as one of your hands cups your chin. You look bashful, happy— beautiful. Suna tells you so.

“Your very biased opinion doesn’t count!” You whine, and maybe there was something in the way you’d said it, but Suna is hit with a wave of nostalgia. It catches him off guard sometimes, how he finds pieces of the you he had first met with the you now. And it wasn’t even that you had changed drastically, but you just felt different to him now.

You were 26 now, a stark difference to the shy 12 year old he had first met. But some things never change.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” You ask. Suna isn’t even sorry about being caught staring, but he smiles sheepishly anyway. There was a certain level of sappiness Suna had thought he’d never reach, never wanted to reach, until you. Yet here he was, admiring you in all your morning beauty, as he gets emotional thinking about how you still whined like a little girl getting teased by a little boy.

“I’m just marvelling at you.” Suna responds slowly, watching in amusement as your cheeks flush a bright pink. “At how pretty you are, even if you just woke up half an hour ago.”

You roll your eyes at him, affectionately pinching him as he yelps. “Is that all?”

“Well, no.” Suna says, shuffling closer to you until he can pull you in between his legs, your back against his chest. He leans his chin on your shoulder, shamelessly tangling his limbs around you. You protest at his actions, claiming it’s too warm for cuddling, but you give in quickly as he presses a light peck against your cheek. “I’m also thinking about how we’re married now.”

Suna didn’t need to see your face to know that you were full blown blushing now. He could feel the heat radiating off of you.

“Well yeah, it happened two months ago. Don’t know how you could have forgotten.” you mumble, leaning into him.

Suna scoffs, “I didn’t forget.” He grabs your left hand with his, twining them together as the morning light shines on your matching gold bands. Suna doesn’t think he’s ever seen as beautiful a sight as this. “It’s just nice to think about, you know? We have wedding photos to choose from, a new apartment we’re moving into soon.”

“We’re married.” he says quietly, smiling against your neck. You squeeze his hand with yours, bringing it to your lips as you place a small kiss.

It still gave him a rush of emotions thinking about how lucky he was. He was married, to you. He must have done something good in a past life to be blessed like this.

“We’re married.” you repeat, craning your neck until your eyes meet his. There’s a smile on your face that radiates so much joy that makes his heart flutter.

You had always loved Suna with a certain radiance, a fire burning in your eyes that he never wanted to see extinguish. Your love had resided in the corners of your smile, in the hands that held him late at night in your shared bed, in your fingers that ran soothingly through his hair.

And Suna loved you back; he loved you so much.

You stayed there like that, relishing in the knowledge that you were now married. The memory had etched itself into a permanent corner in his mind.

Suna eventually broke the spell, saying “You still have to pick a photo you know. I want it framed.”

You groan, “I choose the one where I look decent in it.”

“That would be every photo then.”

“Why did I marry you again?” you ask. “I wouldn’t have married someone this cheesy, I would know better.”

You pull away from his embrace, grabbing the pile of pictures so you can shuffle through them again. “If this is how cheesy you’re going to be now that we’re married, I want a refund.”

Suna’s face aches with how wide his smile is. “Too late— you sold your soul to me at the altar.”

You sigh defeatedly. “I guess I’m stuck with you then.”

He lets out a joyous laughter, as you smile at him. “Damn right you are.”

a/n: whipped suna? whipped suna !!!!!

likes and reblogs are appreciated!

#one suna rintarou please #suna x reader #tashy rb #tashy reads

[moonlilith]

Why does this seems like it came out of my fantasy? Like dancing in the rain ugh

Happy Birthday, babe.

Pairing: Suna Rintaro x Reader

Requested by: anon

Summary: Suna didn't forget your birthday, there's no way he did, but he was lost in what to get you, especially when you smiled and said it was fine.

A/n: Happy birthday anon, sorry I don't have good internet so I couldn't do a banner.

"Are you sure you don't want anything?"

"Just spend the day with me Rintaro, that's it."

Suna pouted slightly in the seat in front of you as he watched you finish the classwork on your desk.

"But your birthday is next week." His elbow comes down onto your desk, head resting in his palm as lhe tried to scan your face for any indication of what you might want.

"I told you it's fine." Your hand came over to poke his cheek, drawing a slightly annoyed laugh from Suna as you giggled.

The next week comes sooner than Suna would have liked, and Atsumu and Osamu laugh as he panics on what to get you.

"Why not a ring." Osamu shrugs while picking up his gym bag, tired of hearing Suna mumble ideas to himself throughout practice.

Suna's eyebrows come together as he contemplates it. Was it too early to get you a ring? Would you think we was weird?

"Like matching ones?" Atsumu chimes in and Osamu nods before they look to Suna.

"I guess, but what if they don't want a ring." Sun's chews on his bottom lip as he thinks as Atsumu lets out a groan of annoyance.

"It's the thought that counts, they'll still appreciate the ring."

For the next two days Suna held your hand as much as he could, trying to memorize the size of your fingers so he could get a ring that fit, and when you finally asked what he was doing, he just smiled softly and kisses your knuckles, mumbling something about liking your hands.

He ended up getting a set of rings the day before your birthday, slipping his on a dainty chain and hanging it on his neck under his shirt as he waited anxiously to give you the ring. Would it send the wrong message? That he wanted to get married? We'll, it's not like he didn't want to get married, but you were only in high school after all.

And it rained.

Suna woke up the morning of your backpack to the sound of rain and thundering. He'd have to give you your ring under the gym awning before practice.

The whole day, he clung to you more than often, pulling you into backhugs while you talked with your share friends, and sending his hand back to hold your hand during class, occasionally glancing back to see you smile at him.

As the end of school neared, the anxiety built and he could barely stop his leg from shaking.

"Suna? Do you have your phone on you?" Suna blinks a couple times at you next to him as you walked to the gym, running from awning to awning trying not to get wet.

"Yeah, I do."

You just nodded in response and stopped I'm front of him right in front of the gym doors.

"You want to dance?" Suna smiles at your question, and usually he'd say no, it's raining and his teammates could see. But who was he to deny his s/o on their birthday?

Suna's fingers tap on his phone, finding a song you had showed him ages ago that he ended up liking because it reminded him of you.

Your backpacks were shed and placed in front of the door as he led you into the rain, smiling softly as you giggled and spun out before coming back into his arms.

Pouring rain caused his bangs to come down flat on his forehead until he pushed it back with his hand.

The music was soft against the sound of rain pattering on the ground as you swayed back and forth, occasionally giggling when he spun you or tried to dip you in his arms.

His beige blazer is draped across your shoulders to keep you warm while his white dress shirt soaks through and sticks to his chest, his tie long forgotten deep within his backpack.

"Happy birthday babe." Suna leans in to whisper into your ear lowly, eyes finally catching his team, cellphones up and taking videos much like he would take of them, smiles tugging at their lips.

One hand comes up in a middle finger behind your back as he smiles at you lovingly as you giggle and sway in his arms.

"I wasn't sure if this was appropriate but-" Suna digs through his pants pocket, taking out the small black box.

He eyes your reaction carefully as he opens it carefully, the ring carefully placed in the middle.

"I love it." You whisper as he places it on your middle finger, and you can hear Suna's sigh of relief that it fits properly before he takes the chain out of his shirt.

"We match." It's said bluntly, the awkwardness of the situation catching up to Suna.

But his cheeks slowly burn pink as you kiss him with your hands on his cheeks, the hollering and supportive yells of his teammates in the background.

You dance for a little more after that, sneaking in soft kisses while you dance before Suna decides that any more and you'll get sick.

He dosent leave your side the rest of the day, hands tangled with yours as you search for dry clothes, giggling in the rain.

---

Taglist:

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#suna x reader #suna rintarou #one suna rintarou please #tashy reads #tashy rb

[moonlilith]

hi there! congrats on your 1k milestone! this is my submission for the event? 'the moon smiled, the sun twinkled; but both were jealous of your stardust soul' by p. perry + kita shinsuke? and can it be angst please?

purest we could’ve been.

the moon smiled, the sun twinkled; but both were jealous of your stardust soul.

— p. perry.

you still remember it. 

the kind smile he'd given you, the way his eyes had crinkled, the way he spoke your name and had asked if you'd be his—it made him the happiest man in the world; taking you in his arms and spinning you around as the living room walls echoed your laughter and his. he'd slid the ring onto your finger, and albeit it was cold metal, you'd given him the brightest grin you could muster as he kissed you right after. 

you were just children. twenty-one, fresh out of college and ready to start your lives. he was investing in a few acres of land in hyо̄go, you were applying to more colleges for further studies, and everything seemed like it was stolen right out of a daydream. 

the joy you shared with him was radiant; dancing to jazz or other classical music together in the same living room, giggling with a lilt in your voices whenever you'd accidentally step on his toes. you remember the short time the two of you were engaged vividly—it was like time was woven straight from fairytales. mornings were spent waking up to honey-scented breakfast or in his bare arms. smooth and rippling, you'd describe it, or as the 'honeymoon phase'. 

the wedding—you wouldn't describe it as any less than perfect. because how could you? your whole family was happy with him, he was the perfect man. kita shinsuke, who'd always exceeded expectations within a split second was the man of your dreams. the two of you danced to the same jazz(or was it classical? you couldn’t remember properly), song for your first dance, the food was spectacular, and best of all, he'd learned to play the piano just for you as a surprise. you'd cried, of course, and probably shared one of the longest hugs in history with him right after he was done. the night ended with something you're not quite proud of, though. him, tending to you as you drunkenly spewed nonsense about how much you loved him, about how he was so perfect that you didn't come close to deserving him. you'd sobbed into his shirt as he let out a small chuckle and tucked you into bed, laying down next to you and brushed your hair out of your face. he'd fallen asleep smiling that night, not being able to wait for what was to come. 

dreams. fickle things, aren't they? it was hard to keep up with life if you chased after them too much, and it was hard to not chase after them because they were all you wanted from life. a college in tokyo was where you'd gotten accepted, and you'd sobbed into his chest so brokenheartedly at the train station when you were supposed to leave. he almost asked you to stay, but you had dreams. and he couldn't wait for you to fulfill them. 

you came back every chance you got. even if it was only for a day or two, you'd book the train tickets in an instant. christmas, new years, summer, spring—every single holiday was your opportunity to spend time with him, and you took it. the first two years were easy and understanding, like a new car with no bumpy wheels. the ride was stable, and it was bucolic in a sense. sweet and supple kisses to wake you up every morning, and a steady heartbeat to fall asleep to. 

you don't remember, however, how the fights started. the way screams and meaningless words were exchanged, hurtful things said in an almost hushed tone until you couldn't take it anymore. 

you didn't come back in winter in the fourth year. the final year, you'd taken up a job in tokyo as a grudge against him. and as he waited in the train station for you for hours, but you never came. 

missed calls and texts. they didn't exactly flood your phone because of him(he had called you twice and messaged you once, but you didn't reply to it), but because of your friends back in hyо̄go. miya osamu yelled at you for hours over a call which you'd made the mistake of answering right as you left work. and no, the things he said weren't exactly family-friendly, either. you yelled back, screaming at how you couldn't handle fighting with the person you loved whenever you came back home for vacations. but you were wrong, you knew it back then too. 

hyо̄go wasn't supposed to be a vacation. it was supposed to be your home. 

when you did come back, however, things only got worse. silence was all you received in return for your little stunt. and you'd now come back home for good, but things between you and him were like a paper beginning to rip from a notebook. 

and gradually, the paper fell off. a clean split. 

you still remember it—the look in his eyes as the two of you signed a paper that instigated that you were no longer together. your eyes were bloodshot and the man you were once sharing the most romantic words you could come up with looked at you with glassy eyes himself. 

you still remember the way kita shinsuke loved you. it was nothing but pure, and you'd be lying if you said you didn't miss it one bit. you looked back on those days with a bitter smile on your face as you looked out of your apartment in tokyo—which was where you'd fled to after the incidents.

dreams were sure a fickle thing.

hello anon! thank you for participating in my event for 1k! if anyone else wants to do so, here’s the event masterlist for the rules!

© all works belong to admiringlove on tumblr. plagiarism is strictly prohibited.

#tashy reads #tashy rb

[moonlilith]

Back to this; definitely one of my favs

𝐝𝐞𝐩𝐫𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐭𝐲 | 𝐨𝐢𝐤𝐚𝐰𝐚 𝐭𝐨𝐨𝐫𝐮

Description: you’re so soft, so pliant against him, innocently fluttering your eyelashes as you look up at him. it makes Oikawa want to ruin you. so, he does.

Warning: explicit smut - corruption kink, overstimulation, one mention of videotaping, soft dom!Oikawa, shy!Reader

Length: 4.1k words

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Oikawa had only wanted to kiss you goodbye.

That’s all he had meant to do - end the night a little sweet before leaving your doorway for the drive back to his apartment. Maybe even whisper something in your ear about how he couldn’t wait to see how pretty you looked in your outfit for the next date night, just so he had one last chance to see your face grow pink at his cheekiness.

But he doesn’t even reach that far, because before he can pull away, you’re grasping on to the thick of his shoulders, bringing his lips back against your soft ones. You’re kissing him hard, with far more vigour than he was expecting. It’s uncharacteristic of you. He can’t bring himself to pull away. 

He wants to lose himself - to the saccharine scent of your perfume, to the magnetic pull of your arms as they loop around his neck, to the feeling of your soft tits pressing up against the hardness of his chest. Suddenly, Oikawa’s intoxicated, and it has nothing to do with the wine from earlier tonight. No, it’s you; you’re everywhere, all around him. And he’s so tempted to simply give in to the inebriation. 

But he shouldn’t. It was too early, wasn’t it? No, he should wait until you’re ready. That would be the right thing to do. All he had to do was gently pull away from you and-

“Oikawa-kun… I need you to, um, to touch me? Please?”

Fuck. You’re practically begging him to fuck you. And he wants to. Oikawa wants to. 

Keep reading

#tashy reads #tashy rb

[moonlilith]

suna oml i need a hug too

"are you feeling good now cutie?" he asked while brushing your hair softly.

"mmhm," you lift your head from suna's chest and gave him a smile half mouthed.

"i told you before and i will told you again. please," suna put his palm on your cheek when you were about to lower your head.

"don't bottle up your emotions. don't hide yourself from me. whatever you are feeling; angry, sad, happy, depressed. tell them to me so you won't get crushed under those feelings."

as if you weren't emotional enough, his words made your eyes teary. staring at him deeply made your heart ache as well. not because anything bad, just his lovingly caring eyes.

"oh god, don't cry again." he said laughingly. but you couldn't stop yourself and when your lips wobbled suna pulled you into his arms.

embracing his body tightly, you put your face in his neck and kissed him there before letting your tears to fall. there was a feeling on your chest heavy yet light. loving him was making your heart heavy but it was the best feeling ever. i couldn't reflect here well but yk you just love someone sm that your chest hurts idk weird

suna started to stroke your hair while you were enjoy being in his presence.

"i love you." you said after putting your palm on his cheek.

"i love you too." suna said letting his head fall on your head. even if it was just toward evening, both of you were sleepy.

before him not falling asleep properly you raised your head from his neck and pulled his head softly to yourself to give his cheek a tender kiss.

"sweet dreams."

#Guesswhosbackwithhq #suna rintaro #a bf like suna please #better yet suna as a bf #one suna rintarou please #tashy reads #tashy rb

[moonlilith]

because @flycloudddd​​ needs a hug! this isn’t quite it but i hope it works 🤍

“i’m goin’ to fuckin’ kill you, atsumu,” you say through grit teeth, clutching your head to quell the ringing in your ears.

“i didn’t mean it!” he cries, flailing. behind him, suna’s recording. “it was an accident!”

“your serve flew out of the gym!” you shriek as you attempt to lunge, but the effort is enough to make you curl back into yourself. “ow.”

next to you on the ground, kita inspects the damage. “stop moving,” he instructs, gentle but firm. “no bleeding, but get it checked with the nurse to be sure. how’s your ear? painful? wet?”

“not sure,” you grumble, moving the hand on your head to gently inspect your ear. “i don’t think so.”

aran sighs. “osamu’s gonna flip, man.”

“why would i flip?” miya osamu says as he arrives, which, for atsumu, is the worst possible thing that could happen right this second. 

“what are you all doin’ outside the gym?” his dark grey eyes survey the scene—the volleyball team all scattered in a huddle, and at the center, you on the ground, with kita kneeling next to you. “what happened?”

“nothing!” atsumu cries.

“i got hit in the head with atsumu’s serve,” you grunt. 

“with his what?” the boys nearest osamu flinch at his sudden sharp tone. 

kita pulls away. “someone should bring her to the nurse. no blood, but just to be sure.”

“it was an accident!” atsumu yells, already sprinting away. suna’s phone camera follows him.

nearly all the inarizaki boys’ jaws drop when osamu chooses to help you up instead of chase after his brother. 

“you’re not gonna go after him?” gin asks, confused.

you attempt to stand, but the hit left you disoriented, and you nearly fall back down. aran and kita catch you before you land. your boyfriend crouches down to let you climb on his back, and you dutifully follow.

“why?” osamu grunts, hoisting you up. “i know where he sleeps.”

#tashy rb #tashy reads #osamu x reader

[moonlilith]

CONTRITION

relationship: sakusa kiyoomi x reader

summary: sakusa was never good at voicing out his feelings for you and he fears that because of this he doesn’t deserve you. based on lang leav’s poem; contrition (poem at the bottom).

content: fluff, angst-ish on Sakusa’s part

Word count: 1.1k+

He was never the most open, preferring the company of himself, or a few close friends (who happen to be the opposite of him), he preferred doing his own thing and fading into the background. He was content. Sakusa’s life was easy, he had his routine that he perfected. If he had practice, it was wake up at 5:30am, go for a run, come back, shower then head to practice. After, he would have his meal that his nutritionist planned for him, then go to bed and repeat it over again.

Other people in his life often judged him albeit not to his face about his routine, frankly, he didn’t care. He was happy. It was what he wanted because he created it. He could see himself doing it until the rest of his life.

Until you.

You turned his life upside down, and at first it caused an internal panic within him. He wasn’t used to sharing his life with anyone else. Even his parents and siblings often left him alone. It wasn’t like you rudely intruded into his life either, you didn’t come barging in, it was slow in Sakusa’s opinion.

You were friends first, having met through Bokuto. Sakusa deep down feared that you were like his very outgoing larger-than-life friend, but it turned out you weren’t. You were reserved much like him, but once he really got to know you and you were comfortable with him, it seemed like you were a different person.

Sakusa didn’t realise that his routine that he dearly loved was changing to fit you into it. Rather, it evolved to fit you into it. It didn’t hit him until one day in March that you crept into his life so well, that all of the things he did before he didn’t do it anymore.

It should have annoyed him, and it would have unsettled him, breaking his carefully constructed routine. But even before moving in together he wanted to rush his day so he could see you. Instead of having the dinner he would have everyday, he was eager to see what you planned for the two of you. Was it you cooking? You and him? Or were you trying out that new place on the corner? When the two of you moved in, as much as wanted and needed to wake up early to run, he instead craved to sleep beside you, craving those extra hours with you even if you were asleep.

You changed his life and he couldn’t be more thankful for it.

–

“(Y/N)?” Sakusa gently spoke, and you turned to him, placing your phone down. “I’m sorry.”

Keep reading

#sakusa x reader #tashy reads #tashy rb

[moonlilith]

This is so cute im falling in love with suna

swipe left! ; smau // mlist

suna rintarou x y/n l/n

where suna and y/n both coincidentally at the same time makes a bet. both of which relates to them having a date, where’s a better place to find that someone than a dating app online?

taglist: closed <3

genre: crack, fluff, fem!reader

warnings: cursing

profiles

chapters

♥︎1 should’ve been flower girl

♡︎2 try me btch

♥︎3 suna’s type

♡︎4 semi-chan

♥︎5 monthly supply of chuppets

♡︎6 meant to be— not

♥︎7 my mom told me i’m american

♡︎8 sorry i couldn’t ruin your throat

♥︎9 ability: teleporter

♡︎10 yellow and grey garbage can

♥︎11 i’m posh like that

♡︎12 let me treat you right

♥︎13 i hate her

♡14 ︎angel in disguise

♥︎15 toxic s.o

♡16 *confused screaming*

♥︎17 x boba store

♡︎18 firework haired bitch

♥︎19 reminders

♡︎20 send memes to your s.o

♥︎21 skate park

♡︎22 the s in semi stand for slander

♥︎23 have a break have a kit kat

♡︎24 ushi sheiten tomu

♥︎25 rinta-no

♡︎26 you ever watched finding dory?

♥︎27 confession room

♡︎28 into you

♥︎29 official

♡︎30 officialer

end

#one suna rintarou please #tashy reads #tashy rb #suna x reader

[moonlilith]

Same energy