Worlds Quietest Blunt Rotation. Or Something

Hey if you’re ever not busy can you do a Suna fic where he just got his wisdom teeth removed😭I’ve seen it done on so many haikyuu characters but Suna and I think it’s so cute. You also write him the best😓

THANK YOU THANK YOU FOR THE KIND WORDS AND THE ADORABLE PROMPT 😭💖💖💖

—-

The nurse told you that they’d used a strong anesthetic because of how impacted his teeth were, but when it took them quite a few times to finally wake him up, you knew you were in for a ride.

Rintaro always hated the dentist. Always. He blames it on childhood trauma (he didn’t have any. He never brushed his teeth and that was his problem) but up until last night, months after his dentist told him he’d need an extraction as soon as possible, he’d been trying to get out of it.

Deep down, seeing him so relaxed in the chair was a relief. The teeth were out, now he has to heal. Easy enough.

You smile as you make your way over to his slowly waking body, taking his hand gently in yours to be the first thing when he woke up. Kissing the knuckles finally had him stirring, and he blinked those bleary green eyes open at you, you practically saw the hearts forming in them.

“Morning, sunshine,” you coo, moving your free hand over to card the messy locks of hair from his face. “How do you feel?”

He tries to speak, but it comes out as a croaky ‘guhhh’ and from a few feet away, the nurse chuckles.

“He’ll have some nasty cotton mouth- literally- for the next few days, but communication should be normal as he starts to wake up,” she says, snapping the gloves off her hands. Then, she passes you the care directions, “no rush. If you need anything, just press the buzzer.” At this point, Rintaro has taken the liberty of grabbing all the gauze he can to put in his mouth. You assume it’s to absorb all the spittle.

“No, no honey,” you chuckle, gently grabbing his hands and pulling the damp cloth out easily. “Be careful. We can change your gauze when we get home.”

“I ‘ont wonna shange my gods,” he mumbles, resting his hands on yours. “‘Ike my gods.”

“Gauze, baby,” you titter. You lean over to plant some kissed onto his forehead, hoping your affections will ease him back more. “The nurse said you might be woozy when you stand, so let’s take it slow okay?”

“Yesh, bosh,” he slurs out. He blinks his foggy eyes before letting them wander around the room, over the sharp objects and wooden cupboards, all before wandering back to you. They widen before a brow quirks in confusion, "who're you 'gain?"

"Me?" You snicker. "I'm the one who's gonna keep you alive for the next few days. Your parents are away, so you're stuck with me." You turn your head slightly, "though that may be the other way around."

"Keep me 'live?" Now, he gives you a small, messy smirk. "'re too schexy to keep me 'live."

"Are you hitting on me?"

He doesn't answer you. Instead, he lets out a small string of laughter, head rolling around his neck in haze. You snort before opting to move him up and out of the room, "come on Romeo. Before you pass out on me."

"nuh-uh," he argues. You, however, choose to ignore him.

It's hard to pay attention when there's a pile of 185 centimeter man on your right shoulder, saying goodbye to every hygienist, dentist, secretary, patron, and flower on the sidewalk on the way to the car. There's a slurp from the spittle in his mouth that rings in your ear and makes you want to gag, but you chose to count some of your blessings.

He's at least mobile- unlike the horror stories you've heard about Osamu falling asleep in the seat while Atsumu wailed about the bandaid on his arm.

Finally, you and your oaf are able to make it to the car, his eyes closed in an attempt to sleep, and you jostle him awake slightly.

"I need you to work with me just a bit longer, okay?"

"When'd we get ousside?" He slurs.

"Not long after you said goodbye to the flowers," you say, rolling your eyes. "Watch your head, babe."

He ducks under your guiding palm, but you're not fast enough before he bumps the crown of his head against the door frame, mumbling a soft "ow" before moving on. It takes everything in your power to not laugh at his poor expense.

"It's because you've got such a big melon head, booger," you tease, and he smiles softly.

"'Ike mewons."

"I know baby."

You buckle him in before closing the door. You give yourself a stretch before heading to the driver's side.

You hadn't had him out of your sight for 25 seconds before you open the door and see him with your chapstick, completely rolled up and making a move towards his mouth.

He's either eating it, or trying to apply it.

Neither sounds like a good idea.

“Rintaro!” You scold, reaching for the chapstick. “You can’t eat that! You’ll get sick!”

“You’re th'ick,” he grumbles, but he does release his hold on your chapstick. His head thunks back against the headrest, letting you buckle while he says one more round of goodbyes to the flowers.

"Gonna nap," he murmurs, and you chose not to fight him on it. "Don't pick mah nothe."

"Why the hell would I do that?" You ask, laughing as you start the car.

He doesn't answer you. He's too busy letting his jaw slack open and let out the wheeziest of snores. You put your hand on his thigh and squeeze lovingly, allowing the hum of the engine and warmth from the sun lull him to sleep.

He's out, he's comfortable, and you can't wait to tell him about how, even drugged out of his mind, he still tried to put the moves on you.

You'll have to leave out the head smacking, though. Let him blame himself for that bruising.

「balsamic vinegar」

warnings: suna rintarou x f!reader. fluff. like two suggestive lines.

never would you have thought that there comes a day when you’d have the miya atsumu begging for your help.

“baby, please, make him stop. i can’t do this anymore.”

post practice, the national team’s setter had ambushed you outside the changing rooms in a desperate bid for social survival.

you ignore his pleading expression, adamantly focusing on the press release draft on your screen. “he’s your problem.”

“no, see, that’s the thing,” aran says with a shake his head. “he wants to make himself your problem.”

“i don’t even follow him!”

“why not? lord, queen, your majesty, the goddess of mercy herself,” the setter just about cries, “take pity on us mortals and just follow sunarin back!”

for once in his life, aran approves of his teammate’s overreaction. “it’d save everyone everywhere a whole lotta trouble. my soul’s like crushed from the secondhand embarrassment.”

you frown. “go ask his publicist.”

“you’re his publicist!”

“was,” you sniff, lowering your phone. “working for the adlers is doing wonders for my will to live.”

“what about my will to live?” the twenty-seven year old slides down the wall like a pile of gravy. “‘m your favourite setter!”

you stare at the blond. “moving on…” you clear your throat. atsumu glares up at you. “if nothing else works, email iwaizumi.”

his scowl turns into disbelief. “i can’t email iwa-chan ‘bout this! i hope to a nicer god than you that he doesn’t even see whatever the fuck sunarin’s doin’.”

you scoff. with oikawa tooru as a best friend and kuroo tetsurou as a colleague, there’s no way their athletic trainer hasn’t seen suna’s frequent updates.

“coach hibarida? management?” you list off. “ask tetsu to ask kenma to lock suna out of his ig account.”

“that’s not how rich works,” aran sighs. “and it’s not like you don’t know suna. he won’t stop ‘til he proves you wrong.” 

“there’s nothing to prove!”

Keep reading

ATTENTION

If you see this you are OBLIGATED to reblog w/ the song currently stuck in your head :)

“trans people are defying gods will” “trans people are rejecting biology” “trans people are upending the natural order” “transgenders are ruining the economy” keep going you’re making us sound so so so so so so so so sexy

it’s kinda silly how like people who like the same characters … like the same characters from other series

J - jirou kiyoka my love (mha)

A - amajiki tamaki ANOTHER LOVE OF MINE (mha)

Y - yuuta okkotsu wow just all the ppl i love (jjk)

tagging: @smolmo @nhixxx-s

lets do this for fun bc i want to see what you guys do ❤️

spell out your name using only your favorite anime characters!

a - alisa haiba (haikyuu)

s - shōyō hinata (haikyuu)

p - porco galliard (attack on titan)

e - erza scarlet (fairy tail)

n - nagato (naruto)

tagging : @ceo-of-daichi @tsukkis-crybaby @hajimine @bjbex @tsumue @kyuupid @prettysetterbaby @cutiekawa @dearsakusa

Shout out to all the Black ppl that can no longer participate directly in the fandom they love because of the stresses of racism 👍🏾 you contain multitudes of value and I'm sorry that the color of your skin and the power of your voice makes people not want to acknowledge that.

iwaizumi shouldn’t have drank last night.

he knows that, you know that, and now, as you walk into your class full of freshmen, you’re pretty sure that they all know that too. if it weren’t obvious by the way he squinted and groaned at the fluorescent lights as you crossed into the classroom, you’re sure that the venti cold brew coffee (no milk, no sugar, just cold brew), the slightly oversized, gray uci volleyball sweatshirt, and the scowl on his face would certainly give it away.

about half the class is there, and they quickly devolve into little whispers as you follow after him, your own set of little giveaways to the fact that neither of you should’ve been drinking last night—knowing damn well that every friday you have an 11am to teach.

you both sit at the front of the classroom, and iwaizumi presses his head into his hands, letting a little groan slip out as you take another sip of your own coffee, trying to let your eyes adjust to the lights.

another gaggle of students walks into the room, laughter piercing the air as well as your ears. you watch as iwaizumi scrunches his eyes together, takes a sip of his coffee, and then goes back to his head in his hands.

there’s a little whisper of is he okay? from somewhere in the back of the classroom, and if you had been a little more sober last night, you’d probably respond with a teasing no. when you woke up this morning to the sound of your alarm, he’d tossed and turned until he found your phone, turning it off before stuffing his head back into your pillows, one arm lazily wrapped around your waist.

and then he did it again. and again. and then once more, until it was 10:15 and if you didn’t leave in the next ten minutes, there was no way you’d be able to make it to starbucks before class. and good lord, you were not going to allow that to happen.

so no, the short answer is that iwaizumi is not at all okay. so you stand up from where you sit at the desk and, despite how dizzy you are, get up to turn off the lights.

“we’re trying something new today, guys,” you start, feeling a little better now that those damn lights aren’t pressing into your skull. “i read somewhere that overhead lights aren’t conducive to learning or- something,” you wave your hand in front of you as you speak, slowly making your way back to your seat, “so, just say that if anyone asks.”

iwaizumi huffs out a little laughter from beside you, hardly more than a rush of air through his hands and the sudden movement of his chest. the rest of the class walks into the room, each one gesturing vaguely at the lights above before the other students shrug and rattle off some poor repetition of your own explanation.

you settle back into your chair, your cheek resting in one of your palms while the other hand swirls your coffee. iwaizumi gives you a look at the sound of the ice rattling, and you narrow your eyes at him, taking a sip rather indignantly to remind him that he’s the one who dragged the two of you to that damn party.

one of your freshman, the one who sits at the front and was always the least intimidated by the tattoo that crawled up iwaizumi’s arm and the scar that rested in his brow, laughs, and then raises a hand. you nod, and then he smirks, leaned back in that freshly-eighteen kind of confidence.

“you guys enjoy the sigep party last night?”

iwaizumi coughs, which sends you into a little fit of quiet laughter, and he nudges your leg with his own in an attempt to get you to shut up.

“no,” iwaizumi replies, all furrowed brows and drawn in breaths. everyone that knows him would know that he’s lying, and these freshman aren’t exactly an exception to that. “no, we don’t go to those.”

he takes another sip of his coffee, winces at the sudden movement, and then fixes his face while the class once again devolves into whispers—only this time mixed with quiet laughter. part of you is praying that none of them were at the sigep party. though most of last night is a bit of a haze, you know well enough that your lovely boyfriend gets terribly touchy after a few drinks, and you’re not exactly one to stop him past that point. so should any of your lovely, annoying, and terribly stupid freshman choose to witness that-

well, you’re not exactly sure you’ll ever gain back the respect you had at the beginning of the semester, that’s for sure.

“so,” you begin after another sip of your coffee, “get out your discussion questions.”

there’s a little collective groan from the class, and iwaizumi brings up a hand with narrowed eyes, bringing a finger to his lips to tell them all to be a little quieter.

if everything else hadn’t given it away, you think that was the nail in the coffin. but then he leans closer to you, tempting a whisper past his lips while they all rustle around in their backpacks for their notebooks and a pen.

“think they know?” he asks, and you know it’s all teasing—there’s a lilt in his voice that wasn’t there this morning (which, you’ll thank the half a cold brew he’s already drank for), and a smile pricks at his lips that makes you want to kiss him right there.

you don’t, because dear god these freshmen are ruthless, and if you give them one more thing to bully you for, you think you’ll both end up dead.

“no,” you reply, “they’re clueless.”

reblogs and interaction are super appreciated! ❤︎

can you imagine this massive man (scorching hot single dad nanami kento, 34) picking up his little girl from school, a little worn out because of work but absolutely happy to see his baby?

he kisses her forehead, slings her tiny butterfly backpack on his shoulder. his tired smile and the love he has for his daughter make you melt.

all of the moms are always talking about him and you totally get why. their every comment is so right.

“sorry for picking her up late, miss.”

“oh, no worries! we had lots of fun painting, right, sunshine?”

his mini-me nods enthusiastically and he melts. there’s nothing more he appreciates than you, his daughter’s teacher, caring so much.

is it wrong that wants to ask you out on a date? maybe, just maybe, take you to his house afterward?