I Need Suna Rintaro To Be Stupid Fucking Sensitive.

I need Suna rintaro to be stupid fucking sensitive.

I need him to be an absolute wreck anytime you do anything to him, just because his body is so reactive, so desperate for your touch that the smallest affection has him into a putty.

Drag your nails over his arms? He’s whining softly. Whispering in his ear? He sinks his teeth into his lip. Sponging kisses against his jaw? He angles his head shamelessly.

There’s something you do to him, there’s something about your mere existence that has him excited to no end, always ready for your intoxicating touch that has him reeling for more.

Even now, with his back pressed to your chest and your nails softly drawing over the flesh of his shoulders, he feels a pleasured trail glide up and down his spine.

He says nothing, merely melting into your touch and letting his eyes flutter close and body curl deeper against you.

But then your touch slithers down and over his abs, which tighten under your warm fingers.

“Do not,” he snarls, albeit unthreatening.

“What?”

“You know what.”

“I’m just giving my boyfriend affection.” Your nails get caught on the rim of his navel, and he feels his cock twitch. “If you can’t handle it, that’s on you.”

"You know I can't,” he whimpers as his hips chase an invisible touch, circling slightly as he looks up at you with betrayed eyes. A pressure broils in the pit of his stomach, tightening softly as your nails tease the softness of his happy trail, fingers tracing the small, thin hairs. He arches his back, pressing his shoulders against your chest, but your gentle touch still follows.

If anything, you adjust yourself to sit up straighter, and your free hand slinks down his chest to play with his nipple, and he squeezes his thighs tight.

“Awww,” you coo, and if looks could kill, you’d be dead and slumped over him. “I just love loving on my sensitive boy.”

“Don’t f-ha!- fhuuuucking, don’t call me that,” he grumbles through gritted teeth, and that only earns him a pinch of his nipple and a small tickle on his stomach.

It’s maddening, and he cries out and shrinks at the sensation.

“Behave,” you snarl. “Talk less, and feel good, baby.”

"I don't wanna come like this," he pleads. Not right now, not in his sweatpants, not under absolutely no touch to the manhood contained in his boxers and far as possible from having a reaction by your touch, not when you’re enjoying this so much it’s concerning, not now not now not now-

“You’re just too sensitive,” you sigh dramatically. Your hands gently press into the dip of his hips, making him whine at the tickly, yet relaxing sensation.

His jaw slacks to let a shuddery moan out.

“Please,” he huffs, rutting his hips upwards. His thighs are tight together, desperate to edge him to a high that you put him on. “Fuck- please, keep going-“

“I’m not even going to touch your cock and you’re going to come just like this?”

And he is. He is, he fucking is, he’s gonna paint the inside of his sweatpants like a damn virgin, all from you scratching at his happy trail and drawing your nails over the ridges of his abs. He’s going to come, come so hard he sees stars and fuck you for fucking doing this to him.

You stop.

Your hand stills, fingers stop their trailing and slowly slip over his hip, then to his chin where you pull him into a kiss. He whines and chases you into the kiss, tongue trying to hook you in deeper and coerce you into giving him more attention.

“Gonna have to condition you hate this,” you coo, sinking your teeth into the meat of his lip. “How else am I supposed to love on my man if he’s gonna paint the inside of his shorts every time?”

with a whine and a grunt of agony, he gently pulls back, burrowing into your neck to hide the embarrassment of being so close to the edge of an orgasm from sheerly being touched by the heavenly fingers adorning your body that have him in a tizzy more than enough times.

"I cant stand you," he grumbles.

"Love you too, my sensitive boy."

"Shut up!"

End of a Great Story 🪽🥹

↳ The Spiral into doubt- Haikyuu! x fem!reader

summary - you have a bad practice session and you come home in a bad mood, mind buzzing with self-deprecating thoughts.

warnings - angst, self-deprecating thoughts, insecurities, anxiety attack

author's note: a little self-indulgent fic 'cause i had a bad day at volleyball practice. and ended up with a bloody nose:/

this is for all my athelete girlies who had a bad day at practice. it sucks, i know. but the world doesn't end because of one bad day. you are good enough. <33

main masterlist !

the coach's decision to bench you during the previous match had hit you like a punch to the gut. you had stood on the sidelines, watching the game unfold without you, your mind swimming with self-doubts and insecurities.

the coach's words echoed in your head:

"what has gotten into you?!"

"you just weren't giving us what we needed then,"

the words stung, and you couldn't shake off the sense of worthlessness. you had watched your teammates play, and every mistake they made or point they lost had only fueled your doubts.

the feeling of not being good enough intensified, your confidence crumbling with each passing moment.

you felt your knee begin to bounce, worry bubbling within you. your breath coming out in low gasps and exhales.

you felt utterly worthless as if you didn't deserve to be on the team. the weight of your own failures and inadequacies seemed to pile up on you, pressing down on your chest and making it hard to breathe.

you couldn't help but believe that you had let everyone down, that you weren't cut out for this, and that everyone could see it.

you pressed down at your chest, inhaling and exhaling, trying to get your anxiety in check. you could feel your pulse increasing, a steady rise in thumping. sweat rolled down your temple, making its way down your trembling face.

the match was a tough one, with you making a series of costly mistakes that led to a 13-25 defeat.

it was a mere practice match, but that didn't make the loss any less brutal.

as you stood by the bench, watching the coach and your teammates discussing the strategy for the next match, you couldn't help but feel like you didn't deserve to be there.

your breathing became more shallow, and you wrung your hands at your sides, shaking them to drive the tension out of your body.

every failed play, every missed shot, every wrong decision replayed in your mind like a broken record.

for now, your pulse had slowed from the initial panic, but a new kind of pressure seemed to take its place.

your heart felt like it was being squeezed tightly, like a vice gripped it with relentless force. each breath felt labored, as though your chest was filled with a heavy weight that threatened to crush you.

you questioned your abilities and your place on the team, wondering if you were really up for the position.

you trudged into the apartment after the match, feeling utterly defeated.

"there's my girl!" your boyfriend greeted you with a warm smile, "how did the match go?"

but your mood was so low that you could only manage a brief, half-hearted hug and a muttered greeting, "hi. was okay,"

he frowned at your lack of enthusiasm, his concern deepening when you didn't kiss him in greeting.

you made a beeline for the bedroom, shutting the door behind you and collapsing onto the bed.

the solitude of the room allowed your thoughts to run wild, as doubts and insecurities threatened to drown you.

you were consumed with a sense of failure and the weight of disappointment that came right with it.

i'm so bad at this game

maybe i should quit

my coach must think i suck

the team is better off without me-

you sat up slowly, facing the full-length mirror on the side of the room.

your eyes raked over the jersey you were wearing, down to the number on it.

your vision blurred and you swiped at them angrily.

angry at your inability to perform to your fullest potential.

angry at your-fucking pathetic-self

"y/n," he came into the room and kneeled in front of you. he had an idea of what may have happened and reached your side at once.

you turned away, not wanting to be seen in this sorry state. weak and fragile.

what good am i for him anyway if I'm so broken?

you pushed away that thought, feeling your throat close up, "i don't wanna talk about it,"

everything annoyed you at this point. the air of failure and agony around you, the rapid beating of your merciless heart, low breaths that came out as huffs, the jersey number you wore with utmost humiliation.

he held your face in his hands, thumbs caressing your cheekbone, "hug or talk?"

it was a common phrase that you both used in a severe case of bad days.

"neither," you mumbled, not yet meeting his eyes.

he knew it meant you were in desperate need of a hug. you were just too prideful to ask for it.

"what is it, love? is it something i can help with?" he prodded, "is it the game?"

you stilled, pursing your lips, confirming your boyfriend's statement.

"it was so so bad. the worst by far. i don't know what the fuck i was doing. i was so shit-faced," you rambled, "i feel useless. I'm so behind others. maybe i should just quit, instead of making a fool of myself," you covered your face with your palms, fingers digging into your teary eyes.

his heart ached as he saw your lips tremble. he could see the doubt and vulnerability in your eyes, and it only served to strengthen his determination to make you believe him.

"hey, listen to me. it's okay to be disappointed about the game. but you didn't mess up. you did your best, and that's all that matters. everyone makes mistakes, and it's part of the game. you can't blame yourself for everything, okay?"

you shook your head slowly in denial, jaw ticking as you struggled to hold yourself together.

his heart broke at your devastated condition, "baby, don't do this to yourself. i know you're upset and probably blaming yourself for what happened, but you have to understand that it's not all your fault. it's a team sport, and everyone makes mistakes. you can't dwell on it and beat yourself up over it. that's not going to help anything,"

"i could've helped it!" you snapped, "i could've helped it if i-i-," you sputtered, searching for the right words, "if i wasn't such a fucking loser," you added the last bit in a shaky voice and the dam broke.

he rested his forehead against yours in comfort, watching the way tears cascaded down your cheeks, "that's not true. don't talk about yourself like that. you're not a loser. you're a determined and talented athlete. you just had a bad game, that's all. one day doesn't define you as a person or as a player. you work hard, and i know you'll do better next time,"

"i feel like i've lost myself," you mumbled weakly.

despite hearing the defeated tone in your voice, he noticed your bouncing knee, the rapid breathing, the rage- oh my god

"baby, i need you to take deep breaths for me, okay? i'm pretty sure you're experiencing an anxiety attack,"

"i have for the past 3 hours," you sniffled, knowing it very well. you screwed your eyes shut and forcing more hot tears down your cheeks, "i can't stop it. it won't stop. it hurts too much but-" you gasped for air, "i deserve all this pain don't i?"

"shh, shh," he sat on the bed next to you, pulling you onto his side and wrapping his arms around you.

his heart ached when you whimpered and he rested his chin on the top of your head. he could feel the tension and self-doubt radiating off of you, wanting nothing more to soothe your worries.

"no you don't deserve it," he held you tighter, feeling you sob silently against his chest, "don't carry this around," he peppered kisses on your hair, holding you against his large frame, "you're not alone, mkay?"

"i don't even know why i'm crying," you sniffled, "god, i need to get a grip,"

"no, it's okay. let it out. nothing wrong in that, you don't need to justify your emotions. i'll hold you through it,"

he held you tighter as you sobbed, his hand rubbing your back in slow, soothing circles.

he didn't say anything, just let you cry and release your emotions, his body serving as a source of comfort and support.

he talked you through it, whispering into your ear until you calmed from your anxiety peak.

"that's it. you're dooing so well. give me deep breaths, just like that. mm good girl," he whispered, his voice soft. "it's okay. just let it out. i'm here. i'm not going anywhere,"

he reached up a hand to wipe away the tear, his touch gentle and tender, "what do you say i draw you a bath, huh?"

"will u join me?" you looked up at him with hopeful eyes, red from all the waterworks.

"i want you to run me over with a car, if i ever say no to that question, ever," he stated in a monotone voice, causing you to let out a teary chuckle.

and so you and your lover were relaxing in the bathtub, surrounded by a warm, comforting glow of candlelight. the soothing heat of the water was helping to loosen your tense muscles, and the bubble-filled surface created a private, intimate space for the two of you.

as you sat nestled between his legs with your back to his chest, he listened quietly, his eyes fixed on you as you vented about your frustrations with the recent game.

he didn't interrupt, but rather offered a sympathetic nod or gentle touch, letting you speak your mind and release your pent-up stress.

"-and then the next thing i knew, i got benched," you shrugged weakly, biting your lip in thought.

he kissed your hair and you eaned back into his body, "s'okay, darling," he soothed.

you huffed in annoyance, waving your hand through the water.

He spoke gently, his voice soft and reassuring in the quiet intimacy of the bathtub. "y/n, you're incredible. I've watched you play and you become possessed by the game, completely pouring your passion into it. and i admire it. how much heart and soul you put into every game. I'm proud of you,"

his words caught you off guard, feeling how much it touched you. no one has ever told you that. and it felt foreign.

like you didn't deserve to hear it.

you hummed in response, grateful that he couldn't see the vulnerable expression on your face.

but he knew you well, and he recognized the underlying emotions behind your subtle reactions.

he gently tilted your head over your shoulder, looking at you intently. "look at me," he said, his voice firm but caring.

as you met his gaze, he repeated his words with a sincerity that resonated deep within your soul. "i'm proud of you," he said again, his voice filled with conviction.

as you processed his words, you felt a mixture of emotions stirring within you. you nodded, managing a weak smile, but the weight of his words and the raw vulnerability they stirred up made you inhale sharply.

it felt like he was touching upon something deep within you, something fragile yet beautiful.

gently, he shifted your position so that you were now straddling him in the water, creating a soft, rippling barrier in the warm, candlelit bath.

he caressed your thigh under the water, the contact sending shivers down your spine. his other hand held your chin, keeping your gaze locked on him, "I am proud of you," he repeated, the truth of his words reflected in his steady eyes.

you could feel tears welling up in your eyes. the variety of emotions building within you were almost too much to contain.

he pulled you closer, his arms enveloping you in a tight, loving hug, and pressed his lips to yours in a firm kiss.

you reciprocated the action, resting your hand on the side of his face. the bubbles and water were like a soft, warm cocoon around you both.

he hugged you, rubbing soothing circles on your back. he held you close, anchoring you in the moment with his love.

the water lapped around you both, creating a gentle, lulling rhythm. he trailed his lips down your jaw, cheek and to the column of your neck.

"but i'm not just talking about your skills," he continued, his voice growing softer as he spoke. "i'm proud of the person you are. you're strong, determined, and fiercely passionate. you never give up, no matter how tough things get." his words hung in the air, filling the quiet space with a sense of warmth and reassurance.

you could feel yourself starting to relax in his arms, the weight of his words and their implication slowly seeping into your heart.

you leaned forward and rested your forehead against his, letting his words into your hurting heart.

his thumb traced lazy patterns on your back and his other hand gently massaged your thigh, the contact creating a trail of sparks that raced under your skin.

he let the moment linger, giving you time to process the emotions his words had stirred up. the water continued to ripple gently around you as if echoing the turbulence within you.

"you're amazing," he finally said, breaking the silence, "amazing, and worthy, and strong. and i am proud of you for that. always,"

you felt a lump forming in your throat again, the raw honesty in his voice almost too much to bear.

but you also felt a strange sense of relief, as if his words were like a balm to the bruised parts of your soul.

the tears started flowing again, but this time they were different. they were born out of a mixture of gratitude, love, and a quiet acceptance of the truth in his words.

he held you through it, not saying anything else, but just being there for you.

and that was all you needed.

￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣

— SUGUWARA, DAICHI, KUROO, ASAHI, IWAIZUMI, OIKAWA, IWAIZUMI, AKAASHI

￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣

He is so sexy in this photo 🫠

levi ackerman // fic recommendations

note: remember to read the tags! + i do not own any of these works

you’re drunk and ridiculous (and he can’t trust you with anyone else)

gestures

no funny business

as the spark dies

wild card

dust, diamonds

dirty money

nobody's fault but mine

traditions

time

the wife

crush

percolate

petals inked in red

spite

one million to one

power trip

ghost

silent treatment

love hate me

as the world caves in

two faced

bad romance

garden of tulips

plans

and when i see you smile, the clouds will clear

ghostly greetings

safe haven

panacea

sayonara

“may i?”

his wounded heart beats for one

beneath the pages

respite on black waters

galaxies past

overwhelming

Let’s say Levi has a crush on reader but someone else also is pursuing reader. This someone else could be on a similar level to Levi but not necessarily his friend. I just more like to see what people think Levi would act like if he finally talks himself into pursuing reader but turns out he has “competition” in a way

Thank you if you answer this 🫶

Gasp Ah…. I LOVE THIS.

How are you?! Sorry for the late reply! Don't thank me for answering! Thank you for coming to my blog and asking.

Mh, LOVE IT. You know… have you listened to the song "You Belong With Me" by Taylor Swift? Haha, well, that's Levi LMAO.

I feel, with a hand on my heart, y'all know I love this man, but he simply cannot compete with someone in any field related to social implications. Has Levi finally talked himself into pursuing someone and trying to get his feelings across? Great, he thinks—I'll clarify—HE THINKS that he's being rather OBVIOUS. Maybe for those who know him, they would also notice Levi is interested in this person because he's not behaving like his regular self. But for the poor reader he's trying to court? … he's simply being nice HAHA.

This man would think that stopping by that person's job (if they have a bakery, tea shop, etc., for example) regularly, buying, and having a very small chit-chat is "flirting." He thinks that, if this person is a scout, asking them if they need anything from downtown or if they want a tea is CLEAR that he wants something with them. No.

So if someone else is pursuing the person he loves and has more social skills than him (which is not something hard to have), there's a high chance that person would take the lead in the "race for the reader's heart." Maybe they are more outgoing, charismatic, extroverted, etc., and they take the lead. Levi would be jealous, 100%. He would get grumpy, angry, etc., but always at himself.

I can picture him muttering and cursing at himself under his breath while working, "I'm an idiot, I'm stupid. YoUr HaIR DoESn't lOOk ThAt ShITTy toDAY," mocking his own voice, and then groaning in frustration. "… my mom must have dropped me as a baby or Kenny's kicks really damaged my brain. I can't be this stupid," realizing that this other person says "smooth shit," as he would call it, and he simply can't.

Especially because Levi's love language is acts of service… mixed with degradation lmao. "Give that, you're going to drop it," and he will carry stuff for them. "You look like shit, tch, just sit down, I'll do it," and he brews them a tea and brings them something to eat.

Levi is a grower in people. I can 100% see him having feelings for this person for months, years perhaps. Maybe they even consider and go for a relationship with Levi's competitor, and it doesn't work out, etc., and they have grown close to Levi. Something he says or does makes the reader snap and say, "… are you flirting with me, Captain?"

Levi would look stoic as ever but slightly defeated mixed with embarrassment and say, "Yeah, for the past year. Thank you for finally noticing."

(extra scene)

Levi alone in his office: "Can't you see that I'm the one who understands you? Been here all along. So, why can't you see? You belong with me."

I'll tag people on this one because I had a blast writing it. Thank you so much, you made my birthday lmao.

Link to my masterlist and my other works if you feel like checking them out. Tags!: @nube55 @justkon @notgoodforlife @nmlkys @humanitys-strongest-bamf @quillinhand @thoreeo @darkstarlight82 @angelofthor @aomi04 @levisbrat25 @l3visthighs @hum4n-wr3ckag3 @hannieslovebot @starrylevi @rithty @mariaace @ackrmntea @emilyyyy-08 @levisfavoriteteashop @katestrophes @levistealeaf @an-ever-angry-bi @youre-ackermine @fxnnyackerman @secretmoneybearvoid @trashblackrainbow @flxrartsstuff @katharinasdiaryy @kikarouflames @levisecretgfblog @searriously @blackdxggr @ackermanswifee @abiatackerman @braunsbabe @moonchild-12345 @levicansteponme Wanna join my tag list? Here!