#allurewrites

fwb!suna who only agreed to this arrangement because you both had just gotten out of messy relationships, both of you lonely and heartbroken.

fwb!suna who knew you better than anyone ever had, who pried the softest parts of you out when all you felt was the harsh cold of the world

fwb!suna who always kissed you better than any man had in the past, his cold hands a reminder of a heart you’d always warm for him.

fwb!suna who always took the ‘friend’ part seriously until you held eye contact with him one night for a little too long, now you can’t even manage to get him to look at you at all

fwb!suna who presses you into the sheets romantically most nights, but something shifted, now he is sloppy and mean with his actions, preferring to push your face into the mattress instead of watching the way your face would contort.

fwb!suna who will only lay with your back facing him after long nights, the loss of contact settling something cool down your spine

fwb!suna who swears nothing is wrong, that you’re overthinking things

fwb!suna who told you he can’t do this anymore. ignoring the way you had looked hurt but accepted what he said

fwb!suna who gets pissed off when he sees you with another guy from across the party, storming off with your wrist in his grip and laying claim over you that night in ways neither of you will ever forget

fwb!suna who blocks your number the next day, unable to face the truth that solidified itself between the two of you the day you asked for this dumb arrangement

fwb!suna who sees you try to trail him on the way back home from a party, turning and muttering a cold “leave me the fuck alone” and watching the way your eyes widen in a sort of finality that cracks him open

fwb!suna who never claimed to know how to heal you. told you it was a bad idea from the start, breaking you down worse than your last relationship had, and letting you slip between his fingers until the remnants of your relationship is ash and dust.

insp by @tobio-rs ‘s prompt <-

if it’s meant to be, it will be

suna x reader , osamu x reader

wc: 1.5k, all characters aged up. smut & angst to follow

it was never meant to get this far. you had snuck sly glances across rooms, watched his poetic brown eyes drowned in sorrow follow the movement of your face. it was wrong, you knew it was. fucking your situationships roommate, but you can’t help yourself. especially because you know it’s mutually beneficial,

“we shouldn’t be doing this,” you gasp, head scraping against the wall he has you pinned against. his cool hands drawing circles only deciphered in ancient text against your skin. in contrast, his mouth is hot, dancing intimate kisses across your skin. “doesn’t matter-“ he whispers against your stomach. you preen at the feeling of his warm breath. so unlike him that you almost find yourself crawling away. but you swallow it down, there’s a reason it isn’t suna in front of you now.

suna x reader cw:suggestive, angst, mentions of flings, break up/situationships, nostalgia, mdni

what could have been. wc 1k

for the last months that you could remember, all you did was eat, breathe, and sleep suna rintarō. peacefully coexisting in each others world with a sort of ease akin to settled states. your hand in his hair, draped over the couch while some documentary played mindlessly on your television. late night drives where you sat up and stood through the sunroof, your hair blaring in the wind and a smile adorning your face, bright enough to convince you both that this was enough.

this arrangement had bloomed out of need. out of desire for something real, and suna was so easy. he was giving and kind, always attentive to you and seemed to be one of the only ones who could see you. it made sense, neither of you wanted anything all that serious, you were graduating at the end of the term and he was signing to a national team. to fill the space both of you craved, with no strings attached and no label to show for it. for a while, it was innocent.

stolen kisses behind closed doors, laughing with no fear of how ridiculous the smile looked on your face. shared meals and ice cream licked off of each others lips. shared beds and waking up far too late in the morning to do anything about the day, drowning in each others presence. you kept it on the low, while others asked you about your crush you only sighed and shook your head, telling them you had no such thing. suna’s teammates tugged at him and asked him to spill who the special girl was, to which he said he wanted to be single anyway. it was easier this way, that’s what you had both agreed on.

right? because there’s no reason for the strings holding your heart together to tug and wretch when you see suna tagged in pictures at parties where other girls pour alcohol into his mouth. there’s no reason for suna to care when you blow him off to go hang out with another guy, the same guy you’ll spend a week fucking the memory out of with him. but he doesn’t care, and neither do you, and no, you don’t talk about it. you let the weeks spin by and lull you into a comfortability that blinds you from the deadline that is your situation.

the thing about situational agreements is that they always fail. you pretend you don’t feel the way his hand fits in yours perfectly, you pretend it doesn’t affect you when he doesn’t ask about your plans after graduation, he pretends not to care when you purposefully don’t accept his follow request on his volleyball account for social media. it’s a weird dance you both partake in, because on lonely nights where you don’t spend time together, you picture a life in which you were both ready to commit. where this wasn’t out of the facade of necessity, that you had met him in the right circumstance. but the curiosity got the cat, and now you’re trying on your cap and gown in front of him while he sends over final contracts for the team he’s signing.

you don’t talk about it when he doesn’t come to your graduation. you didn’t ask him to. but your eyes still searched for him in the stands, especially when he knew your family wouldn’t be there. you don’t talk about it when you’re not there for his signing day, even when he told you he wanted a picture with you there. no, because the next time you see him it’s all said between desperate kissing and pressing each other into sheets on borrowed time. furrowed brows and begging, begging for more, because what you have isn’t enough and you both know it.

his bags are packed in his room, you sit on the edge of the bed and watch your feet dangle in the air. you hear him zipping his backpack, you pretend you don’t hear how loud your heart is.

“suna,” something pangs dangerously close to admission in your heart. he hums and pauses to look at you from across the room. “do you ever think about-“ you cut yourself off to bite your lip. it’s painful, but you think it would be worse if you would’ve said it anyway.

in his mind there’s one hundred things you could’ve said. one hundred things he could’ve replied with. but he doesn’t push, not when you don’t continue and mutter under your breath that it’s nothing. because that’s the thing about suna, about you, about you both, you don’t push the boundary line. you tip toe on the precipice of honesty and truth. but neither one of you dares to take the leap. so you spend that night lost on his mouth and begging for a goodbye worth crying over. it doesn’t come.

you stare at the instagram request months later. something aches inside your heart with the shape of his name. there’s so much left unsaid, and maybe it’s for the better. you pretend you don’t notice that he picks your favorite number as his jersey number. it’s coincidence. you pretend he doesn’t post nostalgic photos once a year, a few of which include candid photos of you from unsuspecting angles that no one would know was you aside from him, especially when they’re posted on your birthday. he pretends not to see the bubbles pop up in your text thread because he too, is sitting in waiting. he pretends not to see the profile view with your username on his professional account almost every day.

that’s the thing about the two of you. you exist liminally. in a timeline where neither of you had the courage to say what you really meant. your hearts intertwined and beating the rhythm that only belonged to the both of you for quite some time. now lost in the past of what you were. forever drowned to the sound of cowardice and fear that what you had, would never be found again.

if it’s meant to be, it will be pt 2

osamu x reader x suna wc 3.3k 18+

part 1 here

things didn’t last long. you didn’t expect them to, not when both you and osamu were really just numbing the pain. the more you drank in the tears off his lips the more you realized you were only prolonging the truth. not only did you lose the man you loved, but you couldn’t have the one you were fucking either. neither of you had confessed that truth between your lonely arrangements. you knock three times on osamu’s door, it’s raining. the small drops soaking the top of your hood. you shiver against the summer wind, waiting for him to answer. when he does, you smell the faint trail of cigarettes and regret off him. pushing in, you slide your shoes off and take him in. his shirt hangs loosely on him, peeling off your damp sweatshirt down to just the bra under it. his sad eyes peer back at you. downturned and tired, you follow his defined muscles that capture his shoulders down to his torso. the torso you could replicate on a canvas at this point. he sighs through his nose, the two of you sitting in silence together. you step forward, raising your arms and wrapping them around his neck. softer than usual, he accepts your affection. tugging his big arms around your waist, feeling his breathing against you. he kisses at the side of your head, the notion of care accepted at this point. you shudder, gently swaying against him. you open your mouth to say something, but shut it before you admit to something you aren’t sure of. something definite and permanent. he caresses your hair with a level of care that cracks into your heart a little. you know he wishes you were her, you know you never would be enough for him. you know he would never be enough for you.

no matter how many times he fucked you, kissed you, moaned against you and tried to remold you. you always saw those piercing green eyes in your dream, always felt his cold eyebrow piercing against your temple, always remember the feeling of his soft hand under your fingers. always think about the way his cock is so different. about the way he never failed to make you feel like heaven. osamu fucked like he wanted to forget, and it was more of a mutually pleasurable hell for both of you. an accepted defeat. osamu’s hand wanders back down to your waist, the top knuckles of his fingers passing under the waistband of your shorts, nothing too demanding yet. enough to bring goosebumps on your skin. he only dances the rough pads of his fingers against your skin, doesn’t push any further. let’s the tension grow.

“say it,” he whispers. you can hear the grainy ticking of window against his glass walls. “samu’” you press your lips into his collarbone. reassuring. preparing yourself for the blow.

“we shouldn’t do this anymore” you barely whisper back. swaying against his weight. he’s so handsome like this, his gray and black hair so gentle when it brushes across your face. the way he cradles your body like he wants to make sure he doesn’t cause any more harm. the way he wipes away your tears after you both are done fucking away the feelings, the way he tucks you into bed and lets you sleep the way you and suna had in the past. it’s all so intimate, so domestic. you’re gone before he wakes up, he doesn’t feel bad about it. knows it’s all part of the game, so now with one hand around the back of your neck and the other one on your waist, you peer into his honeysuckle eyes and see the feelings reflected back. he pulls you into him and only before connecting your lips he says, “one last time.”

the kiss is saccharine and sweet, your hands move to tug against his hair and he steps backwards until you’re both against the door. the cold frame pressing into your skin, you pull away to press kisses down the column of his neck. he pushes the button of your shorts until it goes undone and they slide down your legs, only your soft silk panties left to show. he groans and noses along your cheek until you’re kissing again. like he knows this is the last time you’ll ever be in his home like this. and you know too, so you grip his wrist and drag him further into the apartment. until the back of your knees are knocking against his bed and you’re falling into each other again. his heavy frame between your legs, you pant at the pressure. his heavy cock hard against your sex. you push your hips into his and lash around in the pleasure. he grabs your wrists, pushing them above your head to kiss down your chest. “s’beautiful angel” he presses the words into your skin with his mouth. sucking and biting to leave remnants of his love. like he needs you to remember it, to be stronger now that you’re departing from each other. you arch into his touch, meaning softly when he bites at the edges of your breasts. releasing your hands, you reach down and scratch into his back. silently begging, pleading for more.

he obliges, parting and making a small smirk at your whine. the loss of contact allowing you time to sit up and peel off your panties, throwing them off to the side before laying back, parting your legs for him. no point in shame or shyness anymore, you’re both too far gone to care. he smiles down at you with such fondness that it tugs at you. how handsome he is, staring down with you with that beautiful and kind face, stubble ticking your skin as he kisses past your waist, down to your hip bones, further, hooking your legs over his shoulders while still peering into your starry eyes. oh how you wish this could be enough, how you wish you both could be enough. it squeezes at your heart, the way his hands softly swipe down the thick parts of your thighs, resting over your stomach to steady you. he feasts on you like it’s his final meal, in an ironic way to how it is. you reach down and grab his hands, you know he hates when you do that. reminds him too much of her mannerisms, but he lets you do it. let’s you grip at his fingers while he licks a long stripe down your core. lapping and savoring you, relishing in the way you shake and push back against him, whining and pleading for more. he gently shushes you by smoothing down your waist, pleading for you to just take it.

he pulls away from you only for a moment, his eyes fucked out and lips swollen with the contact with your most intimate areas. “shh, baby. jus’ enjoy it, hm” he smirks at the way you preen at the attention. always responsive and pliant, he loves when he gets you this way. needy and soft against him. almost forgetting, almost able to enjoy it without any unabashed feelings left in the aftertaste.

so you do enjoy it, you let him lick away at you until you’re shaking in overstimulation. finally, after the edges of your mind have melted away and you’re so lost in it all, he climbs back up you, somehow between it his pants and shorts off his long muscular legs, you feel the heat of his cock straining against your legs. you try to find him with your lips, your eyes sealed as soft little tears scatter on your pink cheeks. he laughs against your begging lips, kissing back fast and needy. your legs motioning to wrap around his middle. he taps at your hip bones, hissing when his tip catches your entrance. you push your hips up against him until it catches again, willing him to make the final push. your eyes open to find his, blazing and wired. staring back at you, with that his eyebrows furrow and he pushes into you. you will your eyes to stay open, the stretch almost unbearable. but you take it, moaning softly into his face. he hisses, kissing the side of your mouth when he buries himself to the hilt. you both sit there, breathless for a minute. he shifts his weight until he’s essentially laying against you, almost intimate in the way you feel every ridge of his body against yours, how you know he feels every piece of you pushing against him. an experimental roll of his hips leaves you both breathless, and so he stays like that. only grinding towards you in slow and languid strokes, leaving you out of breath and panting. whining and shaking, “mm it’s- hah. too much, cant-“ you bite down on your lip, willing yourself to lose yourself in it. to soak it up, osamu doesn’t respond. which is pretty weird, he’s usually chatty during sex. although things don’t usually get this touchy, usually rough and full of passion.

the dots only connect in your head when the space between your neck and shoulder becomes wet. suddenly, you can feel your own eyes well up. with every roll of his hips, with every way you feel his fist clench next to your head. you nose at the side of his head, willing him to look at you. he only shakes his head, shaky sobs leaving his mouth, hot breath fanning the bottom of your chin.

you moan softly, shuddering as your face becomes more and more wet. you try to do what you can, choking out a small “m’ sorry- i, i cant replace her.” you sigh, pressing your hips into his now, meeting him half way. it hits deeper, rolling the tip of his cock just right within you. throwing your head back, it forces him out of the comfort of your neck. he looks up at you with such a small gaze, noticing the way you too are crying now. he takes a shaky hand to wipe them away, as he always does. shaking his head in reply to you, he says with so much platonic love that you’ll never not be thankful for him, “i’ll never be him either, angel” and kisses from your temple down to your chin. making extra effort to pull those sweet gasps out of you. you’re both close, you can feel it. so you push yourself up to kiss him harder, a goodbye, a farewell, an i love you. i love you and you’ll always be my friend. he kisses you back with the same message. your arms circle his back, not scratching but rather running soft lines up and down. he moans into your mouth, pleased at the contact. you both finish soon, gasping and arching into each other. you lay there for a minute, dried tears left on your faces and a soft feeling lingering between the two of you.

leaving is always easier than staying. after a few minutes, you sleepily get out from under him, sliding the covers over him. a final act of domesticity. as you slide your clothes back on, he turns over and offers you that sickly fake smile that he always does, it leaves a bitter feeling in your chest, and when you open the door, you hear a small and fragile “don’t be a stranger, you’re always home here.” and you can't will yourself to say anything back. so the door shuts, and you feel so alone.

so alone that you click on your phone walking back to your apartment, bring up his stupid contact. you’ve been blocked for long enough, leaving another stupid voicemail means nothing. so through your tears and anguish, you press the call and let it ring till the voicemail box opens for you. sniffing down your pride, you all about scream into the receiver,

“fuck you. no- fuck you actually. you’re so stupid- and inconsiderate. and i loved you. you fucked me like you loved me and you didn’t run until i said it. and now im walking home after getting fucked by your ex best friend, because you don’t love me back. because you don’t want me. do you know how much that fucking-“ you gasp for air, the phone slippery in your hands. it drops onto the pavement and you let out another stream of explosives while trying to pick it up. the receiver picks up on your choked sobs, the way you wipe away the water from the speaker and continue.

“sucks. it sucks. you get to move on and live your life without me. because i never meant anything to you. i couldn’t have. you walked away from me and ill hate you forever.” you shut your eyes hard. stopping in your tracks, unable to force your feet to walk any further. your shoe laces wet and dragging behind you. like the grief that follows you like a shadow.

“i hope you have to think of me every day. i hope you never find someone who loves you like me. and i hope i never see you again.” you finally say. clicking the end button and shoving your phone into your pocket. you don’t make any efforts to escape your soaked clothes, only plopping into your bed and begging your body to fall asleep. it does eventually, but only for what feels like a few minutes.

because there’s pounding at your door. loud and incessant. at first you think it must be a mistake. willing your eyes shut and trying to go back to sleep. until more and more pounds continue. groaning, you get up and stalk to the front door, swiping your hood off your head, your hair damp. you swing the door open with a giant frown on your face. ready to curse out whoever’s standing there.

instead, you move to slam it back shut. because it’s a him. standing there in the rain like some half assed hero. you don’t even want to give him the time of day. but when his fragile hand wraps around the door and pushes it back with such a gentle touch you fold. you were never strong when it came to him, the door is open and he’s standing there. and he’s real, his eyes blaring and searching your body as if you too were a ghost.

seconds later, he’s forcing his way through the doorway and wrapping himself around you. it’s so familiar it makes you sick, a rolling tumbleweed in your stomach taking a double take, surely this must be a dream. why is he here, what is going on? the answer to your question is quickly fulfilled with his panicked, “i got your voicemail. i got them all, but i couldn’t ignore them anymore. i couldn’t hear you anymore like that. like you were still so broken over me.” he sighs against your hair. cradling you against him with such gentle patience that you cry again. you move to press your palms flat against him, willing him away. “suna- don’t.” you beg. your bottom lip wobbles, breaking the residual piece of your heart you’d been repairing over the last months. he just holds you tighter, and you just drop your arms. not hugging back, just existing against him. soon, he drops to grab at the edges of your arms and look at you.

“look at you- oh god. m’ sorry. i cant be sorry enough” he runs one hand through his hair, unable to not smile at you being in front of him again. you cant help but let the corner of your mouth also curl. until remembering the last interaction you had. training your face back into the cool and detached version you’ve forced yourself to be. he shakes his head and swipes his warm thumbs over your cheeks. “i ran, i was a coward. i couldn’t- i wouldn’t let you love me. i hurt and i run, and i did it again. and now you’re so small.” his eyes wobble and small tears threaten to fall.

“did you mean it- what you said” he whispers. you’re so shaky, so fragile in his hands and you can’t even look at him for more than a few seconds until a few more tears drop from your lash line. you don’t protest when he drags you to the living room, when he pulls you down with him and holds your head to his chest. not when his heartbeat is so real and alive. so there and no longer gone.

“jus’ tell me and i’ll go. you won’t ever have to see me again.” he says. In response, you only wrap your small fingers around his wrist. willing him to stay in response. he gulps, the feeling of your hand so reassuring in this whole fucked up situation. he picks up your chin with his fingers, peering into your utterly broken eyes. in the way you only break out into more tears, only allowing a few words out, “tell me it’s not true,” you say. he furrows his brows in confusion, “tell me you don’t feel the same,” you ask with more clarity. you can feel your chest cavity open and offering your heart once more, or at least what’s left of it. he rests his head against your forehead, his warm breath fanning across your cheeks.

“i feel more for you than i could ever admit, than i could ever show. and i’ll spend forever trying to repent, i’d grovel at your feet to show you how much i feel.” he presses his hand against your heart, and it’s honest and bright and true. you push ahead, locking your lips onto his. a newfound trust, because you’ve never had walls too high around him, not with his sweet words and poisoning gaze. the kiss is like a recovery potion, it washes over you and leaves you drunk on his vows. you kiss and kiss and kiss more until your entire mouth is swollen and numb, and you’re in his lap and he’s smoothing away all the hurt in your skin. and when you’re locked together, he’s inside you and he’s everywhere, you hear the way his heart rings true. asking small, “does he fuck you better?” and you only shake your head, unwilling to look him in the eyes. “can’t ever- replace me.” he groans against you. fucking up into you in the only way he knows how, with devout passion that devours you whole. and you kiss him more, and you whisper sweet nothings against his mouth. and he touches you like every time, but his time with a promising warmth of staying.

“look at you- s’ perfect.” he sighs against your mouth when you roll your hips on top of him. so desperate and needy, not thinking of anyone else. his smell, his presence, so distracting and loving, making one with you. your body a shell he now dotes on, watching your every moment and responding in tow.

“perfect for me, mine.” he bites at your collarbone, at the shell of your ear. at the skin right above your heart, you whine and throw your head back, so he bites at your neck too. claiming and possessive. his cock nudged right and perfect in you, and you can’t help but think this is right where you want to be. perfectly folded against him, the man you’ve always wanted.

“love you- always have.” you kiss into his mouth. rolling the edge of your tongue against his teeth, begging for any sacrifice on his throat. he returns the kiss, pulling away to pepper your face and eyelids with kisses soft enough to heal the dread. “love you, always. baby- mmh” he pulls away to pull you further down on him.

cw: suggestive, mental health, toxic relationships, mentions of alcohol

suna x reader

—

the push and pull was a poetic way for the world to remind you of your eternal punishment. you will want and crave and desire, but you will never be granted satisfaction.

that’s how it was, your truth proclaimed to stone tablets centuries before now. a sick and cruel fate predetermined, and bedsides, happy endings only existed because sad ones did too.

you fell in love. you fell in love so hard you felt as if you had walked directly into a brick wall. suna rintarō was the receiving end of the devotion. his sharp features and amber eyes drilled nails into your heart that also sealed the coffin behind it.

it’s not like you didn’t know this would happen, besides, he was mr. ‘i don’t do relationships’ himself. and everytime you invited him into your bedroom he reminded you that it was nothing serious, so when he left after you had no right to claim the shattering of your heart left in his wake.

maybe you were undeserving, left out in the rain of sprinkling desperation. running along the tightrope of sanity as you stalked his social media yet again, the fourth time today.

more girls, more tagged posts at parties you were never invited to. his snapscore raising beyond your unanswered pictures sent. your hope diminishing and dwindling beyond comprehensible levels.

taking another swig of cheap corner store liquor, you preferred the burn of that over the acid burns in your throat when your body forced you to throw up everything except your heart, you tossed your phone across your room.

your only way of achieving his attention, you had sent him a text probably to graphic to reread without feeling shame, and watched as it slowly changed from ‘delivered’ to ‘read’ within a few minutes. when some reply buzzed back on your phone, you already knew to expect him soon.

so when you unlock your apartment door, invite him in and ensue familiar patterns of desire and need, you don’t care that he doesn’t ask about the tear stains on your cheeks or why your breath tastes like alcohol, because his hands feel enough like love that you wouldn’t dare ruin this moment.

a temptress to your patience, you played the game of a fine line well. you put on a front, and drifted between layers of reality that only he wrote into the margins.

the only way you’d ever know him was like this, beneath him and vulnerable.

and when he leaves and the lock clicks shut behind him again, and you shatter on the kitchen floor and cry till your heart can no longer take it, you can be happy to know the permanent feeling of his hands on your skin will be the only contact you’ll ever have, because suna was never what you wanted him to be. but you still, were so in love.