sum. sequel to one last time. you visit suna after listening to the voicenote he sent you, just to talk, and end up doing a little more than that.
feat. rintaro suna
cw. cheating/infidelity, suna really got on my nerves while i was writing this and he'll probably get on yours too, arguing, choking (m. receiving), edging, cunnilingus, a little manhandling kinda, missionary, multiple instances of "i miss/ed you"
wc. 2k
Suna tries his best to keep the shit-eating grin off his face when you text him to ask if he’s home.
He knew that voice message would get you. There was a tiny voice in his head that told him it would be a monumental embarrassment if you didn’t, but it was drowned out by all the other voices in his head telling him to send, send, send, send.
His stomach turns with anticipation. He doesn’t even answer your question, just orders an Uber and sends you the car make and model and how long it will take to get to your apartment. 6 minutes. And then 12 minutes from yours to his.
He fishes out the fancy santal candle he knows you like from beneath the bathroom sink and lights it in his bedroom. Then he brushes his teeth and puts some music on and waits.
He jumps when the doorbell rings.
There’s a moment of silence when he opens the door, the two of you just looking at each other. It hits Suna that this is the first time he’s seen you in person in months. He used to see you everyday. There's a part of his chest that seems to ache at the realization. He ignores it.
“Hi,” you breathe.
He blinks once. Twice. “Hey.” He opens the door a little wider and shifts to the side so you can come in.
You take one step closer and then stop, eyeing him with unjust suspicion. “I didn’t come over here to fuck you.”
Suna takes one look at your outfit—shorts that are definitely too short to be comfortable in this chilly fall weather and a sweatshirt he’s pretty sure is his—and knows you’re lying. He doesn’t call you out, just grins and shrugs and ushers you inside anyway.
You lean against the kitchen counter to survey the living room, pleased to see that it looks exactly the same as the last time you were here. Suna’s still standing by the door when you look at him again, arms crossed.
“So why’d you come over?” he asks.
It’s your turn to shrug. “You said you missed me.”
“Did I?”
You give him a sideways look. “You did.” You drag out the two words, nodding slowly and widening your eyes as if you’re speaking to a child.
Suna tilts his head to the side, smiling a little. “What else did I say?”
Oh lord. You should’ve known he’d be annoying about it. You shift your gaze up to the ceiling, pretending to struggle to remember even though you listened to his message several times, including once on the car ride over.
“You said you weren’t happy for me…which is pretty fucked up.”
Suna just rolls his eyes. “What else?”
Eyes on the ceiling again. “You said you liked my Halloween costume. And that if I had sex with you it wouldn’t count as cheating because I haven’t been with him that long.” You put air quotes around his claim, sliding your eyes back down to meet his.
He’s standing closer to you now than he was a minute ago, looking like he’s holding back a laugh. “Now that part’s fucked up. Where is the boyfriend, by the way?”
You make a face and look at the time on the microwave. “Probably home. Probably asleep.”
“Yeah? How’s he doing?” He closes what’s left of the gap between you and tugs on the drawstring of your (his) sweatshirt to even out both ends.
“Fine…” you whisper, breath hitching when his hand brushes your ear on the way to your hoodie.
He hums after fixing the string and walks towards his bedroom, tapping your bare thigh as he passes you as a silent cue to follow.
You realize that he doesn’t believe your intentions for coming over are pure, which is true, but you don’t like that he didn’t even pretend to believe you.
You follow his lead anyway, resting your head against the doorframe and watching him fish his phone out of his pocket and dump it on his desk. He sits on the edge of the bed and looks over at you with his eyebrows raised.
“I told you I just came over here to talk,” you snap.
Suna’s response is automatic. “No, you said you didn’t come over here to fuck.”
“Rin.”
He puts his hands up in mock surrender. “Sorry.” He leans forward, setting his elbows on his knees and his hands beneath his chin. “Alright. Talk.”
“You’re so fucking annoying,” you mutter. “I shouldn’t have come.” You twist your foot to turn around and immediately hear the bed creak with relief. Suna wraps his hand around your wrist before you can fully turn your back.
“Wait, I’m sorry,” he says. “Stay. Please?”
He sounds like he’s begging. He looks like he’s begging, with his slumped shoulders and pleading eyes and desperation written all over his pretty face.
It’s not enough.
“My boyfriend doesn’t taunt me like this, you know,” you tell him, indignant.
Suna’s grip on your arms loosens as his face falls a bit.
You continue. “He’s actually nice to me. And he’s romantic. Treats me like royalty.”
You watch Suna’s jaw tick. His hand returns to his side. “He’s boring.”
“He’s steady.”
Suna’s tone grows terse. “Dull. Stale. Bland. Vanilla.”
“Stable and secure and safe.”
Suna snorts. “Safe,” he repeats, sarcastic. “I seriously don’t get how you can date him.”
“Because he’s my boyfriend who I love and not just some guy I used to fuck when I was lonely.”
It’s a low blow. You and Suna were friends long before the benefits came along. Good friends. Close friends.
If he’s offended he doesn’t show it, just latches on to the first part of your sentence. “You don’t love him.”
He’s right. “You’re wrong.”
“Really? Why are you here then?” He narrows his eyes. “And don’t say it’s because I said I missed you.”
You’re not sure when you started taking steps forward, or when Suna started moving backwards, but his calves hit the edge of the bed and suddenly he’s sitting again, looking up at you with that infuriating self-righteousness that makes your eye twitch.
And then your hand is squeezing his throat and your lips are on his and you’re straddling him and moaning into his mouth.
You feel him start to smile against you before he pulls away.
He opens his mouth to speak, but you beat him to it. “Don’t fucking say anything,” you tell him, before tugging his face towards you neck.
You can tell Suna’s still smiling, but he obeys, sucking the tender spot right above your collarbone without another word. His hands find the bottom of your sweatshirt and he pulls it up.
His lips leave your skin and your hand leaves his neck so you can take your arms out of the sleeves and he can yank it over your head and drop it on the floor. Then he rests his hands on your hips and just looks at you.
Goosebumps dance across your shoulders and arms. Suna wants to comment on how you're not wearing a bra but he doesn’t, just continues to stare.
“What?” you ask.
He takes in the sight of you on top of him, the rise and fall of your chest—quicker than normal, a side effect of him riling you up. He revels in the weight of you on his legs and tries to recall the last time you had him beneath you like this. Your birthday? His birthday? Or maybe it was that time he tried to cheer you up after you got laid off. Either way, it’s been a long time and he hates to think about how you’ve probably been doing this with your boyfriend instead of him.
He can’t help himself. “You straddle the boyfriend like this?”
You huff and press your palm to his chest, shoving him onto his back. Your face hovers over his. “What are you gonna do if I say yes?”
Suna studies your face and puts his hands around your waist and beams. It’s the only signal you get before he flips you, putting your head on a pillow and taking his own shirt off before he drops it on the ground somewhere near your hoodie.
You prop yourself up on your elbows, glancing at the hard outline growing in his sweats as you trail your fingertips up his thigh. He leans into you and rests his forehead against yours.
“I missed you,” he says softly.
Your heart beats at a concerning speed. “I know.”
He gets up from the bed and snaps the waistband of your shorts before telling you to take them off and removing the rest of his own clothes. When he crouches over you again, you place the sole of your foot flat against him and tut.
“You also said you’d do that thing I like with your tongue.”
Again, Suna chooses not to comment. He wonders how many times you listened to the message, because it’s sounding like more than once, more than a couple. He grabs your ankles and drags you down the bed, forcing a giggle out of your throat before he plants his head between your legs.
He circles your clit, avoiding making contact with it directly and making teasing strokes with his fingers until you’re panting and quivering and making shaky demands for him to let you come on his tongue. When he does, you scream his name.
“Music to my fucking ears,” he says under his breath, licking your slick off his lips. “You scream this loud for him too?”
You can't believe you forgot how aggravating he is. “Shut up and fuck me.”
He looks so smug. You start to think that the desperation from before was too short-lived, until he’s inside you and you’re filled with him and that familiar need that makes you wrap your legs around him and claw at his back.
All you can think about is how you miss him and you missed this, and you’re telling him to fuck you harder, and then his mouth is right below your ear and his hair is tickling your cheek and a stream of yes’s and Rin’s are tumbling out of your mouth like dominoes and youre trying to pull him impossibly closer and youre so surrounded by him that its dizzying and youre whispering i miss you in his ear and hoping it doesnt sound like i love you and hes saying i miss you too and youre wondering if he really means i love you too and then youre biting into his shoulder and—
You lose count of how many times you come. Both of you do. The two of you are coated in sweat, laying on damp sheets in a room that now smells like sex and sandalwood. Neither of you speak, busy catching your breath and being lost in thought. You don’t want to say anything, afraid you’ll break the spell.
You didn’t have to worry about that, though, because you hear your phone ping loudly and realize it’s on the floor, still tucked away in the front pocket of your sweatshirt. Suna turns his head towards you.
“You should break up with him.”
You raise an eyebrow at the seriousness in his voice and sigh. “I know.”
“Today.”
A pause. “Okay.”
There’s another moment where none of you speak. And then–
“You should date me instead.”
You turn to face him and the earnestness in his expression catches you so off guard you have to look away again. It’s not that you never expected him to bring it up, you just hadn't expected him to sound so sincere when he did.
You had toyed with the idea before, a handful of times even, but everything between you two was so easy—why would you mess it up with a what are we? conversation? Although, you suppose you messed it up anyway by getting a boyfriend and ditching Suna without warning.
It takes you a long time to respond, long enough that Suna starts to game plan an exit strategy, but then you meet his gaze again.
hi gen question as ive seen it on a few other author blogs too, but why dont u want your fanfics recommended on other platforms? i get if someone were to essentially steal it and read the entire thing or something but if they are just talking about fics they've enjoyed and then from that other ppl discover you/read your work too isn't that good then? i know im probably missing something but ive seen it sm thought i would ask.
hiii, idk why other writers do but for me it’s honestly because the idea of getting a huge influx of readers from tiktok kind of terrifies me and i’d probably stop posting ngl 😭 i have seen what people say on there about smut writers (& dc writers) (and even sfw writers who don’t want minors on their page) and it is Not Kind. i’d like to stay here in my little tumblr bubble as much as i can
i appreciate that people like my stuff enough to recommend it to others. send it to your friends! but i’d just prefer not be posted on any socials if possible
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