He wasnβt looking for you. Truth be told, he never really had to. You just kept slipping back into his life in ways he couldnβt control, sometimes through a passing scent on the train, sometimes through someone ordering a dish you used to eat, sometimes through your picture hitting his screen like a punch to the gut. Like tonight. Osamu leaned back in the office chair in his closed-up restaurant, phone heavy in his palm, the glow of your new post sitting there. A bathroom mirror shot, simple, careless, nothing dressed up for anyone. But your hair framed your face in loose waves, your lips had that soft pout like you were annoyed at something, and the neckline of your black dress dipped just enough that his mind went places it shouldnβt. βFuckinβ hellβ¦β he muttered under his breath, scrubbing a hand over his jaw. He shouldβve scrolled past. He shouldβve. But Osamu wasnβt built for pretending. Not when it came to you. Youβd always had that pull on him, the kind of pull that made him grind his teeth at two in the morning wondering if you were out with someone else, the kind of pull that made him cook three portions of dinner even after you were gone, muscle memory refusing to give up. And here you were, younger than him but looking grown in all the wrong ways, leaning over a counter like you knew exactly what itβd do to him. Like you knew heβd picture your thighs pressing against the cool counter, your mouth tipped up toward his ear, breathy little laugh spilling when he told you not to play with him.
Osamu cursed again and tossed his phone on the desk, only to pick it back up a second later, thumb hovering over your name in his contacts. You hadnβt spoken in months, not really. A few dry check-ins, an accidental run-in at the market. Nothing that explained why his chest felt like it was trying to cave in now. What the hell was he supposed to say? Ya look good? Ya tryinβ to kill me? That wasnβt him. He wasnβt the type to beg, wasnβt the type to chase. He let go when things ended, thatβs what he always told himself.
But his cock stirred at the sight of you, and his pride wasnβt enough to drown out the want coiling low in his stomach.
Maybe he wouldnβt reach out. Maybe heβd just sit there, sitting in his empty restaurant, scrolling back to that damn picture until his imagination filled in the rest. The way you used to arch into his hands. The way youβd tug his hair when he went down on you. The way your eyes would roll back when he said your name low and rough. Osamu wasnβt proud of it. Not the way he sat in the dark office of his restaurant, phone screen glowing with your picture, hand already wrapped tight around his cock. But pride had never done him any favors when it came to you.
The picture wasnβt even obscene. Just you in a black dress, leaning over a bathroom sink, mouth pouty, hair spilling wild. But he knew you, knew the little tilt of your chin, knew the mischievous bite of your lip, knew when you were playing innocent. And this? This was bait. A trap. And he fell right into it. βYer a fuckinβ menaceβ¦β he muttered, voice low and strained, wrist working slow, milking every ache out of himself. His cock was hot and heavy in his hand, leaking freely, every stroke slicker than the last. And thatβs when the thought hit him.
What if she walked in right now?
The scenario built itself in his mind, sharper and filthier than any porn reel. He pictured the restaurant door creaking open, the jingle of the bell breaking the silence. You stepping inside, curious, maybe bored, maybe coming by just to see him. Heβd freeze, hand stilling on his cock, chest heaving, pulse jackhammering through his throat. But you wouldnβt back out. Not you. No, youβd lean against the doorframe with that smug little smirk, eyebrow arched. βSeriously, βSamu? In your office?β His fist tightened, stroking harder now as the fantasy dug in deep. He imagined his answer, rough, defensive, heat creeping up his neck. βYer fault. If ya didnβt post shit like that, I wouldnβt be sittinβ here, losinβ my goddamn mind.β In his head, youβd cross the room slow, every sway of your hips making his cock throb harder in his grip. Youβd stop just short of his desk, lean down so he could smell your perfume, your hair brushing his jaw. βPathetic,β youβd whisper, eyes dropping to where he stroked himself, shameless. βCouldnβt even wait till you got home?β
A groan rattled out of his chest, his strokes growing rougher. His hips jerked up to meet his palm, cock pulsing at the imagined humiliation. βShut up,β heβd growl in that low voice of his. βCome closer, or Iβll make ya watch from there.β And in his fantasy, you would. Because thatβs the way it always went, you couldnβt resist pushing him, couldnβt resist testing just how far his hunger stretched. He pictured you straddling his lap, your dress riding high as you perched over him, one hand shoving his away so you could take over. Your smaller fingers wrapping around his thick length, working him slow and cruel, nails scratching just enough to make his thighs tense. βYouβre already this hard,β youβd murmur, almost like you pitied him. βBet you were thinkinβ about me bending over that counter for you, huh?β His head tipped back against the chair as his strokes sped up, precum smearing slick between his fingers. βFuck, yeah,β he hissed, imagining how your breath would ghost over his ear as you taunted him.
In his mind, heβd grip your hips tight, voice breaking rough as he admitted, βIβd fuck ya right on this desk if ya gave me half a chance.β And youβd only laugh, that sweet, cruel little laugh that always got him harder. βThen beg for it, Osamu.β The thought made him groan, wrist pumping faster, precum spilling over his knuckles as the coil in his stomach wound tight. He imagined himself actually saying it, pride stripped away, voice ragged. Please. Just one word, rough and needy, spilling out before he could choke it down. Thatβs when youβd sink onto him in his fantasy, your heat swallowing him to the hilt. Heβd feel the wet clench of you around him, your nails dragging down his chest, your lips biting into his neck as you hissed against his skin, βPathetic man. Touching yourself to me like this.β
Osamuβs whole body shuddered, his hand working furiously now, chasing the edge. His hips bucked up off the chair as he lost himself in the imagined rhythm, the slap of your ass against his thighs, your voice mocking and sweet, the sound of his name spilling off your lips like it was the only thing you could say. βFuckβfuck, yaβdβyaβd kill me, sweetheart,β he groaned, forehead damp with sweat. βYa walk in right now, Iβd lose it. Wouldnβt let ya outta here till ya couldnβt walk straight.β
The fantasy blurred with the present, his hand moving faster, his cock twitching violently, his chest caving in with every ragged breath. And then it hit him, sharp and hot, orgasm ripping through him in thick spurts that painted his stomach, his hand, his shirt. He groaned through gritted teeth, voice cracking with your name, body jerking helplessly as the release wrung him dry. For a long moment, he just sat there, chest heaving, sweat slick on his skin, hand still wrapped loose around his cock. The glow of your picture lit up the desk beside him, and he stared at it with heavy-lidded eyes, heart hammering like heβd actually been caught. A bitter laugh slipped out of him, rough and humorless. βThirty years old, and Iβm sittinβ here imagininβ my ex bustinβ me like some fuckinβ teenager.β Still, his cock gave a weak twitch against his palm, and he knew one thing for sure.
If you really had walked in on him, Osamu wouldnβt have stopped. Not for a second. And that was the worst part of all.
summary. after a viral pandemic wiped out half of the worldβs population, a group of abandoned young adults embark on a life-threatening journey in hopes of finding a safe permanent home. unfortunately, for you and Rin, love is only a temporary option.
genre. heavy angst, unrequited love, post apocalypse au, 18+
fic warnings. explicit smut, profanity, gore, infectious diseases, zombies, usage of guns and other weapons, smoking, blood, killings, suicide, minor and major character death
general masterlist + playlist + official art + group fanart + ko-fi
+ one + two + three + four + five + six + seven + eight + nine + ten + epilogue
favorite crime β suna rintaro x reader x miya osamu au
(pic cred. aikk00)
itβs the classic case of βwho will get the girl first.β only itβs purely a competition and neither of them have feelings for you. your feelings are being pulled left and right but what happens when you find out that it was all a game to them?
pairing: suna Γ fem!reader / osamu x fem!reader
genre: angst, smut, fluff, & all written
tropes: unrequited love, enemies to lovers, (+ more will be introduced)
warnings: smoking, drug usage, manipulation, lying, cheating, 18+ scenes, (+ more will be introduced)
taglist: open
schedule: 1-2 times a week
status: ongoing
a/n: someone pls make me a better banner using this picture
playlist
βΎβ almost finished writing β‘οΈ β havenβt started writing yet
Summary: Being an Inarizaki manger was a fun experience. Especially when you and a certain some refuse to acknowledge their feelings for each other. So instead of accepting your feelings, you try to move on and be with someone. Will you move on? Or will you two acknowledge your feelings? And if so, how long will it take to be together?
Pairing:Β Suna Rintaro x Reader
Warning: Swear words and many other will be added along the way!
Notes: Hey guys! I hope you guys will like this story just as much as you liked Fleeting Glances! If yaβll want to be added to the Taglist please let me know!Β
summary: we're soulmates, he insists, like it's a substitute for i love you.
note: idk if wanna write the other one i planned for the but my feelings collab so here's a different one. i wrote this with the intention of adding the comfort to @tobiokuns soulmates gone wrong but... the hurt felt betterβso there's like, some references/parallels to it.
tags: gn!reader. angst. soulmate!au. some description of pain because you're bound to suna by sharing each other's pain. hurt & absolutely no comfort. hints at neglect. break up and post break up. wc: 700.
suna supposesβno, he understands that he doesn't have anyone to blame but himself. if he continued to rummage through the memories of you, all he's left with is nothing but all the reasons why he doesn't know why there's pain cutting through the skin of his palm.
in a way, it's reminiscent. suna wonders if this is how you felt the whole timeβto feel like you have half a heart and nothing more.
he can feel the cut, it slices across his palmβhe thinks about who could be washing your wound clean without him around as he hisses in pain at the sting.
but you've grown, suna knows it best. you probably don't hate it as much when you have to clean up your wound, when the sting of it doubles over. otherwise, you probably wouldn't have left him.
probably.
because the echo of you leaving him never leaves. it bounces around his head in infinities.
you've given him so many chancesβsuna has no one to blame but himself. he's bitten his tongue in arguments and very rarely has he ever said anything out of line because, not for you. not with you. but in exchange, suna had offered you nothing but silenceβno reassurance of a love that you had eventually thought didn't exist, no reassurance to hold on to him and stick around.
suna kept quiet until you did, too. you're soulmates and that's enough, that's what he always said.
he gets it now.
you're soulmates, he can tell because he knows, despite not knowing where you are right nowβthat you've gotten hurt and you're cleaning up the wound. you're soulmates, and he can tell because almost everyday, he feels the small nip of cooking oil on the skin of his hand, or when his tongue feels like it's been scalded when he's not even eating anything.
you're soulmates but that isn't enoughβbecause everyday, suna comes home only to feel his heart getting chipped away all over again til he's hollow from inside out. it's only been three weeks and he's been leaving you alone in this apartment for over a yearβso he wonders how you did it.
his heart aches, just like the way you told him it did. it's the perfect karma. to feel the same sort of loneliness he put you through.
"we're soulmates," he repeats like a broken record. with his eyes, he pleads.
"we're soulmates," he insists, like it's a substitute for i love you. but he's greeted by your silence. your eyes refusing to meet his, it stays grounded to the floor.
he calls out your name while you sink your teeth down your bottom lip because your eyes stingβsuna can feel it too, the welling of tears in his eyes. even if your tears fall over first, he knows the sting in his eyes isn't all yours. for a moment, you look up, and your gaze meets his.
"i just-i can't do this anymore. i'mβi think i'm tired, rintarou."
your shoulders sag at your admission, like you're finally feeling the complete weight of it. then you look away with a sigh, "you don't need me around, rintarouβand i can't, i can't stay around you anymore."
his lips part, he wants to say he does. he needs you around, more than you know. but you shake your head like you know exactly what he'll say, "you're never around, you know. i get you're busy, i get you're tired butβ¦" your sigh is tainted by a mirthless laugh. "i can't be with you anymoreβnot like this."
i can't be with you anymore. it's the words that echo in his head and follow him in his dreams. he feels every part of himself dying insideβit's hard for him to breathe; you have him in a chokehold. even in the very words that would become his nightmare, he thinks: but i love you.
suna watches you smile a little. it's a consolation prize before you're turning around and locking the door behind you.
"but we're soulmates," he mutters; and he wonders, if you could also feel the ache in his chestβor if he has to physically cut it in half for you to feel how he feels without you.
what about suna fingering you while tattooing/piercing you βto take away the painβ but heβs pushing you stomach down and telling you youβre not allowed to move while his fingers are literally slamming into your pussy. heβll also spank youβre clit if youβre being bad and moving your hips up when he told you not to :(
