fwb Suguru x Reader (18+ mdni) Part-5
(Friends with benefits, lots of angst, Suguru isn't over his ex, you're in love, miscommunication, cheating? not giving you more tags)😝
You loved Suguru all through college.
Quietly. Foolishly. Devoutly.
You loved him in the kind of way that never asked to be noticed. The kind of love that learned how to survive on distance alone. Back then, everyone knew about Suguru and Manami. They were inevitable, beautiful, magnetic, the kind of couple people spoke about like a fixed point in time. You never once imagined yourself fitting into that picture. So you stayed where it was safest: on the periphery. A polite hello in passing. A fleeting smile across a hallway. The way your heart would stutter whenever his gaze brushed past you, never quite stopping.
You told yourself that was enough.
Years passed like that—quiet longing tucked neatly away. You grew older, learned how to carry him without letting it show. And then, cruelly, fate folded in on itself. You learned you worked in the same office now. Same building. Same floors. Same air. The gravity between you pulling tight all over again.
You remember the day you decided you would finally tell him. You were exhausted from loving him alone. Tired of carrying a feeling that had nowhere to go. You thought whatever happens, at least something will end. Even rejection felt merciful compared to this endless, suspended ache.
You remember standing beside him, talking about nothing important. Work. Life. Relationships. Your pulse thundered in your ears. Your hands trembled just enough for you to notice. And then he said it.
“I can’t do relationships.”
So easily. So plainly. As if he hadn’t just undone you. You swallowed your confession whole. You told yourself it was fine. That you’d imagined everything. The way his voice softened around you, the way his eyes lingered longer than necessary. You told yourself to be grateful for whatever version of him you were allowed to have.
That was how you ended up here.
Friends, at first. Then something blurred. Then something unspoken. You convinced yourself you could handle it. You couldn’t.
Because no matter what shape he took in your life, you were still in love with him. And being close to him didn’t dull that—it sharpened it. Every shared breath, every quiet moment, every touch that lingered half a second too long only carved the feeling deeper.
You loved the way he smelled. Warm, clean, unmistakably him. You loved the weight of his presence, how it grounded you without trying. You loved brushing your fingers through his long hair, silky and soft, the way his eyes would close like a cat leaning into a familiar hand.
You loved how he kissed. Slow when he let himself feel, overwhelming when he didn’t. You loved the certainty of his hands on your waist, firm and anchoring, like he was holding onto something real. You loved how he’d always fuck you hard. (18+) You loved how safe it felt to be held by him, even when nothing else was.
You loved him in ways that terrified you. And yet, most of the time, you couldn’t look him in the eye. Because when you did, you were afraid he’d see it. How desperately you wanted him. How much more you hoped for. How deeply you were already losing.
Now Toji’s arms were wrapped around your waist, he kissed your cheeks, your ears…slow, unhurried. You closed your eyes, and all you could see was Suguru’s hands on you, his groans against your neck. The memory came unbidden: the first time he fucked you in that club, in a bathroom that smelled like spilled alcohol and shit. Your face had been turned toward the mirror, your right leg braced on the sink, the other barely touching the ground as he held you up, fucking you from behind like his life depended on it.
His head had been pressed into your hair, his nose buried there, groaning softly. You loved the way he bit your neck when he was close, one hand on your tummy, the other tangled in your hair. You loved how he took you like there was no tomorrow.
You hated how easily you gave Toji access to you. How quickly you let him kiss you. But you refused to judge yourself tonight. You had been living with this heartbreak your entire life. You deserved one night that was just yours.
When tears began to sting your eyes, you excused yourself. “I’m going to the restroom,” you said quietly. “Excuse me.”
Inside, you stared at your reflection—mascara smeared, eyes red and swollen. You splashed cold water onto your face and didn’t bother fixing anything. So be it. When you stepped back out, your thoughts still spiraling, you didn’t expect to see him.
His long hair fell to his shoulders, silky and smooth. He was always painfully handsome. His eyes locked onto you immediately, bangs clinging to his forehead, sweat gathered between his brows. His broad frame filled the space. Black shirt half-unbuttoned, sleeves rolled up, baggy jeans hanging low.
Before he could speak, he was already looking at you like you were the one who had done something wrong.
Before he could say a word, you lifted your hand.
“Not right now, Suguru. Not tonight.”
It was a heartbreaking conversation from the very start. Suguru looked at you the way he always did like he could see straight through you, down to the parts you kept buried.
You met his gaze without flinching. “Why the fuck do you care?” His voice was hoarse. “I said—do you know him?”
“Yeah. I know him. But why the fuck do you care?” You spitted out.
A pause. “Hm. Full name.”
You were too drunk to remember. You knew that. You stared at him, disbelief hollowing you out, your mind refusing to cooperate. You couldn’t even think fast enough to remember that if he was Naoya’s cousin, he’d be a Zenin.
Suguru laughed softly. “Thought so.”
The audacity of him acting like you were the one in the wrong made your blood boil. He stepped closer, towering over you, his nose nearly brushing yours, lips just a breath away. His hand found your waist the way it always did. Familiar. Possessive. Like you belonged there.
You hated how good it felt.
You covered his hand with yours and pushed him away. No tears fell now. His cheek brushed yours anyway as he leaned in, voice low in your ear.
“Just hear me once.” You shoved him again, wiping your face. “No, Suguru. Fuck you. I’m not playing your games anymore.”
Then the words spilled out, sharp and ugly.
“You didn’t even want to come to the concert. Why the fuck are you here? And where the fuck is your bitch, Manami, huh? You think I’m a joke? You felt no shame throwing me out of your room like I was some cheap whore. Is that who you think I am?”
He looked at you then—eyes soft, wounded, almost pathetic. “Stop saying that Y/N. You know it’s not true”
When you tried to walk past him, he grabbed your wrist and pulled you into the restroom. His hands found your waist again. This time, he lifted you, palms under your thighs, his face buried in your neck.
“Just hear me out once,” he whispered. “I’m such an asshole, but would you just listen to me once? It’s not how it looks.”
“No,” you said immediately. “I don’t want to listen to you. I don’t want to play your game. I don’t know what you want to say, and I don’t want to hear it. Not right now.”
You wanted him to pull you closer. To hold you. To kiss you. But whatever existed between you was too broken for that now. His voice dropped in your ear. “Can I taste you?”
God—his words were always maddening. Always enough to drag you under. As he spoke, he sucked at your throat, fingers slipping open two buttons of your shirt. He noticed your skirt, and skirts always drove him insane.
You told him to stop. The words barely left you. Being this close to Suguru was enough to make him weak. His hand pressed against your belly. His whispers, his groans, wrapped around you.
“I just want to taste,” he said again. “Can I?”
You nodded before you could think. Then he was on his knees. He lifted your skirt, crooked one leg over his shoulder. You couldn’t see him—only the fabric bunched up and the heat of him beneath it. His breath ghosted over your panty, possessive hands squeezing your thighs. He bit into your leg, then hooked his finger into your waistband and tore your panties apart.
You wanted to smack him for ripping them but you were too far gone to care. He kissed that bundle of nerves sloppily, shamelessly, until the restroom filled with obscene sounds. You didn’t care who heard. Didn’t care if someone walked in. Didn’t care if Toji came looking.
He took from you greedily. You tangled your hands in your hair, breath uneven, body giving in. “Use your hands to hold your boobs” he ordered. You obeyed—like you always did.
When you came down from your high, the clarity hit like a slap. This was supposed to be finished. You were shaking, staring at his mouth stained with you. He looked devastating. You wanted to give in.
“No. This is a mistake. This was a huge mistake.” He caught your wrist, said your name—and you hated how it sounded on his lips. You pulled away.
He hugged you from behind, holding your hands at your sides. “Please,” he whispered. “Just hear me out.” You looked at him over your shoulder, tears blurring your vision, everything you couldn’t say written across your face. You shook your head again.
A knock sounded at the door.
You opened it, looked back at him once.
“I don’t ever want to see you again, Suguru.” Outside, Toji was waiting. One look was all it took for him to understand. He stepped closer, voice low.
“He bothering you, doll?”
You don’t even look at Suguru when you answer.
“I just wanna head home,” you say, quietly. “Will you drop me off?”
You know you drove here. You know you don’t need him. But tonight, you need out. Before Toji can reply, Suguru’s voice cuts in fast, too desperate.
You turn to him then, anger flashing hot and sudden in your eyes. Sharp. Final.
“I asked Toji,” you say. Nothing else. Nothing soft.
You take a step back toward Suguru despite yourself and he seizes it like it means something. “Just hear me out once.” he said in a soft whisper.
You look at him properly now. Really look. At the dullness in his eyes. At the way he looks like someone who waited too long and knows it.
“Where’s Manami?” you spit out.
His face betrays him before his mouth can. Guilt, raw and ugly. You huff out a broken breath.
“Yeah. Can’t explain that, can you, Suguru?”
Your jaw trembles. You hate it. You hate that he can still do this to you without touching you at all.
“You had a choice to make,” you continue, voice cracking despite your best efforts. “And you didn’t choose me.” Your eyes swelled with tears.
You don’t wait for an answer. If you do, you’ll break. You turn back to Toji. He looks between the two of you—assessing, understanding more than either of you want him to. Then he follows you without another word.
Suguru watches it happen.
Hates how easily Toji closes the distance he never could. Hates how simple it looks from the outside. He hates himself more. Because he knows—too late—that he treated you like something temporary. Like something he could return to when it was convenient. He knows you were doomed from the start because he never chose you loudly, clearly, out loud.
He thinks about how he never untangled his feelings in time. How cowardly he was with them. How he never believed someone could want him after what Manami did, after the way she hollowed him out and left him chasing proof of his own worth. Proving her wrong became his entire life. Being valuable to her. Being enough for her. And somewhere along the way, the rush stopped feeling like happiness.
Now all he can feel is this—this ache, watching you walk away. He realizes something that scares him more than losing you:
He wants you. Not in pieces. Not in secret. Not in stolen moments. But wanting doesn’t mean ready. And he still doesn’t know which is worse. Admitting it to himself, or admitting it to you.
The door closes behind you. Suguru stays where he is. And he doesn’t know whether to chase you or let you disappear.
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Missed me? 😙
Voting ended onDec 27, 2025
