#ryuji fic

part 2

pairing : ryuji matsuyama x reader

word count : 3.3 k

warnings : angst, suggestive scenes, mentions of manipulation and obsession, toxic relationship

summary : you knew he was just as intoxicated by you as you were by him, pulled under the same dizzying, unstoppable current that neither of you wanted to escape.

a/n : he’s sooo fine, i had to write something with him. I highly recommend listening to “Wrong” by Chris Grey while reading this ! Hope you enjoy xx

—

You watched as raindrops slid down the classroom window, tracing uneven paths against the glass. The professor’s voice faded into the background, nothing more than a dull hum, as your thoughts wandered to the one person who had unexpectedly consumed your mind over the last few weeks.

It had started with curiosity. You’d always been the one to think past the surface, to dig deeper into subjects most people skimmed over. That restless need to know more was what led you to discover a paper written by Ryuji Matsuyama. The first line alone had hooked you. He had written about questions you’d wrestled with for years, ideas that felt like they had been plucked straight from the corners of your mind.

That discovery was one of the reasons you chose this university, because you’d learned he was teaching here. The very first chance you got, you approached him after class.

“I read your paper. It was fascinating.”

“You’re interested in mental illness?” he asked, hardly glancing up as he shoved his notes into his bag.

“Not exactly” you replied. “I meant the part where you wrote that stimulating a section of the temporal lobe can trigger near-death experiences.”

That made him pause. For the first time, he looked at you properly.

“You’re the only one here who’s ever brought that up.”

And just like that, you had his attention.

What began as quick conversations after class soon became a ritual. You stayed behind almost every day, tossing ideas back and forth until he finally suggested meeting in his lab from time to time. You hadn’t hesitated, only a fool would have said no.

Now, sitting in another lecture you barely heard, your mind drifted again. The thought of the lab, of the conversations waiting for you with Professor Ryuji Matsuyama, filled you with a quiet thrill.

The bell finally rang, pulling you out of your drifting thoughts like a jolt back into reality. Relief washed over you, you didn’t even bother pretending to listen to the professor anymore. You swept your notebooks into your bag with quick, practiced movements, eager to escape the monotony of the classroom.

It was already past six. Your stomach growled in protest, reminding you of the hours you had gone without eating. On your way to the lab, you decided to make a quick detour to the snack distributor near the stairwell. You hovered in front of the machine for a moment, scanning its limited choices under the harsh fluorescent light. After some indecision, you tapped in a number and watched the bag tumble down into the tray with a hollow thud. You bent slightly, fingers just brushing the wrapper, when a voice suddenly called your name.

You turned, startled, the familiar sound cutting through the quiet corridor. Standing there with a grin was Kenji.

“Hey” you greeted with a small wave, straightening as you retrieved your snack. Kenji was a classmate of yours, and more importantly, your partner for Ryuji’s final assignment. He was easy to be around, a little clumsy, but genuine in a way that made people naturally comfortable.

“Heading home already?” he asked as he approached.

You shook your head. “Not yet. I was planning on studying in the library before leaving.”

That was only half-true. Your evenings didn’t really belong to the library anymore, not when you had somewhere far more intriguing to be. While your meetings with Ryuji weren’t forbidden, not exactly, you both seemed to understand the unspoken rule of keeping them private. Whatever was growing between those quiet conversations in the lab, it was yours alone.

Kenji didn’t press. He just nodded and said “Then I’ll walk you there. I was heading that way anyway.”

The two of you fell into step, trading easy jokes and small laughter as the corridors thinned of students. By the time you reached the library, the halls were nearly empty, the quiet of early evening settling over the campus.

“This is me” you said, pausing at the library entrance.

Kenji gave a half-smile. “Don’t study too hard. See you tomorrow?”

“Yeah” you nodded, returning the smile before watching him walk off down the hall.

As soon as his figure disappeared around the corner, you turned to the right. The library’s heavy wooden doors stayed behind you as your feet carried you toward the lab instead. A faint nervous excitement hummed beneath your skin, like it always did.

The lab door opened with its usual creak, spilling a sliver of light into the dim corridor. Inside, the fluorescent lamps overhead had been left off, only a desk lamp glowing faintly somewhere deeper inside the room. The shadows stretched across the tables and glass cabinets, giving the place a hushed, almost secretive atmosphere, which made you assume Ryuji hadn’t arrived yet.

You slipped further inside, the door clicking shut softly behind you. From your bag, you pulled out the white blouse you kept just for these visits, slipping it on over your clothes. A ritual by now, it felt almost symbolic, as though putting on that blouse set you apart from the rest of your student life. You reached up to tie your hair, movements casual, your mind already rehearsing what questions you might bring up tonight.

Then you flinched.

At the edge of your vision, you noticed a figure seated at one of the desks. The faint scratching sound of a pen against paper reached your ears, so subtle you hadn’t noticed it at first.

Ryuji’s eyes met yours across the dim lab, the glint of the desk lamp reflecting in his gaze.

You let out a soft chuckle, trying to ease the tension clinging faintly to the air. “You scared me.” you admitted, exhaling.

Ryuji leaned back slightly in his chair, pen still in his hand. “The lights are out” he explained simply, nodding toward the dark ceiling fixtures. “For tonight, desk lamps will have to do.”

You gave a small sigh and nodded in understanding, the pale glow of the lamp casting both of your faces in an amber haze. Pulling the rest of your hair into a quick knot, you walked toward him and slipped into the chair beside his. His notes lay scattered in neat disorder across the table, ink marks, underlined words, diagrams that looked sharp and meticulous. You leaned a little, curiosity tugging at you.

“Have you been thinking about anything new?” you asked, eyes flicking from the papers to his profile.

But his gaze didn’t land on you. Instead, his eyes moved restlessly, shifting from the microscope to the notebook, from the pages back to the lenses, only occasionally darting in your direction before sliding away again. There was something deliberate in the way he avoided meeting your stare, but you didn’t press. At least, you tried not to.

“Can I see ?” you asked after a beat, nodding toward the microscope.

He didn’t hesitate, just leaned his chair back a little, leaving room for you. You turned the eyepiece gently, lowering your face until the world narrowed into the circular field of the lens. The familiar branching lines and structures came into focus, and you recognized it almost instantly.

“Wait, this is one of the subjects for the final assignment, isn’t it?”

Ryuji’s voice came quietly, almost matter-of-fact. “It is.”

A smile tugged at your lips, and you pulled back slightly from the microscope. “Then I’d better get an A on this after everything,” you teased, trying to bring some levity into the dim-lit atmosphere.

He gave a faint breath, not quite a laugh. “If you were doing it alone, there’s no doubt you’d get an A.” He paused, eyes lingering on his notes before adding, “That’s why it’s important to choose a good partner.”

Something in his tone, too sharp, too pointed, made you still. The air between you seemed to shift. Slowly, you leaned back into your chair, turning your head to look at him properly. His gaze was finally fixed on you, steady and unflinching, almost heavy with an intensity that made your stomach dip.

For a moment, neither of you said anything.

Then, as though nothing had happened, he reached forward and replaced the plate beneath the microscope, his movements smooth, calculated. He bent slightly to peer back through the lens, leaving you to blink the weight of his stare off your skin.

“My partner’s Kenji” you said after a beat, forcing the words into the quiet. “He’s actually a really good student—”

“He failed the first test last week.” Ryuji cut in abruptly, his voice low but edged. The interruption was so quick, so decisive, it felt as though he’d been waiting to say it.

The silence that followed pressed down heavier than the shadows of the lab.

You tried to smooth the edge of his words with a light tone. “The test was really hard, though. I mean, half the class looked like they were drowning—”

Ryuji didn’t let you finish.

“You got an A” he said flatly, not even looking at you as he stacked his papers into a neat pile. “And the class average was an 80. It wasn’t hard.”

You blinked at him, caught off guard by the sharpness. You pushed back gently, trying to defend Kenji.

“Okay, but a first test doesn’t mean much. It’s the beginning of the semester, people are still adjusting—”

Again, he cut you off.

“If he spent his time with you wisely instead of laughing around, he probably would’ve passed.”

The sentence landed like ice water down your spine. The tone of it, the dismissal, the cold finality in his voice, it made you freeze in your seat. His gaze flicked up at you then, just for a moment, a piercing look that felt too heavy, too sharp, before he dropped it back down to his notes.

Silence stretched out between the two of you, thick and suffocating. The soft hum of the desk lamp was the only sound that filled the lab. You opened your mouth to speak, to maybe shift the atmosphere back to something lighter, but nothing came out. The weight of his words had shut you down.

Ryuji exhaled, long and tired, as though whatever thread of patience he had left had worn thin. He began gathering his notes with precise movements, stacking and sliding pages into his bag, the click of his pen echoing too loud in the stillness.

“I have a lot to do,” he said, voice lower now, though not softer. “I need to get home early.”

You sat there, dumbfounded, watching him. His behavior was so unlike him, so distant, so curt. This wasn’t the man who stayed after class to hear your thoughts, who leaned in when you spoke like your words carried gravity. It felt like you were staring at a stranger wearing his face.

He stood, grabbing his bag, stuffing it with his notes. Something panicked sparked in you, if you let him leave like this, you weren’t sure what would happen between you after tonight.

“Wait” you blurted, your hand darting forward before you could stop yourself.

Your fingers landed on his, stilling his movements as he slid the last folder into his bag. The warmth of his skin under your palm made your pulse skip, and for a second, he froze, too, his posture rigid. The world seemed to contract around that single point of contact.

Then reality crashed over you. Heat flooded your cheeks, and you recoiled, snatching your hand back as though you’d touched a flame.

“I—sorry,” you stammered, your voice quiet, breaking the silence like brittle glass.

He didn’t say anything for a long while, and the silence pressed down on you like a weight. His hand lingered on his bag. Then finally, his voice broke through, low and measured.

“You shouldn’t do that.”

The words weren’t sharp like earlier, but they weren’t soft either. They carried something heavier, a weight that slid down your spine and made your chest tighten. You lowered your gaze instantly, the sting of embarrassment settling in. You had acted before thinking, reaching out like that, breaking a line that should’ve never been crossed.

But before the shame could sink too deep, Ryuji sighed. You heard the faint rustle of his bag as he let it fall back onto the desk, his posture shifting. When you looked up, his eyes were on you at last, steady and unwavering. He exhaled slowly, as though the words that followed had been coiled inside him for too long.

“You’re smarter than the rest of them” he said. His voice wasn’t clinical now, not the detached tone of a professor. “Braver, too. That’s why you caught my attention.”

Your lips parted, breath stalling as the weight of his admission pressed into you.

“You should stay with people who share your interests,” he went on, the intensity of his gaze pinning you in place. “Otherwise you’ll waste your potential.”

Something in your chest twisted. Your whole body went still, your eyes lifting to his. A dozen questions burned in your throat, but none of them could take shape. The air between you was thick with things unspoken.

And then, quietly, you asked, “Do you mean yourself?”

The question cracked the silence like glass.

Ryuji scoffed, shaking his head, though his expression gave nothing away. “I’m your professor, not your partner.”

The dismissal stung, but before you could react, he added, almost reluctantly, “Do what you want. But I’m warning you.” His voice was low, deliberate, like a shadow curling around the edges of his words.

He reached for his bag again, shifting his weight as though ready to leave. But you moved before he could step past you.

“Wait.”

Your voice came out firmer than you expected as you pushed off the desk, stepping into his path. He stopped short, standing directly in front of you now, only inches of space separating you. His height forced you to tilt your chin up, your pulse loud in your ears.

He didn’t move, didn’t step back, just looked down at you with that same unreadable expression.

“You really don’t have to worry about Kenji” you said softly “He’s just my partner. If he struggles with the material, I'll be there to help him.”

Ryuji’s expression didn’t change at first, but you caught the flicker of something in his eyes. A shift, quick and raw, before it was shuttered again.

You went on, unaware of the storm tightening around him. “As you said, I'm smart, so a few private sessions at the library will get us an A.”

That was it, the last thread of his restraint snapped.

The bag slipped from his shoulder, hitting the floor with a dull, heavy sound that startled you into stillness. Before you could even ask what was wrong, his hand was on your jaw, the grip firm, tilting your face upward.

And then his mouth was on yours.

It wasn’t careful or measured, nothing like the precise man who lived in his notes and microscopes. It was forceful, searing, as though every unspoken thing inside him had been set on fire and you were the only way to put it out.

Your back hit the bookshelf hard, his body caging you in, his hand holding your face as though he was afraid you’d vanish if he let go. His kiss was fierce, demanding, almost angry, yet underneath it all there was a raw yearning that made your knees weak.

The moment his lips touched yours, everything you had told yourself about Ryuji being untouchable, distant, impossible, everything you had forced yourself to believe, shattered.

You melted into the kiss instinctively. Your hands lifted, fingers tangling in the back of his shirt almost without thinking, drawn to the heat and intensity of him.

When you responded fully, leaning into him, letting yourself be consumed by the kiss, he moved without hesitation. One hand slid under your knees while the other gripped your back, lifting you off your feet effortlessly.

Your breath hitched in surprise, but he didn’t pause. He carried you toward the lab desk, sweeping the notes off the desk in one quick, careless motion, sending them fluttering to the floor as he lifted you onto the surface.

He hovered above you, the desk lamp casting stark shadows across his face, highlighting the intensity in his eyes. His lips left yours for just a fraction of a second, enough for you to catch your breath, before pressing back with the same urgent, commanding force.

Your hands rested on his shoulders, trying to anchor yourself against the storm of feeling that had erupted between you.

As he pulled back slightly, leaving a trail of feather-light kisses along the curve of your neck, a slow, triumphant smirk spread across your lips. You had him exactly where you wanted, just as you had from the very moment you first read his paper. From that first line, you had known him, passionate, brilliant, untouchable… and perfect.

He was more than just desire ; he was restraint and discipline, a respected professor, and that made breaking him far from easy. But that's where Kenji came in handy. You had nothing against him, he was kind, funny, easy to be around, but he didn’t share the obsessions, the depth of conversation, the intensity you shared with Ryuji. With Kenji, there were limits. With Ryuji, there were no limits you weren’t willing to explore.

Your gaze drifted to the lab window now covered by curtains, hiding the food distributor across the hall from which you had seen Ryuji standing earlier before you came, watching people pass by with that quiet, calculating look.

When, at that moment, Kenji’s voice called out behind you, you’d felt a spark of wicked amusement. You’d turned, putting on your widest, most disarming smile, knowing Ryuji would see every gesture, every laugh. You’d played your part perfectly, subtle and teasing, planting a seed that would rattle him just enough.

Over the past few lab sessions, you had noticed the small, deliberate ways he had let his control slip, lingering touches that brushed against your skin, words that carried double meanings, gazes that followed you longer than propriety demanded. You had recognized the signs, calculated them, and known this would be the tipping point. Kenji had been the perfect catalyst, innocently oblivious, just enough to provoke the storm that had been building beneath Ryuji’s composed exterior.

And now here you were. His lips moved lower, tracing your neck, your shirt partially unbuttoned, exposing skin that had been shielded from the world until now. His hands were bold, daring, sliding under your skirt, tracing upward across your thighs with a possessive urgency that made your breath hitch. Every touch, every press of his lips against your skin, pulled you deeper into him, intoxicated and dizzy with desire.

You wanted him entirely, just as he wanted you entirely. The boundary between student and professor had dissolved, leaving only two people locked in the same fevered hunger, feeding off each other’s intensity. You moved instinctively, arching slightly as his hands explored, letting yourself be claimed by the man who had always fascinated you, the man who had challenged your mind and now your body.

You were one with him. Every stolen touch, every sharp gasp, every racing heartbeat drew you closer to a truth you had known all along : that this moment, this surrender, was exactly what you had been building toward since the moment you first read his paper. The rest of the world fell away. Kenji, the assignments, the lectures, they were all just background noise to the storm that existed between you and Ryuji, and nothing else mattered.

This was the culmination, the game you had been playing from the very beginning, and that you won.

A = Aftercare: ryuji loves taking care of you after sex. he always carries your limp body into the bathroom, cleaning your cum filled pussy with a wet napkin before running a warm bath for you. it feels good, especially after a huge cock like his is drilling into your cunt for an hour straight.

B = Body part: his favorite body part of yours is probably your tits. everytime you ride him cowgirl style, he grabs both of them. kneading them softly, flicking his fingers over your big nipples.

C = Cum: ryuji has a lot of stamina, which is common for a guy as big as him. this means you are almost constantly getting stuffed with his rich cum. once, you both went 4 rounds, your pussy was filled to the brim, cunt dripping, all squelchy and squishy from a mixture of your juices and his release. his cum was everywhere, on the sheets after he pulled out, and when you got up cum literally oozed out your pussy, dripping down your leg and onto the floor. ryuji was proud, meanwhile you were quite embarrassed..

D = Dirty Secret: ryuji had a huge, undisclosed crush on you while attending school with you. one day, you invited him over so you can help with math homework, and he accepted (duh). it was late into the night and you offered him dinner, but he declined, saying he wanted to “finish his homework”. but as soon as you left the room. ryuji started jerking off, finding your dirty underwear in your laundry basket in the corner, rubbing the lacy cloth over his throbbing member. he was sooooo close until he heard your footsteps, he threw your panties somewhere in the room, shoving his throbbing cock in his pants trying to conceal it from you. you never noticed until a day later, you found your panties under your bed, painted with precum..

E = Experience: ryuji is waaaaaaay more experienced than you, having had many hookups as a young man. meanwhile, you’ve never been with anyone other than him. he liked the fact that you were still a virgin, ripe and ready for his cock to break.

F = Favourite Position: he loves fucking you in a mean mating press. having your legs over his muscular shoulders as he brutally pounds into your pussy. he says he likes this particular position because he can drill his cock deeper into your cunt, filling you with his seed so he can increase the chances of you being impregnated with his child. he also likes it because it “feels good”, having your tiny little pussy stretch around his fat cock.

G = Goofy: ryuji really isn’t that goofy during sex. he doesn’t like joking around during a serious time like sex. he likes sex to be sensual, not full of jokes and other nonsense like that.

H = Hair: he keeps his hair regularly trimmed, making sure it isn’t too tangled. surprisingly, his hairy bush is dark coloured, black at that. you love how coarse it is, always stroking it whenever you gave him a blowjob or a handjob.

I = Intimacy: ryuji is very romantic during sex. he always whispers praises at how good your taking his cock, kissing you, holding you close to him, holding you tight as he shoves his dick into your tight, virgin pussy.

J = Jack Off: ryuji loves jacking off, he does it quite often just not when you’re around. once, you caught him stroking his veiny, girthy cock on your lounge, sweet, rich essence dripping out his slit as he moaned and threw his head back. he didn’t notice your ogling till he came. you watched the entire thing like a tv show. you liked being a voyeur to your naughty husband, he noted that he “didn’t know you were into that kinda stuff”.

K = Kink: he has a lottttttt of kinks, bukkake, snow balling, anything with feet (ik), cnc, bondage, force feeding, con somnophilia, kidnapping, mind control, and a lot more.. something about seeing your face, neck, mouth, and titties covered with his seed makes him wanna fuck you all over again. ryuji also loves it when you give him footjobs, seeing your feet rub up and down his leaking length gets him so horny. he likes role playing with you too, pretending to kidnap you and fuck you ruthlessly, no mercy on your pussy. shoving funazushi into your tiny mouth, shoving the food and his fingers down your throat as you choke on the overwhelming amount of stuff in your mouth. hot tears stream down your cheeks as he stuffs more food in your mouth. he loves it, seeing you squirm, trying to run away..

L = Location: his home and public, home more often though. It feels more private, intimate, and secluded.. he bought a vintage minka, situated in the quiet mountains of osaka, it’s your getaway from the city, a gift from him. he only gets it on in public if he’s reaaally horny.

M = Motivation: seeing you in lingerie, completely nude, or masturbate. that’s exactly what gets him going. seeing you stroll around the house in pink, lacy lingerie makes him want to grab you and throw you on the bed and pound your cunt.

N = NO: anything that includes hurting you. he always wants to make sure your safe.

O = Oral: ryuji loves receiving. he’s on the couch, watching you work magic on his dick with lustful, half-lidded eyes. you stroke his pulsating, girthy length, swirling your tongue on his dripping slit. he does eat you out, but you always have initiate that you want him to lick your pussy, but it’s not too often. he just loves getting his dick sucked he sometimes forgets about you! 😞

P = Pace: ryuji is in between. he can be slow and sensual, then he can be fast, beating your pussy with his length. he prefers to be more slow though so he doesn’t hurt you. his cock is big, he is afraid that he might split you in half.

Q = Quickie: this boy loooooooooves quickies. getting his cock sucked in the bathroom of a restaurant is enough to get him horny the entire night.

R = Risk: he doesn’t like stepping out of his comfort zone, unless you want him to. he is reluctant but open to experimenting with you, just as long as he isn’t alone.

S = Stamina: more than 4 rounds, he can last for however long as he can. when he’s in the mood he doesn’t stop, until you want him to.

T = Toy: duh, of course he owns toys. he has a huge collection of vibrators and other toys he likes using on you, seeing if you like them or not. one of your favourites from his collection is the rose toy (lmaooo this was like the 67 of 2023). you especially love how toy latches into your clit, vibrating as the suction intensifies gets you cumming on instant. he likes watching you get off to his collection.

U = Unfair: he teases soooo much, sliding his cock out of your cunt when your close gets him to cackle so easily. you push his chest away from you angrily, pouting as your hand tries to find his cock. he shoves it back into his pants, hiding it from a desperate you. he loves seeing how angry you get just from not having his cock, that shows how much you love him.

V = Volume;: ryuji is very, very loud. his groans are beautiful to listen to, deep and guttural. flicking his nipples with your manicured fingers gets him moaning for more.

W = Wild Card: ryuji loves messing with your clit at the most random times. you could be watching a movie together, and he’ll just strip you nude from the waist down, and you let him. flicking your clit with his rough, calloused fingers is a hobby for him.

X = X-Ray: idk I couldn’t think of anything lmao

Y = Yearning: his sex drive is pretty high, talking about something remotely related to sex gets him so horny. he practically begs for you to suck him off, and it’s so often..

Z = ZZZ: he is knocked out after he’s done fucking you. he cradles you, arms wrapped around your midsection. your head against his strong, hairy chest that is intensely heaving up and down. he sleeps like a baby, your pussy having so much power over him that it literally putting him to sleep. you love it, watching him sleep is so cute^^

part 1

pairing : ryuji matsuyama x reader

warnings : angst, suggestive scenes, mention of death, needles

word count : 3.9 k

summary : And for the first time in his life, Ryuji Matsuyama didn’t think. He just stood there, frozen, watching the stillness he had created, unable to move, unable to accept that thirty seconds could stretch long enough to end everything.

a/n : i’m making a mini series out of this ! I hope you’ll like it xx

—

Sunlight spilled through the thin curtains, washing the room in soft gold. It brushed against your skin, warming your face and pulling you gently from sleep. For a moment, the world was perfect, quiet, still, a Saturday morning untouched by obligations. You smiled into the pillow, savoring the warmth.

You shifted, instinctively rolling over toward the other side of the bed. You expected to find Ryuji still asleep, his breathing steady, his features softened by dreams. But instead, you were met with a very different sight.

Ryuji lay on his back, eyes fixed on the ceiling, expression distant. His arm was still under your head, holding you close by habit, but his mind was miles away. The faint crease between his brows, the slight tension in his jaw, you knew exactly what he was thinking about.

You sighed quietly. You’d had this conversation countless times already, and still, his doubts had not faded.

“Ryuji” you said softly, your voice gentle but enough to pull him back to the present.

His eyes shifted, snapping out of whatever far-off thoughts had trapped him. When he turned to look at you, his entire expression transformed. The worry in his face softened into something warm. He smiled faintly and leaned in, brushing his lips against yours. The kiss was slow, lingering, a quiet reassurance that he was still here with you.

He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear and pressed a kiss to your forehead. The gesture was tender, but you could still feel the weight of his hesitation behind it.

“Stop worrying” you murmured, exhaling another sigh.

He drew back slightly, his dark eyes meeting yours. “It’s impossible for me not to” he said, the words low and heavy. “The risks are enormous. This isn’t… a paper or an experiment. It’s life and death.”

You reached for his hand and held it between yours. “It’s your dream” you reminded him quietly. “You’ve worked your whole life for this. You finally made it. You can’t back out now.”

He didn’t answer immediately. His fingers lifted to your face instead, cupping your cheek as his thumb traced a slow line along your skin. His gaze lingered, on your hair, your eyes, your nose, your lips, as though memorizing you, as though he was trying to hold you in his mind in case he lost you.

You could see the conflict written across his face. This had been his obsession for as long as you had known him, the mystery of the afterlife, the possibility of crossing the boundary and returning. He had poured years of calculations, tests, sleepless nights into one impossible goal. And now, with the substance perfected, with every variable accounted for, the thought of backing down felt like betrayal to everything he’d built. Yet here he was, hesitating.

“I don’t think I could ever forgive myself if something happened to you” he said finally, his voice rough and quiet.

You smiled faintly at his words. You trusted him. You always had. You had read every paper, watched him work, listened to his every thought process. You knew his mind, his rigor, the way he never cut corners. You knew he had done everything possible to make this safe. You couldn’t let him retreat now, not when you had come this far together.

Ryuji’s invention was terrifying and brilliant. A drug that would stop the heart without killing the entire brain, preserving one specific part for a window of time, thirty seconds, by his calculations, before the heart would restart on its own, pulling you back to life. If it worked, it would be proof. It would mean you had crossed the boundary, entered the unknown, seen the afterlife and returned.

You had given your consent to this procedure over and over, never wavering. But Ryuji still hesitated. Still doubted. Still refused to begin.

You reached for him again, your fingers sliding along his arm, your eyes steady on his. “You’ve always wanted to know what’s on the other side” you whispered. “You’ve prepared for this. You’re ready. So am I.”

But even as you said it, his gaze flickered away, the shadow of his doubts still deep in his eyes.

You leaned in to kiss him, wanting to quiet the storm in his mind. The moment your lips met, the weight that had been pressing between you seemed to lift, replaced by something quieter, more fragile. His thumb traced the edge of your jaw, and you felt the tension leave his body as he exhaled into the kiss.

The kiss deepened naturally, slow and steady, until both of you were out of breath. You moved onto his lap, the blanket slipping down and exposing your skin. Ryuji leaned back against the headboard while his hands settled on your lower back, his fingers spreading over your skin as if he didn’t want to forget what it felt like.

Your faces were close, noses brushing, foreheads touching. You started to move your hips in sync with his, finding a rhythm that made the rest of the world fade away. He murmured something too quiet to understand, maybe your name, maybe nothing at all, but the sound vibrated against your throat.

“Ryuji” you whispered, your voice shaky as he pushed deeper inside you.

His hands moved up and down your spine, slow and careful. You could feel how his fingers trembled slightly, how warm his palms were against your skin.

Your movements became more desperate as the tension built. His lips found the side of your neck, a trail of soft kisses meant more to reassure than to claim. You moaned at the contact, your fingers tightening on his shoulders.

When everything stilled again, you stayed still for a moment, catching your breath. You rested your forehead against his shoulder, feeling the beat of his heart under your cheek. For a long while, neither of you spoke. You just stayed there, two steady breaths in sync, trying to hold onto the quiet before it had to end. He held you close, his arms wrapped around you as though to anchor you in place.

You could hear the faint ticking of the clock, the distant city beyond the curtains, but it all felt far away. All that mattered was this, the soft rise and fall of his chest against yours, the weight of his hand tracing absent patterns along your back, the whisper of your name caught between his sighs.

You closed your eyes and let yourself sink into him, into the stillness that followed, into the fragile peace that came when love and fear met and balanced each other. You wished that this moment could last forever, just you and him, a heartbeat suspended before everything changed.

━━━━━

The lab was cold, too bright, too clean. The kind of sterile white that made you feel like you were already halfway between worlds. You lay still, your body tense against the narrow bed, eyes locked on the ceiling lights that hummed faintly above you. Their glare burned into your vision until they blurred into pale circles, swimming in and out of focus.

Your heart hammered so loudly it drowned out every other sound. You could hear it echoing in your throat, your breath coming in shallow bursts. For a moment, panic crept up, cold and sharp, threatening to choke you.

But then you turned your head.

Ryuji stood a few feet away, his coat unbuttoned, sleeves rolled to his elbows. He was adjusting the monitor beside the bed, the rhythmic beeping syncing with the pulse that thudded against your ribs. His profile was focused, serious, every line of his face drawn tight with concentration.

The sight of him steadied you instantly. Just seeing him there, controlled, meticulous, certain, made your heart slow. You exhaled, the air finally escaping your lungs, and let your gaze follow him as he moved.

He finished setting the timer, double-checked the readings, and reached for the small glass vial sitting in its sterile tray. Inside, the liquid shimmered faintly, catching the harsh light. You knew that liquid could stop your heart. You knew it could be the last thing you ever saw.

And still, you didn’t look away.

He drew the drug into the syringe, each movement deliberate, mechanical. The soft click of the plunger pulling back echoed through the quiet lab. He tapped the syringe lightly, making sure no air bubbles lingered. His hands moved with practiced precision, until his eyes met yours.

In that instant, the calm dissolved. His fingers faltered, the syringe trembling almost imperceptibly between them. You saw the change happen in his face: the sharp, cold focus giving way to something raw and human.

“Y/N…” he said your name like a breath, half disbelief, half plea. His voice cracked slightly as he lowered the syringe.

“No, I can’t do this. I’m not— You’re not my experiment.”

He took a step back, shaking his head, his breathing quickening. The mask of the scientist fell away. “You don’t understand what this could— what if it doesn’t work ?” His voice rose, the words spilling over each other. “You shouldn’t have agreed to this.”

You pushed yourself up on your elbows, watching as he paced across the room. He was muttering under his breath now, fragments of equations, possibilities, maybe even apologies. He glanced at the monitors, then at the syringe, his hand gripping it tightly as if he might throw it across the room.

You reached out before he could. Your fingers wrapped around his wrist, firm, grounding. The warmth of your touch stopped him in his tracks. His shoulders dropped slightly, his breathing slowed. The wild look in his eyes softened when he finally looked at you again.

“It’s going to be okay” you said quietly. The words came out steady, even though your heart was still pounding.

He shook his head again, voice barely above a whisper. “What if it’s not ? How can you be so calm about this ? You could—”

“Because I trust you” you said, cutting through his spiral before it could deepen. “I trust what you’ve built. I trust you to bring me back.”

He stared at you for a long moment, as if searching your eyes for hesitation. You didn’t look away. Slowly, the fight drained from his face. He let out a shaky breath, lowering his gaze, and you saw his fingers unclench around the syringe.

The silence between you stretched, heavy but steadying. You could feel everything in that silence, the love, the fear, the impossible devotion that bound you both to this single, reckless moment.

Then you smiled faintly and said “It’s time.”

Ryuji stood still for several seconds, frozen, the words hanging in the air between you. Finally, he nodded once, barely a movement, but it was enough. He stepped closer, the sound of his footsteps soft against the tile.

As he stood beside you, his free hand brushed against your arm, lingering there for a heartbeat longer than necessary. His eyes met yours again, and this time you could see everything in them, the hesitation, the ache, the love.

He whispered your name one last time, almost like a prayer. Then he lifted the syringe.

The sting of the needle was almost nothing, a faint, fleeting pinch beneath the surface of your skin. What you felt more vividly was the tremor in Ryuji’s hand as he held the syringe. His breath caught halfway through, his knuckles white from the pressure of his grip. He hadn’t pushed the plunger yet; you could tell. The pause lingered in the air, heavy, unbearable.

You turned your head toward him, your lips pulling into a small, steady smile. It was enough to make him meet your gaze again. You nodded once, slow and certain, your eyes saying what words couldn’t.

He swallowed hard, the muscles in his throat tightening. His lashes lowered for a brief second, an unspoken prayer, a desperate wish for courage, and then he pressed down.

You felt the substance enter you, a cold whisper beneath your skin, threading through your veins like ice. It wasn’t pain exactly, more like a foreign chill weaving itself through every heartbeat, spreading outward until you could almost trace its path. Your breath hitched, then steadied. You watched him as the plunger reached the end.

That was it. No turning back.

Ryuji exhaled shakily and pulled the syringe away, setting it down with careful precision, though his hand trembled as it left yours. You could see the storm in his eyes, fear and fascination battling in silence. He looked down at you, the sterile light outlining the curve of his jaw, the faint twitch at the corner of his mouth.

Your fingers twitched, searching, and he understood. His hand found yours again almost instantly. You intertwined your fingers, palm to palm, your skin still warm against his. The contact grounded you both. You could feel the pulse beneath his fingertips, rapid, uneven, and knew he was counting each second already.

The chill grew deeper, settling behind your ribs, creeping up your neck. Your breathing slowed, each inhale a little shallower, a little heavier. Still, you didn’t look away from him. His thumb brushed against your knuckles, a small, rhythmic movement, as if by touching you he could hold you here, tether you to the world a little longer.

You wanted to say something, something reassuring, maybe even light, but words failed. So instead, you exhaled slowly, closing your eyes, and let the sound of the monitors and his breathing fill the silence.

The faint beeping of your heart monitor began to stretch between beats, each one longer than the last. You could hear it dimly now, like it was coming from somewhere else entirely. The cold had reached your chest, a deep and distant numbness.

Ryuji’s grip tightened around your hand, and you could feel the slight tremor in his fingers. You wanted to squeeze back, to tell him it was all right, that you trusted him, but your body felt far away now. Detached.

The light overhead blurred into a hazy white glow behind your closed eyelids. You could feel your heartbeat faltering, slowing, as if time itself were bending around it. Every sense dulled, the sterile scent of the lab, the hum of the machines, even the warmth of his touch began to fade, slipping through your awareness like smoke.

You focused on your breath, on the last threads of consciousness you had left. One more inhale. One more exhale.

Your final breath came out soft, almost soundless, and you let go.

Ryuji didn’t notice the moment the sound changed until it was too late.

That sharp, endless beep sliced through the room, flat, merciless, final.

Your hand twitched once, a faint reflex, before it went slack in his. It started to slip, but he caught it, both of his palms closing around yours, clutching so tightly that his own knuckles went white. Your fingers were still warm. For now.

He couldn’t breathe. He didn’t dare to. The world had narrowed to that single line of sound, the still rise of your chest that never came again. His eyes stayed locked on your face, waiting for something, anything, a flicker beneath your eyelids, a muscle moving, a breath. Nothing.

He reached for the timer. His other hand was shaking so badly it almost slipped from the button. He pressed it down and the soft digital chirp marked the beginning. Thirty seconds. Thirty seconds to know everything.

He had never hated time more than now.

The numbers on the small screen glowed faintly. He couldn’t look away from you long enough to watch them, but he heard the slow mechanical pulse of the timer counting down in his mind.

Thirty. He swallowed hard, a dry click in his throat. His heartbeat pounded against his ribs, too fast, too heavy. The air felt thick, refusing to move in his lungs. He wanted to speak but no sound came.

Twenty-five. The seconds crawled. He could feel sweat gather at his temples, cold against his skin. Your hand was losing warmth beneath his fingers. He rubbed his thumb across your knuckles, as if friction could call you back.

Twenty. His jaw tightened. The timer’s quiet ticking seemed impossibly loud. His own pulse was a drum in his ears. Each breath came shorter, sharper, fighting the silence. The lab lights hummed overhead, a noise that suddenly felt cruel.

Fifteen. He looked at your face again. The stillness there was unbearable. You looked peaceful, too peaceful. He whispered your name under his breath, not even sure he’d spoken it aloud.

Ten. The warmth was almost gone now. He could feel the difference, your skin cooling where his hand covered yours. He pressed harder, desperate, his thumb tracing the same path over and over.

Five. The sound of the monitor had become distant, muffled by the roar of his own blood in his ears. He bent closer, his breath uneven. He wanted to count the last seconds out loud, but his voice caught in his throat.

Four. His vision blurred for a moment; he blinked hard, trying to clear it.

Three. He could hear his own breathing, rough and irregular.

Two. He leaned forward until his forehead nearly touched yours.

One. The timer went off with a sharp, shrill ring that cut through the stillness like a knife.

And you didn’t move.

The sound kept going, relentless, while the monitor held its flat, endless note. He stared at you, willing the silence to break, waiting for a breath, a twitch, the faintest flicker of life. Nothing.

“Y/N.” His voice came out hoarse, cracking on your name.

He said it again, louder this time. And again. He shook your shoulder gently, then harder, panic bleeding into his voice. “Y/N— please—”

Still nothing.

The world inside him broke apart. He felt it in his chest first, a hollow collapsing space where his heart should’ve been. The air left his lungs in one sharp sound, half sob, half disbelief.

He let go of your hand without meaning to, and it fell limply to the side. His eyes followed it down, watched the way it landed, so still, so final.

He stumbled back from the table, his breath coming in shallow gasps. His hands rose to his hair, gripping it tightly as if pain might anchor him. Tears stung at the corners of his eyes, hot against the cold sweat running down his temples.

He looked around the room, the monitors, the cables, the timer still flashing zero, and none of it made sense anymore. Every number, every calculation, every promise meant nothing in the hollow space where you no longer breathed.

And for the first time in his life, Ryuji Matsuyama didn’t think.

He just stood there, frozen, watching the stillness he had created, unable to move, unable to accept that thirty seconds could stretch long enough to end everything.

You felt a slow warmth returning to your chest as your eyelids fluttered open. The first thing you noticed was the steady, soft rhythm of your heartbeat, thudding gently beneath your ribs. You drew a deep breath, the air tasting faintly of the sterile lab, and let out a soft sigh of relief.

“I… nothing happened” you whispered, your voice hoarse from disuse. You blinked again, ready to turn to Ryuji and tell him exactly that, he had been holding his breath for you, worrying, panicking, and all of it had been for nothing.

But the words died on your lips the moment you realized: the lab beside you was empty.

The lab was quiet, too quiet. The monitors still glowed faintly, the cables dangling where they had been connected to you, but there was no sign of him. Your eyes darted around the room, heart picking up speed again. “Ryuji ?” you called softly, your voice carrying in the stillness. Only the hum of the lights answered.

Confused, you pushed yourself up, shaking your head. The cables binding you to the experiment were easily detached. You paused for a moment, hands brushing the cool plastic of the clips before you finally freed yourself. Standing, you glanced once more around the empty lab. The small glass vial he had been holding, the syringe, everything remained exactly where it had been, untouched, abandoned.

You stepped toward the door, hesitating as your bare feet met the tile. Outside, the university was quiet. Silent. The kind of silence that came when everyone had gone for holidays, gone home, left to their own routines. You exhaled softly. That explained the emptiness, didn’t it?

And then you froze.

The world outside wasn’t just empty, it was gone. Streets, walkways, trees, benches where students usually lingered, looked worn out, buildings and streets covered in plants. The cold wind brushed against your skin, carrying nothing but an uncanny stillness. Not one sound of life. No footsteps, no distant chatter, not even the subtle rustle of leaves in the breeze.

Your knees buckled under you, and your hands clutched your chest as a strange, overwhelming pressure struck like a blow. Your vision swam, and the air seemed to tighten around you, closing in. You stumbled forward, bracing against the smooth surface of a lamppost, trying to steady yourself.

It hit you then, all at once, with the clarity of something inevitable and terrifying: you were not just alone in the university, you were somewhere else entirely. Somewhere that didn’t exist in any map, any schedule, any life you had known.

You were… here.

The word echoed in your mind like a bell tolling in an empty cathedral. Your breath came shallow and rapid as the realization settled deeper: this was the borderland.

And yet… there was no guide, no sign, no familiar presence. Not Ryuji, not the warmth of the lab, not even the hum of machinery to tether you to what you knew. Only the emptiness stretched endlessly around you, a silent void that held you in its cold embrace.

You sank to your knees fully now, hands pressing against the ground as if it could hold you upright. Your chest rose and fell unevenly, your mind spinning with everything you had left behind and everything you had hoped to reach.

Time itself seemed suspended. The world around you stretched infinitely, every breath, every heartbeat magnified. You could feel the pulse of your own existence against the absence of everything else, and it made you dizzy.

“What now ?” you whispered into the emptiness. The sound of your own voice felt alien, carried away into the void with nothing to answer. The afterlife, it wasn’t soft or gentle. It wasn’t peaceful. It was… overwhelming and limitless.

You pressed your palms to your eyes, trying to force yourself to focus, to think, to plan. But the reality pressed back with a weight that made your vision swim and your thoughts tangle. Every step forward seemed to stretch for eternity, every breath a reminder that the familiar world was gone.

And still, somehow, you were here.

Alone. Awake. Immortal, or at least untethered from the life you had known.

And the question lingered, cold and insistent, pressing into the center of your chest: