#unwritten

The funny thing is that no one ever prepared you for this.

You’ve never had certainties in your life, and as much as you wished you could be more confident, there were far too many times when you ended up losing yourself in complete darkness.

The only constant you remember ever having by your side — even on your worst days, there to hold your hand when you were convinced you were about to fall into a pit with no strength left to climb back out — is that cocky boy you like so much and can no longer stay away from.

Your strength and courage have lived in him for so long that living without him now would feel impossible. And now that, after years and years of a friendship close enough to be called a brotherhood, the two of you have finally named your repressed feelings and defined yourselves as a couple, you feel even more dependent on him — and he on you.

Your heart burns at the mere thought of the wonderful taste of his lips, so good you could live off it alone, and when he looks at you with those sly little eyes of his, you melt into a pathetic puddle of love and admiration… and something darker, hungrier, something that throbs low in your stomach whenever he merely says your name.

When memories of how terrified you used to be at the idea of kissing him — because you thought it would ‘ruin everything’ — come back to you, you can’t help but smile.

And when you think about him, instead, how he spent all those years pretending just to keep you happy, just to avoid ruining that beautiful friendship you cherished so much… that’s when your chest truly tightens.

Who knows how much he kept inside, how many times he thought it was finally the right moment to take the first step while you held him in your arms, both of you curled up against each other.

Looking back, you’re so glad things turned out the way they did.

Thank God you realized how you felt, and thank God he gave you that gentle little push — not too much, just enough — that made you finally accept your feelings.

Because yes, things have changed, but they’ve changed for the better.

It’s as if you don’t need to hold back anymore: kissing him while you’re straddling his lap, his hands drawing invisible circles on your hips while yours cradle his face — that’s what you always needed, what had always been missing between you.

But there’s even more — your bodies discovering each other for the first time, embarrassment melting into passion, into the desperate urge to climb on top of each other and lose yourselves completely; his fingers inside you moving with an expertise that feels like he’s always known you by heart; your mouth wrapped around him, tasting all of him until he throws his head back in pleasure; the wet, obscene sounds filling the air, along with the words you whisper into each other’s ears that make both of you lose your minds…

You were missing out on all of this — and now you realize you could never go without it again.

Every time he touches you, every time he looks at you with those eyes full of hunger and appreciation — like you’re his muse — you feel completely at his mercy, unable to do anything except feed whatever need he has.

You’d call it pathetic, the idea of depending so completely, shamelessly, on a man.

But it’s Ryota. And you certainly didn’t decide the whole “love is blind” thing.

Now that you can finally let out everything you’ve repressed your entire lives, the two of you act like lovesick, horny teenagers who can’t keep their hands off each other. And yet, you still haven’t gone all the way — not with your bodies, not with your words.

And even though you’re dying to make love to him, to tell him you love him while you moan together and fall apart in each other’s arms — and yes, you absolutely fantasize about that moment before falling asleep — you just can’t take the first step.

You’ve always been like this: unable to move unless Ryota does. You need constant reassurance, you sway between uncertainties because he still hasn’t told you he loves you.

And it bothers you. A lot.

Especially because, ever since you got together, he’s brought out a side of you that you didn’t even know existed.

Now, when you watch him train — tired and sweaty — your thighs press together on instinct, heat pooling between them before you even realize it’s happening. You feel embarrassingly sensitive, almost feverish with want, like your body recognizes him before your mind does.

The same thing happens when you kiss for too long and your tongues tangle until your lips go soft and swollen — or when you notice how beautiful his hands are, and how much more beautiful they’d be if they suddenly moved onto you.

Over and over again.

You want him all the time, so much that it scares you sometimes, how your body aches for him in ways you never thought possible. You crave his weight on you, his breath against your neck, the sound of his voice when he loses control. You’re obsessed with him — shamelessly, desperately.

And yet, you just can’t bring yourself to say it.

It’s like now that you can finally have him, now that he’s fully yours, you want to explore him completely, all at once. You never had such explicit thoughts about him, not even at the peak of adolescence, when your hormones were out of control and you spent your days fantasizing about vampires whisking you off to their castle and doing who knows what to you.

And when it’s Ryota who quiets that unbearable need you feel every time he does something that turns you on — which is very often — you end up feeling silly, flustered right after, warming his heart and earning his gentle teasing. He knows exactly what he does to you — and that only makes you want him more.

In the end, you’ve fallen completely, hopelessly in love with Ryota.

And yet, you often wonder…

is it possible to fall even deeper than this?

────୨ৎ────

It’s August, and the heat is unreal — the kind that makes you feel like you’re melting the second you move even a little. The only things that actually help are going to the beach or hiding inside konbinis, pressing yourselves against the fridge sections while eating half-melted ice creams.

And yet somehow, instead of doing anything remotely smart, you and Ryota have locked yourselves in the shed, making out like two idiots who physically cannot stay away from each other. The fan hums lazily in the background, barely doing anything, and two empty bottles of iced tea sit abandoned on the low cabinet beside you.

Lately, you two always end up wrapped around each other — cuddling, kissing, touching — like the warmth itself is pushing you together, making you too lazy to do anything else except fall into each other’s arms. Not that you’re complaining, of course. But you swear, if Ryota keeps giving you this much attention, you’re actually going to get addicted… like he’s some kind of drug your body can’t live without.

You’re perfectly settled on top of him, straddling his torso, while his hands keep caressing your waist over and over, squeezing gently whenever your kisses get deeper. His shirt is tossed somewhere in the corner, forgotten, and your chest — barely covered by your tight tank top — rubs against his bare, sculpted one with every tiny movement, your bodies pressed so close it makes your head spin.

Your hands run through his hair, over his face, along his jawline, and when they slide down to his neck and chest, you feel Ryota’s breath hitch, his whole body reacting instantly while your tongues move together like nothing in the world tastes better than each other.

You don’t even remember when you started making out — but you know one thing for sure: you don’t want to stop. Not for anything.

And even though it embarrasses you to feel this turned on before he’s even touched you properly, you can’t help it — not when your slightly covered nipples keep brushing against his skin, not when with every little movement you feel him hard underneath you, pressing right where you need him through your thin shorts.

It’s like Ryota can flip a switch inside you, turning you into someone desperate, someone whose whole mind starts chanting “please touch me,” even though the words never make it to your mouth.

His hands move slowly along your sides, sliding up and down in a way that sends shivers racing down your spine, while his mouth moves against yours in slow, deep, passionate kisses. His head is tilted back slightly against the couch, and your back arches just to reach him better, to keep your lips on his.

Then you hear it — that quiet, low sound he makes against your mouth when his hands finally slide down and grip your hips hard, pulling you tighter against him.

Your heart skips a beat. The fact that Ryota reacts like this because of you — that you can make him this turned on just by sitting on him — it drives you insane. It feels like he’s silently telling you “I’m yours,” like he’s letting you know exactly how much he wants you.

Your kisses deepen fast and turn hungry, your tongue circling his with so much passion it catches him off guard. One of your hands tangles in his damp hair, and the other cups the back of his neck, gentle, soft, completely contrasting how intensely you’re kissing him.

You’ve always been shy when it comes to sex, always careful, always composed… but right now? With how wet you are, with how good he sounds when he kisses you back? You don’t even realize how needy you must look to him.

But Ryota loves seeing you like this.

He smiles against your mouth and pulls back for a second, just barely, dodging your desperate kiss. One of his hands leaves your waist and settles on your ass instead, fingers spreading over your skin. His eyes open as he rests his forehead against yours, searching your gaze like he needs to feel you looking at him. “What’s with all this hunger, huh?” he whispers, his voice low and rough, vibrating straight through your chest.

You stare at him for a moment — his brown eyes darker, sharper, so beautiful they make your stomach twist, and that stupid little smirk on his lips drives you out of your mind.

And even though your whole body is screaming to strip and ride him right then and there, Ryota still manages to make you timid. You hide your face in his neck, pouting, your hands gripping his skin like you can’t help it. Then you mumble, barely loud enough, “It’s your fault, idiot…”

A soft laugh slips from his lips. “My fault? You’re the one who climbed on top of me,” he murmurs, turning his head just enough to reach your jaw with a kiss.

“You’ve been starving lately.”

Another kiss, higher.

“What’s up with that?”

Another one — lower, wetter this time, right on your neck.

His fingers dig into your ass possessively while the other hand slides down to your thigh, stroking it slow enough to make you jolt because you need him so much deeper than that.

Your breath shortens, the pout melting off your face as something needier replaces it — your eyebrows pulling together and your mouth falling open against his skin.

The truth is, Ryota knows exactly what you like.

And he does it on purpose, every time, driving you crazy with almost nothing.

You stay buried against him, your cheeks burning, your heart thumping out an uneven rhythm like it’s trying to match his. You can’t even form a response — your brain is spinning in places it really shouldn’t be, and you have no idea what could come out of your mouth if you opened it now.

Your thoughts are a blurry storm of heat and want, every single one of them soaked in Ryota, tangled around him, begging for him. And beneath all that hunger, there’s this warm, overwhelming ache — the kind that only shows up when someone means too much. When just being touched by them makes your heart hurt in a way that feels stupidly good.

And Ryota notices.

The second he realizes he’s got you completely cornered, exactly where he wants you, he smiles — slow and wicked — before flipping you off him in one quick, unexpected movement. Now you’re lying on the couch with his whole weight on top of you.

Your eyes widen, and before you can even open your mouth to say his name, his lips crash onto yours, swallowing every little gasp and half-protest you try to make. His body is so hot above you, so heavy and solid, that your back sinks into the cushions. His hips pin yours down perfectly, like he’s molding you into the shape of someone who belongs right under him.

You can’t even pretend you don’t love it: you adore when Ryota takes control.

You feel yourself hanging onto his every move, ready to let him use you however he wants — his, completely. And so you give in, melting under his touch and his mouth as you feel his leg press between yours to pry them open.

Your hands slide over his bare back on instinct, pulling him closer, his chest moving against yours and your breaths mixing and tangling until you can’t tell whose is whose.

Ryota pulls away from your lips only to devour your jaw and then your neck, leaving slow, wet trails as his warm breath ghosts over your skin. You shut your eyes; feeling him this close, his cock still covered but pressing hard against your thigh and his hands gripping you with enough force to knock the air out of you… it’s enough to make you lose your mind bit by bit.

His mouth lingers on your skin, and even though he’s clearly trying to hold himself back, to keep from ruining you entirely, you can feel how starving he is. Every kiss feels like he’s trying to claim territory, like he’s marking every inch of you he can reach before he completely loses control.

You tilt your head to give him more access, and he smiles against your skin, moving lower instead. Your fingers bury in his hair, trying to guide him without even realizing it — you’re that desperate.

Before you even register it his face is level with your chest, rising and falling quickly with your breaths, his hands settling firmly on your hips, holding you in place.

When you look down, Ryota leans in and drags soft, deliberate kisses over the part of your breast peeking from your top — slow enough to make you lose your mind one inch at a time. Then he looks up at you with those big puppy eyes you love so much, leaning in again and pressing repeated kisses to your nipple through the fabric, feeling it harden under his mouth.

Your stomach drops, heat curling deep inside you, and you swear you can feel every tiny movement of his mouth all the way between your legs. Ryota knows every weak spot you have, and he knows exactly how sensitive you are there.

Your back arches, heat blooming under your skin. Your cheeks flush a vivid red as your head falls back, eyes fluttering shut, your lips parting on a quiet, helpless breath. Your thighs press together on instinct, and when Ryota notices, he decides to torture you even more, circling your hardened nipple with his tongue through the damp fabric.

Your breath stutters, your hips lifting desperately off the couch like your body is begging him for more without your permission. A moan slips out of you, your panties growing wetter and your fingers gripping the blanket beneath you. “R-Ryota…” you whisper, your voice shaky, overflowing with a need that feels almost impossible to satisfy.

His eyes flutter shut as he keeps working you, his tongue moving slow and deliberate over the soaked fabric. He feels you trembling lightly underneath him, hears your little sounds, and finally pulls away — only to cover your whole chest in wet, messy kisses.

The way he mouths at you, warm and unrestrained, makes you feel like he’s trying to kiss through your clothes just to get closer to you. “Keep making those noises… fuck, you have no idea what I’d do to you…”

His voice vibrating against your breast sends you spiraling. You can't hold back any longer: you're dying to come thanks to him, however he decides to give you pleasure. “What… would you do to me?” you breathe out, not even caring about that tiny bit of common sense that’s clearly been obliterated by how turned on you are.

His lips pause for a second.

When he lifts his head and sees your face — tilted back, cheeks burning all the way to your ears, mouth still open — he looks like he’s barely holding himself together.

He dips back down, kissing your chest everywhere he can reach, before breaking the silence with that low, gravelly voice that sends a shiver straight down your spine. “Calm down… or else I won’t stop…”

His fingers dig harder into your thighs, like he’s already imagining exactly how he’s going to hold you when he finally gets inside you. He shuts you up before you can answer, wrapping his mouth around your nipple again — this time faster, his tongue moving with practiced, devastating precision that knocks the breath out of your lungs.

Your moans get louder, faster, and then you stop pretending — you stop fighting it — and let the truth spill out before you can second-guess it.

“But I don’t want you to stop…”

“Oh yeah? So what do you want, then?” he shoots back immediately — he’s seconds away from snapping and sliding inside you without even asking. But he tries to keep it together, focusing on your chest instead, sucking gently at your nipple just to make you lose your mind even more.

A louder moan escapes you, and his question hits you like a punch. Shit… how am I supposed to tell him?

Your brain feels foggy, your legs weak. You’re usually shy, always careful to seem like the perfect good girl — but when it comes to Ryota, you turn into something else entirely. A mess. A needy, filthy mess who can’t hide how badly she wants him.

You can feel your panties sticking to you, your core pulsing every time he moves. You can no longer control yourself or calm down: you want him so badly that it hurts, and you can't help but seem desperate for him. “I want… you…” you whisper, completely gone.

And your words hit him like a shock.

You hear his breath hitch, his grip tightening on your thighs. He pulls away from your soaked nipple, swallowing hard, his chest rising and falling fast. It’s like he can’t believe what you just said — it makes him dizzy.

His eyes drag over your body slowly, hungrily, like he’s trying to memorize the sight of you being this undone for him. And beneath the hunger, there’s something almost frightened — like he suddenly understands this isn’t just lust. It’s you. It’s love. It’s wanting something so badly it scares him.

He fights a grin and moves down to your stomach, kissing your skin while his hands work to slide your shorts off. “But first I wanna eat you…” he murmurs between kisses, your thighs trembling when his wet lips brush the sensitive skin of your inner leg. His breath fans over your soaked panties, and your entire body jolts like you’ve been shocked.

“W-What…?” You lift your head, stunned, and he’s already between your legs, that cocky little smile tugging at his mouth, eyes glued to your body like he worships it.

He spreads your thighs gently with his arms, then slowly pushes your panties aside, exposing you completely. The cool air hits your soaked skin and you gasp, thighs trembling so hard he has to hold them still.

Your heart hammers, your back arching when he leans in and kisses your clit — a soft, deliberate kiss that makes your breath stop. Your hand flies to his hair immediately, not pulling — just holding, grounding yourself, because the feeling is too much to handle.

“I owe you,” he mutters, amused, “’cause if I think about how you sucked me off the other day, I’m gonna come before I even start…”

────୨ৎ────

Your head is resting against the armrest of the couch, your eyes already rolled back and your mouth falling open helplessly — unable to stay closed even if you tried — letting out broken, breathless moans that shape his name over and over. Ryota’s hands keep your thighs spread wide, his fingers sinking possessively into your skin as he holds you open for himself, while his tongue works you slowly, meticulously, circling your clit with deliberate, precise strokes that make you see stars every time he adds even a hint more pressure. He swallows everything you give him, every drop you’ve released since the moment he first kissed you.

Ryota figured out you loved his tongue the very first time he tasted you: your whole body trembled nonstop, your voice refusing to quiet even for a second, until you came against his mouth — his tongue sucking every bit of you with hunger, with need, with something wild. From that moment on, you haven’t been able to stop craving his mouth… and he hasn’t been able to stop giving you exactly what you need.

Your back arches when his licks grow faster, hungrier, dragging between your folds before slipping down to your entrance, then returning to your sensitive peak, making you shiver even when it’s just the whisper of his hot breath brushing over it. Your eyes squeeze shut as you bite your lip hard; you feel like you’re floating, weightless, and even though you’ve had good sex before, no one has ever made you feel what he makes you feel. Not just because he’s better than anyone else — you know it’s more than that. It’s because you’re finally doing this with someone you want, someone you love, someone who excites you and touches you exactly the way you want to be touched.

A louder moan breaks from your lips when Ryota suckles gently at your love button, your thighs beginning to tremble against his grip. He pulls back for a moment, a smug little smirk curving against his mouth as he trails teasing kisses along the inside of your thighs, dangerously close to where you need him, ignoring it on purpose.

“You like that, mh?” he murmurs, his voice so low it sends a shiver down your spine. His slow, intentional kisses torture you at the exact moment you need him the most. One after another, they inch closer to your soaked, shimmering heat — until he pauses to look at you, taking you in fully, clearly delighted by what he sees. “All mine…”

Then, without warning, he dives back in. His tongue moves up and down, relentless, sending shocks of pleasure sparking through your whole body. The room fills with the smutty, wet sounds of his mouth working you, the distant hum of the fan suddenly nothing but background noise.

You feel yourself getting closer with every passing second, and yet you don’t want to come. You like this too much. So one of your hands, the one gripping the sheets, reaches down to his damp hair, stroking him gently as your back arches even more — if that’s even possible — when his movements grow quicker, sharper, more precise. “S–Slow down…” you manage to whisper between moans, trying not to cry out too loudly from the intensity, from how desperately you want to stay right here, like this, all afternoon and all night.

Ryota hears you, and when he understands just how close he’s pulling you without letting you peak, exactly the way you’re silently begging him to, he slows down. His tongue circles your clit in slow, agonizing strokes… and then, surprisingly, he pulls away entirely. Your eyes fly open in confusion, breath catching, but when you lift your head to look at him, he’s already moving up your body, his lips wet with you and his hands settling on your hips as if to keep you perfectly still beneath him.

Your cheeks burn when your eyes meet his. Besides being unfairly beautiful, his eyes are filled with a kind of devotion you’ve never seen before — something warm, intense, almost reverent, something you never imagined he would look at you with.

Before you even process it, he’s lying over you again, his face buried in your neck, the same lips that just drove you insane now leaving soft, trembling kisses on your skin. His breath is heavy, almost shaky, and when his rough voice finally reaches you, his fingers tighten ever so slightly on your sides, as if he’s holding himself back.

“Can I?”

Oh God.

Your heart begins pounding so hard it drowns out every other sound in the room, a heavy, frantic rhythm that vibrates all the way up your throat as your wide eyes stare up at the wooden ceiling above you. A strange, overwhelming emotion sweeps through you — something new, terrifyingly beautiful — and for the first time in your life, you feel genuinely happy at the thought of making love to someone.

It feels like a turning point, something that could change everything between you — and yet, you can’t bring yourself to care whether this is the right moment or not, whether it’s too soon, whether either of you is ‘ready.’ None of it matters. You know you want him. You’ve always belonged to him, and now you can’t stop trembling at the thought of finally giving yourself to him completely.

Your hands slide up his bare, warm, slightly sweaty back, gently wrapping around him as you bury your face against his neck, trying — and failing — to hide the soft, joyful little smile tugging at your lips. When you nod shyly against his skin, Ryota freezes for a second, the firm grip he had on your hips suddenly softening. You can feel his heartbeat too; strong, uneven, racing, and when his smile brushes your neck, something in you melts entirely.

He goes back to kissing you, covering your skin with slow, tender kisses; the hunger he had moments ago is still there, simmering underneath, but now it’s softened by a sweetness that makes you feel like you’re the center of his entire world, like he wants to take care of every part of you. One of his hands fumbles downward, pushing his boxers and shorts out of the way, freeing himself; his hard length presses hot and heavy against your thigh, twitching with need, and the feeling makes your cheeks burn even darker than they already were.

Before settling between your legs and sliding your underwear off, Ryota pauses and looks at you. Really looks. His eyes search for yours — as if he’s desperately checking that you’re not about to pull away, that you’re sure he isn’t going too fast. But what he finds in your expression shocks him: a pure, deep love that makes him blush, your slightly furrowed brows and parted lips laid bare for him. He leans in without hesitation, kissing you softly, one hand cupping your cheek, his eyes fluttering shut. Then, in a voice low and almost nervous, he murmurs, “Tell me if I hurt you.”

You hide against his neck again, breath trembling, waiting for him, and that’s when you feel it — Ryota’s hand guides himself to your wet, hesitant entrance, and you try to relax even though your whole body feels on the verge of bursting from emotion. Your fingers dig into his back as you feel him slowly push into you, inch by inch, filling you completely; the stretch steals your breath, makes your eyes fly open in astonishment. A soft, strangled sound escapes him when he bottoms out, fully inside you, throbbing, his face tucked against yours and his messy hair brushing your cheek.

When you finally hook your legs around him — giving yourself to him entirely, with no shame left at all — Ryota begins to move carefully, each slow thrust drawing a faint sound from your lips, your body instinctively tightening around him as he starts to guide you into the rhythm of him.

Your walls clench around him as you try to adjust to his size, and every time he pushes all the way inside you, hitting that spot that makes you lose your mind, you melt under him — relaxing so much you let him do whatever he wants with you, without even realizing it.

“Fuck…” his trembling voice spills against the skin of your neck, along with his broken breath, hot and heavy, his hands gripping your hips as he rolls his own to open you up even more with his thick dick. You can feel him inch by inch, every hot, pulsing part of him buried deep inside you, so big it feels like he’s splitting you open in the best possible way, dying to fuck you faster, harder, without restraint — and the slow, hesitant thrusts he gives you are the proof of how badly he’s holding back.

Maybe it’s because he kept you right on the edge, deliberately delaying your climax, but when your nails sink into his back and his thrusts answer with a slightly rougher pace, you suddenly feel too sensitive. The small, muffled noises slipping from his lips only turn you on even more, pushing you to moan back for him. His mouth drags along your jaw as he hides against you, his skin flushed darker and his forehead damp with sweat as he leaves soft trails of kisses — completely at odds with the growing rhythm he’s setting while fucking you.

His lips are soft but desperate, brushing your skin as if he needs the taste of you just to keep himself grounded. Each kiss is wet, a little shaky, his breath catching on your cheek every time his hips roll deeper.

Every thrust sends you straight to heaven: he’s so beautiful like this, buried all the way inside you, his cock now stretching you open exactly the way he wants, not stopping for even a second. One of his hands travels up your body, brushing over your breast before cupping your cheek, turning you toward him. When your eyes meet, you can’t help but hold your breath — he’s gorgeous, more than anything else in the world. His deep eyes pierce right through your soul while he thrusts into you, picking up the pace and fucking you harder, deeper, your foreheads pressed together and his hand caressing your face tenderly.

His thumb rubs slow circles on your cheekbone, almost loving, completely contradicting the way his hips slam forward with a force that makes the couch shake beneath you. His eyes are blown wide, pupils dark and hungry, drinking in every twitch of pleasure that crosses your face.

You feel overwhelmed by a flood of sensations: bliss, submission, desire, pleasure. You can’t hold his gaze — yes, he’s sexy as hell, enough to make your pussy tighten around him like you’re a virgin, but he also makes you feel vulnerable, exposed, and not in a way that has anything to do with clothes. So you hide your face in his neck again, breathing in his wonderful scent mixed with sweat. When you do, Ryota shuts his eyes and, not even close to getting tired, starts moving faster and faster — his hips now slamming into yours over and over like there’s no tomorrow, filling you completely with every thrust.

You can feel the muscles of his stomach contracting against yours, the heat radiating off his body like a fever as he loses himself in the rhythm. Your breasts bounce with every thrust, your back arching instinctively to take him deeper, your toes curling from the intensity of it.

And it’s almost too much. You can’t stop yourself from crying out and screaming as he fucks you, his name spilling from your lips like a plea, a song woven into the sound of skin against skin and your wildly uneven breaths. “R-Ryota… m-mh…” Your voice breaks on his name, high and needy, the kind of sound you didn’t know you were capable of making. Your legs shake uncontrollably, your whole body trembling as if you’re about to shatter in his hands.

“How beautiful you are…”

His cock opens you as he thrusts in and out of your wet pussy, already stretched wide for him even though he can still feel how tight and warm you are around him. He can’t slow down, and you can’t do anything but take it, your legs shaking as they cling even tighter around his rotating hips, your broken breaths telling him exactly how good you feel now that he can finally fill you completely.

“You’re perfect… it’s like you were made for me…” Every time he speaks, his low, rough voice against your ear pushes you dangerously close to the climax you’ve been craving since he first touched you. You’re weak for anything he gives you, so long as it’s him.

You must look like a beautiful mess under his warm body covering you completely — your eyes shut in an expression that looks almost pained but is dripping with lust, your lips shining with saliva leaking from the corner of your mouth because of how good he’s fucking you, and your voice growing louder and louder without you being able to stop it. You’re his spectacle, entirely devoted to him, so desperate to come on his dick that your body looks like it’s screaming for it.

Between the sharp thrusts pounding into you like percussion and his muffled, much deeper moans, Ryota notices how you’re begging for release — and that’s when he slows down, then stops entirely, staying buried deep inside you, filling you to the brim. His huge cock throbs with every clench of your walls, like you could come just from having him inside. Your whole body jerks when he stops, the sudden stillness almost violent after how hard he was fucking you.

As frustrating as it might be, you adore the way he’s torturing you — and you can’t help but behave exactly the way he wants. Still hidden against him, you gasp at every little movement that goes against your will, his hands drifting over your body with a tenderness that makes you tremble in tiny spasms. His lips kiss your neck, leaving it wet and glistening before moving up to your jawline, then higher, until they reach the corner of your mouth where he pauses.

“You’re so tight… fuck, you’re gonna drive me insane…” he whispers, his breath tickling your face just before he gives you a passionate, tender kiss, his tongue desperately searching for yours as his hips begin to move inside you again with slow, deliberate thrusts. You can feel every inch of him, and it drives you absolutely wild, every sound you make swallowed by his mouth as your hand slides up to the back of his neck and disappears into his dark hair.

Your legs tremble, and you do everything you can to keep up with his pace even though you feel the overwhelming need to explode into an orgasm. It’s hard to resist when Ryota fucks you this well, this deep, as if every move he makes is designed to push you exactly where he wants, to make you lose your mind and become completely dependent on him, his cock hitting parts of you no one had ever touched before. One of his hands finds your wrist amidst the beautiful mess you’re making, holding it gently, his thumb stroking your pulse point as his thrusts begin to speed up again — and so does the passion and hunger in the kiss he’s giving you.

His breath grows heavier, and yours follows instantly, his hips like pistons as his body slams repeatedly against yours, making you cling to him with strength you didn’t know you had. When Ryota pulls away from the kiss to catch his breath, your moans fill the air immediately — now high, sensual sounds, his name spilling out with them. He can feel your pussy squeezing his length as if trying to trap him inside, and he hides back in your neck, his mouth returning to devour your skin with sweetness, like you’re the most delicious thing he’s ever tasted.

You feel like you’re seeing stars, your eyes shut and your mouth open as Ryota’s pace gets even faster, as if determined to satisfy you completely with the way his dick hammers inside you. You can feel all of him, every deep stroke, every throb, and you can’t hold back anymore — and he knows it. He’s giving in with you.

“Are you gonna come like a good girl?” he murmurs, voice thin and breathless, interrupted by low, muffled groans that only push you higher into bliss.

Your thighs squeeze around him as you involuntarily pull him closer, a shiver running down your spine.

Ryota’s eyes roll back. “Oh God…”

“I love you…”

Those words hit you with the force of a shockwave,and for a split second everything inside you stops. Your breath, your thoughts, even the rhythm of your heartbeat seems to stutter before restarting all at once. Your eyes fly open, wide and shining, because you can’t believe you heard it — not like this, not while you’re clinging to him and he’s buried so deep inside you that you can feel every pulse of his heartbeat.

A warmth blooms in your chest so violently it almost hurts. It spreads outward, flooding your throat, your stomach, your fingertips curled against his skin. Your whole body reacts before your mind can catch up — a choked sound escapes you, something between a sob and a moan, because you’ve wanted to hear those words for so long that finally hearing them now feels unreal.

You want to answer him, to say it back, to pull him closer and kiss him until he understands what he’s just done to you — but you can’t. You don’t even get the chance.

Because the moment that confession leaves his lips, Ryota thrusts into you again — deeper, harder, like the words themselves unlocked something raw and desperate inside him. The pleasure punches through you so sharply your mouth falls open on a silent cry, your back arching off the couch as your body starts to tremble uncontrollably.

Your orgasm hits instantly — violently — as if your body had been waiting for that exact moment to break apart for him. It crashes over you in a wave so intense you almost black out, your vision going white at the edges as your legs tighten around his waist, pulling him closer, needing him impossibly deeper.

You can’t even say his name. You can’t say anything. Your mind isn’t working — it’s melting, dissolving into the heat and the overwhelming sweetness of hearing him say those words at the exact moment he’s making you fall apart.

Your nails drag helplessly down his back, desperate for something to hold onto as wave after wave of pleasure tears through you. Your whole body curls into him, clinging to him like you’re terrified he might disappear if you let go. Your voice breaks into soft, ruined cries you can’t control, each one sharper and higher than the last.

Your walls clamp around him with a force that makes him groan into your neck. You’re shaking, trembling, completely undone beneath him, your body surrendering entirely to the pleasure he’s forcing you through. Every thrust drags your orgasm out longer, deeper, until your legs are trembling and your throat is raw and you’re sure you’ve never felt anything like this in your entire life.

His breath turns ragged, almost feral — your tight, pulsing walls milking him so hard he can’t think anymore. A curse slips from his lips as he buries himself in you one last time, his hips stuttering, completely undone. His grip on your hips tightens to the point of bruising, and for a second he’s shaking above you, fighting the instinct to come inside you.

Then he pulls out fast, panting, his hand already wrapped around his cock as he strokes himself with desperate, jerky movements. “F–Fuck…” he groans, voice breaking, and then he’s spilling hot, thick ropes of cum across your stomach. His thighs tremble, his abs clench, and his head falls back as he comes hard — messy, raw, helpless. His hand keeps moving even when he’s already finished and final, broken moan slips out of him — low, ruined, the kind he’d never let anyone else hear.

His warm, sweat-slicked body collapses gently onto yours after he’s wiped your stomach clean, the exhaustion in his muscles pressing him down against you in a way that makes you feel completely held, completely his. Your lungs are still fighting for air, your chest rising and falling against his, and for a long moment the only sound in the room is the messy blend of your breaths tangled together.

Your faces hide in each other’s necks, flushed and dazed, his breath fanning over your skin and making you shiver as your heartbeat hammers wildly, overflowing with a happiness so deep it almost scares you.

Ryota shifts just enough to look at you, but not enough to pull away. He refuses to. His arm wraps around your waist and drags you even closer, until your bodies are pressed together with no space left between them. His voice is low, rough from everything you just did, but filled with a sweetness that comforts you from within. “You’re shaking,” he murmurs against your cheek, the faintest smirk tugging at his lips. “Was I really that good…?”

You let out a tiny, breathless laugh against his skin, and he hums in satisfaction — smug, absolutely, but overwhelmingly tender. He nudges his nose against your jawline, kissing you there with a slowness that makes your stomach flip. His fingers stroke lazy circles along your spine, keeping you close like he’s afraid you might slip away if he loosens his grip even a little.

The way he holds you close, the way he cradles you until everything in the world fades except him, fills you with a kind of comfort nothing else has ever given you. Your fears and insecurities vanish in an instant now that you’re wrapped in his arms, your bare bodies pressed together like they were made to fit — two pieces of a puzzle finally finding where they belong — and your cheeks turn strawberry-red the moment your mind begins to process what the two of you have just done. Every memory of the last hour glows warm inside you, soft and dizzying, as if your body still can’t quite believe the tenderness he’s capable of.

For the first time in your life, you truly feel like you belong to someone — like Ryota is holding your heart and soul between his hands. The feeling of being his is intoxicating, almost too much, because now that you’ve finally come together in a first time that felt perfect, dreamlike, you can’t imagine ever wanting to stop clinging to him. Even more than before. This isn’t just desire, lust, or sex: it’s the yearning to melt into him completely, to become one with him over and over again until you can’t even form a thought. It’s the sweet, terrifying certainty that you’ve found something you never want to let go of — something that feels like home.

Your heartbeat is wildly uneven, and it’s entirely his fault: his mouth presses small, tender kisses all over your face and lower, while his hands stroke your body with a teasing gentleness that makes your head spin. Every kiss feels like a promise, every touch like he’s relearning you with reverence. And when you turn your head slightly to meet his gaze — tired yet deeply satisfied — you feel an overwhelming need to lean in and press your lips to his. The kiss is sweet and deep, nothing like the ones you shared moments ago. Your eyes flutter shut as you lose yourselves in each other, your bodies shifting just enough to make soft sounds slip from your lips.

Among them comes a needy whisper you’ve held inside for far too long.

“I love you too…”

You feel Ryota’s body tense just slightly above you, and you can’t help but smile against his lips — a gesture that makes him melt instantly. He smiles back into the kiss, deepening it with something that resembles hunger, yet is entirely different, softer in its own way. You feel his breath catch, his chest pressing closer to yours as if your words have undone him more than anything else. His grip tightens around your waist as he pulls you even further into him, those beautiful eyes of his opening to find yours while he slowly pulls back, savoring the taste of your kiss.

“Oh, I know…”

And before you can respond, he dives back in, kissing you again and again without giving you a second to breathe, his tongue tangling with yours like the red thread that’s tied you together long before either of you ever realized it. That thread has a name — and it always has. It’s love, raw, terrifying, breathtaking.

And now, finally, you’re both done being afraid of it.