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Girl I have read this Ryota Fanfic before, but today I had to think about it and now I was reading it again. This was so beautiful I canât even put this in words !!! I wish there would be more slam dunk x readers fanfics, but you killed it!!!! I think Iâm never getting it out of my head ever again, I love you đđđ
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â Live Streamingâ Interactive Chatâ Private Showsâ HD Qualityâ Free Actions
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summary: you know better than anyone that loving Mondo Owada means dealing with his temper, his rough edges, and that wild side of him everyone else finds intimidating. but with you, he's different: gentler, softer almost princely in the way he treats you. in your dirties, deepest dreams, though, you can't help but notice how much you like that side of him â the sharp voice, the knuckles turning white, the filthy words he throws at anyone who gets on his nerves. and the more you hear them, the more one thought keeps creeping into your mind. what would it feel like⊠if, just once, he used that side of himself on you?
warnings: smut, MDNI, established relationship, fem!reader, AU (non-despair), aged-up characters, plot what plot, minor argument, p in v, unprotected sex, rough sex, choking kink, degradation kink, consensual degradation, creampie, fluff, fluff and smut, dom!Mondo, sub!reader, no use of Y/N, one-shot.
word count: 7.3k +
art not mine - i donât know the artist! if anyone does, please let me know!
a/n: haaai!!! ( ÂŽ ✠` )/ here i am with a new fanfic! this time i wanted to try writing something about Mondo Owada⊠while playing Danganronpa i wondered how i could write a fic about him, and honestly iâm really satisfied with how it turned out! âĄ( âĄâżâĄ ) i imagined Mondo as a guy who isnât rude at all with his girlfriend, but⊠iâm a gooner⊠sigh⊠;; jokes aside, i really hope youâll like the fic! and thank you if you decide to read it! âĄ
If thereâs one thing you like about Mondo, itâs the arrogant, brazen way he acts around other people. That tough-guy aura of his, the way he sizes someone up the moment they say something he doesnât like, his eyebrows drawing together into a sharp frown, his hands tightening into fists until his knuckles turn white. Thereâs always that subtle tension in the air around him when it happens, like everyone nearby instinctively knows they should watch what they say. And yet, whenever you see that side of him, you canât help but feel completely tucked beneath his wing, protected from the entire world, as if nothing could even come close to reaching you anymore.
But it hasnât always been like that. You were never attracted to this kind of guy your whole life â if thereâs one thing you hate, itâs violence, and even though bosozoku have a certain charm people like to fantasize about, the truth was simple: you were sure none of them could ever steal your heart. Youâre not made for that kind of life, and youâve never really understood why so many Japanese teenagers would choose delinquency instead of enjoying their adolescence in a simple, normal way. To you it had always seemed like wasted youth â noisy engines, bruised knuckles, pointless pride.
Until Mondo appeared, of course. Until the day his fists got stained with blood to protect you â because everyone knows he would give his life for you without hesitation. You still remember the metallic smell in the air afterward, the way his chest rose and fell while he stood in front of you like a wall. Until the wind brushed against your face while the deafening roar of his Kawasaki somehow became a comforting sound, something warm and familiar, something that tasted like home. The vibration of the bike beneath you, your hands gripping his jacket while the city lights blurred into streaks of gold around you. Until those same massive arms that used to scare you wrapped around you in an embrace so gentle and careful it stole your breath away, almost as if he were afraid he might break you into a thousand pieces if he held you too tightly. Maybe thatâs exactly what made you fall so hopelessly in love with him. That impossibly sweet contrast â the kindness he shows you and no one else, as if you were something special, untouchable.
Despite being impulsive, chaotic, and always ready to throw a punch, you understood right away that Mondo isnât a bad person. He showed you his fragilities and weaknesses, the parts of himself he usually hides behind clenched teeth and sharp words. The quiet moments when his voice drops and his eyes avoid yours for a second too long. He listened to you when you told him you were afraid that if he kept living like a delinquent he might end up in serious danger someday, and he didnât laugh at your concern.
And when his lips met yours for the first time, you felt like you were on the moon; it was a sudden kiss, awkward in some ways, but when you melted against him and smiled against his lips you startled him so much he couldnât get a single word out for the next five minutes, his hand scratching behind his neck and his cheeks completely red. His eyes had been wide in disbelief, like he couldnât understand how something so soft could be meant for him. You didnât even notice the freezing night air biting into your bones, you were both so warm. At some point he just burst out with a rough âAh, fuck it!â, pulled you tightly against him while hiding his face in your neck, and you burst out laughing.
Thatâs when you realized that no matter how scary Mondo might seem at first, you would always be safe with him. You would never have to worry about anything again.
Itâs thanks to him that now you look at delinquents differently. Ever since the two of you started seeing each other youâve changed a lot, and youâve learned that judging a book by its cover is wrong. After all, everyone has their own ideas and their own reasons, right? Their own demons.
Only that little by little your tastes have changed too, radically, and if before you rejected a violent and blunt man, ever since youâve been with Mondo you canât help wondering why your cheeks turn red every time his voice grows rougher and the words slipping from his lips toward someone who pissed him off become dirtier and dirtier one after another⊠or why your thighs press together involuntarily when you imagine what it would be like if those ugly, filthy words were directed at you, just once.
Every time your mind drifts in that direction you canât help feeling a little stupid. Of course youâre truly grateful to have a man by your side who treats you in the most proper way possible, like you were his precious jewel⊠but then why does the thought of his hand cutting through the air just a little before slowly slipping inside you turns you on so much? And not to mention how much you liked it when he used both hands to push your head against himself while filling your throat completely, the only moment where he really let himself go, a muffled groan slipping from his lips and his head tilted back toward the wall. The way his fingers tightened in your hair without even realizing it, his breathing uneven. How badly you wished you could have shown him how soaked your panties had become when he asked if he had gone too far⊠his face slightly red and his brows furrowed in an almost worried expression.
Before him, you had never felt like this. As a girl you dreamed of the sweet kiss of a prince charming riding a white horse, someone who would steal your innocence only after marriage. A perfect life made of castles, roses, and pure, enchanting dances. Look at you now: you canât help but desire the delinquent you love in the roughest and most violent way possible, even though he treats you with the utmost care. Between a horse and a motorcycle thereâs quite a differenceâŠ
Even though youâre both often a pair of shy idiots, your dynamic was born precisely thanks to the teasing and provocations you threw at each other, and thatâs why thereâs such familiarity between you. Even so, you often canât scream his name the way you want to â you canât understand if youâre doing something wrong or if you should give up such a silly girlish fantasy, because after all youâre definitely satisfied with how he treats you in bed. And yet when youâre alone in your little bedroom in the middle of the night, your hand sliding down toward your stomach and even lower, your eyes closed and your mouth open, you canât help thinking about his voice dirtying your ears with growled words, or his fingers tightening around your flesh in a grip so strong it steals the air from your lungs⊠imagining the heat of his body, the weight of him above you, the roughness in his voice that he never dares use with you in reality.
In that moment, it doesnât feel wrong at all.
Is it really so important for you to satisfy this hunger of yours?
And how will you ever make him understand?
ââââàšà§ââââ
You absentmindedly play with the strap of your tank top that has slipped down your shoulder, your eyes fixed on some undefined point in the room while your nostrils are filled with the unpleasant yet unmistakable acrid smell of tobacco. You donât like it when Mondo smokes, but right now youâre far too angry with him to bother reminding him. Besides, you know perfectly well that after an argument with you he gets more nervous than usual and needs his cigarettes. Every now and then you shift your gaze toward him: heâs sitting in front of you on the tatami with his back against the wall, his serious, irritated stare fixed on the open window as he watches the city at night, his legs spread and his bare chest moving up and down unevenly. The faint glow from the city lights flickers across his skin, outlining the tension in his shoulders and the slow rise and fall of his breath.
You hate arguing with him, and thatâs because Mondo is stubborn, and when he thinks heâs right you wonât move him even if you strike at his weakest points. The moonlight illuminates his profile, the cigarette clenched between his lips growing shorter and shorter as if to remind you how stupid and pointless this whole farce is. You donât like wasting time, not with him. And even though you have absolutely no intention of bending to his will, once again you swallow the harsh words you wanted to throw at him and, with a sigh, move on all fours across the tatami until you reach him, your bodies now close and one of your arms breaking straight into his personal space, positioning itself between his legs. Your body reacts immediately to the closeness and your cheeks flush red in an instant, of course, but by now you canât pull back.
Youâve caught him off guard, like always, and his eyes tell you so. He looks at you with furrowed brows and, even before he can snap like he usually does, you interrupt him, your voice thin as a thread. âCan we stop? Thatâs enough now. Letâs not fight anymore.â Your words linger in the air for a moment while you donât look away from him even for a second, noticing every reaction. Itâs like heâs trying to hold himself back and think; he tries to do that often since youâve been together. As gruff as he is, he hates treating you badly and heâs willing to change just to stay by your side. He bites the inside of his cheek and lowers his gaze â of course, he doesnât want to keep fighting either, but he would never be able to put his pride aside. Not yet, at least. âAinât got shit to say to ya,â he mutters through clenched teeth, the cigarette now reduced to a stub and crushed against the cold, dirty surface of the ashtray. The dull crackle of the extinguished ember is the only sound between you for a second.
A little smile slips from your lips before you can stop it; you adore cornering him like this. So you slip even further between his legs â because you know perfectly well he wonât push you away â and raise a hand to caress his face before slowly guiding it toward you, his legs spreading you even more without meaning to and your chests now almost pressed against each other. âDonât be like thatâŠâ you whisper, your sweet, gentle tone accompanying the slow dance of your fingers against the skin of his face. You feel your heart beating a little faster, but the adrenaline comes first. Your fingertips trace the warm line of his jaw, feeling the roughness of his stubble beneath them.
You notice Mondoâs eyes widen, his jaw now tight and his gaze flickering between your eyes and your lips. You can feel his chest moving faster beneath yours while your breaths mix into one, the distance between you shrinking more and more. When his gaze drifts downward involuntarily and falls into the cleavage of your breasts that he likes so much, covered only by your tank top, Mondo freezes completely for a second, his Adamâs apple visible as he swallows and an irritation that grows instantly in his pants until it becomes throbbing and impatient. You see his head tilt to the side until it rests against the wall, the faint embarrassment uselessly hidden by his usual irritated expression. âAh, fuck offâŠâ he grumbles under his breath. But the roughness in his voice sounds more strained than angry.
On the other hand, you noticed almost immediately how heâs grown hard against you â impossible not to notice. You stay still, your eyes slightly widened and your lips parted just a little, as if the words had died on your tongue. You canât lie to yourself: the thought that you managed to excite him with so little drives you crazy, and besides, youâre so sensitive after the argument you hadâŠ
Your eyes take in his entire figure: his powerful arms now crossed in front of you, his brows curved downward, his hair loose and still messy from a shower, framing the sides of his neck, and his knees steady against you, almost trapping you in place. A faint drop of water still clings to one strand of hair near his collarbone. Maybe for you, deep down, it really doesnât take much either.
Before you can control yourself any longer and with lust clouding your mind until you feel almost like a succubus, the hand that had been holding his face slowly slides down across his chest, feeling it tense beneath your touch, his eyes instinctively searching for yours as if heâs trying to understand what the hell is going through your head. Holding your breath, you move even lower, crossing his hips and stopping right over his cock still covered by his pants, slowly stroking it while you can see the hunger growing in his eyes drop by drop. Your mouth grows watery, your core starting to throb as if itâs begging you to touch it, and your face moves closer to his. You take him in your hand with experience, your fingers curling along his entire length as you begin to move slowly, enjoying his breathing already growing heavier and his eyes fixed on you⊠the fabric of his pants tightening beneath your palm with every slow motion.
What is happening to you?
Not that you care.
You let out a whisper.
âAre you mad at me, Mondo?â
Your voice is the most slutty you could possibly make it.
ââââàšà§ââââ
You feel completely crushed beneath Mondoâs weight now that heâs positioned above you, your tongues dancing together with a hunger that seems almost impossible to satisfy. You feel his hands tighten around your hips, his fingers sinking into your bare skin as he pulls down your shorts and panties, wanting you completely naked just for him, the fabric slides down your thighs and is tossed somewhere behind him without a second thought. Your hands, instead, slowly caress his back, muscular and imposing, while you gently move your hips against his.
You can feel his big dick pressing against your stomach, throbbing impatiently and painfully: he needs to get inside you and push so deep itâll make you scream in pure pleasure. So your legs spread even wider the moment youâre naked beneath him, almost as if inviting him. Usually your sex starts with foreplay, with your tongue wrapped around his length and his skilled fingers inside you, making you see stars⊠but not today, not this time. Not after an argument, not while you spread your legs and give him the perfect view of just how wet youâve become for him, without him even touching you.
The moment he pulls away from your lips, one of your spontaneous moans breaks the silence, and his eyes close in response. Every time you see him like this, sensitive and vulnerable because of nothing more than a small gesture from you, it feels like heâs holding himself back. Oh, how you wish he wouldnât⊠instinctively, without even thinking, you tilt your neck to reach his, your soft lips dampening his skin while your legs wrap around his waist. With a low but incredibly arousing grunt, you finally feel him position himself at your warm entrance with his big, heavy cock, holding it with one hand to guide it in more easily. His head is buried against you, his hair tickling your cheek with every impatient, ragged breath he lets out, while your nails are already digging into the bare skin of his back. The moment you feel the tip slowly stretching you open your back arches: itâs always a shock taking his whole cock inside you. Oh, but the pleasure it gives youâŠ
âAh, fuck⊠youâre so tightâŠâ Mondoâs voice, rough and meant only for you, turns you on more than anything else in the world. So much that you find yourself moaning louder than you meant to when he finally ends up completely inside you, staying still, as if he wants you to get used to his size. You feel him pulsing, his thick length reaching perfectly that place inside you no one else â not even you â has ever managed to reach. Your nostrils are filled with the pleasant scent of his shampoo mixed with cigarette smoke as you hide your face in his long hair, your thighs tightening around him almost automatically, as if inviting him to move. An invitation that Mondo accepts immediately: his hips begin to move slowly and deeply, almost as if he wants to savor you, and almost as if he wants you to savor every inch of him.
You feel him dampen your neck with soft, unexpected kisses that make you blush even more than you already are, a warmth traveling through your entire body until it reaches your brain: you canât think straight anymore. After your neck he moves to your collarbone, then lower toward your breasts while his hands tighten around your hips involuntarily, and finally he moves upward again, his thrusts growing deeper as he pauses to kiss along your jaw with an almost hesitant sweetness, his eyes closed and his warm breath brushing your skin. Youâre still hiding your face, and Mondo doesnât like that â watching you while he makes you completely lose your mind drives him crazy. Maybe he wants you to be completely his too. With his head he nudges yours so you turn toward him, his eyes searching for yours insistently, his voice coming out rough. âCâmon⊠lemme see that faceâŠâ
You canât help but obey every command he gives you, so you look at him. His pale eyes make you feel so small you could fit inside his fist. Your breasts bounce with every thrust while his length opens you up and pushes inside you as if he knows your body by heart, your lips are slightly wet with saliva, your expression filled with a submission you reserve only for him, and your legs hold him tightly as if he might disappear at any moment. You feel him move one hand â from your hip it travels up along your entire body, caressing you slowly, brushing over your breast until it reaches the place where you want him the most, the place that makes you wetter, the place you dream about even if only for a brief second.
His fingers glide slowly along the delicate skin of your neck until they cup your face, but in that moment you absolutely cannot hide how even the thought that he might touch you there drives you insane. Your voice rises a pitch, your legs wrap around him with shocking strength, and the walls of your cunt squeeze his huge cock until they milk it, so much that you feel him pulse inside you until his movements slow. Itâs as if your body is screaming from need, and even though normally that would make you feel miserable and pathetically stupid, you canât help it. Itâs stronger than you â the desire to stop breathing because of him even for a second, to become his personal object, to hear ugly, filthy words whispered into your ear just for you. You donât even realize youâve reached this state without Mondo practically even touching you.
On the other hand, he stops completely inside you, noticing every sign but not understanding the reason. After all, youâve never behaved like this with him before, and even though heâs always given you pleasure by eating you out in every position until you collapsed⊠Mondo has never seen you like this. His brows furrow as he tries to search your gaze for something wrong, but all he finds is a level of submission high enough to drive any man on the face of the earth insane. You see him swallow, almost nervously, his fingers still on your skin and his eyes locked into yours. âOi⊠did I-did I hurt ya or somethinâ?â
All you can do, in such an absurd moment, is smile. By now youâre completely enslaved by your lust, and itâs the one commanding you, your mind so clouded it feels like condensed fog. You shake your head slowly and the words die in your throat the moment you try to form a coherent sentence, so you decide to show him what made you so⊠submissive. You bring your hand over his timidly and push him to tighten his entire grip around your throat. Then you look straight into his eyes, your hand pressing against his while your heart feels like it might escape your chest. Then, a whisper. âDo this.â You canât even explain with words how you feel, and thatâs why the confusion in Mondoâs eyes makes you smile.
His eyes, hungry and incredulous at the same time, slide across yours before moving to your lips, noticing the way theyâre slightly parted, wet, and smiling. Then they travel down your naked body, the way your legs are squeezing him tighter since his hand is there, on your neck, the last place his gaze lingers on. His voice comes a moment later, rough, filled with a tender, almost naive confusion. âHuhâŠ? What⊠what dâyou mean?â he murmurs, his eyes locked with yours again and his breathing becoming more and more uneven.
Your cheeks refuse to stop burning, just like your heart that pounds loudly with every beat, unstoppable. At the same time, though, you finally feel ready to make him understand just how much you need to be so damn submissive to him. Your hand slides away from over his, and the warmth of his big, strong hand on you makes your eyes close for a second as you inhale. When you look at him again you try to murmur without moaning, both your hands now ready to caress his hair.
âCould you⊠try squeezing?â
Even though you feel the need to be used like a doll by the man on top of you, almost as if youâre his prey, the words escape your lips as a low, timid murmur, so embarrassed and awkward you can hardly believe it yourself. Your face flushes even more, if thatâs possible, and your eyes dart elsewhere, unable to meet Mondoâs gaze, who, for his part, seems unable to comprehend whatâs happening. Even though heâs always clearly held a dominant position over you, you know well that he would never, ever have thought to move in this direction with you. And yet, here you are, practically begging him with your eyes, looking so obedient, so desperate itâs almost pitiful.
How could he possibly say no?
You feel his fingers press lightly against your delicate skin, finally tightening around your neck while still remaining gentle enough not to hurt you. When this happens, you feel like youâre on top of the world, as if youâve never experienced anything better. A wet, desperate moan slips from your lips, while your gaze now constantly seeks his, your brows furrowed and mouth parted. You still detect a hint of worry in his voice, sharp and unexpected. âAh⊠yeah⊠like⊠like this⊠okayâŠ?â Even his cheeks are flushed now, and you notice his Adamâs apple bobbing with tension as he swallows.
Heâs⊠scared? you realize it immediately, and when you do, you nod as quickly as possible, letting him know that he could smack you right now, and youâd probably love it so much it would bring you close to orgasm in an instant. âM-mh⊠yeah⊠do it like thatâŠâ you whisper in a broken murmur, your voice wavering, your eyes now closed. You notice he doesnât move, so to give him a little push, you squeeze your thighs even tighter around him, pulling him closer with your legs wrapped around his ass. The thing is, heâs become a block of ice, and thatâs because Mondo never imagined that his girl could love a part of him that everyone else hates so much. He doesnât know how to give pleasure with⊠raw, rough force.
When your wet walls grip his big, hard cock even tighter inside you, you feel him throb involuntarily, so much that you thrust your hips toward him while your eyes search his. You move your arms toward his neck, dragging him closer to push him to move, while his hand remains on your throat, tight but hesitant. Finally, Mondo catches on and starts moving again inside you, closing his eyes and letting out one of those low, guttural sounds you love so much. âF-FuckâŠâ he murmurs, his thrusts deep, slow, almost deliberate. And yet, you notice something is off.
You can feel it, this tension, this barrier between you two ever since you asked him to use you however he wanted. Itâs like heâs careful with every touch, every push inside your hole, making you feel every inch of his thick, veiny length. And that⊠scares you a little â you hadnât considered it, as an option. What if he didnât like itâŠ?
You tilt your head slightly to reach his lips, searching his eyes to understand as best you can what heâs feeling in this moment. âM-Mondo⊠you donât like it?â Your whisper radiates genuine concern, itâs true. Yet that sweet, soft voice of yours, cracked under the pressure of his fingers on your throbbing spot, whispering words like that⊠drives him insane.
He buries himself fully inside you, hitting that spot that makes your toes curl and your nails dig into his back. His eyes are closed again as he inhales deeply, almost as if heâs trying to hold back, even in a situation where youâre begging him not to. You feel his breath brush your lips and merge with yours, and when he opens his eyes, his furrowed brows and hesitant gaze make you emit a small, inevitable moan. He starts moving slowly again, but this time the thrusts are stronger, deeper, almost as if he wants you to understand that youâre pushing him to the edge. âY-Yeah⊠I fuckinâ love this⊠goddamnâŠâ
Slowly, Mondo is gathering a little more confidence. And now that you have confirmation that all this drives him crazy too, you have no reason to resist. As you try to moan as little as possible, you move your arms from his neck to his hair, caressing it while pushing him even closer to you. Your lips brush against his, wetting them, while a little smile erases the almost pained expression you held a moment ago, the representation of your submission to him. Your back arches as he moves in and out of you at a steady, increasingly controlled pace, his muscles flexing against your stomach every time he goes too deep, your nipples already hard from a while ago brushing against his chest, driving you insane.
But you want more.
âSo if you like it⊠stop⊠acting like a little bitchâŠâ
Itâs been ages since youâve liked teasing your boyfriend. Yet in bed, you never did it, because you never expected it could be the right way to unlock him and start having him treat you like his little slut, passive, personal doll. You know well heâs a hot-headed type, and in a moment like this, with his hand finally in the exact spot youâve always wanted, you realize this is the best thing you could have said.
You notice his eyes widen, his pace slowing until heâs frozen inside you. But it lasts only a second â his impulsiveness soon takes over, and his tone drops suddenly, rougher, almost⊠angry. âLittle bitch⊠lilâ bitch, huh?â
What happens next, however, catches you completely off guard.
Almost as if his brain clicked, his gaze slowly shifts. That broken sentence you whispered, with your voice seemingly made to drive him insane, and that provocative confidence you know how to use only with him, make him realize youâre exactly where you want to be, comfortable, craving even more. Finally, he can stop worrying.
Itâs that sentence that makes him understand how much he loves being in control.
Suddenly, he moves both hands to your neck, gripping it and slamming himself fully inside you with no warning. His fingers on the sides of your neck now dig into your skin with a hunger youâve never seen before, able to feel you pulse completely. His hips now move like pistons, strong and deep, while your pussy grips him so tightly it speaks for you, your voice cut off by his powerful hands, which now squeeze even harder. âIâll show you⊠whoâs the little bitchâŠâ
ââââàšà§ââââ
You feel overwhelmed by a rush of excitement youâve never experienced in your life, your back arching with every thrust while his big cock slides in and out of you at a crazy pace, almost as if he wants to prove to you what he can do if you let him be in control. You can feel saliva gathering at the corner of your mouth, while you canât even manage to moan his name â his hands cut the air just slightly around your throat and your eyes, blurred with tears, see his face out of focus⊠the room spinning faintly around the two of you while the rhythm of his body becomes the only thing anchoring you in place.
Seeing you like this, ruined beneath him while he fucks you hard, bent to his will and unable to desire anything except being fucked until you canât even walk anymore, is starting to feel really good to Mondo. So good that you hear him letting out deep, rough sounds; so good that you can feel his dick throbbing harder and harder, moving in rhythm with your pussy that milks him like youâre some dumb little virgin; so good that, for just a moment, he squeezes your throat so tightly you canât breathe.
When he does, your eyes roll back and your legs lose all strength â itâs like you canât do anything except let him use you. At that point, Mondoâs hands move from your throat to your hips, finally letting you catch your breath again. And you do, breathing heavily and letting out strangled moans, so loud that anyone could hear you, from the still-open window and the thin walls of the room. You see him bury his face toward your neck, his thrusts slowing until he stops completely inside you, letting you feel every inch of his huge, thick cock that always manages to make you feel so full, and so empty afterward, every time you finish. âF-Fucking hellâŠâ
His lips are so close to your ear that you can hear every sound they make, the same ones that normally make you so wet he slips inside you even without eating you out first. In this case, youâve been completely soaked for so long already that being any wetter would be impossibleâŠ
When you finally manage to move your arms and stroke his back with a sweetness that completely contrasts with the way heâs deliberately fucking you, his sigh breaks into a groan and his eyes roll back slightly. âShouldâve fuckinâ told me sooner⊠that you like it like thisâŠâ he whispers, each word pronounced with such intensity that it perfectly reveals the hunger burning inside him right now. His voice is rougher than usual, almost shaky from the effort of holding himself together. Itâs like heâs venting everything out onto your body, and thinking about it⊠thatâs exactly what you wanted the most. To be used by him however he wants, treated like a rag doll. You needed to be ruined by him, and now you feel like youâll never be able to go without it again. You tilt your face toward his, slightly damp with sweat, that sharp scent that makes your head spin. Your lips brush along his jaw until he turns to look straight into your eyes. You smile weakly. âY-Youâre right⊠I shouldâve told you⊠a long time agoâŠâ
Seeing that exhaustion on your face, so beautifully ruined and dependent on him at the same time, fills his chest with pride. He never thought he would end up in a dominant position with you, in any context â not even this one. He never even considered the possibility that being treated like this by him could turn you on. And since he likes it too, his hand returns to cup your face, squeezing it lightly between his fingers before leaning down and crashing his lips against yours in a passionate kiss. Your tongues dance together while you taste each other, the sounds leaving your mouths now muffled, swallowed between the kiss. You feel him throbbing deep inside you, his eyes closed and his thumb slowly caressing your jaw, almost reverently, as if he wants to savor every single piece of you.
However, his unusual sweetness disappears the moment you feel his other hand sliding up along your body, brushing over your breast until it reaches your fragile neck again: his fingers fit against your skin so perfectly it almost feels as though they were made for this, the grip not yet completely tight so you can still breathe while he devours your mouth. Your brows crease into an expression thatâs a mix of pain and lust when you feel his hips start moving again, every thrust slow and deep, your tight pussy squeezing him so hard it makes him feel incredible and your moans now more audible even if theyâre still partly hidden.
When he feels you arch your back and tighten your thighs around him even more, Mondo picks up the pace, now uneven, hungry, rough. His fingers tighten further around your throat until a broken, incredibly sexy moan escapes you â the sound vibrating through your chest like a pulled string snapping under pressure. He groans in response, the low sound rumbling against your red, wet lips. He pulls away from the kiss just long enough to whisper against the skin of your shoulder, his free hand desperately searching for your breast, cupping it and squeezing it into his large palm that can easily cover the whole thing. âF-Fuck⊠chick⊠you like it that fuckinâ muchâŠ?â
Heâs clearly referring to the way youâre sucking him completely inside you, to your desperate voice, to that submissive look that makes his head spin and to your body now fully surrendered to the need to be fucked by him until he decides heâs had enough. You never showed him how much you like fucking. Not like this. You can feel a wonderful sensation slowly building every time his thrusts grow stronger, enough to make your legs tremble, your mouth open as you try to cry out his name, unsuccessfully. The desire to come from his huge cock stretching you open like a little slut and from the hand cutting off your air⊠this time itâs stronger than any kind of shame. By now, you donât care anymore how pathetic you might look.
When Mondo turns his head to look at you, you stare straight into his eyes while he plays with your breast and pushes into your wet pussy, and you realize you really canât hold back anymore. Without even managing to say a word, your hand moves on its own, searching for your core, now rubbing in slow circles over your clit while your eyes close in response. You can feel Mondoâs length aching completely inside you in reaction, inch by inch, and as he watches the scene his eyes roll back slightly, a guttural sound slipping from his lips as he fights the instinct to cum inside you right here and now.
âHoly fuck⊠h-hey⊠youâre fuckinâ desperate, yâknow thatâŠ?â he mutters, before hiding his face against you again, his teeth brushing the skin of your shoulder while he keeps moving. When his hand leaves your breast and returns to your neck beside the other one, you feel so close to your orgasm you can barely think. Your body trembles, your mouth releasing nothing but broken, muffled pants, your eyes closed and every inch of you abandoned to him. Itâs his voice, low and hoarse, that finally makes you lose control completely. âI-Iâm gonna make you come like a dirty fuckinâ slutâŠâ
His grip tightens dangerously, your breath stopping as your mind clouds completely, while each of his thrusts becomes even stronger and faster, hitting exactly the place where you need him the most. Your hand stops moving over your clit when your legs loosen around him and your vision turns white, coming hard while Mondoâs thick cock pounds into you until it nearly breaks you, his hands cutting off your air so tightly theyâll leave marks. Your body goes limp, weak, almost like youâve lost control over it entirely, while Mondo watches you and stretches your orgasm longer with every powerful thrust. Your muscles twitch helplessly beneath him, your breath shallow and trembling. âF-Fuck⊠Iâm-Iâm gonnaâŠâ you hear him say, though his voice sounds distant, almost like youâre underwater. Your pussy tightens and milks his length as if youâre squeezing him dry, and thatâs all it takes for Mondo to finally lose control. âIâm gonna fill this tight little pussy⊠f-fuck⊠with my cumâŠâ
His fingers dig into your skin while his hips move like a piston, every thrust forcing another low groan from his lips into the air. You can feel his muscles flexing against your stomach, your sweat-soaked bodies sliding against each other in a passionate rhythm. Then, with one strong, sudden thrust, he buries himself completely inside you and stops, releasing his thick seed and filling you up entirely, his veiny cock pulsing deep inside while his voice breaks, almost fragile now. âF-Fuuuuuck⊠fuckâŠâ
ââââàšà§ââââ
You feel his grip weakening as your senses slowly return, your breathing now heavy, colored by faint, broken remnants of your orgasms. Mondoâs body collapses over yours while his hands slide lightly to your hips, trying to recover from the powerful climax. When, with a slow movement, he pulls out of you, youâre overwhelmed by a slightly painful feeling of emptiness, his warm seed slipping from your cunt and dampening your skin like an indelible reminder of what just happened. You feel completely drained, stripped of your energy and simply⊠tired. So you close your eyes, your arms spreading gently over his bare, sweaty back, lazily caressing him.
For a long moment neither of you speaks. The room is filled only with the sound of your uneven breathing, the faint creak of the tatami beneath your bodies, and the distant noise of the night outside the still-open window. The air feels warm, heavy, almost sacred after everything that just happened. Your sudden loving touches make the muscles of his sculpted body flex and, almost as if he has woken from a trance, he turns his head toward your face, leaving soft, distracted kisses all along your jaw, his eyes closed and his long hair stuck to his forehead and neck. His lips rest repeatedly on your skin, dampening it with a tenderness that sends shivers through you. Itâs so beautiful, you think, trusting someone so much that you let them do anything they want to you. And you chose this person well. This infinite, awkward sweetness proves it.
As you bring your face closer to his to nuzzle against his cheek, you smile, unable to stop thinking about how intense the moment you just shared was. You almost feel like giggling. There isnât even a trace of embarrassment in you. Your fingers continue to move lazily across his back, tracing the ridges of his muscles, the small scars scattered across his skin â silent proof of the rough life heâs lived. And yet right now, here with you, he feels softer than youâve ever known him to be. After noticing the wide smile now pressed against his skin, Mondoâs eyes slowly open and his trail of kisses stops so he can finally look at you. His cheeks are slightly flushed, his breathing still uneven, and his eyes search yours insistently, almost as if heâs desperately trying to figure out whether youâre okay. His sharp face is so close to yours that you can feel his warm breath brushing your lips, and you notice his nervousness in the way his chest rises and falls irregularly. He was so⊠rough⊠until now, giving you the best half hour of sex of your life⊠and now the only thing that seems to matter to him is knowing how you are.
How cute.
Weakly, your hand reaches his face while a small smile becomes the main actor on yours, your fingers slowly stroking his dark skin. Itâs his voice that breaks the silence before yours can, broken and soft. âOi⊠you⊠you okayâŠ?â He swallows, his hand mirroring yours as it reaches your delicate face to cup it, his thumb brushing along your jaw hesitantly. His eyes constantly search yours, his brows furrowing when he notices you avoiding his penetrating gaze. The truth is that seeing him like this â fragile, worried about you as if you had shattered into pieces in his hands and he was desperately trying to put you back together â is priceless. When you inhale and finally look at him again, Mondo notices how your eyes are filled with such pure love that it almost hurts. For a second, his expression falters â like he isnât used to receiving that kind of look. Like he doesnât quite believe he deserves it.
Your hand moves again and, tired and weak, you gently pull him closer to you. Your lips can now brush against each other, your breaths merging into one, your eyes locked together like precious stones reflecting one another. Then you moisten his lips with a kiss, and only after closing your eyes do you break the heavy, tension-filled silence with a murmur. âMondo⊠Iâve never been betterâŠâ
You feel him melt against you, his lips seeking yours again so he can leave countless soft, passionate kisses on them. At first theyâre slow. Careful. Almost shy. Then they deepen, lingering longer each time, like heâs trying to memorize the feeling of your mouth against his. âFuckâŠâ he breathes softly against your lips, his voice rough but warm now. âYou⊠you scared the hell outta me for a second thereâŠâ His forehead drops against yours, noses brushing together while his fingers slide into your hair, holding you close like heâs afraid you might disappear if he lets go. âDidnât thinkâŠâ he mutters quietly, voice hoarse, âdidnât think Iâd ever see you like that⊠lookinâ at me like you wanted me to ruin youâŠâ A small, breathless laugh escapes him â half disbelief, half pride. ââŠand fuck⊠I liked it way too much.â
At that point, you lose yourselves again. Again and again â not in the same frantic way as before, but in quiet touches, lingering kisses, slow breaths shared between smiles. Your legs remain tangled beneath the sheets, his arm wrapped around your waist while he absentmindedly draws circles against your skin. Outside, the night continues like nothing happened â but inside the room, something has changed between you. Something deeper. You never thought the day would come when you could show your boyfriend your most impure and deepest desires.
And yetâŠ
Youâre so glad you did. Because now, as his lips brush your temple and his voice drifts sleepily beside your ear, you hear him whisper one last thing before the silence settles again.
âHey⊠next time⊠donât keep shit like that from me, yeahâŠ?â
put a finger down if youâve just started playing Danganronpa Trigger Happy Havoc with a friend of yours on Discord without knowing anything and you fell in love with Mondo Owada and he with Chihiro Fujisaki and you even started writing a Mondo x reader fanfic since you used all the free time to hang out with them and you got really really attached to their characters but then you reached the second murder of the game and therefore the end of the second chapter â€ïž
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OKAY so i already commented on one of your posts about liking the ficâŠ. but Unwritten was SO DAMN GOOD!!! iâm baffled from how realistic it seemed, especially in ryotaâs part. you wrote him as if you knew EVERYTHING about him, (as in a sense iâm saying you wrote him like canon even đđ) and to me it just made me enjoy the fic even more. iâm really upset thereâs little attraction to the fic, because this is just so well written. i will definitely be thinking about this everyday from now on because this fic literally just made me like ryota miyagi even more. the story is put together so GOODâhence when it comes to how the protag yaoru feels; and how ryota seems to always help her in a sense!!! (THEYRE SO CUTE) the small parts will probably be my favorite; the addition that mitsui wasnât even sure if yaoru smoked just for ryota to correct him. just shows how much he knows yaoru more than the rest of them, and itâs such a small detail i find myself thinking about the most. đđđ END OF RANT OKAY I JUST LOVE THIS FIC LITERALLY SAT IN MY BED TO WRITE THIS AHHFHDHDHFH -đ
yesterday a friend told me that i need to believe in myself more after reading my fanfics. and i donât know why, but those words really hit me deeply
summary: after years of repressed feelings, you and Ryota have finally stopped lying to yourselves and become a couple. you canât keep your hands off each other, and yet youâre still a little insecure: Ryota hasnât told you he loves youâŠ
warnings: smut, MDNI, established relationship, fem!reader, both characters are adults (post-high school setting), plot what plot, oral (f receving), p in v, unprotected sex, edging, nipple play, heavy fluff, romantic sex, one-shot.
word count: 7.5k +
art not mine â i donât know the artist! if anyone does, please let me know!
a/n: hi!! (˶ᔠᔠá”˶) as promised, i finally managed to write and finish a Ryota smut one-shot. Unspoken is definitely a sequel to Unwritten â my friends to lovers fic â but you can totally read it even if you havenât read the rest! i really hope youâll like it: itâs my first time writing smut and iâm kinda nervous lol. but i had so much fun writing it, so i hope youâll enjoy it too! thank you so much, whether youâre coming from Unwritten or youâre new here. âĄ
The funny thing is that no one ever prepared you for this.
Youâve 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 â 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 â 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 â 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 â because you thought it would âruin everythingâ â come back to you, you canât 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⊠thatâs 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, youâre 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 â not too much, just enough â that made you finally accept your feelings.
Because yes, things have changed, but theyâve changed for the better.
Itâs as if you donât need to hold back anymore: kissing him while youâre straddling his lap, his hands drawing invisible circles on your hips while yours cradle his face â thatâs what you always needed, what had always been missing between you.
But thereâs even more â 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 heâs 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 otherâs ears that make both of you lose your mindsâŠ
You were missing out on all of this â 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 â like youâre his muse â you feel completely at his mercy, unable to do anything except feed whatever need he has.
Youâd call it pathetic, the idea of depending so completely, shamelessly, on a man.
But itâs Ryota. And you certainly didnât decide the whole âlove is blindâ thing.
Now that you can finally let out everything youâve repressed your entire lives, the two of you act like lovesick, horny teenagers who canât keep their hands off each other. And yet, you still havenât gone all the way â not with your bodies, not with your words.
And even though youâre dying to make love to him, to tell him you love him while you moan together and fall apart in each otherâs arms â and yes, you absolutely fantasize about that moment before falling asleep â you just canât take the first step.
Youâve always been like this: unable to move unless Ryota does. You need constant reassurance, you sway between uncertainties because he still hasnât told you he loves you.
And it bothers you. A lot.
Especially because, ever since you got together, heâs brought out a side of you that you didnât even know existed.
Now, when you watch him train â tired and sweaty â your thighs press together on instinct, heat pooling between them before you even realize itâs 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 â or when you notice how beautiful his hands are, and how much more beautiful theyâd 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. Youâre obsessed with him â shamelessly, desperately.
And yet, you just canât bring yourself to say it.
Itâs like now that you can finally have him, now that heâs 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 itâs Ryota who quiets that unbearable need you feel every time he does something that turns you on â which is very often â you end up feeling silly, flustered right after, warming his heart and earning his gentle teasing. He knows exactly what he does to you â and that only makes you want him more.
In the end, youâve fallen completely, hopelessly in love with Ryota.
And yet, you often wonderâŠ
is it possible to fall even deeper than this?
ââââàšà§ââââ
Itâs August, and the heat is unreal â the kind that makes you feel like youâre 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 â cuddling, kissing, touching â like the warmth itself is pushing you together, making you too lazy to do anything else except fall into each otherâs arms. Not that youâre complaining, of course. But you swear, if Ryota keeps giving you this much attention, youâre actually going to get addicted⊠like heâs some kind of drug your body canât live without.
Youâre 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 â barely covered by your tight tank top â 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 Ryotaâs breath hitch, his whole body reacting instantly while your tongues move together like nothing in the world tastes better than each other.
You donât even remember when you started making out â but you know one thing for sure: you donât want to stop. Not for anything.
And even though it embarrasses you to feel this turned on before heâs even touched you properly, you canât help it â 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.
Itâs like Ryota can flip a switch inside you, turning you into someone desperate, someone whose whole mind starts chanting âplease touch me,â 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 â 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 â that you can make him this turned on just by sitting on him â it drives you insane. It feels like heâs silently telling you âIâm yours,â like heâs 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 youâre kissing him.
Youâve 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 donât 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. âWhatâs with all this hunger, huh?â he whispers, his voice low and rough, vibrating straight through your chest.
You stare at him for a moment â 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 canât help it. Then you mumble, barely loud enough, âItâs your fault, idiotâŠâ
A soft laugh slips from his lips. âMy fault? Youâre the one who climbed on top of me,â he murmurs, turning his head just enough to reach your jaw with a kiss.
âYouâve been starving lately.â
Another kiss, higher.
âWhatâs up with that?â
Another one â 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 â 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 itâs trying to match his. You canât even form a response â your brain is spinning in places it really shouldnât 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, thereâs this warm, overwhelming ache â 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 heâs got you completely cornered, exactly where he wants you, he smiles â slow and wicked â before flipping you off him in one quick, unexpected movement. Now youâre 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 heâs molding you into the shape of someone who belongs right under him.
You canât even pretend you donât 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 â 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 canât 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⊠itâs enough to make you lose your mind bit by bit.
His mouth lingers on your skin, and even though heâs clearly trying to hold himself back, to keep from ruining you entirely, you can feel how starving he is. Every kiss feels like heâs trying to claim territory, like heâs 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 â youâre 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 â 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. âR-RyotaâŠâ 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 â only to cover your whole chest in wet, messy kisses.
The way he mouths at you, warm and unrestrained, makes you feel like heâs trying to kiss through your clothes just to get closer to you. âKeep making those noises⊠fuck, you have no idea what Iâd do to youâŠâ
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. âWhat⊠would you do to me?â you breathe out, not even caring about that tiny bit of common sense thatâs clearly been obliterated by how turned on you are.
His lips pause for a second.
When he lifts his head and sees your face â tilted back, cheeks burning all the way to your ears, mouth still open â he looks like heâs 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. âCalm down⊠or else I wonât stopâŠâ
His fingers dig harder into your thighs, like heâs already imagining exactly how heâs 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 â 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 â you stop fighting it â and let the truth spill out before you can second-guess it.
âBut I donât want you to stopâŠâ
âOh yeah? So what do you want, then?â he shoots back immediately â heâs 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. Youâre usually shy, always careful to seem like the perfect good girl â but when it comes to Ryota, you turn into something else entirely. A mess. A needy, filthy mess who canât 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. âI want⊠youâŠâ 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. Itâs like he canât believe what you just said â it makes him dizzy.
His eyes drag over your body slowly, hungrily, like heâs trying to memorize the sight of you being this undone for him. And beneath the hunger, thereâs something almost frightened â like he suddenly understands this isnât just lust. Itâs you. Itâs love. Itâs 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. âBut first I wanna eat youâŠâ 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 youâve been shocked.
âW-WhatâŠ?â You lift your head, stunned, and heâs 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 â a soft, deliberate kiss that makes your breath stop. Your hand flies to his hair immediately, not pulling â just holding, grounding yourself, because the feeling is too much to handle.
âI owe you,â he mutters, amused, ââcause if I think about how you sucked me off the other day, Iâm gonna come before I even startâŠâ
ââââàšà§ââââ
Your head is resting against the armrest of the couch, your eyes already rolled back and your mouth falling open helplessly â unable to stay closed even if you tried â letting out broken, breathless moans that shape his name over and over. Ryotaâs 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 youâve 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 â his tongue sucking every bit of you with hunger, with need, with something wild. From that moment on, you havenât been able to stop craving his mouth⊠and he hasnât 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 itâs just the whisper of his hot breath brushing over it. Your eyes squeeze shut as you bite your lip hard; you feel like youâre floating, weightless, and even though youâve had good sex before, no one has ever made you feel what he makes you feel. Not just because heâs better than anyone else â you know itâs more than that. Itâs because youâre 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.
âYou like that, mh?â 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 â until he pauses to look at you, taking you in fully, clearly delighted by what he sees. âAll mineâŠâ
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 donât 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 â if thatâs even possible â when his movements grow quicker, sharper, more precise. âSâSlow downâŠâ 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 heâs pulling you without letting you peak, exactly the way youâre 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, heâs 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 youâve never seen before â something warm, intense, almost reverent, something you never imagined he would look at you with.
Before you even process it, heâs 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 heâs holding himself back.
âCan I?â
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 â something new, terrifyingly beautiful â 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 â and yet, you canât bring yourself to care whether this is the right moment or not, whether itâs too soon, whether either of you is âready.â None of it matters. You know you want him. Youâve always belonged to him, and now you canât 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 â and failing â 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 itâs softened by a sweetness that makes you feel like youâre 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 â as if heâs desperately checking that youâre not about to pull away, that youâre sure he isnât 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, âTell me if I hurt you.â
You hide against his neck again, breath trembling, waiting for him, and thatâs when you feel it â Ryotaâs 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 â giving yourself to him entirely, with no shame left at all â 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 â relaxing so much you let him do whatever he wants with you, without even realizing it.
âFuckâŠâ 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 heâs splitting you open in the best possible way, dying to fuck you faster, harder, without restraint â and the slow, hesitant thrusts he gives you are the proof of how badly heâs holding back.
Maybe itâs 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 â completely at odds with the growing rhythm heâs 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: heâs 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 canât help but hold your breath â heâs 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 canât hold his gaze â yes, heâs sexy as hell, enough to make your pussy tighten around him like youâre 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 â his hips now slamming into yours over and over like thereâs 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 itâs almost too much. You canât 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. âR-Ryota⊠m-mhâŠâ Your voice breaks on his name, high and needy, the kind of sound you didnât know you were capable of making. Your legs shake uncontrollably, your whole body trembling as if youâre about to shatter in his hands.
âHow beautiful you areâŠâ
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 canât slow down, and you canât 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.
âYouâre perfect⊠itâs like you were made for meâŠâ Every time he speaks, his low, rough voice against your ear pushes you dangerously close to the climax youâve been craving since he first touched you. Youâre weak for anything he gives you, so long as itâs him.
You must look like a beautiful mess under his warm body covering you completely â 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 heâs fucking you, and your voice growing louder and louder without you being able to stop it. Youâre his spectacle, entirely devoted to him, so desperate to come on his dick that your body looks like itâs screaming for it.
Between the sharp thrusts pounding into you like percussion and his muffled, much deeper moans, Ryota notices how youâre begging for release â and thatâs 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 heâs torturing you â and you canât 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.
âYouâre so tight⊠fuck, youâre gonna drive me insaneâŠâ 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. Itâs 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 youâre making, holding it gently, his thumb stroking your pulse point as his thrusts begin to speed up again â and so does the passion and hunger in the kiss heâs 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 didnât know you had. When Ryota pulls away from the kiss to catch his breath, your moans fill the air immediately â 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 youâre the most delicious thing heâs ever tasted.
You feel like youâre seeing stars, your eyes shut and your mouth open as Ryotaâs 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 canât hold back anymore â and he knows it. Heâs giving in with you.
âAre you gonna come like a good girl?â 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.
Ryotaâs eyes roll back. âOh GodâŠâ
âI love youâŠâ
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 canât believe you heard it â not like this, not while youâre clinging to him and heâs 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 â a choked sound escapes you, something between a sob and a moan, because youâve 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 heâs just done to you â but you canât. You donât even get the chance.
Because the moment that confession leaves his lips, Ryota thrusts into you again â 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 â violently â 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 canât even say his name. You canât say anything. Your mind isnât working â itâs melting, dissolving into the heat and the overwhelming sweetness of hearing him say those words at the exact moment heâs 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 youâre terrified he might disappear if you let go. Your voice breaks into soft, ruined cries you canât control, each one sharper and higher than the last.
Your walls clamp around him with a force that makes him groan into your neck. Youâre shaking, trembling, completely undone beneath him, your body surrendering entirely to the pleasure heâs forcing you through. Every thrust drags your orgasm out longer, deeper, until your legs are trembling and your throat is raw and youâre sure youâve never felt anything like this in your entire life.
His breath turns ragged, almost feral â your tight, pulsing walls milking him so hard he canât 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 heâs 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. âFâFuckâŠâ he groans, voice breaking, and then heâs spilling hot, thick ropes of cum across your stomach. His thighs tremble, his abs clench, and his head falls back as he comes hard â messy, raw, helpless. His hand keeps moving even when heâs already finished and final, broken moan slips out of him â low, ruined, the kind heâd never let anyone else hear.
His warm, sweat-slicked body collapses gently onto yours after heâs 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 otherâs 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. âYouâre shaking,â he murmurs against your cheek, the faintest smirk tugging at his lips. âWas I really that goodâŠ?â
You let out a tiny, breathless laugh against his skin, and he hums in satisfaction â 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 heâs 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 youâre wrapped in his arms, your bare bodies pressed together like they were made to fit â two pieces of a puzzle finally finding where they belong â 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 canât quite believe the tenderness heâs capable of.
For the first time in your life, you truly feel like you belong to someone â like Ryota is holding your heart and soul between his hands. The feeling of being his is intoxicating, almost too much, because now that youâve finally come together in a first time that felt perfect, dreamlike, you canât imagine ever wanting to stop clinging to him. Even more than before. This isnât just desire, lust, or sex: itâs the yearning to melt into him completely, to become one with him over and over again until you canât even form a thought. Itâs the sweet, terrifying certainty that youâve found something you never want to let go of â something that feels like home.
Your heartbeat is wildly uneven, and itâs 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 heâs relearning you with reverence. And when you turn your head slightly to meet his gaze â tired yet deeply satisfied â 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 youâve held inside for far too long.
âI love you tooâŠâ
You feel Ryotaâs body tense just slightly above you, and you canât help but smile against his lips â 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.
âOh, I knowâŠâ
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 thatâs tied you together long before either of you ever realized it. That thread has a name â and it always has. Itâs love, raw, terrifying, breathtaking.
And now, finally, youâre both done being afraid of it.
Unwritten is officially over, and even though i already have an extra chapter in mind â which youâll be able to read either as fans of the fic or on its own â i wanted to gift you some behind-the-scenes notes about what inspired me the most while writing this. this is honestly the first Ryota fanfic iâve written in years that iâm genuinely proud of! maybe i just needed to discover tumblr⊠or maybe i finally needed to pour out everything that had been sitting in my head, with the goal of having fun instead of trying to please anyone. (âžâž> áŽâąâžâž)
letâs begin!
â PART ONE â
right from the first part, you can tell the reader isnât 100% neutral, and thatâs because i seriously believe itâs almost impossible not to put a little bit of yourself into what you write. or at least⊠i couldnât help it!
also, Unwritten is heavily inspired by an old story i wrote â about Ryota, of course â so the readerâs personality is very close to that old protagonist of mine. her name is Yaoru!
when i wrote that Ryota had âsavedâ the reader and always stayed by her side, i did it because thatâs exactly what he did for me: ever since i watched the movie and read the manga, my life changed forever. even in my darkest moments, i never feel alone if iâm holding a volume of Slam Dunk!
another thing i accidentally did â i only realized it while writing â is creating a version of reality where Ryota didnât have to face everything completely alone during his preteen and teen years. thatâs why my Ryota is very different from Inoueâs: i truly believe that having someone next to him wouldâve made him grow into a different person than the one we see in The First Slam Dunk. but still, Ryota is Ryota â so i kept some canon events! let me say it myself, itâs honestly very sweet (â„âžâ„)
i decided that Ryotaâs Shohoku won the Nationals simply because⊠i honestly believe they did! not only is Shohoku insanely strong with Rukawa and a more aware, powerful Hanamichi, but Ryota is an amazing leader, and iâm sure heâd work hard to become the perfect captain â just like we see in â10 Days Afterâ!
I REGRET ADDING TEXT MESSAGES!! :( iâm only a huge fan of modern-setting stories, and i just wanted a way for them to talk about kissing so boldly without having to stare each other in the face!
i added Kingdom Hearts because itâs one of my favorite games ever! as a kid i watched my brother play â and now i watch my boyfriend do the same. i passed that on to the reader⊠iâm sorry :â) in my dreams, Ryota plays PS2 games and listens to hip-hop đœ
ââââàšà§ââââ
â PART TWO â
i donât know why, but i have a thing for izakaya â i always end up putting them in any story set in Japan! i did my research before writing, and even though japanese rules are pretty strict, there are places where owners turn a blind eye. AND COME ON ITâS A TUMBLR FANFIC LET ME FANTASIZE đ
the âcommonerâs drinksâ are just a reference to Hanamichiâs âcommonerâs shotâ!
i wanted Ayako to be the readerâs friend â not a rival. as much as i LOVE Ayako and Ryota together, iâve always seen their relationship as genuine and sweet. so to me, it can totally be read in a non-romantic way!
if you know Piercing â Inoueâs one-shot that inspired The First Slam Dunk â just know that the events in that volume did not happen in this fanfic!
i wanted to show a more mature Ryota, because even in the movie heâs way more serious and grown-up compared to the beginning of the manga. so iâm sure that at nineteen heâd be even more responsible and adult-like!
ââââàšà§ââââ
â PART THREE â
only God knows how much i want to visit Kamakura one day đ„č
i wanted to portray Kaoru similar to how sheâs shown in The First Slam Dunk, and i think i did it! at the end of the movie sheâs clearly softer â and she is here too.
i focused a lot on Sotaâs death, because itâs one of the main reasons iâm attached to Ryota. when i watched the movie (without having read slam dunk before!!) i instantly connected with his character and his grief. to this day i curse Inoue for making his past that painfully sad đ
i loved inserting moments of trust and comfort between the reader and the Miyagi family â theyâve known each other for years! i especially loved adding Anna, sheâs such a sweet character. i hope i wrote her well! i struggled a bit since we donât actually know her age⊠so yeah, i winged it lol
and about Ryota wearing glasses to study: the reason is simple⊠(˶ᔠᔠá”˶)
this is a recent illustration of him by Inoue, and when i saw it i LOST MY MIND. âoh my God, GLASSES?! since when does Ryota wear glasses?! aaaahhhh look how cute he is!!!â and so on⊠i canât even be embarrassed anymoreâŠ
i included a Sendoh match because heâs a character i like a lot even though heâs secondary! his movements always fascinated me, even though iâm not a basketball fan lol.
the kiss scene is perfect to me â exactly what i wanted: casual, sudden, awkward. i hadnât put this much effort into writing something in a long time, so i hope it was enjoyable for you too! i wanted their first intimate moment to feel soft and sweet, without going overboard. at the same time, i wanted you to sense how romantic, passionate, and close they could become once they finally got together. is it normal to get butterflies from something i wrote? đ«Ł
ââââàšà§ââââ
â FINAL PART â
writing the final part was⊠literally a struggle. it took me FOREVER â partly because i didnât want to let this fic go, and partly because the ending i had in mind was very simple. it sounds contradictory, but iâve always found that simple things are the hardest to put into words!
anyway, the ending of Unwritten is simple because it had to be. i didnât want unnecessary drama; i wanted this fic to feel like comfort â so the ending needed to match that energy!
when the reader thinks back to the night of the kisses (see part three), i didnât specify what happened after the chapter ended. iâm leaving that completely up to your imagination đœ
why is the reader sitting on a log by the sea? because i wanted to reference the log Kaoru sits on in The First Slam Dunk during the last part of the movie!
and thatâs it!
now i have no secrets left for you! alright, iâm jumping straight into working on the extra chapter â finally i have an excuse to write smut. ( áŽÍËŹáŽÍ)
thanks again to anyone who read through all this yapping. âĄ
summary: years and years of friendship, but also years and years of repressed feelings. you and Ryota finally stopped lying and shared kisses youâll never forget. so why are all these fears and insecurities still holding on?
warnings: semi-canon divergence (follows some canon events but changes others), fem!reader, both characters are adults (post-high school setting), slow burn, mutual pining, friends to lovers, occasional playful banter / teasing between characters, heavy fluff, romantic tension, multi-chapter fic, spoilers for Slam Dunk + The First Slam Dunk ahead.
word count: 5k +
a/n: hi everyone! (..âáŽâ..) Unwritten has come to an end â and honestly, it breaks my heart a little that itâs only four parts long. i wouldâve kept writing forever if it had made sense to đ i got so attached to this story â i really put all of myself into it, and i hope someone out there enjoyed it. ⥠thank you from the bottom of my heart to everyone whoâs made it this far with me. since there arenât many Ryota fanfics out there, i hope i managed to exceed your expectations hehe. and you know what?
smut lovers⊠get ready for an Unwritten extra chapter! i canât say much yet, but youâll find out soon â i hope! àŽŠà”àŽŠàŽż(Ë” âąÌ Ꭰ- Ë” ) â§
Your life has suddenly turned into one huge, heavy, suffocating question mark.
You feel crushed by your own responsibilities with every passing minute, because there isnât a single moment when your head isnât full â no, overflowing â with thoughts. It never gives you a break. Neither does that burning heat in your chest that comes with it, walking hand in hand with your overthinking until youâre left powerless, unable to face even the smallest daily tasks on the checklist you used to follow like clockwork. Even eating feels exhausting.
You wouldnât call it sadness. Itâs not what people mean when they say the worldâs falling apart around them. You know exactly what this feeling is called, and yet you still havenât found the courage to say it out loud. Because doing that would mean admitting it to yourself. And youâre not ready for that. Not even after everything that happened. Not after those kisses.
Youâve fallen in love with Ryota, and you didnât even realize it.
You donât know when it happened â and that bothers you. You wish you could remember the exact moment you felt love for the first time in your life. But now youâre sure. Thereâs no doubt left, not after that night.
You said goodbye as if nothing had happened, but youâll never forget the way Ryota tried not to smile before you closed the door to your house, his cheeks still flushed.
It was the first time you thought that maybe not everything was under his control. The first time that, even though he always seemed so much more self-assured than you, he looked just as lost.
From that moment on, your mind kept reminding you repeatedly of that explosion of feelings you experienced before, during, and after kissing him, every second of that moment engraved and embedded in your memories.
When your eyes opened the next morning, a smile tugged at your lips the moment the memories of the night before came rushing back â you still couldnât believe it had really happened. You felt happy, weightless, free from that heavy burden youâd been carrying on your shoulders for so long you canât even remember when it began.
Everything youâve ever wanted came crashing into you all at once, and it threw you off balance. Youâve spent your whole life stumbling around in the dark, wondering why you could never truly fall in love, cursing yourself, convinced something in you was broken.
But thereâs one thing youâve always known: you were never really alone.
Because he was there. Always.
Itâs always been Ryota.
Heâs never left your side, glued to your memories like a stubborn shadow. Heâs your constant â his arms the place youâve always wanted to disappear into, his name the answer to everything. And for him, itâs the same. He depends on you, almost like youâre the air he breathes.
And as much as it annoys you to admit it, the reason you never fell in love before has always been right there in front of you. Your heart has always belonged to him, just like your mind, too busy thinking about him to think of anyone else.
You werenât blind; you just avoided it. You always did. You always ran as far as you could, until you couldnât anymore. But then you crumbled.
His confidence broke every spell, stripped away your defenses just by looking at you â just by standing a little closer.
And deep down, you know perfectly well why you ran all these years. Because that reason still haunts you now, even after youâve made peace with yourself.
Youâre aware. And terrified.
The calm those kisses brought didnât last long. These past few days, you havenât been able to think about anything else except what happens now.
You donât know what you are to each other. You donât know if youâll ever be able to define it. Maybe youâre just overthinking, maybe it didnât mean anything â or worse, maybe it didnât mean anything to him.
But how could it have meant nothing?
He was so pretty when he kissed you, looking at you as if he were finally able to hold his whole world in his hands, as if you were the most beautiful thing he had ever seen in his life, with a smile that radiated joy. His lips sought yours as soon as you pulled away to catch your breath, while his hands caressed you gently and delicately â at the same time, the air was thick with tension and passion that you had not yet fully given vent to.
And yet, you still tremble at the thought that you may have misunderstood. You canât tell whatâs right or wrong anymore.
Youâre scared you both did something so stupid it could ruin your friendship forever. But then, you ask yourself â is friendship really what you want with him?
And your mind shuts down again, your breath faltering the second you remember how good he tasted, how much youâd give to kiss him again all night long, just to make sure you did it right â so youâll never forget it.
This uncertainty eats you alive. You realize youâve never needed reassurance this badly in your entire life. And what if Ryota canât give you that reassurance? What if heâs not ready either?
Maybe, you think, you both rushed things.
Maybe now everythingâs going to be a mess â a mess so big it feels like living without him would be the same as dying, so you have to fix this, fast, because you canât breathe anymore. But you havenât talked yet.
For one reason or another, you havenât managed to be alone together. And when youâve gone out with the group, thereâs been no chance to get even a minute alone.
Youâve exchanged a few glances, thatâs all â and every time it happens, your heart hammers in your chest so hard it feels like it might explode. Those knowing smiles, the flushed cheeks⊠and that maddening indifference that drives you crazy, even though you know itâs inevitable.
Youâre impatient. You need to know.
And yet, when he came up to you today, so quietly no one else could hear, and asked to meet him later at the beach, the only thing you felt was pure anxiety. Still, you said yes. Too confidently, even.
Youâve turned into a walking contradiction. You feel like you have to talk to him, to clear things up so you can breathe again â and yet, youâre terrified of what heâll say. So terrified that youâve started overanalyzing every little thing heâs done lately, searching for signs, for meaning, for proof that you didnât imagine everything.
Youâre confused, thoughtful, torn in every direction, and still, one truth remains constant, the same one thatâs followed you since childhood: you need him.
You simply canât live without Ryota. And youâre not ready to lose him. So fear steps aside, just enough to let a fragile kind of courage take its place. You have to face this, if you want it to end the right way.
When you close your eyes, though, you still find yourself hoping things will turn out a certain way â even if youâll never have the audacity to say it out loud.
ââââàšà§ââââ
The wind moves gently over the waves, and together with the cloudy sky â darker than usual â it creates a natural show that gives you chills. Still, sitting on a big, weathered log near the shore, your feet buried in the sand, you find the horizon in front of you oddly calming, almost soothing.
And yet, your heart starts racing every time you remember that youâll see him in a few minutes.
Why did he ask me to come here? you keep asking yourself, clenching your hands into fists every time the thought hits that things could go wrong today. Life is unpredictable, and no matter how hard you try not to expect too much, you always end up hoping for the best â only to fall apart when it doesnât happen.
A sliver of sunlight slips through one of the thick clouds painting the low sky, reminding you that itâs getting late. You even got here early, to the same place where you both always end up hiding whenever you need to escape and be alone together. You thought leaving the house and breathing some fresh air might help calm you down, and yet you know it wonât â not until heâs right here beside you, facing this whole thing with you. Or at least, thatâs what you hope will happen.
The wind picks up, sending little grains of sand brushing against your ankles. You pull your arms tight around yourself, making your body small, scanning the area in hopes of spotting him â but still nothing. The waiting starts to feel physical: your fingers fidget with the drawstrings of your hoodie, your legs itch as if they want to run to him already, your eyes narrowing in that expression that screams impatience.
Then, suddenly, a seagull cuts across the sky, its cry slices through the silence and makes you flinch. You let out a small laugh, realizing just how tense you are. And for a second, you wonder if heâs nervous too. You know how hard he tries to look calm, but his headâs just as much of a mess as yours. Still, heâs always been better at handling awkward situations â and thatâs exactly why youâre praying he already knows what to do with you.
Youâve always admired that part of him. Youâve even hoped youâd learn to be a little more like that someday.
Youâve always been swept away by what he says, always listened to his advice, because you trust his judgment blindly. Heâs filled every gap in your life â like the perfect shoulder to lean on, almost like an imaginary friend, the way you two just fit together so naturally, like two puzzle pieces that were always meant to connect.
And now, after all these years of perfect, untouchable friendship â the kind people would be jealous of â your real feelings have surfaced, bursting out like a bomb and destroying every bit of certainty you had.
God, you mumble, how did we even get here?
Your long stream of thoughts breaks when you suddenly hear a voice you know far too well, coming from behind you, cutting straight through the fragile calm youâd been holding on to. âYo. How longâve you been here?â
You hadnât heard his footsteps â the sand swallowed them and the sound of the waves covering everything else â so you didnât even notice he was there. You freeze for a second, surprise written all over your face, and watch as he drops down beside you like itâs the most natural thing in the world, hands shoved into the pockets of his hoodie, hood up over his head.
Then, already knowing you wonât be able to meet his gaze for long, you glance down at your shoes before he can catch your eyes. You manage a faint smile, feeling your cheeks heat up instantly. âHey. Been here for a bit, actually.â
And for all the awkward situations you two have been through over the years, this one feels⊠different. The air itself seems heavier, like you both know that, from now on, you canât just pretend anymore.
Ryota â who can read you better than anyone else â notices how rigid you are right away. The moment his gaze falls on you, something in him softens, as if he already understands exactly whatâs going on inside your head. His pretty eyes linger on you in silence while you pretend not to notice, even though your heart is racing; he finds you adorable when youâre flustered.
He looks ahead again, a faint smile tugging at his lips, and finally breaks the silence â making the first move, just like you secretly wished he would. âHow are you?â he asks simply, his voice soft, almost as if heâs weighing every word before letting it out.
The sound of his voice hits you right in the chest, spreading a warmth so strong it could set you on fire. You swallow hard and let out a deep sigh, then laugh quietly when you realize how obvious your nervousness must look â as if he didnât already know. âTense,â you murmur. âYou?â
âMmh, me too,â he replies almost immediately, his gaze finding you again, tracing you up and down like heâs waiting for a reaction. You can feel his eyes on you, and that alone makes you smile as you tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear, your movements clumsy and shy. Then, finally, you look up to meet his eyes.
âReally? Doesnât look like it.â
And itâs true â he looks like he has everything under control. But he doesnât, and his nervous laugh gives him away. âOh, trust me. Want proof?â he murmurs, opening his arms a little, watching you with that crooked grin you can never resist.
Your cheeks burn even hotter, and yet you try to play it cool, raising an eyebrow and doing your best not to freak out completely. Your fingers tighten around the fabric of your jeans, betraying your nerves. âProof? How?â
Noticing the confusion in your voice, Ryota doesnât hesitate. In a second, he pulls you close until your head meets his chest, one arm wrapping around your shoulders as he ignores your faint protests. His hand finds your face and gently pushes it against him â and thatâs when you freeze, the sound of the waves and the quick rhythm of his heart filling the silence between you.
His thumb brushes your jaw, and the simple, natural gesture sends shivers down your spine. You canât bring yourself to move away.
âFeel how fast itâs beating?â
This sudden closeness leaves you vulnerable, completely unable to fight him. He knows every one of your weak spots, every way to silence you â and it works. You can only nod, the silence that wraps around you both feels so strangely peaceful that it soothes everything you were afraid of just a moment ago. Itâs the same warmth you felt when you kissed him for the first time: being with him makes everything lighter, simpler â because heâs exactly what you need. And that thought alone makes you move.
âRyotaâŠâ you whisper, your arm slowly sliding around him in a quiet embrace.
He lowers his head a little, eyes searching for yours, his voice low, a touch more serious. âYeah?â
âWhat do we do now?â
You regret asking right away. You think itâs too soon, that youâve rushed into it â but the truth is, you need to know. You absolutely canât pretend nothing happened, not when youâve already spent too long pretending you didnât feel this way about him. You snuggle closer and try to retrace your words, ignoring how long it takes him to answer. âI mean⊠do you even know what you want?â
His thumb stills against your cheek. You can hear his heartbeat, louder now, stronger, like distant drums. âIsnât it obvious?â he finally says, and that usual confidence that used to leave you flustered now feels reassuring instead.
Your fingers clutch at his hoodie as if letting go isnât an option, and you shake your head, a bitter little laugh escaping before you can stop it. âYou know how I am. I need the truth.â
âThe truth?â His voice is clear, crystalline. His hand moves to tilt your face up until your eyes meet his again. Youâre close now â too close â and confusion flashes through your expression before fading into something softer. You look at him, and itâs impossible to look away: his gaze is full of a love so raw it almost hurts to see. A faint smirk curls on his lips, the kind that steals your breath every single time.
âDo you remember how we kissed?â
In any other moment, a line that direct wouldâve made you want to disappear on the spot. But now, you can only stay silent, eyes locked on his, your faces so close that even a whisper would sound loud. You smile, awkwardly but fondly, straightening a little to reach his height.
âOf course I remember,â you murmur, your gaze dropping as the memory brings that familiar warmth back to your chest. âBut I thought a lot, you know?â
When you look at him again, you catch that raised eyebrow, that amused yet searching expression of his. âA lot, huh? Letâs hear.â His voice slips back into that teasing tone â confident, composed â like heâs finally in control again.
You pull back just slightly: listing every thought out loud feels terrifying. There are too many, youâd forget half of them if you tried to write them down. But you try, for him. You swallow and shake your head lightly, your eyes uncertain.
âLetâs seeâŠâ you start, â⊠it was so beautiful it almost didnât feel real. So I thought maybe it was all just a game.â You pause for a moment, hoping he will give you an immediate answer, but he doesn't â he wants you to go on. And you do, glancing at him just to make sure he is still watching you. âOr⊠that things could never really work between us. Or maybe thatâs just⊠how friends are sometimes.â
Even as fear twists in your chest, your body moves closer to his, almost instinctively. Your head drops to his shoulder like youâre searching for a place to hide, the perfect reflection of what you feel inside: fear. The moment his hand finds your back, you shiver, and your voice comes out small, trembling. âIâm just⊠confused. Thatâs all.â
Ryota doesnât answer. Not right away, at least. Itâs as if heâs trying to think, to figure out how to move without breaking you. His hands, though, already know what to do â they pull you in again, because staying away from you has never been an option.
And then, with a sigh that sounds like impatience and affection all at once, he mutters, âAah⊠donât tell me youâre confused. Not nowâŠâ
One of his hands finds its way back to your face, his touch gentle as he tilts your chin just enough to bring himself closer, you can feel the ghost of his breath brushing your lips. His eyes search for yours like this is the one moment that really matters, the one he canât afford to lose.
Before you can even process whatâs happening, his voice comes out in a broken whisper, âWhat do you want me to say? Tell me.â
Your eyes widen, surprise flickering across your face as his warm breath grazes your mouth. You can barely breathe, your body trembling under the weight of the closeness. For a few seconds that feel like forever, youâre completely frozen, until a quiet, shaky sound slips past your lips. âWhâWhat do you ââ
But his voice cuts through yours, sharp and sudden, like lightning splitting the air. âWhy do you think I never had a girl all these years?â
His gaze drops to your lips for the briefest second, then lifts again, catching the shock in your eyes, the exact moment realization hits. Your noses brush with every word that leaves his mouth, his whispers soft and intimate, meant for you and no one else. âDid you really think I didnât want to fall in love?â
And suddenly, it all clicks. Every time you told yourself that he just wasnât the type, every excuse you made to believe his words when he said he didnât want to commit â it all feels like a lie you forced yourself to accept. Youâd been ignoring what was right in front of you, and the thought alone stings. Your gaze falls, searching for something, anything, that isnât his eyes, but his hand tightens on your cheek, as if begging you not to look away.
And thatâs when it hits you: maybe heâs the one whoâs been waiting for an answer all this time. You shake your head softly, your voice small, almost pained. âWhy didnât you ever tell me?â
âI was waiting for you to notice,â he says right away, like heâs been holding that answer on the tip of his tongue for years. You canât help but wonder how long heâs been carrying it, waiting for the right moment. He exhales, his lips curving into a small, tender smile.
âBut in the end, I couldnât wait any longerâŠâ A soft chuckle slips out. ââŠyouâre such an idiot, you know that? You wouldâve taken forever.â His head tilts just slightly as his hand opens against your cheek, his thumb stroking your skin in the gentlest way.
The way heâs looking at you â open, vulnerable, his gaze never once leaving you â fills your chest with a warmth that feels too much to hold. Ryota has always shown you that he cares, maybe even more than he ever meant to, but this time itâs different. This time, he looks like he needs you. Like heâs stopped holding anything back.
And maybe thatâs why, before you can even think, you move. You smile faintly, your hand reaching for his face as your eyes flutter shut, and then you pull him in, kissing him without hesitation â something you never thought youâd have the courage to do.
Maybe words arenât needed after all. Because right now, the only thing you crave is to lose yourself in him again and again, to stop hiding whatâs been burning in your chest all along. The moment your lips meet, it feels like your heart might burst from how good it feels, how right. As your mouths move together in that slow, lingering rhythm, you realize something â that all this time, the only thing you ever needed to figure out was what you wanted.
You pull back reluctantly, your foreheads still touching, your breaths tangled in the quiet between you. And then the words tumble out before you can stop them, raw and impulsive. âI want you, Ryota.â
He blinks, clearly not expecting that kind of audacity from you. His eyes widen just slightly, his brows lift, and color rushes to his cheeks. Heâs silent for a heartbeat, then breaks into the kind of smile that makes your knees go weak and your brain mushy, his lips crashing back onto yours, hungrier, rougher, but still full of that same warmth. His free hand slides to your waist, fingers curling against your side, while the other brushes your face with maddening tenderness.
âAbout time, huhâŠâ he murmurs between kisses, his grin pressed against your lips, making you feel like you've just arrived in paradise.
The wind plays gently with your hair, as if trying to veil the obscene beauty of what you and him are doing, while everything around you slowly fades into dusk. And yet, nothing around you seems to matter anymore â you are completely lost in him, and heâs lost in you, moving together in a slow, tender dance that never seems to end.
Your tongues tangle, trading the taste of each otherâs breath, your hands keep finding one another with a sweetness so delicate it could soften anyoneâs heart, and your hearts beat in sync â a rhythm that feels like the soundtrack of what the two of you are creating together.
Are you ready to say goodbye to your friendship?
You donât even ask yourself that question. You couldnât, not when he keeps making you forget your own name every time his lips touch yours.
You know things will change now.
But it doesnât scare you anymore â if anything, the thought of it thrills you. Youâve always been partners in crime, bound by a red thread so strong it feels unbreakable.
And right now, thereâs no room left in your mind for anything else.
He showed you everything without ever saying a word. He always has â ever since you were kids, ever since that day you waited for him in the rain. You only had to realize that all those small, quiet gestures had always had a name from the very beginning.
And that name was love.
As you cling to him on that old, uneven log, watching the sea stretch out before you with a serene look on your face, memories start flooding back. Two kids, a troublemaker and his fixer â confused, terrified by the world, yet always each otherâs escape, each otherâs anchor.
And between you, a love that grew relentlessly in silence, just waiting for the right moment to burst free.
âYou look lost in thought,â his calm voice pulls you out of your dreamscape, making you giggle softly after such a long silence. You close your eyes and timidly brush your pinky against his, feeling him rest his chin gently on top of your head.
âYou know, RyotaâŠâ
âMmh?â
âEven after what we did⊠when I think about you, I feel exactly the same as before. So maybeâŠâ you pause, your cheeks blooming pink and your gaze fixed on the dark, still line of the sea. ââŠmaybe Iâve always felt this way. Just like you.â
You stay quiet for a while. The hum of distant traffic fills the air, and Ryotaâs fingers â the ones resting on your shoulder â start playing lazily with your hair. A faint, irresistible smirk tugs at his lips.
âGood thing you finally caught up,â he murmurs, voice low and teasing. âI was starting to lose my mind, you know?â
A soft laugh escapes you. You lift your head slightly, no longer afraid to meet his gaze. Heâs already looking at you, his face lowered toward yours. âOh yeah? And whyâs that?â you tease back, your eyes searching for his.
Ryota doesnât answer. Instead, he wraps both arms around you, pulling you in so tightly it almost knocks the air out of you. You gasp, laughing nervously as you wriggle against his grip. âHey! What are you doing?â
âBecause now,â he whispers, his voice muffled against your hair, âyouâre finally all mineâŠâ
You can feel his breath quicken, the thought of you like this making his pulse race in a way that feels almost dangerous.
And you canât help but smile â after having your eyes wide open and your heart racing, of course. Still caught in his embrace, you twist around just enough to face him, your arms now able to circle his shoulders. You lean in close, your lips brushing his as you whisper softly, one hand sliding up to the back of his neck, drawing him closer in a tender yet daring pull.
âBut Iâve always been yoursâŠâ you breathe.
And then you both fall again â again and again, unable to stop, unable to pull apart, drawn together like two magnets.
Your heart hammers against your ribs, your breath comes in gasps, and for the first time in your life, you feel truly, wildly alive â as if youâve just reached the peak of a mountain youâve been climbing forever.
At last, you feel at home. And you know you need nothing else,
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summary: things have finally settled between you two, and that weird anxiety that used to hit you whenever he crossed your mind is slowly fading, replaced by something that scares you a little less. could it be that youâre starting to make peace with yourself? maybe you took inspiration from Ryota â he did that a long time ago.
warnings: semi-canon divergence (follows some canon events but changes others), fem!reader, both characters are adults (post-high school setting), slow burn, mutual pining, friends to lovers, occasional playful banter / teasing between characters, heavy fluff, romantic tension, multi-chapter fic, spoilers for Slam Dunk + The First Slam Dunk ahead.
word count: 5k +
art not mine â i donât know the artist! if anyone does, please let me know!
i had in the pool by kensuke ushio on repeat while writing the last part â itâs basically the soundtrack of this chapter (â„áșâ„) it perfectly captures the feelings i wanted to convey!
a/n: hellooo part three is out!!! (˶ᔠᔠá”˶) and i swear, iâm really happy with this chapter :â) i put a lot of things about Ryota in here that mean a lot to me. once the ficâs finished, iâll definitely share some fun facts, because trust me â there are quite a few đ€Ł i really hope youâll like it. what else can i say, weâre getting close to the end! thank you again to everyone whoâs been reading, it makes me so happy to know that Unwritten means something to someone ( Ë¶Ë ÂłË) âĄ
Your legs move at a steady, brisk pace through the streets of Kamakura, the cool wind carrying away the last hues of sunset while the tall street lamps begin to glow, one by one. Your hair dances with each step, brushing against your cheeks as you look around â at the same streets you grew up on, tied to so many of your memories. The little park, then your old middle school, the train stop you used every morning to get to high school and the konbini you still go to, even though there are newer ones closer to home now.
You love Kamakura. Every day, youâre grateful to have lived here. Sometimes you wonder how different your life wouldâve been if you hadnât been born in this city.
Your house and Ryotaâs are a bit far apart, but you like walking there anyway â because it gives you time to lose yourself in nostalgia. The kind that comforts you and hurts all at once. Youâve learned to live with it, that strange loveâhate relationship you have with your own memories.
Every now and then, you check your phone, the screen glowing in your hand â half-afraid you might be running late, half just too eager to see him. You and Ryota have always done this: whenever there was a good game on, youâd go to his place, curl up in the cushions, and watch it together â usually until you fell asleep. You, not him. Ryota was always too into it to close his eyes, even after a full afternoon of practice.
His mom used to scold you both for staying up too late, telling you to go home before your parents started worrying. You never minded her nagging â if anything, youâve always thought Mrs. Kaoru was a good mother. And no matter how angry Ryota got at her during those teenage years, you always tried to make him understand that parenting isnât easy.
Youâve always been the one to ground him. Because you hated seeing him angry â and he does get angry easily! There were so many times you had to swallow your pride, bite back your words, even when you wanted to slap him across the face. But then it was always Ryota who ended up thanking you. Every single time.
If it werenât for you, Takenoriâs long-awaited Nationals mightâve stayed nothing more than a dream locked away in a drawer, key thrown out to sea. And truthfully, countless other things wouldâve turned out differently too â so many that the thought alone scares you.
You filled the space Sota left behind. You and basketball. Nothing else.
Maybe thatâs why you grew so attached to him â because of his quiet, desperate need for someone to stay by his side. He never said it, of course. You just understood it on your own. You didnât owe him that, not really. Back then, he was no one to you. And yet, somehow, he became your everything.
So now, when you look back, the happiness of having waited for him that day only grows stronger with time.
Because in the end, itâs enough just to see him smile. If Ryota smiles, then everythingâs fine.
Before turning the corner to his house, you catch your reflection in the window of an old pink boutique, sighing at how the windâs messed up your hair. You fix it quickly, brushing it back into place, and take a moment to look at yourself. Your cheeks are slightly flushed, your expression serious and still â a perfect contrast to the wild rhythm of your heart, pounding as if it wants to escape your chest.
âDo I look⊠cute enough?â you mumble, turning slightly to check your reflection again, no longer able to ignore the fact that you want to look pretty just for him.
Not that youâve fully accepted what that means, of course. But after that night at the bar⊠youâre starting to make peace with yourself. Because youâve realized Ryota already did, a long time ago.
Before you can change your mind and regret going to him â because of the tight knot in your stomach that forms the moment you realize that maybe, just maybe, your feelings have a very specific name â you shake your head and start walking again, your fists clenched at your sides and your gaze fixed on the ground.
And with a soft sigh, your fingerâs already pressing the doorbell.
ââââàšà§ââââ
âIâm coming in!â
You slip off your shoes and step into the Miyagi house, catching sight of Ryota from behind â his hair still damp from the shower. The scent of tea mixes with the polished wood floors and the faint sweetness of a nearly burnt-out incense stick resting on the small cabinet by the entrance, next to a neatly lined row of shoes. The soft light glowing from the kitchen tells you that his mother is still awake, and within seconds, you get your confirmation.
âRyota, dry your hair!â
You canât help but giggle as you make your way down the hallway, your eyes drifting toward the photos hanging along the walls â snapshots of games, trips, birthdays, and one where a young Ryota makes a face beside a much younger Anna and a tall Sota. Even though you know this house by heart, you can never resist looking at those pictures. You almost feel like you belong in those frames.
Ryota rolls his eyes. âYeah, yeah, MomâŠâ he mutters, heading quickly toward the bathroom and shutting the door behind him.
When you reach the kitchen, you find Kaoru washing the dishes â the sound of running water steady and calming, while the warm light above the table paints everything in soft orange hues. As soon as she notices you, Kaoru turns around with a gentle smile, drying her hands on a small embroidered towel. You return her smile, raising a hand in greeting. âGood evening, Mrs. Miyagi. How are you?â
Back when you were teenagers, Ryotaâs mother was much stricter â colder, even. Still, she always liked you, probably because you were everything her son wasnât: responsible, well-behaved, and far from trouble. In her eyes, the two of you balanced each other perfectly. Over the years, Kaoru has softened a lot, yet you still canât bring yourself to call her by her first name.
âOh, weâre getting by. And you? Howâs your mother?â she asks, turning back to the sink, her apron slightly wet and her hair down as always.
âSheâs good, canât complain. Do you need a hand?â You smile, stepping closer to the counter â but before you can take another step, you flinch as someone suddenly grabs and hugs you from behind.
âBoo!â
Your heart instantly relaxes when a small figure pops up in front of you â a girl in striped pajamas with messy hair and sleepy eyes. A warm grin spreads across your face, and without thinking twice, you throw your arms around her. âAnna! You really scared me this time!â
âHehe, I did! I did it!â she laughs against you, her bright little voice echoing through the kitchen. Anna has always been fond of you â sheâs always seen you as her big sister. Whenever she needed advice or someone to talk to, sheâd go to you instead of Ryota, even though she absolutely adores her big brother.
Sheâs always been like this â cheerful, radiant, still a bit childish even though sheâs already in high school. Youâre so grateful she grew up this way, after everything she went through as a kid.
âAnna, donât bother her too much.â Kaoruâs sharp voice cuts through the momentâs warmth, but only briefly. Itâs enough, though, to make Anna pout in the cutest way. You canât stop smiling as you pat her head reassuringly, feeling her arms tighten around you. âSheâs not bothering me, donât worry. So, little one â howâs high school treating you?â
Her eyes light up. She starts bouncing around, full of energy, and before you know it sheâs pulling you toward the couch in the living room. You canât help but laugh, completely infected by her joy. âHigh schoolâs amaaazing! Iâm having so much fun, you know? But sometimes itâs really hard!â she exclaims before flopping down next to you.
You tilt your head, amused. âHard, huh? Does Ryota help you at least?â
Kaoru chuckles under her breath, while Anna shakes her head, frowning. âAlmost never! He says he canât read properly without his glasses, and he hates wearing them!â
You burst out laughing, covering your mouth with mock shock, eyes wide. âOooh! What a mean big brother! Terrible!â
Suddenly, two quiet hands reach over the back of the couch, ruffling both your hair and Annaâs at once. âWhat do you mean, terrible? I help this little goof more than enough!â
Ryotaâs voice blends into your laughter, and your heart fills with that familiar warmth â the kind you only ever feel within these walls. Then he glances at you, smiling, and jerks his head toward his room. âCome on. The gameâs starting soon.â
âNo! Ryo, thatâs not fair! You always steal her from me!â Anna grabs your arm, trying to hold you back, while you can barely stop laughing between gasps. Ryota catches your other wrist, pulling you toward him, trying not to laugh himself. âYouâre the one trying to steal her from me!â
From the small corner of the kitchen, Kaoru watches with a soft, contented smile â one that holds a happiness she could never fully put into words. But you recognize it. You feel it.
Itâs the same happiness that fills you every single time you walk through this door.
And youâre so, so glad to be a part of it.
ââââàšà§ââââ
Youâve always found Sendohâs game elegant.
That guy is incredible, and anyone who ever saw him play at Ryonan even once knew heâd go far â his power on the court made it obvious. He was already a beast back in high school; itâs only natural that now heâs one of the most renowned players in Japan.
He dribbles, closing in on the basket. The squeak of shoes sliding across the court fills the arena â a rhythm thatâs almost hypnotic. His opponents close in, blocking his path, but his expression doesnât change. His eyes are half-lidded, his posture relaxed, as if time itself slows down just for him.
A sidestep. Another dribble. Then a fake â barely there, but enough to throw the defender off balance. Sendoh takes the chance and drives in, his body moving fluidly, effortlessly. A teammate runs free beside him, but he doesnât pass the ball. He chooses the harder route â the riskier one.
He jumps.
The crowd holds its breath.
And when he lands, the ball hits the backboard with a sharp thud before dropping cleanly through the net.
Your eyes stay glued to the TV screen, your head resting on your knees as you sit curled up on the floor of Ryotaâs room. The bluish glow of the television softly lights the space, drawing gentle shadows over the posters on the walls. Youâre sitting so close to each other that your breaths mingle in the warm air between you.
A small, cocky laugh slips from his mouth and pulls you back to reality â you didnât even realize youâd been completely absorbed in the match. âThat bastard⊠heâs really good.â
You giggle, remembering high school â how Shohoku used to have that fiery rivalry with Ryonan. You turn slightly toward Ryota, watching him in silence: his tired yet calm eyes follow the game, and the faint light from the TV sharpens the lines of his perfect profile â that pointy nose youâve always secretly loved. His legs are folded carelessly on the tatami, bare except for a pair of loose shorts, and the rest of him is swallowed by an oversized hoodie.
You blush softly, smiling before teasing him in a whisper, âHe was a good point guard too,â you say, knowing thatâll get his attention.
Sure enough, Ryota tilts his head lazily toward you, even though heâs pretty invested in the game. When he catches your amused, blushing expression, that irresistible smirk tugs at the corner of his lips â and he plays right along. âYeah, maybe. But Iâm better. Arenât I?â
Your shoulders almost brush, and the closeness of your faces makes your stomach tighten â not enough to stop you from replying, though. âMhmh, you are. I always tell you that.â
You notice he doesnât take his eyes off you, and something inside you stirs. All of a sudden, youâre the one hypnotized by his gaze. No matter how much you want to look away â to pretend to be watching the game again â you just canât.
It makes your heart race wildly. And Ryota notices â that completely dazed look in your eyes. He raises an eyebrow, even though he knows perfectly well the effect his eyes have on you. After all, youâve always gotten lost in them. âSomething wrong?â
His teasing tone snaps you out of your trance, and you pout instinctively, turning back to the screen â or pretending to. You take a breath, trying to steady yourself, then whisper, your head buried back between your knees to avoid meeting his gaze. âAm I not even allowed to look at you now?â
A victorious smirk spreads across Ryotaâs face. After watching you curl up for a moment, he looks back toward the TV. âGo ahead. Look all you want,â he says casually, his head tilting slightly as he follows the quick movements on the court.
You bite the inside of your cheek as silence falls again, filled only by the murmur of the commentators. Your fingers tap absently against your sweatpants, your mind wandering places it definitely shouldnât. These tiny moments â these almost-touches â they always send you spiraling. Being this close to Ryota warms your chest in a way nothing else does. This closeness, this quiet intimacy â it only ever exists with him.
And yet⊠if thatâs all it is, why do you suddenly want to get even closer?
âYou know, I kinda miss playing for Shohoku.â His calm voice slices through your thoughts, catching you off guard. You blink a few times, turning to him again, curious now. âOut of nowhere, huh? Whyâs that?â you ask softly, smiling.
Silence settles again as Sendoh reappears on the screen â tall, composed, his presence dominating the scene. As soon as he passes the ball to a teammate, Ryota exhales, shaking his head before glancing back at you.
âI think about it a lot, actually. Playing in high school was fun. Changing teammates after all those years together kinda sucksâŠâ His head tilts toward yours, his lips curving into a slight frown.
You raise your eyebrows and roll your eyes. âOh, come on. Donât get all nostalgic now. And donât even think about quitting, got it?â
Your voice softens, and with your cheeks burning strawberry-pink, you shyly tilt your head so you can reach him, resting it against his. You donât even know why youâre doing it, but you canât stop yourself. Your shoulder brushes his, and you can feel his warmth seep into you. Every little movement makes your hair graze his, and though a soft breeze drifts in through the slightly open window, you feel hot. Way too hot. Realizing what you just did, you frown, muttering under your breath, âIdiot,â more at yourself than at him.
Ryota, on the other hand, is a little surprised by how close youâve gotten â but he doesnât mind. Not at all. âYou know I canât,â he murmurs back, voice lower, softer, as he shifts to settle more comfortably against you, one of his bare knees brushes against your legs now. The fact that he naturally accepted your gesture â and even returned it â somehow makes you feel a little less nervous.
The quiet between you wonât last long, though. âOh! Look at that!â
Suddenly, Ryota jolts forward toward the TV, startling you so badly you almost jump out of your skin. You werenât paying attention â and he caught you off guard. His excitement comes from a sharp, low dribble that slices clean through the defense like a blade.
Sendoh slips into the narrowest space possible, his shoulder grazing the opponentâs arm, and in one fluid motion, he lifts â not fully, just enough to release the ball with a soft, clean flick.
The arc is perfect.
Silence.
Then â swish.
You turn toward Ryota right after the shot, your pulse still racing, and snap at him with mock annoyance. âHeâs good, sure, but you nearly scared me to deathâŠâ
Ryota bursts out laughing and, without warning, moves back to you. Almost unconsciously, his arm slips around your shoulders, pulling you against his chest in a gesture so natural it startles you more than the outburst before. The warmth of his hoodie brushes your cheek, and you can hear his heartbeat â slow, steady.
âSee? You were off in your own worldâŠâ he murmurs, wearing that smug grin of his â the one he always gets when he knows heâs got you exactly where he wants you.
You freeze â eyes wide, chest suddenly filled with something burning, something that feels like fire ready to consume you at any second. You canât even answer him; whatever youâd say would come out nervous, shaky. Before you can stop yourself, you tilt your head slightly, looking up at him in silence, the game now nothing more than background noise. Heâs so close⊠you think, catching the faint scent of his shampoo, your gaze fixed helplessly on his lips.
The longer you look, the less you can lie to yourself.
The butterflies in your stomach go wild at the thought that just one tiny movement forward â one inch â would be enough to finally find out what his lips taste like. Your hand, moving on its own, grips the fabric of his hoodie, and you canât help it. Youâre completely lost in the moment now.
His brows knit slightly while he keeps watching the TV, curious, and when he glances down at you, his eyes widen in surprise â he hadnât realized the way you were looking at him. The only sound left between you is the rhythm of your hearts, pounding together, wild and irregular. For a split second, heâs breathless.
Then Ryota tilts his head just a little, eyes searching yours, and when he finally speaks, his voice comes out low, rough, almost a whisper â his cheeks tinged with a color that suits him way too well. âYouâre a little too closeâŠâ
Your lips part, breath mixing with his until you canât tell whose is whose â though yours is surely the more uneven one. You feel his arm shift around your shoulders, his hand now moving up to the back of your neck. His fingers brush softly through your hair, urging you closer. You do â because how could you not? Your half-lidded eyes lock onto his, carrying a tenderness so raw and deep it could melt anyoneâs heart.
âYouâre the one who moved closerâŠâ you murmur, your voice barely a thread of sound, breaking under the weight of the tension pressing down on you both.
Ryotaâs lips curve into that small, dangerous smile â the one that makes your pulse jump. Your noses brush, your lips ghosting over each otherâs with only a sigh between them, the world around you fading into nothing.
âBut youâre not moving away,â he whispers.
Youâre enchanted, caught in his dazed, half-smiling expression. And you canât resist anymore.
Not even if you wanted to.
âBecause I donât want to move awayâŠâ
Ryota swallows hard, his breath trembling. He stays still for just a second, waiting â giving you a chance to pull back, to pretend this isnât happening. But you donât.
And then his other hand slides up to your cheek, his fingers tilting your face up as he leans in to meet you halfway.
Finally â your lips touch.
Your eyes flutter shut as your mouths move together, slow and tender, almost clumsy â a soft, searching rhythm that feels like a sigh. A surge of warmth floods through you, an explosion of emotion that drowns out every other thought. A hundred thousand things rush through your head, but none of them matter.
This is all youâve ever wanted, all youâve been too afraid to admit you needed. Youâd been so stupid to ignore it. Because now, his lips feel so right against yoursâŠ
You can taste him â warm and faintly sweet â as your hands clutch at his hoodie like youâre afraid to let go. Your chests rise and fall against each other, hearts beating out of sync, your breath tangled and shallow. His thumb traces along your jaw as you tilt your head to deepen the kiss, your lips parting just enough for your tongues to meet â fitting together so naturally as if they were made to.
It feels like your very first kiss.
And when Ryota pulls back â slowly, like heâs reluctant to let the moment go â your eyes meet again, yours hazy and full of longing.
You stay there, still, lips flushed and damp, hearts pounding uncontrollably. And now that heâs gone, even for a second, you feel an ache â like you already miss him, like you need him again.
You donât know it, but he feels the same.
And before you can even breathe, your lips find each other once more.
ââââàšà§ââââ
The first half of the game ended ages ago, but neither of you even noticed. Youâre far too busy losing yourselves in each other â tangled together on the floor in an awkward, messy position, your lips parting only to catch your breath.
Every now and then, you look at him â his sharp, deep eyes canât help but find you again, only to flutter shut when your gaze meets his.
The room is filled with soft, wet sounds and stifled breaths, louder even than the TV in the background, while his large hands explore every inch of you â and yours do the same.
Slow, burning kisses dissolve into open-mouthed trails, soft grins caught between them, before you both hide in the crook of each otherâs neck. Your bodies brush with every tiny movement, surrendering to years of feelings youâve both kept locked away.
You look like two lovesick teenagers lost in the thrill of their first time.
If your mind were clear enough to think, youâd probably find it embarrassing.
Ever since your lips touched, every doubt and every fear has vanished â gone as if they never existed. You feel at peace, as though youâve finally found what youâd been searching for, what youâd been needing all along.
Thereâs no space for regret, no room for questions. Right now, all you want is to keep kissing him until neither of you can move your tongues, to explore every inch of this side of him you never knew, the one you never even imagined youâd get to see.
His hands move with a kind of ease that steals your breath away â tracing the curve of your waist, the shape of your face, as if trying to memorize every bit of you.
He kisses you again and again â with that slow-growing hunger that deepens with every shared breath. It feels like the entire room moves with the rhythm of your bodies, with every uneven exhale.
His fingers slip into your hair, stroking softly before tugging just enough to tilt your face upward toward him â a tiny gesture that sends your mind spinning.
You feel like youâre burning everywhere he touches.
He leaves a lingering kiss at the corner of your mouth, another on your chin, then lower on your neck â slow, deliberate â until he feels your body tremble beneath his.
Thereâs no rush, only a longing that grows, that pulses, that ties you to him more tightly than any words could.
You move closer, your fingers slipping under the hem of his hoodie, finding the warm skin of his chest â tracing his muscles in a slow, hesitant dance.
He inhales sharply, and you feel him tremble against you â youâre driving him insane. Your breaths grow heavier, rougher, and still, neither of you even thinks about stopping.
His ragged breath brushes your cheek, then your neck, and a shiver races down your spine. You cling to him instinctively, as if heâs the only thing keeping you grounded in this moment that feels like itâll never end.
Every time you pull away, you find yourselves diving back in, your mouths meeting again in a kiss deeper than the last â as if you physically canât stand being apart for even a heartbeat.
Ryotaâs gaze leaves you breathless.
Thereâs something impossibly soft and wild in it â finally, heâs not holding back anymore, yet heâs still scared to touch you too roughly, like you might shatter in his hands. If he didnât care about you, youâd already be lying on his tatami, half undressed, with his hands all over you.
Still, heâs a boy after all.
And God, heâs been dying to touch you â to finally have you, the way heâs wanted for so long that he canât even remember when he first started thinking about it, back when he was just a kid.
Suddenly, while heâs still kissing you with hunger and urgency, his hands slide down along your sides, fingers sneaking under your sweatshirt and pressing into your bare skin.
You gasp when you feel how cold his hands are, your eyes snapping open, your body tensing instinctively.
Ryota smiles against your lips â realizing he mightâve gone a bit too far â and pulls his hands away, wrapping them around your back instead. He hugs you tighter, his lips never leaving yours, tongues finding each other again.
After a moment, he pulls away just enough to look at you â really look at you â those big eyes making you feel seen. Then his voice comes, low and rough, half a laugh, half an apology. âSorry, sorryâŠâ he murmurs, his tone so hoarse and warm it sends shivers through you.
You stare at him, breath unsteady, watching the flush spread across his cheeks and that tiny crooked smile tug at his lips. Youâve never seen him like this before â and now that you have, you never want to stop.
Before you can even think of an answer, one of his hands comes up to cup your face and pull you back in.
This time, his kisses are soft and slow, his eyes never leaving yours. The butterflies in your stomach take flight, fluttering through every inch of you, and for the first time in your life, you feel completely full â full of something deep and real, something you could never feel for anyone else but him.
Between tender, breathy kisses, come his whispers, âFinally, I can tell you so many thingsâŠâ
His fingers tangle in your hair, pulling you a little closer, if thatâs even possible.
âI can tell you youâre beautiful⊠so beautiful it drives me insaneâŠâ he breathes, his words barely audible, his lips curved in a smile so full of joy it almost hurts to look at him.
âIf Iâd known kissing you felt like this, I wouldâve done it way soonerâŠâ
You feel like youâre about to explode.
You press your forehead against his, clutching at his back like youâre afraid he might vanish from your arms. Breathless, trembling, you whisper timidly, but desperate to keep going, âHow long⊠have you felt this way?â
Instead of answering right away, Ryota kisses you again â deeper, but still slow â one hand slipping down to your waist to hold you in place. Then he finally pulls back, just enough to say it. âSince forever, I think.â
The words hit you straight in the chest. Since forever. Itâs so obvious. So natural â just like the way he said it.
And yet, all this time, you both think it would never happen â burying every impulse as if your story was meant to stay unwritten, even when it was already traced across the stars.
But he only pretended.
And you â you realized it too late. Or maybe⊠you convinced yourself not to see it, until pretending wasnât an option anymore.
It was always meant to happen.
You both knew it.
âAnd you?â His voice comes again, catching you completely off guard.
The question hits like a wave, making your cheeks flare up instantly. You hide your face against his neck, your breath shaky, earning a quiet laugh from him â which makes you laugh too, unable to stay serious. âI donât know⊠I canât think straight anymoreâŠâ you murmur, your warm breath against his skin, his hands tightening around you in response.
âThatâs okay,â he smiles against your hair, pressing a gentle kiss there, âYou donât have to figure it all out right now.â
Then his hand finds your cheek again, his grip firmer this time, his lips tracing the edge of your jaw. âBut come back here to me, yeah?â
And just like that â youâre lost in each other again.
You canât stay apart.
Itâs not frenzy â itâs need.
Itâs the raw, aching desire to know each other completely.
And now that youâve finally found the courage to do so, thereâs no going back.
Everything will change now.
And yes â itâs terrifying.
But the thought of giving this up before it even began?
That scares you so much more.
You donât want to lose this.
You donât want to lose him.
His smile presses against your lips as your kisses pick up their pace again, his hands now caressing the sides of your chest in a slow, torturous rhythm.
âThanks to you, I didnât even see the damn gameâŠâ he mutters against your mouth.
You smile too, shaking your head, melting under his touch.
while iâm writing the part three of Unwritten â which, as a reminder, is my fanfic about Ryota!â i decided to share one of my old edits that makes me cry every single time i watch it EVEN THOUGH IâM THE ONE WHO MADE IT (â„âžâ„)
just to clarify, @/sanjiaddicted used to be my old username on my editing page on instagram and tiktok! đ