(*ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ꕤ*.ﾟ

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And it bothers you. A lot.

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

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

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

Over and over again.

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

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

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

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

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

And yet, you often wonder…

is it possible to fall even deeper than this?

────୨ৎ────

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But Ryota loves seeing you like this.

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

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

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

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

“You’ve been starving lately.”

Another kiss, higher.

“What’s up with that?”

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

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

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

The truth is, Ryota knows exactly what you like.

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

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

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

And Ryota notices.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His lips pause for a second.

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

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

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

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

“But I don’t want you to stop…”

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

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

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

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

And your words hit him like a shock.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

────୨ৎ────

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Can I?”

Oh God.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How beautiful you are…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ryota’s eyes roll back. “Oh God…”

“I love you…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I love you too…”

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

“Oh, I know…”

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

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

— PART ONE —

right from the first part, you can tell the reader isn’t 100% neutral, and that’s because i seriously believe it’s almost impossible not to put a little bit of yourself into what you write. or at least… i couldn’t help it!

also, Unwritten is heavily inspired by an old story i wrote — about Ryota, of course — so the reader’s personality is very close to that old protagonist of mine. her name is Yaoru!

when i wrote that Ryota had “saved” the reader and always stayed by her side, i did it because that’s 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 i’m holding a volume of Slam Dunk!

another thing i accidentally did — i only realized it while writing — is creating a version of reality where Ryota didn’t have to face everything completely alone during his preteen and teen years. that’s why my Ryota is very different from Inoue’s: i truly believe that having someone next to him would’ve made him grow into a different person than the one we see in The First Slam Dunk. but still, Ryota is Ryota — so i kept some canon events! let me say it myself, it’s honestly very sweet (╥‸╥)

i decided that Ryota’s 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 i’m sure he’d work hard to become the perfect captain — just like we see in “10 Days After”!

I REGRET ADDING TEXT MESSAGES!! :( i’m 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 it’s one of my favorite games ever! as a kid i watched my brother play — and now i watch my boyfriend do the same. i passed that on to the reader… i’m sorry :’) in my dreams, Ryota plays PS2 games and listens to hip-hop 😽

────୨ৎ────

— PART TWO —

i don’t know why, but i have a thing for izakaya — 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 IT’S A TUMBLR FANFIC LET ME FANTASIZE 😭

the “commoner’s drinks” are just a reference to Hanamichi’s “commoner’s shot”!

i wanted Ayako to be the reader’s friend — not a rival. as much as i LOVE Ayako and Ryota together, i’ve 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 — Inoue’s one-shot that inspired The First Slam Dunk — 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 he’s way more serious and grown-up compared to the beginning of the manga. so i’m sure that at nineteen he’d be even more responsible and adult-like!

────୨ৎ────

— PART THREE —

only God knows how much i want to visit Kamakura one day 🥹

i wanted to portray Kaoru similar to how she’s shown in The First Slam Dunk, and i think i did it! at the end of the movie she’s clearly softer — and she is here too.

i focused a lot on Sota’s death, because it’s one of the main reasons i’m 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 💔

i loved inserting moments of trust and comfort between the reader and the Miyagi family — they’ve known each other for years! i especially loved adding Anna, she’s such a sweet character. i hope i wrote her well! i struggled a bit since we don’t actually know her age… so yeah, i winged it lol

and about Ryota wearing glasses to study: the reason is simple… (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)

this is a recent illustration of him by Inoue, and when i saw it i LOST MY MIND. “oh my God, GLASSES?! since when does Ryota wear glasses?! aaaahhhh look how cute he is!!!” and so on… i can’t even be embarrassed anymore…

i included a Sendoh match because he’s a character i like a lot even though he’s secondary! his movements always fascinated me, even though i’m not a basketball fan lol.

the kiss scene is perfect to me — exactly what i wanted: casual, sudden, awkward. i hadn’t 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? 🫣

────୨ৎ────

— FINAL PART —

writing the final part was… literally a struggle. it took me FOREVER — partly because i didn’t want to let this fic go, and partly because the ending i had in mind was very simple. it sounds contradictory, but i’ve 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 didn’t want unnecessary drama; i wanted this fic to feel like comfort — so the ending needed to match that energy!

when the reader thinks back to the night of the kisses (see part three), i didn’t specify what happened after the chapter ended. i’m leaving that completely up to your imagination 😽

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 that’s it!

now i have no secrets left for you! alright, i’m jumping straight into working on the extra chapter — finally i have an excuse to write smut. ( ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)

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 isn’t a single moment when your head isn’t full — no, overflowing — 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 you’re left powerless, unable to face even the smallest daily tasks on the checklist you used to follow like clockwork. Even eating feels exhausting.

You wouldn’t call it sadness. It’s not what people mean when they say the world’s falling apart around them. You know exactly what this feeling is called, and yet you still haven’t found the courage to say it out loud. Because doing that would mean admitting it to yourself. And you’re not ready for that. Not even after everything that happened. Not after those kisses.

You’ve fallen in love with Ryota, and you didn’t even realize it.

You don’t know when it happened — and that bothers you. You wish you could remember the exact moment you felt love for the first time in your life. But now you’re sure. There’s no doubt left, not after that night.

You said goodbye as if nothing had happened, but you’ll 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 — you still couldn’t believe it had really happened. You felt happy, weightless, free from that heavy burden you’d been carrying on your shoulders for so long you can’t even remember when it began.

Everything you’ve ever wanted came crashing into you all at once, and it threw you off balance. You’ve 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 there’s one thing you’ve always known: you were never really alone.

Because he was there. Always.

It’s always been Ryota.

He’s never left your side, glued to your memories like a stubborn shadow. He’s your constant — his arms the place you’ve always wanted to disappear into, his name the answer to everything. And for him, it’s the same. He depends on you, almost like you’re 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 weren’t blind; you just avoided it. You always did. You always ran as far as you could, until you couldn’t anymore. But then you crumbled.

His confidence broke every spell, stripped away your defenses just by looking at you — 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 you’ve made peace with yourself.

You’re aware. And terrified.

The calm those kisses brought didn’t last long. These past few days, you haven’t been able to think about anything else except what happens now.

You don’t know what you are to each other. You don’t know if you’ll ever be able to define it. Maybe you’re just overthinking, maybe it didn’t mean anything — or worse, maybe it didn’t 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 — 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 can’t tell what’s right or wrong anymore.

You’re scared you both did something so stupid it could ruin your friendship forever. But then, you ask yourself — 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 you’d give to kiss him again all night long, just to make sure you did it right — so you’ll never forget it.

This uncertainty eats you alive. You realize you’ve never needed reassurance this badly in your entire life. And what if Ryota can’t give you that reassurance? What if he’s not ready either?

Maybe, you think, you both rushed things.

Maybe now everything’s going to be a mess — 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 can’t breathe anymore. But you haven’t talked yet.

For one reason or another, you haven’t managed to be alone together. And when you’ve gone out with the group, there’s been no chance to get even a minute alone.

You’ve exchanged a few glances, that’s all — 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 it’s inevitable.

You’re 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.

You’ve turned into a walking contradiction. You feel like you have to talk to him, to clear things up so you can breathe again — and yet, you’re terrified of what he’ll say. So terrified that you’ve started overanalyzing every little thing he’s done lately, searching for signs, for meaning, for proof that you didn’t imagine everything.

You’re confused, thoughtful, torn in every direction, and still, one truth remains constant, the same one that’s followed you since childhood: you need him.

You simply can’t live without Ryota. And you’re 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 — even if you’ll never have the audacity to say it out loud.

────୨ৎ────

The wind moves gently over the waves, and together with the cloudy sky — darker than usual — 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 you’ll 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 — only to fall apart when it doesn’t happen.

A sliver of sunlight slips through one of the thick clouds painting the low sky, reminding you that it’s 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 won’t — not until he’s right here beside you, facing this whole thing with you. Or at least, that’s 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 — 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 he’s nervous too. You know how hard he tries to look calm, but his head’s just as much of a mess as yours. Still, he’s always been better at handling awkward situations — and that’s exactly why you’re praying he already knows what to do with you.

You’ve always admired that part of him. You’ve even hoped you’d learn to be a little more like that someday.

You’ve always been swept away by what he says, always listened to his advice, because you trust his judgment blindly. He’s filled every gap in your life — 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 — the kind people would be jealous of — 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 you’d been holding on to. “Yo. How long’ve you been here?”

You hadn’t heard his footsteps — the sand swallowed them and the sound of the waves covering everything else — so you didn’t 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 it’s the most natural thing in the world, hands shoved into the pockets of his hoodie, hood up over his head.

Then, already knowing you won’t 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. “Hey. Been here for a bit, actually.”

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 can’t just pretend anymore.

Ryota — who can read you better than anyone else — notices how rigid you are right away. The moment his gaze falls on you, something in him softens, as if he already understands exactly what’s 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 you’re flustered.

He looks ahead again, a faint smile tugging at his lips, and finally breaks the silence — making the first move, just like you secretly wished he would. “How are you?” he asks simply, his voice soft, almost as if he’s 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 — as if he didn’t already know. “Tense,” you murmur. “You?”

“Mmh, me too,” he replies almost immediately, his gaze finding you again, tracing you up and down like he’s 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.

“Really? Doesn’t look like it.”

And it’s true — he looks like he has everything under control. But he doesn’t, and his nervous laugh gives him away. “Oh, trust me. Want proof?” 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. “Proof? How?”

Noticing the confusion in your voice, Ryota doesn’t 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 — and that’s 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 can’t bring yourself to move away.

“Feel how fast it’s beating?”

This sudden closeness leaves you vulnerable, completely unable to fight him. He knows every one of your weak spots, every way to silence you — 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. It’s the same warmth you felt when you kissed him for the first time: being with him makes everything lighter, simpler — because he’s exactly what you need. And that thought alone makes you move.

“Ryota…” 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. “Yeah?”

“What do we do now?”

You regret asking right away. You think it’s too soon, that you’ve rushed into it — but the truth is, you need to know. You absolutely can’t pretend nothing happened, not when you’ve already spent too long pretending you didn’t feel this way about him. You snuggle closer and try to retrace your words, ignoring how long it takes him to answer. “I mean… do you even know what you want?”

His thumb stills against your cheek. You can hear his heartbeat, louder now, stronger, like distant drums. “Isn’t it obvious?” 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 isn’t an option, and you shake your head, a bitter little laugh escaping before you can stop it. “You know how I am. I need the truth.”

“The truth?” His voice is clear, crystalline. His hand moves to tilt your face up until your eyes meet his again. You’re close now — too close — and confusion flashes through your expression before fading into something softer. You look at him, and it’s 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.

“Do you remember how we kissed?”

In any other moment, a line that direct would’ve 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.

“Of course I remember,” you murmur, your gaze dropping as the memory brings that familiar warmth back to your chest. “But I thought a lot, you know?”

When you look at him again, you catch that raised eyebrow, that amused yet searching expression of his. “A lot, huh? Let’s hear.” His voice slips back into that teasing tone — confident, composed — like he’s finally in control again.

You pull back just slightly: listing every thought out loud feels terrifying. There are too many, you’d 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.

“Let’s see…” you start, “… it was so beautiful it almost didn’t feel real. So I thought maybe it was all just a game.” You pause for a moment, hoping he will give you an immediate answer, but he doesn't — he wants you to go on. And you do, glancing at him just to make sure he is still watching you. “Or… that things could never really work between us. Or maybe that’s just… how friends are sometimes.”

Even as fear twists in your chest, your body moves closer to his, almost instinctively. Your head drops to his shoulder like you’re 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. “I’m just… confused. That’s all.”

Ryota doesn’t answer. Not right away, at least. It’s as if he’s trying to think, to figure out how to move without breaking you. His hands, though, already know what to do — 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, “Aah… don’t tell me you’re confused. Not now…”

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 can’t afford to lose.

Before you can even process what’s happening, his voice comes out in a broken whisper, “What do you want me to say? Tell me.”

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, you’re completely frozen, until a quiet, shaky sound slips past your lips. “Wh–What do you —”

But his voice cuts through yours, sharp and sudden, like lightning splitting the air. “Why do you think I never had a girl all these years?”

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. “Did you really think I didn’t want to fall in love?”

And suddenly, it all clicks. Every time you told yourself that he just wasn’t the type, every excuse you made to believe his words when he said he didn’t want to commit — it all feels like a lie you forced yourself to accept. You’d been ignoring what was right in front of you, and the thought alone stings. Your gaze falls, searching for something, anything, that isn’t his eyes, but his hand tightens on your cheek, as if begging you not to look away.

And that’s when it hits you: maybe he’s the one who’s been waiting for an answer all this time. You shake your head softly, your voice small, almost pained. “Why didn’t you ever tell me?”

“I was waiting for you to notice,” he says right away, like he’s been holding that answer on the tip of his tongue for years. You can’t help but wonder how long he’s been carrying it, waiting for the right moment. He exhales, his lips curving into a small, tender smile.

“But in the end, I couldn’t wait any longer…” A soft chuckle slips out. “…you’re such an idiot, you know that? You would’ve taken forever.” His head tilts just slightly as his hand opens against your cheek, his thumb stroking your skin in the gentlest way.

The way he’s looking at you — open, vulnerable, his gaze never once leaving you — 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 it’s different. This time, he looks like he needs you. Like he’s stopped holding anything back.

And maybe that’s 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 — something you never thought you’d have the courage to do.

Maybe words aren’t needed after all. Because right now, the only thing you crave is to lose yourself in him again and again, to stop hiding what’s 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 — 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. “I want you, Ryota.”

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. He’s 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.

“About time, huh…” 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 — you are completely lost in him, and he’s lost in you, moving together in a slow, tender dance that never seems to end.

Your tongues tangle, trading the taste of each other’s breath, your hands keep finding one another with a sweetness so delicate it could soften anyone’s heart, and your hearts beat in sync — 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 don’t even ask yourself that question. You couldn’t, not when he keeps making you forget your own name every time his lips touch yours.

You know things will change now.

But it doesn’t scare you anymore — if anything, the thought of it thrills you. You’ve always been partners in crime, bound by a red thread so strong it feels unbreakable.

And right now, there’s no room left in your mind for anything else.

He showed you everything without ever saying a word. He always has — 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 — confused, terrified by the world, yet always each other’s escape, each other’s anchor.

And between you, a love that grew relentlessly in silence, just waiting for the right moment to burst free.

“You look lost in thought,” 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.

“You know, Ryota…”

“Mmh?”

“Even after what we did… when I think about you, I feel exactly the same as before. So maybe…” you pause, your cheeks blooming pink and your gaze fixed on the dark, still line of the sea. “…maybe I’ve always felt this way. Just like you.”

You stay quiet for a while. The hum of distant traffic fills the air, and Ryota’s fingers — the ones resting on your shoulder — start playing lazily with your hair. A faint, irresistible smirk tugs at his lips.

“Good thing you finally caught up,” he murmurs, voice low and teasing. “I was starting to lose my mind, you know?”

A soft laugh escapes you. You lift your head slightly, no longer afraid to meet his gaze. He’s already looking at you, his face lowered toward yours. “Oh yeah? And why’s that?” you tease back, your eyes searching for his.

Ryota doesn’t 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. “Hey! What are you doing?”

“Because now,” he whispers, his voice muffled against your hair, “you’re finally all mine…”

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 can’t help but smile — 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.

“But I’ve always been yours…” you breathe.

And then you both fall again — 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 — as if you’ve just reached the peak of a mountain you’ve been climbing forever.

At last, you feel at home. And you know you need nothing else,

as long as Ryota’s there with you.

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 — 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, you’re grateful to have lived here. Sometimes you wonder how different your life would’ve been if you hadn’t been born in this city.

Your house and Ryota’s are a bit far apart, but you like walking there anyway — because it gives you time to lose yourself in nostalgia. The kind that comforts you and hurts all at once. You’ve learned to live with it, that strange love–hate relationship you have with your own memories.

Every now and then, you check your phone, the screen glowing in your hand — 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, you’d go to his place, curl up in the cushions, and watch it together — 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 — if anything, you’ve 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 isn’t easy.

You’ve always been the one to ground him. Because you hated seeing him angry — 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 weren’t for you, Takenori’s long-awaited Nationals might’ve stayed nothing more than a dream locked away in a drawer, key thrown out to sea. And truthfully, countless other things would’ve turned out differently too — so many that the thought alone scares you.

You filled the space Sota left behind. You and basketball. Nothing else.

Maybe that’s why you grew so attached to him — 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 didn’t 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, it’s enough just to see him smile. If Ryota smiles, then everything’s fine.

Before turning the corner to his house, you catch your reflection in the window of an old pink boutique, sighing at how the wind’s 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 — a perfect contrast to the wild rhythm of your heart, pounding as if it wants to escape your chest.

“Do I look… cute enough?” 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 you’ve fully accepted what that means, of course. But after that night at the bar… you’re starting to make peace with yourself. Because you’ve realized Ryota already did, a long time ago.

Before you can change your mind and regret going to him — 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 — 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 finger’s already pressing the doorbell.

────୨ৎ────

“I’m coming in!”

You slip off your shoes and step into the Miyagi house, catching sight of Ryota from behind — 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.

“Ryota, dry your hair!”

You can’t help but giggle as you make your way down the hallway, your eyes drifting toward the photos hanging along the walls — 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. “Yeah, yeah, Mom…” he mutters, heading quickly toward the bathroom and shutting the door behind him.

When you reach the kitchen, you find Kaoru washing the dishes — 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. “Good evening, Mrs. Miyagi. How are you?”

Back when you were teenagers, Ryota’s mother was much stricter — colder, even. Still, she always liked you, probably because you were everything her son wasn’t: 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 can’t bring yourself to call her by her first name.

“Oh, we’re getting by. And you? How’s your mother?” she asks, turning back to the sink, her apron slightly wet and her hair down as always.

“She’s good, can’t complain. Do you need a hand?” You smile, stepping closer to the counter — but before you can take another step, you flinch as someone suddenly grabs and hugs you from behind.

“Boo!”

Your heart instantly relaxes when a small figure pops up in front of you — 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. “Anna! You really scared me this time!”

“Hehe, I did! I did it!” she laughs against you, her bright little voice echoing through the kitchen. Anna has always been fond of you — she’s always seen you as her big sister. Whenever she needed advice or someone to talk to, she’d go to you instead of Ryota, even though she absolutely adores her big brother.

She’s always been like this — cheerful, radiant, still a bit childish even though she’s already in high school. You’re so grateful she grew up this way, after everything she went through as a kid.

“Anna, don’t bother her too much.” Kaoru’s sharp voice cuts through the moment’s warmth, but only briefly. It’s enough, though, to make Anna pout in the cutest way. You can’t stop smiling as you pat her head reassuringly, feeling her arms tighten around you. “She’s not bothering me, don’t worry. So, little one — how’s high school treating you?”

Her eyes light up. She starts bouncing around, full of energy, and before you know it she’s pulling you toward the couch in the living room. You can’t help but laugh, completely infected by her joy. “High school’s amaaazing! I’m having so much fun, you know? But sometimes it’s really hard!” she exclaims before flopping down next to you.

You tilt your head, amused. “Hard, huh? Does Ryota help you at least?”

Kaoru chuckles under her breath, while Anna shakes her head, frowning. “Almost never! He says he can’t read properly without his glasses, and he hates wearing them!”

You burst out laughing, covering your mouth with mock shock, eyes wide. “Oooh! What a mean big brother! Terrible!”

Suddenly, two quiet hands reach over the back of the couch, ruffling both your hair and Anna’s at once. “What do you mean, terrible? I help this little goof more than enough!”

Ryota’s voice blends into your laughter, and your heart fills with that familiar warmth — the kind you only ever feel within these walls. Then he glances at you, smiling, and jerks his head toward his room. “Come on. The game’s starting soon.”

“No! Ryo, that’s not fair! You always steal her from me!” 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. “You’re the one trying to steal her from me!”

From the small corner of the kitchen, Kaoru watches with a soft, contented smile — one that holds a happiness she could never fully put into words. But you recognize it. You feel it.

It’s the same happiness that fills you every single time you walk through this door.

And you’re so, so glad to be a part of it.

────୨ৎ────

You’ve always found Sendoh’s game elegant.

That guy is incredible, and anyone who ever saw him play at Ryonan even once knew he’d go far — his power on the court made it obvious. He was already a beast back in high school; it’s only natural that now he’s 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 — a rhythm that’s almost hypnotic. His opponents close in, blocking his path, but his expression doesn’t 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 — 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 doesn’t pass the ball. He chooses the harder route — 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 Ryota’s room. The bluish glow of the television softly lights the space, drawing gentle shadows over the posters on the walls. You’re 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 — you didn’t even realize you’d been completely absorbed in the match. “That bastard… he’s really good.”

You giggle, remembering high school — 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 — that pointy nose you’ve 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, “He was a good point guard too,” you say, knowing that’ll get his attention.

Sure enough, Ryota tilts his head lazily toward you, even though he’s pretty invested in the game. When he catches your amused, blushing expression, that irresistible smirk tugs at the corner of his lips — and he plays right along. “Yeah, maybe. But I’m better. Aren’t I?”

Your shoulders almost brush, and the closeness of your faces makes your stomach tighten — not enough to stop you from replying, though. “Mhmh, you are. I always tell you that.”

You notice he doesn’t take his eyes off you, and something inside you stirs. All of a sudden, you’re the one hypnotized by his gaze. No matter how much you want to look away — to pretend to be watching the game again — you just can’t.

It makes your heart race wildly. And Ryota notices — 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, you’ve always gotten lost in them. “Something wrong?”

His teasing tone snaps you out of your trance, and you pout instinctively, turning back to the screen — 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. “Am I not even allowed to look at you now?”

A victorious smirk spreads across Ryota’s face. After watching you curl up for a moment, he looks back toward the TV. “Go ahead. Look all you want,” 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 shouldn’t. These tiny moments — these almost-touches — they always send you spiraling. Being this close to Ryota warms your chest in a way nothing else does. This closeness, this quiet intimacy — it only ever exists with him.

And yet… if that’s all it is, why do you suddenly want to get even closer?

“You know, I kinda miss playing for Shohoku.” His calm voice slices through your thoughts, catching you off guard. You blink a few times, turning to him again, curious now. “Out of nowhere, huh? Why’s that?” you ask softly, smiling.

Silence settles again as Sendoh reappears on the screen — 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.

“I think about it a lot, actually. Playing in high school was fun. Changing teammates after all those years together kinda sucks…” His head tilts toward yours, his lips curving into a slight frown.

You raise your eyebrows and roll your eyes. “Oh, come on. Don’t get all nostalgic now. And don’t even think about quitting, got it?”

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 don’t even know why you’re doing it, but you can’t 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, “Idiot,” more at yourself than at him.

Ryota, on the other hand, is a little surprised by how close you’ve gotten — but he doesn’t mind. Not at all. “You know I can’t,” 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 — and even returned it — somehow makes you feel a little less nervous.

The quiet between you won’t last long, though. “Oh! Look at that!”

Suddenly, Ryota jolts forward toward the TV, startling you so badly you almost jump out of your skin. You weren’t paying attention — 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 opponent’s arm, and in one fluid motion, he lifts — not fully, just enough to release the ball with a soft, clean flick.

The arc is perfect.

Silence.

Then — swish.

You turn toward Ryota right after the shot, your pulse still racing, and snap at him with mock annoyance. “He’s good, sure, but you nearly scared me to death…”

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 — slow, steady.

“See? You were off in your own world…” he murmurs, wearing that smug grin of his — the one he always gets when he knows he’s got you exactly where he wants you.

You freeze — eyes wide, chest suddenly filled with something burning, something that feels like fire ready to consume you at any second. You can’t even answer him; whatever you’d 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. He’s 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 — one inch — 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 can’t help it. You’re 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 — he hadn’t 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, he’s 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 — his cheeks tinged with a color that suits him way too well. “You’re a little too close…”

Your lips part, breath mixing with his until you can’t tell whose is whose — 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 — because how could you not? Your half-lidded eyes lock onto his, carrying a tenderness so raw and deep it could melt anyone’s heart.

“You’re the one who moved closer…” you murmur, your voice barely a thread of sound, breaking under the weight of the tension pressing down on you both.

Ryota’s lips curve into that small, dangerous smile — the one that makes your pulse jump. Your noses brush, your lips ghosting over each other’s with only a sigh between them, the world around you fading into nothing.

“But you’re not moving away,” he whispers.

You’re enchanted, caught in his dazed, half-smiling expression. And you can’t resist anymore.

Not even if you wanted to.

“Because I don’t want to move away…”

Ryota swallows hard, his breath trembling. He stays still for just a second, waiting — giving you a chance to pull back, to pretend this isn’t happening. But you don’t.

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 — your lips touch.

Your eyes flutter shut as your mouths move together, slow and tender, almost clumsy — 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 you’ve ever wanted, all you’ve been too afraid to admit you needed. You’d been so stupid to ignore it. Because now, his lips feel so right against yours…

You can taste him — warm and faintly sweet — as your hands clutch at his hoodie like you’re 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 — fitting together so naturally as if they were made to.

It feels like your very first kiss.

And when Ryota pulls back — slowly, like he’s reluctant to let the moment go — your eyes meet again, yours hazy and full of longing.

You stay there, still, lips flushed and damp, hearts pounding uncontrollably. And now that he’s gone, even for a second, you feel an ache — like you already miss him, like you need him again.

You don’t know it, but he feels the same.

And before you can even breathe, your lips find each other once more.

────୨ৎ────

The first half of the game ended ages ago, but neither of you even noticed. You’re far too busy losing yourselves in each other — 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 — his sharp, deep eyes can’t 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 — 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 other’s neck. Your bodies brush with every tiny movement, surrendering to years of feelings you’ve 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, you’d probably find it embarrassing.

Ever since your lips touched, every doubt and every fear has vanished — gone as if they never existed. You feel at peace, as though you’ve finally found what you’d been searching for, what you’d been needing all along.

There’s 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 you’d get to see.

His hands move with a kind of ease that steals your breath away — 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 — 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 — a tiny gesture that sends your mind spinning.

You feel like you’re burning everywhere he touches.

He leaves a lingering kiss at the corner of your mouth, another on your chin, then lower on your neck — slow, deliberate — until he feels your body tremble beneath his.

There’s 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 — tracing his muscles in a slow, hesitant dance.

He inhales sharply, and you feel him tremble against you — you’re 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 he’s the only thing keeping you grounded in this moment that feels like it’ll never end.

Every time you pull away, you find yourselves diving back in, your mouths meeting again in a kiss deeper than the last — as if you physically can’t stand being apart for even a heartbeat.

Ryota’s gaze leaves you breathless.

There’s something impossibly soft and wild in it — finally, he’s not holding back anymore, yet he’s still scared to touch you too roughly, like you might shatter in his hands. If he didn’t care about you, you’d already be lying on his tatami, half undressed, with his hands all over you.

Still, he’s a boy after all.

And God, he’s been dying to touch you — to finally have you, the way he’s wanted for so long that he can’t even remember when he first started thinking about it, back when he was just a kid.

Suddenly, while he’s 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 — realizing he might’ve gone a bit too far — 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 — really look at you — those big eyes making you feel seen. Then his voice comes, low and rough, half a laugh, half an apology. “Sorry, sorry…” 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. You’ve never seen him like this before — 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 — full of something deep and real, something you could never feel for anyone else but him.

Between tender, breathy kisses, come his whispers, “Finally, I can tell you so many things…”

His fingers tangle in your hair, pulling you a little closer, if that’s even possible.

“I can tell you you’re beautiful… so beautiful it drives me insane…” he breathes, his words barely audible, his lips curved in a smile so full of joy it almost hurts to look at him.

“If I’d known kissing you felt like this, I would’ve done it way sooner…”

You feel like you’re about to explode.

You press your forehead against his, clutching at his back like you’re afraid he might vanish from your arms. Breathless, trembling, you whisper timidly, but desperate to keep going, “How long… have you felt this way?”

Instead of answering right away, Ryota kisses you again — deeper, but still slow — one hand slipping down to your waist to hold you in place. Then he finally pulls back, just enough to say it. “Since forever, I think.”

The words hit you straight in the chest. Since forever. It’s so obvious. So natural — just like the way he said it.

And yet, all this time, you both think it would never happen — 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 — you realized it too late. Or maybe… you convinced yourself not to see it, until pretending wasn’t an option anymore.

It was always meant to happen.

You both knew it.

“And you?” 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 — which makes you laugh too, unable to stay serious. “I don’t know… I can’t think straight anymore…” you murmur, your warm breath against his skin, his hands tightening around you in response.

“That’s okay,” he smiles against your hair, pressing a gentle kiss there, “You don’t have to figure it all out right now.”

Then his hand finds your cheek again, his grip firmer this time, his lips tracing the edge of your jaw. “But come back here to me, yeah?”

And just like that — you’re lost in each other again.

You can’t stay apart.

It’s not frenzy — it’s need.

It’s the raw, aching desire to know each other completely.

And now that you’ve finally found the courage to do so, there’s no going back.

Everything will change now.

And yes — it’s terrifying.

But the thought of giving this up before it even began?

That scares you so much more.

You don’t want to lose this.

You don’t 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.

“Thanks to you, I didn’t even see the damn game…” he mutters against your mouth.

You smile too, shaking your head, melting under his touch.

“Oh, shut up…”

And the dance begins all over again.