#aib ryuji

[thecheshireprincess]

What Separates the Boys from the Men

Kinktober Day 1 - Aftercare | Ryuji Matsuyama x F!Reader

Kinktober 2025 Masterlist

Content Warning: Discussions of sex (nothing explicit), Ryuji considers eating you out to be part of his aftercare routine, implied age gap (Professor sleeping with one of his college students), insecurities from both sides, Ryuji is kind of absolutely smitten and incredibly obsessed with you (and you are pretty smitten right back), probably curse words since I have no chill; this is the fluffiest and tamest piece you will read in all of October so please enjoy

I won't tell anyone what or what not to do, but please interact responsibly ✨️

A/N – This is set prior to Ryuji’s car accident, and in my mind, this particular Reader is the student that offers to be injected with the drug to have a near-death experience for him. Ultimately she'll die, and be a catalyst for the accident in the first place. I may expand on this Reader and particular (heavily insane once his beloved is gone) version of Ryuji in other drabbles or stories!

With him, the aftermath has become your favorite part of secretly falling in love with sleeping with your college professor.

It’s absolutely nothing like the awkward post-sex tango with other partners – namely guys your age – that had unfortunately made up the entirety of your intimate experiences. Boys who grunt barbarically through their messy high, roll their clunky bodies off of you (if you were particularly lucky), and fall asleep without ceremony. In those days, bonus points were awarded to those who could actually remember your name without guessing or be bothered to stay awake long enough to give you a ride home afterwards.

But not with Professor Matsuyama Ryuji. Since the day you walked into his lecture hall, bright-eyed and ready to learn what would become so much more than just psychopathology from him, you’ve been reminded every single second why he is far better for you than any of those rejects from before.

It doesn't matter the location. Nor whether it had been a long, multi-orgasm experience, or a quickie in the supply closet next to the lecture hall. Ryuji insists every single time without fail, his deep voice honeyed but stern – “Let me take care of you.”

Sometimes that means he’s literally cleaning up the mess at the apex of your thighs with the silky tie you'd yanked off of his neck just twenty minutes earlier. Other times it means that he's holding you wrapped up in his arms in his office, using his university-issued desktop to show you funny cat videos that make you giggle adorably for him. On Tuesday nights, when you're leaving your final class of the evening and he’s still neck deep in grading assignments, he sneakily grabs your waist from behind to pull you into his office, insisting that you take an hour from your studying schedule to eat the bento box he'd prepared for you.

But tonight would certainly go down in both of your books as your favorite form of aftercare. You’re propped against a mountain of plush pillows, the lights of his bedroom dimmed romantically for your first encounter together in an actual bed, and honestly? You feel like royalty. You’d already orgasmed twice and him once, but here he is between your thighs anyway, bare, broad shoulders parting your shaking legs just for him.

“Aftercare,” he’d insisted as always, though you’re pretty sure that having him erotically suck and lick through your swollen folds is far beyond what should be considered aftercare. Even so, you can’t bring yourself to complain about the way his hot, wet tongue flattens to collect the evidence of your arousal, or how easily his ring and middle fingers slide into your fluttering hole.

You especially can’t complain when the pads of those two fingers curl deliciously against the special spot inside you, your entire sweat-glistening body arching in pleasure towards him, begging for more direct contact with him. And Ryuji? Well, the black abyss of his pupils have dilated so much that you’d hardly be able to guess he has gorgeous, chestnut-colored eyes. He blinks as little as possible, ensuring he can absorb every inch of your sweet curves writhing against his bedsheets.

I mean sure, in the back of his mind he probably comprehends that it might be considered inappropriate for a professor to be eating out his student - let alone falling deeply, madly, in love with her. But Ryuji Matsuyama can't bring himself to care for a second. Not when you look the way you do pressed into the mattress underneath him. Not when you sound the way you do when he touches you just right. Not when you taste the way you do on his tongue, after he's already made you cum against his bedsheets twice tonight.

Because after all, he is quite a young professor, right? And you're simply not that much younger than him. So it’s okay to drown himself in these feelings for you . . . right?

But when your beautiful, needy voice cries out for him, finally calling him by his given name and not just Professor Matsuyama as he’d been trying to coax you into for weeks and weeks, it’s all worth it. Worth whatever kind of guilt might secretly weigh on his conscience for fucking one of his students who should probably be sleeping with people her own age. Worth the possibility of losing his cushy job if it ever came to that. Even worth giving up any opportunity to uncover any information about the afterlife. Worth it. Worth it. Worth it.

“Ryuji!” you gasp when his teeth scrape lightly, just testing against your swollen, sensitive clit. And normally, if you were in his office or in the lab, or in some dingy supply closet he’d dragged you into, he’d have to shush you, to tell you to be a good girl and keep quiet for him. But now, he’d finally brought you home. Brought you into his bed. He knows now that he’ll never going to get enough of this, of hearing you reach your peak for him at full volume. This could be your home too. Could be your bed to sleep in with him every night.

“Cum for me, pretty baby,” he murmurs huskily into your folds, “Just one more time and then I’ll really take care of you . . . I know you’re sensitive.” It’s that voice . . . the one you hear every day in a lot of different and contrasting ways. And when you think about how you listen to him lecture you about psychology, then command you to cum with an even raspier tone, it sends you careening over the edge of the cliff, the coil in your belly snapping as you gush all over Ryuji's face and soak his sheets. The third time really is the charm.

Ryuji moans, his thick eyebrows knitting together as he drinks in your mess. He could probably cum untouched, just like this - studying the way you come undone for him once again. His expert tongue and lithe fingers work in tandem to prolong your gorgeous high as long as possible, your entire body spasming and shaking for him by the end. He wants to memorize this moment with you. Keep it forever.

Most guys you'd known would pull away from you now. Would expect you to return the favor and get on your knees; if they’d even given you the opportunity to experience this pleasure in the first place. But Ryuji, he looks up at you through dark, fluffy lashes as though you'd done him a favor, the look alone making your breath catch in your chest and your heart race in your ears. He’s gentle about removing his fingers from the fluttering grip of your tight hole, his plush lips pressing a sweet, final kiss to your slippery folds before sitting up. Soft hands massage the meaty flesh of your hips, then slide up your ribcage, gently soothing your overstimulated body without uttering a word. Goosebumps erupt like wildfire across your bare skin, and you smile as his lips capture yours in a tender kiss that both allows you to feel his deep emotions for you and taste yourself on his tongue.

“Let’s take a bath together,” he offers, lovingly brushing some sweat-soaked hair out of your face. You hum, pleasure-glazed eyes trying desperately to focus in on him as he speaks. A sweet, lazy grin spreads across his face at the heaviness of your eyelids, his thumbs stroking your cheeks. “Rest, little one. I’ll take care of everything.”

You're really learning to believe him, because he always does. Ryuji always takes care of you.

Strong arms lift you after an undisclosed amount of time, your hazy mind and body floating somewhere between reality and a cozy dream. You gasp in surprise, instinctively wrapping your arms around his neck and snuggling yourself closer to him as he carries you off to the bathroom.

You notice that the lights have been dimmed in here too, candles of various heights burning cozily on every flat surface in the space. His luxurious clawfoot bathtub stands filled with lavender-scented bubbles, steam radiating off the surface more invitingly than anything you've ever seen.

Ryuji is extra gentle, almost reverant, in slipping your already naked form into the water, the tight muscles of your back, shoulders, and lower body relaxing instantly. You feel the breath catch in your chest as his muscular body settles in behind you, pulling you back to rest against him - skin-to-skin. This is a first for you, not just with Ryuji, but ever. Soaking in a tub under flickering candlelight with someone you may or may not be in love with is a whole new level of intimacy. Out of your periphery, you notice a sidetable filled with your favorite snacks, two bottles of water, and even your favorite champagne. It's at this point that you feel the emotions get the better of you, and tears pool in your normally bright eyes. Behind you, Ryuji stiffens as he notices the distinct glimmer of tears, and the way your body tenses up as you try to hide it.

“Did I hurt you earlier, love?” he whispers, eyebrows furrowed in concern despite the fact that your escapades hadn’t been particularly rough this evening. Certainly not the roughest the two of you had ever been. You shake your head, trying in vain to clear the emotions making you feel so insignificant and unworthy of this kind of love. “What is it, then? You can tell me,” he coos, his lips grazing the shell of your ear as he places a kiss to your temple.

“I just . . . I’ve never been treated like this before. So gently. Like royalty. I don’t know if I deserve it,” you admit quietly, hoping that you saying it outloud won't make him realize it too.

Ryuji purses his lips in thought while shushing you and holding you close, frustration and anger threatening to boil over. Because what kind of monsters had you been sharing a bed with that made you feel like you weren't worthy of being cared for once the heat of passion was over? What absolute idiots hadn't seen that you are the most precious treasure on this planet, deserving of all this and so much more? But eventually a sly smirk begins to creep its way onto his face as he realizes that this is exactly why those boys your age don’t deserve you. Exactly why he needs to protect you and keep you for himself as long as you'd let him. Exactly why he is going to benefit from their incredible loss.

Because you should never let a boy do a real man’s job.

♤ ♡ ◇ ♧

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[ttjisung]

WINE DRUNK m. ryuji

husband! matsuyama ryuji x wife! fem reader

cw: 18+ mdni, smut, oral (m receiving), mentions of alcohol, cum eating, he's kind of rough, hair pulling, head pusher ryuji </3 but it's kinda hot just cause he's desperate, takes place before his crash but pls read my note, word count: 1.9k.

It had been a long day. After hours of cleaning every single crevice of each room, as well as organizing your garage, you were exhausted. You could tell when your husband Ryuji walked into your home, tie undone and eyebags prominent, that the sentiment was probably shared. 

Nights weren’t usually like this — while they were calm, they were never tense. You struggled to hide your frown when you greeted Ryuji at the door, only to be met by a low mumble and avoidant eyes. You could tell something was bothering him, yet he was typically quiet when he was upset, much to your distress. 

— “How was your day, babe?” You asked, hopeful as you took his coat from his taller frame, moving quickly to place it in the nearest storage closet. His answer was a simple yet stubborn “Fine.” Nothing about him appeared fine. He was stressed and it was evident. “How was work?” “Fine.” You sighed when his monotone voice repeated the word over and over again. Although the lack of communication was frustrating, you could understand why he might be hesitant. It was no secret that he had been struggling with his reputation at his school, his passion for researching the afterlife probably the main reason why. 

You never doubted Ryuji’s beliefs, yet you couldn’t hold back a frown when you would overhear someone reducing it to a useless fantasy. Recently things had become worse, his supervisor directly telling him to stop wasting his time and to focus on something else. While Ryuji was strong mentally, the constant negativity was probably taxing. You needed to find a way to cheer him up. 

Without saying another word, you rushed to the kitchen, pouring two glasses of red wine and balancing them as you moved into the living room, beckoning your husband to join you. “Ryuji, c’mere!” You patted next to your own spot on the couch, with the two glasses placed on the nightstand adjacent to it. He nodded wordlessly, walking into the room and sitting next to you as you asked. He wasted no time taking the glass from the nightstand, sipping on it and closing his eyes at the taste. You always teased him for being overly expressive with his alcohol, yet you couldn’t find it in you to make fun of him when this was the closest to happiness you had seen him show since he arrived home. 

You grabbed your own glass, sipping next to him while watching a dumb movie on your television. Eventually, one glass became two and two became three, and before you knew it, the two of you were tipsy. Your head was leaned back, turned to stare directly at Ryuji with no shame. You took notice of how there was a slight sheen of sweat under his jaw, a small furrow in his eyebrows, a light red to his cheeks — you probably looked the same from the wine. 

Suddenly, you were feeling antsy, biting your lip to hold back from voicing your admiration for his face. You truly lucked out, constantly telling him how beautiful he was yet he’d simply hum and look away. You wondered if he would now, choosing to test the waters. “You know, you look really good right now.” Ryuji finally looked your way, and you would bet a million dollars that he was about to scoff and tell you to be quiet, yet his eyes were lidded, riddled with something similar to lust as he bit his lip. “Really?” “Mhmm.” You nodded your head, clumsily enthusiastic. You weren’t sure if it was the drinks or the way his hair was styled, but you wanted to feel him closer to you.

Ryuji’s eyes left yours to look you up and down, faintly smiling as he admired you. You felt one of his hands subconsciously reaching for yours, interlacing your fingers and running his thumb on your palm. The feeling made you smile as well, yet you felt slightly empty for some reason, the yearning in you becoming not-so-innocent anymore. “I missed you today.” You whispered, leaning your face to meet his shoulder and rest on it, locking your eyes onto your hands that were holding each other. “Did you now?” You nodded, pouting lightly. “Wanna show you how much.” You responded quietly, finally shifting your head to look up at him. The look in his eye told you he was more than happy to agree, probably secretly relieved that you had offered a way to release his stress. 

Ryuji’s empty hand moved to hold your hip as you got up slightly, straddling his body on the couch and pushing his shoulders back, silently urging him to stay still. He looked up at you, his eyes intense and heavy with a look that overwhelmed you in the best way. Without overthinking, you closed your eyes, leaning down for your lips to meet his. Once they touched, you immediately furthered the kiss, your hand that was on his shoulder grazing up to cup his neck and push him into you. He complied, chasing your lips with his own and humming into the kiss. 

You could tell he was desperate too, with the way his hips would jolt up to meet your own, creating a rhythm as you both began to grind against each other through your clothes. The friction felt so good, heightened by your tipsy actions. Making love was always perfect with him, yet it was always so different when you two were buzzed, the messy desperate actions somehow amplifying each nerve in your bodies. 

Ryuji’s long fingers let go of your hip, trailing down towards the string of your sweatpants. You pushed away from the kiss, ignoring how his mouth chased yours before turning into a pouty frown. Your hand on his neck held him still as you shook your head, “No, this is about you, Ji. We can do that some other time, let me help you.” His frown stayed, now slightly confused yet he nodded at your words, trusting you. 

You smiled, placing one more peck on his lips, before leaving one on his jaw, moving down to his neck to suck on his skin. The flesh was damp with sweat, the pressure of your mouth on him making him feel like he was some horny teenager again. 

Ryuji let out a moan at the feeling, his hand reaching up to grip the back of your neck, pushing you into him fervently. With a renowned passion, you began to suck harshly, leaving purple blemishes over his skin. You would lick them after to relieve the pain before biting the same marks right after. Each time your teeth would graze his skin, his breath would falter, his hips rutting into you mindlessly. 

He whined when you finally removed yourself, yet you simply smiled at him before standing up. “Did work have you stressed?” He huffed at your words, wanting to skip the tense questions in favor of feeling you on top of him again, yet you slapped his hands away when they reached up to grab your waist. “Answer me, please.” He sighed, “He said I wouldn’t get the funding. I… I don’t want to talk about it right now.” You frowned when he responded, his defeated tone making you want to break down along with him. 

“It’s okay baby, I’ll take your mind off of it.” You spoke your last words before descending onto your knees, grinning up at him while your hands reached for his belt. He sank down further into the couch, melting into the feeling when you finally removed the item, pulling down his pants along with it. He kicked them off quickly, watching you intensely as your hands ghosted over his clothed bulge, growing harder with each movement of your wrists. You pressed down lightly, laughing when he threw his head back and whined in response. Choosing to tease him a bit more, you leaned in, leaving a kiss on the tent. He was displeased, his hand rushing to grab onto your hair, roughly pulling you up until you made eye contact with him. “Don’t tease.” Your smile widened, feeling a heat between your thighs at his strict tone. 

Nodding, you waited until Ryuji eased up his hold to finally pull down his boxers. His hard cock sprung out, slapping his stomach and making him groan while biting his lip. You felt yourself grow wetter at the sight, wanting to touch his impressive length immediately. You didn’t hold back anymore, perking up to lean over and grab his dick, stroking the base of it while your tongue darted out, licking his tip. 

The small action had him restless, his blush growing as he twitched at the feeling. You knew he was mostly sensitive in the tip, choosing to focus on it at first. He strengthened the grip of his hand that held onto your hair, getting tighter and tighter as he felt your tongue running over his dickhead. After some more small licks, you finally opened your mouth, taking him in inch by inch until you couldn’t. 

Your eyes were shut quickly, getting more turned on as the second passed, the feeling of his cock heavy in your mouth making you clench your thighs harder. He was no longer trying to hold in his moans, eyes shutting tight while his head tilted back. He was a loud, whining mess at your mercy as your hand ran up and down his base while you hollowed your cheeks on what you could. 

Spit was trailing down onto his bare thighs as some of his precum dribbled down too, though most of it was swallowed down your throat instead. You opened your eyes, looking up to admire your whimpering husband. He looked angelic, veins showing on his forehead as he clenched his teeth, biting his lip as you worked your fingers down him.

Ryuji opened his eyes as your pace increased. When he looked down at you, he caught your eyes, locking into them while his mouth opened to release more moans into the room. You tried to smile at him, although your mouth was occupied, taking him fully down your throat. The sight made him grunt loudly, his hand in your hair tightening. While he tried to fight back the urge, he knew he was slowly losing the battle, feeling his orgasm approaching quickly. 

Your head was pushed into his pelvis while his actions became rougher, finally tipping over when you gagged on his cock. His eyes left yours, shutting tightly once more before he came inside your mouth with one final moan. 

Your mouth was full of his cum, some dripping out to run down your chin, yet you swallowed, looking up at Ryuji when you had none left. Behind his dazed out expression, you saw his lips curl upwards in content, and you jumped up back onto the couch. Pressing yourself next to him, he met you halfway into a messy kiss, tasting himself on your tongue. 

Your heavy breaths both occupied the room, calming down while embracing each other. “I’ll come home mad again if it means you’ll do that every day.” His voice was unserious, raspy as you could tell he was tired. You laughed at his words, “Yeah right… Next time I’m handing you a broom and telling you to get to work.” You both giggled, holding each other and intertwining your hands once more before you both dozed off together, cramped on the small couch.

a/n: i love domestic cuteness... i do want to note that i hope to respect the fact that ryuji uses a wheelchair and involve that in my writings so this will be one of my only works pre-crash! i simply wish to research more beforehand to make it as inclusive and accurate as it can be, so i will be working on that asap >_< i hope you all like!

[grangerhater]

wearing your card on your sleeve

matsuyama ryuji x fem reader

synopsis: two rival researchers are given the same proposition, join the borderlands, keep your promise learn the truth. But the games are known to change the players

cw: plot before prn, reader is playing the role of rei in zombie hut, completely skipped the train scenes (oops), gun, implied death, smut, 18+, piv, oral (both receiving), f!ngering

word count: 5k

The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, the air heavy with the sharp scent of antiseptic and the faint bitterness of old coffee. Across the lab, Ryuji sat in his wheelchair, stacks of papers and half-drunk coffee surrounding him. His fingers tapped against the desk with a rhythm that seemed almost alive, as if the tapping alone could unlock the secrets he obsessed over.

He didn’t look up as you entered but you could feel the weight of his eyes on you, sharp and assessing. “You still think life is a cycle?” His voice was casual, careless, but it carried a razor-edge that made your chest tighten.

“I do,” you said evenly, leaning against the wall, forcing calm into your posture. “There’s evidence if you know where to look. Unlike some people, I don’t bend facts to fit my theories.”

Finally, his gaze lifted to meet yours. His eyes narrowed, sharp and calculating. “Facts are meaningless if you don’t interpret them. That’s where most people fail.”

You smirked despite the tightness in your chest. “And yet here you are, failing to interpret mine.”

He didn’t answer immediately. A faint smirk tugged at his lips, almost teasing. Silence settled in the lab, thick and heavy, the kind that pressed against your skin and made it impossible to ignore the unspoken tension between irritation and admiration.

Weeks later, you watched him take the stage at a near-death studies conference. Every movement, every word, was deliberate, precise, measured. He spoke of the liminal spaces between life and death, of moments when consciousness hovers and questions the nature of existence itself.

You couldn’t stop the bitter thought from forming. Of course he would phrase it like that. Clinical. Precise. Arrogant.

Later, at your own conference, someone whispered from the audience. “Your theory contradicts his work… are you aware?” You glanced at them, lips curling slightly. “I’m aware,” you said softly. “But the truth isn’t decided by one mind.”

A shiver ran down your spine imagining him hearing that, calculating, disapproving, infuriatingly brilliant.

…

Banda’s words slid over Ryuji like a dangerous current, smooth, deliberate, almost hypnotic. “Help me maintain the game,” he said, voice low, almost teasing, “and you can finally see what lies beyond life. All your research… validated.”

Ryuji’s jaw tightened, his hands clenching lightly on the arms of the wheelchair. “And if I refuse?”

“You risk nothing,” Banda said, tilting his head as if weighing Ryuji like a fragile object, “except discovering the truth too late.” His smile was faint, calm, but there was an edge there that made it impossible to look away.

Later, Banda approached you, moving silently, deliberately, as if he had studied your reactions before even speaking. “I can show you the ultimate truth,” he murmured, letting his eyes linger just a moment too long, “help me keep Arisu alive, and you’ll know everything you’ve been searching for.”

You swallowed hard, chest tight, defiance sparking in your gaze. “I don’t negotiate with people who toy with lives.”

Banda tilted his head, unfazed, almost amused. “Lives are instruments,” he said quietly, his tone teasing and dangerous all at once, “play them well, and you’ll learn what you must.”

You turned away, but your heart hammered in your chest, pulse sharp. Knowledge. Danger. Temptation. The air around him felt heavier, electric, pulling at something inside you that you weren’t ready to name. You didn’t know yet that Ryuji was being pulled down the same path, that his focus, his control, his very presence would inevitably collide with yours in ways you weren’t prepared for.

…

Your first game was called Zombie Hunt. At first, nobody spoke. Twenty players, each clutching decks of cards that could decide who lived and who died. Seven cards each. You already knew the rules, had been watching, analyzing since the start.

You stepped forward, voice calm, deliberate, carrying a strange authority that made a few heads turn. You said what everyone was thinking but too afraid to admit. “If we all panic, we’re dead. Work together, trust each other, share your Vaccine cards, tell the truth if you get infected. Call it a trust barricade.”

Some nodded hesitantly. Others glared, suspicion painting their faces. Distrust spread faster than the virus ever could. Still, for the first few rounds, it worked. You kept people organized, tracking every card played, every action taken. For a moment, it felt like control, like maybe this game wouldn’t destroy you after all.

Then someone panicked. A Shotgun card discharged with a deafening blast, smoke and metal filling the air. Screams erupted, accusations flying. The guy who fired swore he saw someone turn. You tried to calm them, tried to explain that killing each other wouldn’t help, but no one was listening. Fear had already taken root.

Ikeno, the one who had never liked you, directed his anger toward you. His eyes burned with accusation. “You’re lying. Your plan was to make us easy targets for infection.” His hand shook as he raised his card. You urged him to think, to stop, but he didn’t. He fired.

The shot rang out, but you were still alive. Uninfected. The look on his face told you everything. He had wasted his last chance.

Then came Arisu. You faced him during the next round. Calm. Too calm. Focused. Something felt off before he even spoke. When he revealed he had been a zombie all along, building an army in secret, your chest constricted. Everything you had controlled, every plan, every attempt to save everyone, had been a step in his design.

The game unraveled. Infection spread like wildfire. Humans screamed, fought, exhausted their cards. You stopped trying to manage it. There was nothing left to save. You just watched. And when the dust settled, only the zombies remained.

You were one of them now.

…

The city stretched beneath you, quiet for the first time since the train. Your legs ached, your stomach growled, but you were alive and that was enough. You sank down onto the concrete with a groan you didn’t even realize you’d made. Your arms trembled from the last sprint between the gas-filled cars. Every part of you ached, but for the first time in hours, you weren’t running.

Arisu didn’t sit right away. He scanned the edges of the rooftop, eyes darting from shadow to shadow like a soldier still expecting an ambush. Only when he seemed satisfied did he drop down beside you and tear open a foil packet. Without a word, he held it out. You took the food, fingers brushing his, and chewed in silence. The taste was dry and metallic, but it was something solid. Alive enough to taste.

A soft noise made you glance up. Usagi had stumbled through the rooftop doorway, her team behind her. She was pale, eyes glassy, but when she saw Arisu her entire body seemed to collapse inward. She crossed the space between them in three steps and flung herself into his arms. He caught her hard against his chest, the two of them clutching at each other like they’d been drowning.

You turned away, throat tightening at the sight. Relief. Love. Hope. Things you weren’t sure you believed in anymore. Watching them made you ache anyway.

And then you saw him.

Ryuji.

He stood a few feet back from the others, leaning against a low wall. Without his chair, he looked slightly off-balance but not weak. Even like this, he carried himself with that maddening composure, like he was the only one not ruled by adrenaline. His eyes moved over the group, over you. You hated how quickly you recognized him, how easily your body responded to his presence. You’d sworn you were done with this man the moment you’d last seen him across a conference table. And yet.

You caught sight of a dented wheelchair shoved behind an air-conditioning unit. The sight made your stomach twist. He wasn’t asking for help. He never would. But he needed it.

Before you could talk yourself out of it, you got up and dragged the chair across the roof. The metal squealed against the concrete. He lifted his eyes to you, one brow arching.

“You really don’t make things easy,” you muttered, crouching to lock the brakes on the chair.

For a second, something in his expression eased barely, but enough for you to catch it.

“Still trying to take charge,” he said quietly, a hint of a smirk tugging at his mouth. His voice had lost its edge, softer now, almost teasing.

You slid the chair toward him, helped him shift his weight. His hand brushed yours, barely a touch, but it sent a current through your chest like you’d swallowed a spark. You straightened quickly, masking the heat in your face by fussing with the brake lever.

Behind you, Arisu and Usagi sat close, her head against his shoulder, their words too soft to hear. For a moment the rooftop was quiet. A rare, fragile quiet.

When you risked a glance back at Ryuji, he was still watching you. Not like a rival, not like a threat. Like he was trying to figure you out. Like he already had.

You looked away first.

Arisu’s gaze snapped to Ryuji. Recognition hit him like a punch before he even moved.

“You” Arisu’s voice was low, dangerous, and his fist shot out before his brain could catch up. The impact landed squarely on Ryuji’s shoulder, and the sharp sound of metal against concrete echoed across the rooftop.

Ryuji stumbled, just enough to let you see the flicker of surprise on his face, the faint curve of that smirk fighting to stay in place.

“Arisu, wait!” Usagi’s voice rang out, urgent and panicked. She shoved against his chest, trying to hold him back. “We all split up to get food and supplies! This isn’t the time”

Ryuji straightened, rubbing his shoulder where Arisu’s fist had landed. His eyes, sharp and assessing, flicked to you, and suddenly his smirk had a different edge, one that made your stomach knot.

“I’m going with her,” he said, voice flat but commanding. “She’s on my team now.”

Your heart skipped a beat. Not because you doubted your own skills, but because of the way he said it, like he had decided something for both of you, like he had already claimed it before you could.

Usagi’s hands pressed lightly against his chest, still trying to hold him back. “Ryuji, don’t make this harder than it already is. Let’s just….”

“I decide,” he interrupted quietly, almost casually, but with an unmistakable weight behind it. His gaze locked with yours across the space of the rooftop. That smirk, now sharper, almost teasing, made the air between you feel too tight, too alive.

You swallowed. Your pulse was pounding, your brain screaming caution, but your chest, impossibly, warmed at the thought that now you’d be forced to spend time with him. Somehow, survival had just gotten a lot more complicated.

You moved quickly, scanning empty storefronts, abandoned crates, anything that could keep your group alive a little longer. Beside you, Ryuji’s wheelchair rolled silently. He didn’t need to speak to make his presence impossible to ignore.

“Try not to fall behind,” you muttered without looking at him.

“I’m fine,” he said, voice flat but edged in that way that made your chest tighten. Calm, controlled, aware. You hated how much that both irritated and intrigued you.

For a while, there was only the rhythm of wheels against cracked pavement and your own shallow breaths. Then the conversation started, quiet at first. Small observations about the game, notes about what could go wrong in the next round. Slowly, it drifted. You found yourself laughing at something absurd, almost human in the middle of all this. He smirked, and it hit you like a spark. He was dangerous, alive, untouchable.

By the time you returned to the hotel where your groups were staying, the sun had dipped low, throwing everything in bruised shadows. Arisu and Usagi were elsewhere, leaving you and Ryuji in the stillness of an empty room.

You leaned against the wall, exhaustion catching up, but his gaze didn’t leave you. “You’re… not what I thought you’d be,” you said, the words slipping out before you could stop them.

He looked at you, one brow lifting, the corner of his mouth curving slightly. “Yeah? What did you think I’d be?”

You hesitated. “Cold. Calculated. The kind of person who never lets anything slip.” You paused, meeting his eyes. “But you’re not. Not completely.” Your voice caught for a moment, and you hated the warmth creeping up your neck.

He leaned forward slightly, elbows on his knees, gaze sharp and calculating, yet unreadable. “I care,” he said quietly. “Just not in ways people expect.”

The silence that followed was heavy, almost dangerous. Every movement he made—adjusting in the chair, shifting his weight, letting his fingers brush against yours—felt charged, deliberate. You noticed it all. You couldn’t not notice.

Your conversation deepened, moving from survival tactics into personal territory. Each question a subtle probe, each answer a small reveal. He studied you in return, measuring, teasing, testing limits. Every glance was weighted, every pause thick with something unspoken.

Night had swallowed the city, and the tension between you felt almost physical. His presence, the way he occupied space, the quiet intensity in his gaze, drew you in and kept you on edge. The air between you wasn’t soft, wasn’t safe. It was dangerous. And you wanted it anyway.

You swallowed, trying to steady your pulse. He smirked faintly, as if he already knew exactly what you were thinking.

The quiet between you was dense, almost unbearable, each second stretching too long.

He leaned forward in his wheelchair, gaze locking onto yours. The smirk had softened, but only slightly; it was dangerous and teasing at the same time, the kind that made your pulse spike. “You’re… too careful,” he said quietly, almost a statement, almost a challenge.

“I could say the same about you,” you shot back, sharper than you intended, the words carrying more heat than reason.

His eyes flicked down to your lips for just a heartbeat, then back to your eyes.

You wanted to look away, but couldn’t. And he knew it. He moved slightly closer, the chair making the faintest scrape against the floor, and the brush of his sleeve against your arm sent a shiver up your spine. It was deliberate, testing boundaries, and you hated how much it made your chest tighten.

“You’re thinking too much,” he said softly. “Stop thinking.”

“I can’t,” you admitted, voice low, raw. You tried to pull your hand back, but it lingered, almost drawn toward him despite yourself.

He leaned closer, enough that you could feel the heat radiating from him. The tension between you was a living thing, heavy and deliberate, impossible to ignore.

He paused, the corner of his mouth curling upward ever so slightly. His fingers wrapped around your wrist, holding you captive, his thumb brushing over your pulse point.

“Then let’s make you not think,”

he said, his voice barely a whisper, but the implication clear.

Before you could react or pull away, he closed the distance between you. His lips pressed against yours firmly, demanding and sudden. One hand remained wrapped around your wrist while the other slid to the back of your neck, holding you in place as he kissed you deeply.

His lips were hungry, demanding, and you could feel the raw intensity of his desire. He pulled you onto his lap, one hand gripping your hip while the other tangled in your hair. The kiss deepened, becoming more urgent and passionate with each passing second.

As you melted into the kiss, you felt the unmistakable hardness pressing against you through his pants. He groaned quietly against your mouth, his hips shifting slightly to create friction. His hand on your hip tightened, pulling you closer as the kiss became even more heated and desperate.

He bit your bottom lip gently, then soothed it with his tongue before kissing you deeply again. His erection was obvious now, throbbing against your core through the fabric of your clothes. One of his hands slid down to grip your ass possessively. “Fuck...”

He pulled you tighter against him, the hard length of his cock pressing firmly against your clit. He began to grind against you slowly, his hips moving in a deliberate rhythm.

He pulled you tighter against him, the hard length of his cock pressing firmly against your clit. He began to grind against you slowly, his hips moving in a deliberate rhythm.

His breathing grew heavier as he kissed you desperately, his hands roaming your body with clear desperation. He was rock hard and clearly turned on, but instead of trying to undress you or push further, he just kept kissing you deeply while grinding slowly.

His tongue invaded your mouth aggressively while his hands gripped you roughly, almost painful.

In the heat of the moment, his aggressive kisses became too much to handle standing up. Without warning, he suddenly grabbed your thighs and lifted you effortlessly, throwing you onto the bed with a rough grunt. His body followed immediately, pinning you beneath him as his kisses turned even more dominant and demanding.

His hands were rough, almost bruising as he held your wrists above your head with one hand while the other trailed down your body possessively. His tongue was aggressive and dominating in your mouth, mimicking what he wanted to do with his cock.

He broke the kiss to look down at you, his eyes dark with desire and a hint of something else - obsession, maybe. His hand still held your wrists above your head, while the other began unbuttoning his shirt slowly. “You're so fucking beautiful like this... Underneath me, helpless... It's driving me crazy...”

His muscles flexed with each movement as he removed his shirt, revealing a sculpted chest and abs. He didn't bother with the rest of his clothes, instead shifting his attention back to you. His hands slid up your legs possessively, pushing your skirt up to your waist.

He leaned down, his lips capturing yours in another fierce kiss. His hand moved to your inner thigh, squeezing gently before sliding up to rub against your panties. He could feel how wet you were through the thin fabric, and it made him groan deeply into your mouth.

He tore your panties off abruptly with one rough motion, the sound of fabric ripping filling the room. His fingers immediately plunged inside you without warning or gentleness, curling upwards to hit that sweet spot inside you as his thumb circled your clit roughly. “Mmph... So fucking wet already...”

He started pumping his fingers in and out of you harshly, his palm slamming against your clit with each thrust. He broke the kiss to bite and suck on your neck marking you, his other hand keeping your wrists pinned above your head. His hips bucked against the bed, his hard cock rubbing against the mattress as he fingered you roughly.

You let out a loud moan as his fingers hit your G-spot again, your hips arching up to meet his hand. Your skirt was pushed up to your waist, your breasts almost spilling out of your top. He growled softly, watching your body move with his touch. He added another finger, stretching you roughly.

He watched your reactions closely, his fingers moving faster and harder inside you as he curled them upwards to hit that sensitive spot repeatedly. Your breasts bounced with each rough thrust of his fingers, making him lose control slightly.

Before you could protest or even react, he had his mouth between your legs, licking and sucking on your clit hungrily. He pushed your legs apart roughly, burying his face between your legs as his tongue plunged inside you, fucking you with his mouth aggressively.

He devoured your pussy like a man starved, his tongue sliding in and out of you rapidly. He moaned loudly, the vibration sending waves of pleasure through your core. His hands gripped your legs, pushing them further apart as he buried his face deeper between your legs.

He ate you out aggressively, almost angrily, like he was trying to punish your pussy with his tongue. Your moans encouraged him, making him double down on the roughness. Suddenly, he sucked your clit into his mouth hard, flicking it rapidly with his tongue.

You cried out, arching off the bed as pleasure coursed through you. Your hands gripped the sheets tightly as he continued to suck and lick your sensitive flesh. He looked up at you from between your legs, his eyes dark with desire and a hint of something more sinister.

As soon as you came, he licked up every drop of your juices before suddenly standing up and unbuttoning his trousers. He didn't bother taking them off fully, just pushing them down enough to free his huge, throbbing cock. Without warning or preparation, he thrust inside you to the hilt, kissing you messily as he did. “Fuck...”

He moaned loudly into your mouth, his hands reaching up to grab your tits through your shirt. He squeezed them roughly, then ripped the shirt open, buttons flying everywhere. He pulled down the cups of your bra, exposing your tits, and buried his face between them, sucking and biting aggressively.

He alternated between sucking hard on your nipples and biting them, making you whimper. His hips snapped forward roughly, pounding into you with each bite and suck. One hand left your breast to grip your hair tightly while the other spanked your breast hard. “Shit... so sensitive... Fuck...”

He bit down hard on your nipple as he thrust especially deep, hitting your cervix. Your breasts bounced with each rough thrust, making him even more aggressive with his mouth. He sucked bruises onto your tits, marking them as he fucked you violently. His cock stretched you perfectly.

He was animalistic, his hips slapping against your thighs as he pounded into you deeply. Your breasts bounced wildly with each thrust, making him lose his mind slightly. He lowered his mouth to capture one nipple again, his teeth sinking into it softly while his tongue flicked rapidly. He spanked your other breast hard.

He continued to fuck you hard and fast, his mouth never leaving your breasts. He sucked and bit and licked, covering your tits in marks and spit. His thrusts became even more forceful, the bed shaking with the violence of it. Suddenly, he pulled out and turned you around roughly “On your hands and knees now..”

He slapped your ass hard as you got on your knees, watching your breasts bounce with the impact. He ran his hands down your ass cheeks possessively before grabbing them and spreading them apart softly. He spit on your pussy then rubbed it in slowly.

He aligned his thick head with your entrance and slammed inside hard, making you scream. He started pounding into you mercilessly from behind, his hips slapping against your ass loudly. He grabbed your hair roughly and pulled you back against him as he fucked you. “Shut up. and make me a mess on my dick”

He pulled your hair harder as he pounded into you faster and deeper, his balls slapping against your clit with each thrust. His other hand reached around to play with your tits roughly, squeezing them and pulling on your nipples.“Fucking take it”

He slammed into you so hard that the headboard cracked, his huge dick filling you completely. His thrusts were so powerful that they lifted your knees off the bed. He fucked you like a dog in heat, his grunts and groans filling the room.

He pulled out of you suddenly, his cock glistening with your juices. He grabbed your hair and pulled you back towards him roughly. He pushed his cock into your mouth without warning, making you gag instantly. “Suck my fucking cock you stupid slut”

He grabbed your hair tighter and started fucking your mouth brutally, using you like a toy. "Good girl Such a good little bitch taking my cock so well" He pulled out and slapped your face with his cock. "Open wide, you stupid slut”

He pushed his cock back into your mouth, hitting the back of your throat. He held your head in place as he fucked your face roughly, making you gag repeatedly. "Look at you... Such a fucking whore . Taking my cock so nicely."

He moaned loudly as he came in your mouth, filling it with his hot, sticky cum. He pulled out and slapped your face with his hand, smearing his cum all over your cheeks. "Fuck... Good girl"

He bent down and grabbed your face roughly, smearing his cum all over your mouth and lips. He pushed his fingers into your mouth, making you suck on them. "So fucking cute. Little slut with my cum all over her pretty face"

He kissed you messily, licking his own cum off your face before cleaning you up gently with a cloth. He dressed you in one of his shirts and held you close "So pretty" He carried you to bed and spooned behind you, wrapping his arms around you possessively.

You stayed still, and so did he. The space between you throbbed with unspoken tension, each heartbeat loud and deliberate. You could feel it the pull, sharp and dangerous, the thrill that made your chest tighten. Maybe you were enemies, but closer than you wanted to admit, closer than you could fight.

…

You moved through the maze of rooms with Ryuji at your side, the flickering projections casting strange shadows on the walls. The paths were unpredictable, the dice rolls controlling who could move, but some rooms felt different.

In one, the walls shimmered with light, and you caught glimpses of possible futures. In them, Ryuji was not a rival or a threat. He was there with you, smiling, laughing, alive, free. You reached for him in the vision, your fingers brushing against his in a warmth that did not exist in this world but felt achingly real. He caught your hand and held it, steady, certain, and for the first time in weeks, you dared to imagine trust, maybe even something more.

"Don’t get used to this," he muttered under his breath, though his gaze lingered on yours. There was that smirk, the dangerous, teasing one, softened by something almost vulnerable, something that made your chest twist with anticipation.

The visions shifted, pulled you along corridors that promised happiness and laughter, a life outside the Borderland, and you realized with a sharp pang that your heart was clinging to these fleeting possibilities like air.

Eventually, you reached the final room, where the rest of your group waited. Arisu stood at the center, face pale but resolute, the dice in his hand. He exhaled slowly, as if weighing the cost of the next choice. "Seven," he said. The dice tumbled across the floor and came to rest. Someone had to stay.

Arisu turned to you, to Usagi, and to Ryuji. "I’ll stay," he declared. Usagi’s face crumpled. She tried to stop him, reaching for his arm, her voice trembling, "No, Arisu, please..."

But he was unwavering. He shoved her through the door, and before she disappeared, he made Ryuji promise to get her back to the real world. Ryuji’s jaw tightened, but he nodded, the weight of responsibility settling across his features.

Then everything changed. The screens around Arisu lit up white. He had won. His sacrifice had been recognized. Relief flared in his chest, but it was short-lived.

On the screens, Usagi and the others were visible, huddled on the other side, and then Ryuji stepped forward. A gun gleamed in his hand, pointed directly at Usagi. You froze, understanding immediately. He hadn’t shot her before, hadn’t even raised the weapon, but now

Time seemed to stretch. You saw her crumble in devastation, her hands raised instinctively, and your heart slammed against your ribs. Arisu pounded against the screens, shouting for him to stop. He wasn’t there. Only you were.

Ryuji’s hand trembled as the weight of the moment hit him. He let the gun slip from his fingers. It clattered to the floor, metal striking concrete with a sharp, unforgiving sound. Without hesitation, you stooped and picked it up. Your hands were steady, heart hammering, as you felt the dangerous power of choice settle in your grip.

Before either of you could process it further, the world shifted violently. The structures around Shibuya Crossing groaned and cracked, and a biblical surge of water burst into the square, devouring everything in its path. The sheer force sent debris flying and thunderous waves crashing like the end of the world.

Usagi’s scream cut through the chaos as she was swept away, and almost immediately Ryuji lunged after her, gripping her arm, dragging her toward the spiraling whirlpool. You saw the others clinging to ledges, faces pale, muscles straining to resist the pull of the flood.

Arisu didn’t hesitate. With sheer determination, he ripped a segment of the grid room’s floor free from its moorings. He swung it hard, smashing it against the screen wall that separated him from the outside, finally creating a breach. His hands worked furiously in the tangle of wires and metal, forcing the door just wide enough to pull the others to relative safety. Then, without a second thought, he dove into the rushing waters after Usagi.

He had made his choice. The world of the living, the life he wanted, the girl he had to save. The water crashed over him as he fought against the torrent, time stretching in a surreal loop. Every beat of his heart, every desperate stroke, was focused on reaching her before it was too late.

And then your eyes locked onto Ryuji. He wasn’t holding back. Every muscle in his body was working to pull Usagi toward the heart of the whirlpool, toward the world of death. The desperation and danger in his actions were clear and so was the moral crossroads staring you in the face.

Your fingers tightened around the gun.

Time slowed

A shot rang out

Usagi was free

—————————————————

[m00nkissedlover]

・｡Domestic Bliss 🦽

You've ordered: a white mocha hot chocolate! enjoy!

"You make it feel like Heaven~" (Heaven by TXT)

Ryuji Matsuyama x spouse! reader | word count: 721 words

Summary: in which you help your husband unwind after a long day at work🦽

Warnings: none!

Note: requested by @aylinbsx : "Can you make a fluffy Imagine about Ryuji?" here it is, bub!! as someone who is a SUCKER for domestic fics, i just had to write one for ryuji!! hehe...husband ryuji... 🤤 i hope you'll enjoy reading it as much as i enjoyed writing it! 🤭

You loved your husband with all your heart.

His job...not so much.

Don't get me wrong, seeing him work to educate so many young minds and further his research was amazing and you were very proud of him and his progress.

But what you hated was how late he'd come back some nights, how exhausted he'd be, and how stressed he'd be.

Tonight, unfortunately, was one of those nights. You had gotten off of work early, spending the rest of your free time making sure your loving husband would be comfortable as can be when he got home.

As you finished setting up his bath, the rattle of his wheelchair rolling into the house put a smile on your lips.

"Y/n?" he called out.

"Coming!" you answered, your steps light as you left the bathroom to greet your husband.

"There you are." A smile found its way onto Ryuji's lips as he wheeled himself closer to you.

You leaned down to give him a hug, a yelp leaving your lips as he pulled you into his lap.

"How's my favorite person doing this evening?" Ryuji asked, resting his forehead against yours.

"Wonderful, now that you're home." you smiled, reaching up to trace the bridge of his nose. You could see the exhaustion in his eyes, feel it in his bones from the way he leaned against you a little.

"I made your favorite for dinner and drew a bath for you. I say we get you cleaned up and then have dinner in bed?" you suggested, his interest piqued.

"And I say, you're the best partner in the world." he whispered, leaning in to press a soft kiss to your forehead.

After a few more stolen kisses, you two end up in the bathroom. You're sitting between his legs, your back pressed to his chest. The bath was originally just supposed to be for Ryuji, but he practically begged for you to join him.

The scent of his favorite essential oils hung in the air, the steam rising from the tub enveloping the two of you in intimate comfort.

"Want me to wash you?" you asked, reaching for the loofah and soap.

"Go ahead, love." he hummed, his lazy expression making your heart skip a beat.

You let your fingers glide over his bare chest and shoulders, the loofah producing cloud like soap suds.

"Mmm...that feels wonderful, Y/n..." he mumbled, his eyes fluttering shut.

You beamed at the sight of him so relaxed and blissed out, scooping up some water to rinse him off.

"You've worked so hard this week, Matsu. You deserve to be pampered every once in a while..." you hummed, moving to wash his hair.

Once you were done, Ryuji took it upon himself to pamper you now. He gently lathered your body in soap, his hands "accidentally" wandering to his favorite places on your body.

He couldn't help but to plant a few gentle kisses upon your shoulder and the side of your neck, his touch gentle and comforting.

"You're the best thing that's ever happened to me, you know that?" he whispered, your head nodding in response.

"You tell me everyday..." you laughed, turning to face him fully.

"And I'll keep telling you everyday, forever and ever..."

Ryuji sealed his words with a gentle kiss, both of you smiling into it.

A few minutes later, you two were out of the bath and in warm, cozy clothes. Ryuji waited for you in bed as you carried in two trays that held steaming plates of his favorite food.

You sat next to him, nuzzling up into his side, making him laugh.

"Do you like it?" you asked, watching him take a bite.

"Of course I like it. I always love your cooking." he nodded, taking another forkful into his mouth.

You took a bite of your own food, a bit of rice getting on your lip.

Before you could even grab the napkin, Ryuji had already tilted your chin, his lips brushing against yours, his tongue poking out to wipe away the grain of rice.

"You're such a tease!" you laughed, your bright smile only making Ryuji pull you back in for another kiss.

Between bites of food and stolen kisses, the night continued on, the stars in the sky decorating the truly wholesome moment. 🦽

© m00nkissedlover, 2025

[pixiexdusts-world]

After class

Ryuji Matsuyama x student!reader

Summary: A college professor, Ryuji Matsuyama, tries to resist his growing attraction to one of his bold, persistent students. Despite knowing the risks, their quiet tension turns into secret meetings and stolen kisses that neither of them can walk away from.

Word count: 1,024

Notes: please send me aib requests 🙏🙏🙏

You always stayed behind after lectures. Sometimes you claimed you didn’t understand the material. Sometimes you said you just liked the quiet. Ryuji Matsuyama never called you out on it.

He’d sit at his desk, sleeves rolled up, red pen between his fingers, pretending not to notice the way you lingered — packing your bag slower than anyone else, brushing your hair behind your ear just to see if he was watching.

He always was.

“Do you really have another question,” he asked one afternoon, “or do you just like wasting my time?”

You smiled, standing by his desk. “Maybe both.”

He looked up from the stack of essays, trying to ignore the flicker of amusement tugging at his mouth. “You’re bold, you know that?”

“Bold enough to make you look at me twice.”

That made him freeze. A soft flush rose to his neck. You tilted your head, satisfied that you’d hit the mark.

He cleared his throat. “You’re my student.”

“For now,” you said, and walked out, leaving the faintest trace of perfume in the air.

The tension grew quietly after that. Little things. The way your eyes lingered when he lectured. The way he stopped assigning you to group projects so he wouldn’t have to watch you chat easily with other guys. He told himself it was professionalism…

It wasn’t.

One evening he found you sitting alone in the library long after closing. The security lights buzzed overhead.

“Y/n,” he said, voice low. “You shouldn’t be here this late.”

You looked up from your laptop, smile soft. “Neither should you, Professor.”

He sighed, setting down the papers he’d brought to grade. “I could fail you for calling me that with that tone.”

You laughed, not even pretending to be intimidated. “You wouldn’t.”

He didn’t argue, because you were right.

He stood beside your table, eyes on the glowing screen. “You’re working on my essay prompt.”

“Trying to impress you,” you admitted lightly. “Has it worked yet?”

Something in him faltered then — the guard, the rules, the endless caution. He sat down across from you, rubbing his temple. “You shouldn’t talk like that.”

You leaned forward, whispering, “Then stop looking at me like you want me to.”

The silence that followed stretched like a held breath.

He didn’t look away this time.

After that, sneaking around became its own ritual. He’d find you waiting near the faculty exit, pretending to check your phone. You’d walk side by side to the subway station, never close enough to touch, but close enough to feel it. You’d talk about everything but the truth — favorite films, books, his years teaching abroad. You’d laugh too loudly at his dry humor, and he’d smile despite himself.

One night, when the rain came suddenly, you both ducked under a shop awning. Your jacket was soaked, and you shivered. He offered his, hesitated halfway through, then draped it over your shoulders anyway.

“You’re going to catch a cold,” you said, looking up at him.

“I’ll survive.”

You looked at him differently then — not as your professor, but as a man. A careful, tired, brilliant man who had been alone too long.

“Ryuji,” you said softly. It was the first time you’d said his name outside your imagination.

He swallowed. “Don’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because if you say it again, I might not stop you next time.”

Your smile was small, secret. “Maybe I don’t want you to.”

The next week, you kissed him.

It wasn’t planned. You’d stayed after class again, helping him organize some notes. When your hands brushed, he froze, and you didn’t. You leaned in, bold and sure, lips catching his before he could think of a reason to stop you.

He didn’t move for a second, then kissed you back — just once, brief but unguarded. When you pulled away, your eyes searched his.

“Was that so terrible?” you asked.

He exhaled shakily. “You have no idea how bad an idea this is.”

“Then why’d you kiss me back?”

He had no answer for that.

For weeks, it was stolen moments. Coffee shops on the far side of the city. Walks through the park at dusk. Messages deleted as soon as they were read. He was careful; you were fearless.

You’d tease him about it. “You act like we’re in a spy movie.”

He smiled faintly. “We might as well be. If anyone sees us, I lose my job.”

“Then I guess I’ll just have to keep your secrets safe.”

You said it with a wink, but he heard something tender beneath the playfulness.

When he kissed you again — really kissed you — it was in the empty lecture hall, long after everyone had gone. The room smelled faintly of chalk and rain. You were sitting on the desk, legs brushing his knees.

“You sure?” he asked quietly.

You nodded. “I’ve been sure for a while.”

He touched your face like you were something fragile. When he finally closed the distance, it wasn’t hurried or wrong — it was inevitable. The slow burn of every look, every almost, finally catching fire.

When you pulled away, both of you were smiling. Nervous. Breathless.

“Now what?” you whispered.

“Now,” he said, brushing a thumb across your cheek, “we keep being careful.”

“And after the semester ends?”

“Then,” he murmured, “I’ll take you anywhere you want.”

You did keep it quiet — mostly. A few friends whispered, a few professors noticed the way your essays suddenly read like love letters to philosophy. But it didn’t matter. For the first time in years, Ryuji laughed easily. You’d show up at his office with takeout, tease him about his terrible handwriting, stretch out on his couch while he pretended to grade.

Once, you caught him staring.

“What?” you asked, smiling.

“Nothing.” He hesitated. “Just… you make me feel like I’m allowed to want something again.”

You leaned over the desk, kissed him softly. “Then want me.”

He did.

When the Borderlands came, it happened fast — the flash, the emptiness, the silence.

But that was later.

For now, in that small, ordinary world, Ryuji still had you sitting on his desk, legs swinging, sunlight on your hair.

And he still had a secret he didn’t regret keeping.

[luvxkdrama]

— entrust

part 1

pairing : ryuji matsuyama x reader

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

word count : 3.9 k

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Stop worrying” you murmured, exhaling another sigh.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

━━━━━

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

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

But then you turned your head.

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

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

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

And still, you didn’t look away.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That was it. No turning back.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He had never hated time more than now.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And you didn’t move.

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

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

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

Still nothing.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then you froze.

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

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

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

You were… here.

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

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

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

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

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

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

And still, somehow, you were here.

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

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

What now ?

[blkbaecrimsonx]

omgg can I req bf!Ryuji headcanons... i crave for themmm

Bf!Headcannons ♡

☆ feat: Ryuji Matsuyama ◇

☆ which includes: Bf!Headcannons about Ryuji!

☆ warnings: angst (if you squint), kinda long :|

☆ notes: thank you anon for this req! Ryuji imo is a really well written character and the casting is just delicious 😝. As this was sent in the October event time frame, I will make a couple of the hcs a little autumn/Halloween themed. Hope y'all like it! 🫶🏼🍒

Bf!Ryuji, who is quick to notice when you're not feeling yourself, and he'd offer stuff you make you feel better, like food or a day out ♡

Bf!Ryuji, who is a calm and calculated man, so he's not one to be full of energy - but he makes up for it with kisses before work 🫶🏼

Bf!Ryuji, who is definitely a big softie on the inside, but doesn't admit it. Cuddles are definitely one of his favourite things to do with you.

Bf!Ryuji, who reminds me of a crisp autumn day, when the day is dim and dry and the crunchy leaves cover the parks and streets. He definitely has a long checkered scarf somewhere.

Bf!Ryuji, who appreciates having you around him when he's struggling with finding approval for his research. It hurts to see no-one take his hark work seriously, but knowing that you're there to listen helps.

Bf!Ryuji, who you insisted he go trick or treating with you, and he (reluctantly) agreed. It took a while to find him a good costume, but you eventually settled on a Hot Wheels car, with LEDs on his wheelchair ♡

Bf!Ryuji, who you once spent the day baking with, om the rare occasion of him having a day off work. It wasn't perfect, but he loved it more than he cares to admit.

°•~blkbaecrimson~•°

Please don't steal my work, reblogs and recommendations are appreciated ♡

[niragixpsych]

(( Kento with Kento through the years.