#jiro x yn | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

thatonewritersomewhere · 5 months

Text

Cat's Game

Warnings: Fluff, dating, smut (blowjob, fingering, p in v, creampie, aftercare)

Summary: College au, aged up characters, Kirishima x fem!reader, Kirishima is somewhat of a soft dom - partners for a project becomes... something else...

Word Count: 6.2k

____________________________________________

"The partners for your project will be posted on the board at the beginning of tomorrow's class," Mr. Aizawa drawled in a tired voice, as usual. You wondered if he got any sleep, ever. The class collectively gathered their things and got up from their seats.

With your things in your bag, you walked out of the school and to the local coffee shop nearby, since you and Mina had planned for a day together after school. She had another class before she was done, so you grabbed out your laptop and started looking at possible topics for your research project. It was a National History Day project, except your teacher had to make it mandatory. And of course, you couldn't even choose your partners. 'I just hope I get a good partner,' you thought.

This year's theme for the project was "Turning Points in History", so a lot of major events that had a lot of evidence would be pretty good. You started to write out a list of events that would be good, when Mina walked through the door and into the shop.

"Mina!" You called out to her, getting up to give her a hug. You both have been super busy this school year, so it always feels great when you get to see each other after a while. In the embrace, you could tell she smelled like bubblegum, her favorite perfume. She wore white dress pants with a pink blouse, and her hair was down. She is one of the most fashionable people you know, and always lives up to that.

"You look so good today!" You told her, gesturing at her outfit.

"Thank you! You do too!" she said. Your outfit was not at nice as hers - just some lighter jeans with a long pink sweater on. It was funny that you were matching, without coordinating at all.

You waved her over to the table you were at, a smaller booth in the back of the shop. It was cute, and had multiple like this one - closed off on 3 sides, cute small pillows on the booth seats, and a large lamp hanging overhead. It was actually a really nice place to study.

You two sat down, and you closed your laptop as you moved back to where you were sitting.

"So how have you been? Is there any new tea?" Mina asked, a smirk poking at her lips.

"I don't know," you said. "Nothing new with people right now, thank goodness." Your luck with drama was not always the best, as it usually was more negative. Thankfully, though, there hasn't been much drama at all, so it's been good so far, and you told her this.

"There is this huge project we have to do for my history class, and the partners are assigned. I just hope I get someone good for that."

"Well, that's good," she said, her smile sweet. "I hope that any drama that comes your way is good drama that you can tell me about, and I hope your partner is who you hope it is," she said, and her sweet smile quickly became a smirk. You both laughed.

There wasn't anyone on your mind that came up at her comment, but you hoped that soon someone could fill that void.

The next class finally rolled around, and so the partners were posted on the board at the beginning of class. Since everyone was already crowded around the paper, you decided to set down your things and then come back. You maneuvered your way around the people that were done looking at it, and found yourself in front of the paper. You scrolled down the list of names.

Denki Kaminari, Sero Hanta

Bakugo Katsuki, Izuku Midoriya

Yn/Ln, Eijiro Kirishima

Kyoka Jiro, Momo Yaoyurozu

You didnt look much after that, since you saw your own name. If you were being completely honest, you didn't know a lot of these people name-to-face. You would have to find Kirishima, whoever that was. The hope that they were someone good still remained in the back of your mind as you looked around the classroom, walking back to your seat.

Once Mr. Aizawa started calling out attendance, an idea popped up in your head. You would have to pay attention to figure out who Kirishima was, especially since they would be one of the first ones to get called. A few moments passed until you finally heard Mr. Aizawa call out their name. You looked around the room to find that the person who responded was a bright red-haired guy towards the back of the class.

You realized you would have to talk to him after class, and your anxiety shot up. 'I need to push through this and just talk to him,' you thought to yourself. Calming yourself, you took out your laptop to take some notes on the requirements for the project. You didn't want to look, but you hoped that he was taking some notes of his own at least.

After you made a whole rubric and watched a few videos, you felt more prepared about the requirements.

"The next few classes will be structured so that you are learning about National History Day and the requirements for the project, because apparently I have to show you those. Also that way you aren't learning anything new while also trying to do this entire project," Mr. Aizawa stated, his tone laced with boredom and fatigue. Contrastingly, his statement brought a few smiles to the students. Class time for a project would be a great way to get ahead on it.

Tentatively, you raised your hand.

"Yes, Ms. L/N?" Mr. Aizawa asked.

"I was wondering if we would be able to move closer to our partners so that we could use this time to work with them?" you asked, your voice a lot quieter than it normally was.

"Yes, you may," he answered. "As long as you are still quiet and not making too much noise. This is supposed to be a lecture class, so it's supposed to be quiet except for me, but I'm nice today."

A nice smile was brought to your lips, despite the anxious butterflies flitting around in your stomach. You snuck a glance back up at Kirishima, and found that he was looking at you as well. Quickly you turned away, your cheeks flushing red. You realized that you needed to talk to him, though, and turned back around.

"Do you want me to move up there?" you mouthed at him. He gave you a thumbs up and a smile in response.

"Okay, you may get started," Mr. Aizawa told the class. You packed up your things other than your open laptop and got up from your seat to move closer to Kirishima.

"Hi," you said as you placed your laptop down in the seat next to him.

"Hi," he replied. Out of the corner of your eye you saw that he was looking you up and down. Your skin erupted with goosebumps, and you set down your bag behind the seat. You pulled the chair next to him out and sat down, re-logging into your laptop.

"Do you know what topic you want to do?" you asked Kirishima, turning to him. On your laptop was open the list of different topics you thought might be good.

"Right to business, huh?" he chuckled, taking a glance at your laptop. You laughed with him.

"Well, we have the time now, I'd rather use it and have to work less outside of class," you explained.

"That's... valid," he decided. "I wasn't quite sure yet, was there anything you had in mind?"

"Well..." you began.

The two of you ended up going with the Civil Rights Movement, which wasn't exactly the least common topic, but it was perfect for the theme of the project and you had decided that you were going to make the best presentation you could possibly make. Soon, though, the clock was close to the time the bell rang, and so you had decided to wrap up.

"Since we're partners for this project, do you wanna work on it outside of class? This might be the only class time we have to work on it," you told him.

"Yeah, that's fine," Kirishima said.

"Okay great," you paused, opening your phone. "Do you wanna put your number in and I can text you?"

"Yeah, sure," he said, taking your phone from your hand offering it to him. Quickly he typed in his number and his name, and then handed back your phone. It wasn't a moment too soon, either, because the bell rang right then.

"Awesome, thank you!" Closing your laptop and putting it in your bag, you shot a sweet smile at Kirishima. This time, he smiled back.

The walk back to your place wasn't that bad, and with his smile in your mind, you felt like you were back in no time.

That night you couldn't sleep. Turning over, you checked the clock, and it read:

1:03

You groaned as you turned back over. You had been doing so all night, and you were tired of it. You turned on your phone to see if you had any notifications. There weren't.

'Oh shoot,' you said aloud in the dark. Of course there weren't going to be any notifications. First of all, it was 1AM, and second of all, you were the one who had his number. Not the other way around. You went to contacts and found his name. You clicked on the info button and went to message.

'Hey, it's Y/N - can't sleep so I figured I'd text you even if you aren't up - if you see this, I was wondering if you are free tomorrow after class to work together for a bit on our project? If not it's fine, just let me know. Thanks!' You sat there with the message in the draft box, not yet sent. Finally, your 1AM self decided that it would be a great idea and sent the message. You closed the app and turned off your phone, setting it down on the nightstand next to you. Turning over once again, you closed your eyes and tried to sleep. 23 minutes later, you received a message. You grabbed your phone off of the nightstand to open a text from Kirishima:

'Yeah, of course - I have practice but I am definitely free after that. Couldn't sleep either btw' Kirishima responded.

The butterflies came out of their cocoons in your stomach at his response. You tried to calm the butterflies as you responded, but it was tough when you were trying to schedule studying with him.

'Okay, when does practice end for you?' you asked.

You saw the typing bubble pop up after he read your question.

'Around 7:30' he answered.

'Jeez, that's kinda late' you replied. 7:30 would be around dinner, possibly after depending on when you made it.

'Yeah, if you're cool with that?' he asked.

Probably making a bad decision, you replied: 'Yeah, sure - my place'

'Ok cool' he answered quickly.

':)' Ending the conversation, you sent an emoji, put your phone down, and went to attempt to sleep again.

The next day went by extremely slow.

You weren't exactly happy about the late study time, but you weren't exactly opposed, either. Throughout the day, though, you watched as the time ticked by, taking as long as it possibly could, it seems. Your classes never seemed to end, the assignments and lectures dragged on and didn't help to pass the time, either. Finally, though, you were able to pack up your things and get back to your place. On your way home, you texted Kirishima your address. He probably wouldn't see it, but it will be there when he's done with practice.

When you got home, you rewrote your notes from your classes and got started on a few papers and assignments. Once you were done, you got started on making dinner, which was around 7. You weren't exactly the best cook, so it took you a lot longer to make things, but you got it done.

You had started the sauce for spaghetti, when you heard the doorbell ring. Your roomates wouldn't be home tonight, since they were going to a party. Expecting only one person to be at the door, you walked over and opened it.

There he was. Kirishima. And he was... wet?

"Sorry I'm late, I had to shower after practice," he said. "Took me a bit longer than I wanted to."

Quickly you glanced over at the clock to see what time it was. Chuckling, you said, "It's not even 8 yet."

"Oh, shit, my clocks run a bit fast. Forgot about that," he replied sheepishly.

"That's okay," you said, moving aside so he could step through. As he did, you took your split second of a chance to glance at him up and down. He was dressed comfortably (you couldn't blame him, he was just coming from practice) in sweatpants and a black t-shirt. The t-shirt was school merch, with the logo printed large on the front.

He walked in enough to close the door, so once you did, you started walking back to the kitchen where you were finishing up making dinner.

"You can sit down in here if you want, you don't have to be a lurker," you told him, chuckling. "None of the girls are gonna be home tonight, so we have some privacy."

"Oh, sorry," he said. "I didn't want to intrude."

"That's fine, you're in here now, so you might as well get comfortable. Plus, I'm almost done with spaghetti if you want some," you offered.

"I might take you up on that offer," he said. While you stirred the sauce, you could hear him behind you sitting in one of the seats at the counter. Your laptop and a few paper sources were also over on the counter.

A few minutes later, the sauce was done, and the noodles were now in the strainer in the sink.

"How much do you want?" you asked Kirishima.

"I can get it," he said. "I don't want to take too much."

"Okay," you said, grabbing out plates from the cabinet. You left the door open so that he could grab one too, and you went to grab your own food.

You sat down at the counter where your laptop was, and when he came and sat down next to you, he said, "Wow, this looks really good y/n. Thank you."

"Of course," you replied.

Since it was already late, the study session went by pretty fast. The two of you were getting a lot of work done.

When you took a pause, you glanced over at the clock, which read: 11:24

"Oh my gosh, you need to get back and get some sleep!" you exclaimed, not realizing how long you had been working for. "We have been working for way too long!"

"It's fine, no worries," he reassured you. "You do too, though, okay?" His gaze was soft as he looked at your panicked face. He must have been tired after almost 3 hours of work, plus it being after practice. This was normal for you, but you didn't know if it was for him. His soft gaze had to have been from tiredness, you told yourself, trying to push the butterflies and blush away.

"Okay, I will, but you need to get home first." You told him.

"Alright," he decided.

Even though his room was within walking distance from yours, you drove him home (because it was so late, you told yourself. Definitely not because you like him). In the walk back to his room from your car, you both listened to the light sounds of the night. It was sweet and calming after studying for so long.

"Thanks for coming over and working with me," you told Kirishima.

"Thank you for inviting me, and your spaghetti was great, too," he told you.

"Definitely. We should do this again," you suggested.

"For sure. Maybe my place next time?" he asked.

"Yeah, sure."

"Awesome. I'll text you."

His last glance at you of the night was one where he was smiling, and it filled you up with a warmth inside that you couldn't get rid of all the way home. That warmth helped you to sleep better than you had most nights at school yet.

3 weeks later and almost completely done with your project, you closed your laptop for the night. Kirishima was next to you, finishing up his last bit he needed for the presentation.

"This Friday was a bit rough, huh?" Kirishima asked you.

"Yeah, definitely. Classes lately have not been fun," you replied, a small smile sneaking onto your face.

"Glad we're almost done, though - this project will definitely be worth it once we're entirely finished," he commented.

"I did enjoy spending this time together, though," you said, trying to bring a positive aspect back to the topic.

"Same, I'm really glad we're partners," Kirishima said, his face flushing a pink where normally you never saw that. He turned away quickly, and you did too, smiling a bit at his blush.

Tonight you were dressed a bit nicer, since you were coming from dinner with an old friend, and you decided not to change. He was dressed nicer too, but you weren't quite sure why. It was definitely getting to you though, since normally you both dressed casual when you studied together.

"Hey," he said, clearing his throat. "Um, so normally I would ask if you wanted to study sometime this weekend, but since we're almost done with the project, would you like to go on a date with me instead?"

Immediately your heart swelled, suddenly your stomach was filled with hundreds of flitting butterflies and your face was hot, blush lighting up your face with red.

"Yes, I would love to," you said, the wave of joy finally breaking with a huge ecstatic smile on your face.

Kirishima's face lit up with red, almost as bright as his fiery hair. He proceeded to celebrate by jumping into the air as high as he could, pumping his fists in the air.

"YES! Okay, awesome!" He almost yelled, his excitement making you giggle.

"Okay, I'll pick you up tomorrow, then?"

"Yes, I'm free tomorrow so that should be okay," you told him, a cheesy grin stuck on your face. "Text me any other details I might need, okay?"

"Okay, awesome," he replied, his excitement still clearly showing on his face, also still bright red as well.

Soon after that he drove home, and when he stepped out the door to leave, you closed the door and pressed your back against it, standing there for a minute with a wild grin. Your emotions were running high, and you stepped away from the door only to jump around cheering in your front hallway for a bit.

The next day was the longest you have ever been through. He texted you in the morning that he was going to pick you up at 6, and that you could dress casual (because you asked him what you needed to wear). However, after waking up at 8 with a free day ahead of you, you didn't know what to do with yourself. Somehow, though, you managed to fill your day (partly because you were in a call with Mina half the morning, describing the situation and her giving you advice) and you were ready by 5:30 for Kirishima to arrive. You had decided to wear a dressier t-shirt with leggings.

Before 6:00 rolled around, Kirishima got to your place and walked up to your door, and before he got to knock on it (he took a second to hype himself up before he knocked on your door), you opened it and saw him standing there in a cute white shirt with black pants on. The outfit accentuated his figure well, and you could tell he was strong, and his muscles were toned. His bright red hair was fluffy, like he normally has it, and he donned a cute smile as he checked you out as well.

"Wow... you look really pretty," he said, blush creeping onto his cheeks. Your eyes were planted on his, and you could see he couldnt take his off of your shirt, which was a low, V-cut shirt and helped to show off your cleavage a bit.

You laughed as you replied, "Thank you, you do too."

This finally brought his eyes back up to your face, and the blush that was creeping up just onto his cheeks now covered his entire face as he realized he was totally caught.

"I'm sorry, you just... your outfit is- it's-" he stuttered, trying to explain himself.

"It's okay, I'm the one who wore the outfit," you told him. "Come on, take me where you want to, Kiri," you walked out the door and past him.

After a second he followed you back to his car, and he unlocked it so you both could get in.

The ride there wasn't very long, so you only got through a bit of small talk before you saw he was taking you to a mini-put course. You smiled as the memories of the last few times you had gone mini-putting, and you thought it was very cute that it would also be your first date with Kirishima.

The man who checked the two of you in was old, and he could tell that you were on a date together. He had a very dopey smile on while you both got putters and balls, and when you were walking out the door, he called, "Have fun, you lovebirds!" When the door shut, both of your faces were bright red, but you looked at each other and burst out into laughter.

Still laughing, you walked over to the first hole. This one was probably the easiest, being the most straightforward with only a few obstacles. After that, though, it only got harder.

The theme of the place was cute - it was a bit plain, being that it was outdoors-themed, with a few water features, but it was cute and it was fun. There were only a couple other people there, one group being a cute older couple that was almost done by the time you and Kirishima had started, and the other group being a small family that was about mid-way through the course. It was nice, though, because it meant that the two of you could go at your own pace, and talk about the things you wanted to, and just have fun together without any interruptions.

At each hole, you tried to get Kiri to go first so that you could stand behind him and sneak a few looks. Sometimes it worked, but other times he would catch you and laugh, or he would refuse (so that he could do the same thing, even though you definitely caught him more times than he caught you).

The evening was filled with laughter, teasing, and fun, and in the end, you both tied. At the last hole, Kirishima was in the lead by 1, and his first putt missed the hole by inches. He ended with 2 on the last hole. When your last turn came up, you gave it your best shot, even though you thought you weren't going to win. Your ball ended up making it in one shot, and when you went to pick up your ball out of the hole, Kirishima was there, his mouth wide open in shock. In the adrenaline of your comeback, you walked over to him.

"Cat's game," you whispered in his ear, planted a quick kiss on his cheek, and gently closed his jaw as you did so.

Quickly you walked back into the check-in building, the heat in your cheeks rising extremely fast after that. You put back your ball and putter, told the older man that you would be right back, and rushed to the restroom. While you were in there, you took a second and washed your hands, calming yourself down.

You hadn't bothered to see if Kirishima followed you into the building, so when he burst into the bathroom, you were only half shocked. The shock only hit you when you turned around, your back to the sink, and he grabs your hips.

"Can I kiss you?" He asks, his face red with blush, his voice deep, but a little desperate.

"Yes," you responded, your voice shaky with shock and emotion. The clash of his lips against yours was electric, sparking throughout your body. One of his hands reaches up to your cheek, while the other stays at your hip. Slowly, the one at your hip moves from its position towards your stomach, where he slides his hand underneath your shirt and up, his thumb brushing against the bottom of your cleavage. At the same time, he moves his lips from yours and towards your jaw, moving down to your neck. He finds your sweet spot and begins to suck, earning a small moan from you.

"Kiri.." you start, but trail off when he continues.

"Don't worry, no one's coming," he says, trying to reassure you.

"Kiri, no," you pause, making him stop. "I want you, and I want more, I just don't want it here, in this bathroom at a mini-putt-course."

His bright red eyes change from hurt to confusion, to bright again when you tell him this.

"Ohhh," he says, pulling away gently. "Shoot, and I still have to pay for the date, too. Good idea," he commends you, which earns a laughing smile from you both.

Thankfully, when you leave the bathroom, the old man is turned around, reading something. Together, you walk up to the counter. Kiri pays for the time at the course, and together again you walk out and to his car.

When you sit down, Kiri takes a second before he starts the car to move your hair out of your face and behind your ear. The contact is filled with electricity, and makes you shiver, only being able to hope he didn't notice. After putting the car into drive and pulling out of the parking lot, he puts his hand on your thigh, and you shiver even worse than you did seconds ago, goosebumps lighting up your skin. Discreetly, you try and close your knees to hide the heat pooling between your legs. You realize it doesn't quite work, though, when you see his smirk, and he proceeds to move his hand a bit further up.

Once you get to his place, he moves his hand from your thigh to put the car in park, and you immediately miss the contact. You don't have to miss it for long, though, when you get inside.

The door barely closes before his hands and his lips are on you again, making your skin light up with electricity. He starts to suck on your sweet spot again, which also earns another moan from you. You can barely get out the next few words, he's making you feel so good already.

"Kiri.." you try to tell him. This time it works - his head perks up, ready to listen to you.

"Kiri, where is your room?"

The simple question ignites a fire in his eyes, lust being the fuel. Quickly and easily, he picks you up so that he is holding you by your thighs. You wrap your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck to help him, and he takes you to his room.

Gently, he places you on the bed, where you take a breath before you kiss him again, pulling him down on top of you. He takes this and moves his hand onto you again, one on the bed by your head, the other carefully placed against your stomach. Your hands are in his hair, tugging and pulling it, showing him how much more you want.

Once again, he moves his hand up and under the bottom of your shirt, just underneath the cup of your bra, his thumb barely brushing it. The slight touch sparks electricity through your body, and it pools in your core.

You push back at his collar, and he lets you sit up enough to take off your shirt. His eyes are on you the whole time, and once you get it off, his jaw drops once more.

"Holy shit, you're beautiful," he says, still not taking his eyes off of you.

"Hold on a minute, though," he continues, once you reach out towards his collar again. "Are you sure you want this?"

The question brings back that warmth he shared from his smile weeks ago, and it was something even as simple as asking for consent. That warmth ensured that the fire burning inside of you right now would never go out.

"Kiri, I have wanted you since the first day we became partners for that project," you stated. "Yes, I am sure I want this."

"Okay, good, because I have, too," he says, and as you finally pull him down onto you, at the last second you flip him over so that he is on the bed and you're on top.

He grins wildly as you start unbuttoning his pants, and he helps you by taking off his shirt and tossing it to the side.

You pull down his boxers to reveal his erection, and his huge cock. Your core throbs at the sight, and you fight the urge to lick your lips, failing miserably.

When you place your lips around the tip of his length, Kiri throws his head back with a loud moan. Slowly, you start to bob your head up and down, sucking gently as you did. Your hand stroked the rest of him as well, and you could tell the sensation was doing lots of things to Kirishima. He was moaning so loud, you were sure the neighbors could hear, but you didn't want to stop. Kiri tried (and failed) not to thrust up into your throat, but you didn't mind it too much.

"Im.. so close-" he said, just a few seconds before you felt his white hot release in your mouth. When you were sure you had sucked him dry, you swallowed, earning yourself another groan and a wild grin from Kirishima.

"My turn," he said. He helps you to unclasp your bra, your cleavage falling out and bouncing in front of his face. Quickly he flipped you over, so that you were underneath him, your back against the bed. Contrastingly slow, he pulled your leggings down your legs, revealing your underwear and soaking pussy.

"Wow, all for me?" He started, pulling aside your underwear and rubbing a single finger through your folds. This immediately follows by a groan from you.

"Yes- Kiri, all for- for you," you just barely manage to stutter out once he puts that finger inside of you and starts to pump it in and out. The action makes you bite your lip, trying to stop the loud moans escaping you.

When Kiri sees this, he grabs your chin and pulls it to face him, still not stopping his fingers inside of you.

"Don't hide your voice, I want to hear every single sound you make tonight. And no one is going to hear but me," he says, and you let go, loud moans breaking free from your lips.

"Atta girl," he praises, which only goes down to your pussy, where he adds another finger inside of you now. He hits your G-spot every time, curling his fingers just so that he can get it. And he definitely does - you were close to your release.

"Kiri-" you warn, feeling the string of ecstacy being pulled tight, about to snap. "Don't stop-"

You gasp as your orgasm hits you like a waterfall, ecstacy and electricity rushing through you as that string snaps. You cum on his fingers, the stringy substance coating his fingers thickly. You ride your orgasm out on his fingers, and once you're done, he puts his fingers in his mouth and tastes your sweet release.

"You taste so fucking sweet," he praises you. You're still panting from your orgasm off his fingers, and it doesn't help when he pulls your underwear off your hips, tosses it to the floor, and pushes your legs up so that your knees are almost touching your shoulders.

He lines up his cock with your entrance, and your eyes widen as you realize you are about to take his monster of a cock inside you. He passes through your folds a few times before he slowly enters you, one inch at a time. He gets through just the tip before he stops so that you can adjust to the pleasant burn he gives you. Once you're adjusted well, he pushes inside of you just an inch further. He pushes down to the hilt inside of you, and you gasp again as his dick hits your cervix easily.

You adjust to the burn quickly, and thankfully because he begins to pump in and out of you, earning multiple pornographic moans from you. You can feel the buildup of pressure already, building up like a wall about to crash.

Kirishima drives into your pussy, moans releasing from both of you as you get closer to your high. His hands roam your body, one cupping and kneadind your breast and nipple, the other holding onto your waist.

He fucks into you harder and harder, faster and faster, until you can feel the cracks in the wall, a dam about to burst. Your moans mesh together as you both reach your high simultaneously. The dam breaks, erupting as his does too, resulting in a mix of his and your release together at the base of his cock, still hilt deep inside of you. Your legs shake from your release, and the last few pumps of your orgasms fall out of you both.

You lay on the bed in ecstacy as Kirishima pulls out of your ruined pussy, gets up from you and goes to the bathroom to cleanup. He comes back with a towel for you, and helps you to clean up the mess that is the two of you. Once he is done, he puts your previously discarded clothes into the hamper, and gives you a pair of shorts and a too-big shirt for you to wear, and he changes into a loose shirt and boxers as well. He helps you change, and when the two of you are done, he climbs into the bed next to you and places a kiss on your forehead.

"So, does this mean I'm your boyfriend now?" He whispers. You turn around and push his forehead lightly back to play with him.

"I think we need to play another game to determine that," you reply, a coy smile playing at your lips, despite recent events.

"Or..." Kiri trails off, trying to think of a comeback or an easier situation.

"Or... what?" You tease him, giggling as you watch his eyes light up with an idea.

"Or I could just fuck you again, except harder," he states, and this time you can't tell if he's serious or not.

"Harder?" You whisper, thinking about how he could possibly do that after what he did tonight.

"Yeah, although we might have to wait until the morning to do that, cause then you can walk," he says, his tone nothing but factual. He places one last kiss on your cheek this time, spooning you in the bed. The kiss makes the warmth inside of you burn brighter, never to go out again.

#kirishima smut fluff #mha #mha x reader #mha x y/n #kirishima eijirou #kirishima smut #kirishima x reader #mha eijirou #eijirou x reader #bnha eijirou

215 notes · View notes

soranihimawari · 3 years

Text

Your Love is Laced Evergreen II

Jiro, YN is back along with her adventures as a "Libero for Hire" at Inarizaki. At last she and Suna are officially an item. This half is filled with Spring Inter-high Tournament and the future...

Word Count: ~12k+

Pairing: Suna x reader

Rating: 18+ since the characters are still technically in high school pre-timeskip// epilogue is post-timeskip [mdni: fingering, handjob (?), sexual tension post spring inter-high, teasing, language, mentions of consent & implications of sex]

Previous <<

—TOKYO JAPAN: SPRING INTER HIGH—

Routines are the same no matter the time of year. The games are played and the matches are set. Winners advance and the losers grow from their trials. Seniors focus on other aspects returning to train their minds along with the physicality of being top form when the recruiters come along.

Life in Hyogo continues on too. Sprinkle in a few dates here and there along with grueling practices, your plate is pretty full as is Suna’s. Another late night on the FaceTime video call leaves you staring back at the screen watching him sleep post you ensuring him that it’s alright.

“You breathing is a comforting sound,” You mention it once when you’re visiting his house. His mother and sister had wanted to meet you again before your schedules would be made too thin.

For now, you sit with a knee propped up, where you balance yourself, teetering forward with a pen behind your ear. Your hoodie is comfortably long, then again it isn’t yours to begin with. Suna reminded you he left that one style at your place a couple weeks ago and you haven’t seen the need to return it yet, he chuckles at your attempt to return it—a hand of his pats your head, saying it’s ok to keep it. He thinks it’s a cute expression you show him; the two of you seem to be in a small world of your own these days.

You mention something or other about going out with your girlfriends on a particular long weekend right before the volleyball practices begin for nationals, reminding Suna to use this time to have a “grown talk” with his supposed friend and teammate(s) to sort out whatever they needed to. Skeptical though Suna was of Miya’s intentions of outing his own feelings toward you, neither could be trusted alone in the court of the gym where a brother holds back his best friend from punching the blonde again. The ace on the other hand puts more distance between them when both of the players try lunging at each other again.

Hours later, with the sun long since set, you come home with a few good luck charms you were going to give your seniors on the team and one bruised middle blocker sitting on your porch.

“Babe?” your voice isn’t shying away from anger, no. Suna knows this tone. Your demeanor changes when he recognizes the disappointment easily readable on your brow. You take a knee and cup his face, checking for more damage.

“I thought you were going to talk,” you sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. You drop your hand, slightly smirking at that statement.

“We did,” Suna pouts, looking to the side. “Then Tsumu and I…”

“It’s ok.”

“What?”

“Friction is necessary to grow, to evolve,” you stand up, fishing for your keys from the side pocket of your uniform. Turning to face a puzzled Suna who also stands to give you enough leeway to pass by.

“You’re not mad?”

He sticks his hands in his own pockets and you shake your head. You shrug, mentioning it wouldn’t have made a difference because now they knew how to proceed from there.

“Don’t throw off the dynamic you have with the team because of your feelings toward me, toward Miya,” you sound more scolding than anything. “Take this lesson with a grain of salt: teams hit roadblocks every once in a while. Even if Tsumu’s feelings are what they are, I still like you, so don’t forget that. Ok?”

You softly punch his shoulder, chuckling when he feigns a hurt expression before he leans forward, his forehead resting on your shoulder. Your free hand massages his scalp in soothing circles; you whisper to him to head home once you are inside.

“One night to clear your head is ok,” you pat his shoulder, pushing him gently away. “Even if it’s to cool your head, love. Go on and text me when you’re back at home.”

Suna meekly nods, kissing your cheek. You feel him smile softly at you when you walk inside. He waits in your driveway to see the light in your room turn on. The curtains he’s become so accustomed to act as a thin barrier as your silhouette goes through the motions of waving over your shoulder, a silent sign for him to start his walk home.

November ends on a rainy day. There are well-wishes said in your homeroom along with a few congratulatory good luck charms that were slipped in the team’s personal lockers. It was like Valentine's Day earlier this year, but the volleyball teams had such strong support overall. Tokyo was a day away and finally after countless practices and new game plays were discovered, you were starting to think maybe being back in the city would do you some good. Or you know, wait for an old friend to show up round the corner at the corner store you frequented. As an olive branch between the teams to not cause another ‘battle of the sexes’ free for all practice, the coaches and managers decide to have a congratulatory co-ed dinner for all the achievements in the regular season. Once the teachers and other students decided to branch off and do their own thing, the curfew is announced as ten p.m. the absolute latest, especially since the first round of games were announced. It was time this dope out the competition since midway through game two, the pool for the girls’ clubs teams began. (It was a twelve hour time delay due to the conditions on the road that caused a few teams to be delayed in arriving overall). Regardless, once a few members of your team along with a handful of the boys’ team members ask for the ok to accompany you.the convenience store isn’t too far away, about a block and a half, your phone’s gos voice says. Kita and your captain along with Aran walk ahead, behind them you’re talking to Suna and Osamu when an old face makes itself known to you and only you. The other girls you’re with sense something is off once the neon lights of the convenience store illuminates the sidewalk.

“Who’d thought the little street urchin would make new friends, huh?”

You have a contemptuous look before your eyes roll back to the side, not really caring who you were around. You choose to ignore the comment, brushing past the posh dressed individual saying the Chuppets were on a special for the week here, causing Suna to dash inside the store. Automatic doors cannot keep him (or anyone else in your group) away from the varieties of snacks they carried.

You greet the owner like an old friend, apologizing for the ruckus. The French trained shop owner still sold his chocolate bars with hints of hazelnut and handed you a variety of five, mentioning it’s good to see the tigress’ girl back.

“Oh, you haven’t told ‘em?” The old man smiles brightly. There is a photo of a younger you with a woman behind you, holding your shoulders gently. She is a bit fairer than you, dressed in ceremonial garb for the temple she helped run along with a few of the brother monks from the neighboring monastery. You wink and eat the candy hoping none of them would make a comment about how the people in the photo look oddly familiar, however you’re hope is denied when Kita and Miya Osamu glance between the counter, you, and the owner. Your friend group lines up to pay for their share of the “cheat day” snacks.

“Sir,” you freeze when you hear Suna’s voice come from your right. You were thumbing through a few nature magazines as it was his turn to pay. If anyone were to notice, it would be your (not so) aloof boyfriend.

“That’s a lot of chuppets,” your captain says, laughing at the stack of small bags he pays for.

“They are his favorite…” you shrug.

“Mm. I know,” she continues. “I saw him pull them out during training camp last year too…”

A few beats of silence goes by, then she glances your way and notices you were quieter than most times you’ve been included in coming out to these small excursions. The old man at the counter smiles, handing back Suna his change after the final bag was rung. Then, your captain sees the photo in the frame.

“Ji-ji,” her nickname for you, it catches your attention.

“Mother always liked coming here,” is all you say watching the scene around you. You clear your throat before you send a text saying you’ll explain on the way back. However, the man stops you and he hands you a small assortment of seasonal

“Votre chocolat était dieu comme toujours. Envoyez mes salutations aux moines,” you bow, thanking him again for staying open a bit longer. The posh stranger from before has long moved on with their life.

On the walk back to the resort, you let the boys walk ahead of you a bit while you contemplate the truth. And so, later that night at lights out, you start to open up for anyone on your team who would listen: “life isn’t always as good as it is now, so I suppose you all probably heard already, but my mom had an accident; she’s buried not too far from where the convenience store is; she was a good person, a little capricious, but she raised me to be uniquely myself. A few sports where we could play together was something we’d do every summer. I blame her and the older ladies at the community center for getting me enamored with our sport…”

You turn to your side stifling a yawn. You apologize for bringing the mood down in the room you’re sharing with a few of the regulars who mention this was the most you’ve spoken to them since you guys arrived. They give you words of thanks and although the story explains a little more about how your experiences formed your personality a bit more and your tenacity for practicing until new habits become second nature.

“First game is at eleven in Stadium B. Get some sleep because after breakfast, we’ll be watching the competition to get a few notes before evening practice,” the voice of the Co-captain says. Everyone settles down and while they sleep, you study the popcorn ceiling bit more. You mumble a French saying about mothering and daughters before drifting off too.

Two days later, on the main court, a new game begins. Cries for the teammates on the court are cheerful and loud; crows are murderous meaning they are as monstrous as they come. It draws out the foxes' talent in the individuals they are up against. Your teammates infiltrate the stands quietly, watching when Miya Atsumu serves. You see the score and wonder if there will be time to gloat since your job is done since your team advances to the next bracket just fine. A block is read and Suna is able to play his best; then Kita is sent on to the court to boost and strengthen his peers. You notice the captain of the other team returning the ball in the next rally as if to say, “checkmate.”

Perhaps there is some vulnerability in the invincible as the favorite to win loses the match. In a sea of orange, the victors shake the stadium and even the announcers voices are boisterous in their surprise the favorites to win are now knocked out so early in the pool they were written in. Regardless, at line up, the crowd doesn’t make any harsh remarks. Neither do the fans, much to the boys’ surprise. Though they look dejected, you cup your hands over your mouth and shout: “a match well played is all that matters!” The rest of the section behind you agrees content in reminding the players on the court even in loss, there was a lot to be said about a game well-played. Suna locks eyes with you when the warm words of supporters reach his ears. You nod, letting him know silently line up was about to happen.

“Will they be ok?” one of the first years asks. They were part of the pinch server and middle blocker rotation when you were introduced at the first official practice of the season.

“Mmhm,” your captain says, small grin included. “For now we ought to focus on ourselves. C’Mon, I think the game against the other all-girl academy is starting and we have to be at the court around three according to sensei and the coach.”

She looks at you, who has your phone out, sending a text to Suna. She calls your name after you hit send, a chime going off in the locker room on the first floor.

“Did Jiro-Senpai send you a text where they’d be playin’ yet?” one of the first years ask eager to cheer.

“Coach still wants to talk to us post-game though…” Gintama is strict too, but right now is not the time. They want to lick their wounds a little bit, including their setter who made a bold declaration on the court before leaving.

“I’ll see what—”

Kita is interrupted when Suna’s chime goes off and he calls over his shoulder the court number you’re playing in. The team quickly packs up their things and follows Suna, who takes the initiative to see you play live (again).

On the court, with warmups beginning, you talk amongst the other players coming up with strategies. Sure the guys had a following you’d only dream of, but a few curious faces are in the stands. For example, the captain and setter from another school clad in red wait for their other friends to arrive to scope out the girls’ team this year. A stranger amongst them in lime green is in the corner looking onward more like a spider on a wall than anything. The aura is off putting, but you animatedly talk about anything else other than the game that is about to begin. However, you take a glance up in the stands and you suddenly feel parched. The boy you spotted with the black face mask crosses his arms over his chest, and with narrowed eyes, you shake your head, muttering a curse. It’s not everyday a friend from elementary school in the prestigious side of your neighborhood is here to watch you play high school volleyball—on the spring inter-high (national) level.

Spike and receive drills are being conducted as you observe the audience trickling in. The setter this year is another third year who you grow close to since she is always with the captain and ace. Girls bond over simple things but in this pantheon, they are ruthless. The timer runs low and the match is officially underway. Around the middle of the second set, you notice the guys infiltrated the audience. The arena isn’t all full as when the guys played, but it’s enough to warrant chants for both teams to play beautifully.

“Inarizaki’s girls team is solid this year,” a passerby said. “They got this newcomer as a libero too.”

“Heard it was Ji-chan,” their companion said. The boys are in front of the gossiping duo while the rally continues,

“Ji-chan? Really,” the first continues.

Thwack! They stand rigid watching you come back to the ground with an uproar. Your teammates congratulate you with varying words of “nice kill.”

“Glad to see tiger lily over there make new friends,” the other says, high giving her companion.

“Ready? Three two one: nice one Ji!”

You turn to the left, laughing when you acknowledge their presence. A few of the monks from the temple your mother helped tend to have a few nieces around your age who were your first teammates ever. They wear casual street clothes along with a few beads on their wrist. However, it dawns on the rest of the team on there is a sea trickling in dressed in black and burgundy; the other team feels a tidal shift when your eye shines brightly in the fluorescent air.

The boys may have the power of the people, but you, dear girl, have a connection all on your own. The announcers mention the neighborhood with the shrine not too far from this stadium houses a sturdy statue and the importance of tradition. If the boys head the heart of the people, the girls garnered their resilience as the next rally continues on with the pride of the people who raised you.

Your setter is forced to touch the ball shouting a one touch to those behind them, you see the play, you know what lies on the other side and so, you dig low and with a slide hit, you send the ball back; it touches the white tape, but it lands not too far from the feet of the middle blocker. It was a sloppy dump, but at least the score is now saying you’re pulling ahead.

Suna observes to game exchanging comments and thoughts with the twins and Gintama. Kita and Aran though, worry about the mindset of their female counterparts on the court.

The set is won and the fourth is about to start. Time outs are still warranted with an extra one added in case of overtime. Managers pass out the water bottles and towels when you pour some liquid on your share. You bury your face in the middle of it like a child, until you suddenly hear an older voice come from above.

“Oi! Tiger Lily!”

You walk a bit forward to see the old Shinto priest with this cane lean forward to the railing, the other adults on the court with you raise their eyebrows, but before they can say anything, he continues: “Be the lightning rod in the storm.”

You laugh, saying it doesn’t make any sense, but you nod anyway. With ten seconds to spare while everyone gets into position on the court, you realize in your rotation currently, this is the strongest to start with and have the others on reserve for now. Speed is a weapon if you know how to use it, you remember the coach earlier on the orange team’s side saying to slow down.

“Burn them out!” you mouth to your vanguard who knows, nodding. You clutch on to your fellow middle blockers’ jerseys and whisper a harsh, “smoke ‘em out.”

The air shifts again and this time, the other team has a more difficult time keeping up with your erratic offense and solid defense.

“You’re not a decoy, you never were,” your captain says one day during lunch. The school was a bit empty out in the courtyard. “You wrote it yourself: you’re a libero for hire, Hah~!”

“Damn right,” you stand up straighter watching the ball above you fly a bit further back and you make a dash for it. With arms outstretched, you receive it sending it flying clear across with a triumphant bump back to continue the rally. You teeter forward to steady yourself before you turn around to see the setter from the opposite team try to pull a dump, but the ball is subsequently pushed out of her hands by a mousy first year who just scored for the first time. It was an easy block, for sure, but it was their first successful read block and though it might seem a little strange for the other team to see a surprised look, your team cheers for her the loudest.

“That kouhai,” a different voice says, this time popping up from the left of Gintama. The kanji for NEKOMA is stitched on the back of the jacket in gold. “Reminds me of Tsukki, huh Kenma?”

“Mm,” his companion says. “Means trouble for you later.”

“Oi,” he flicks his friend’s forehead who just deadpans.

“What? You’re a middle blocker too Kuroo, you know how menacing that technique can be when you need it.”

Four out of five sets are played and the fifth one? With the fatigue setting in, there are mistakes bound to happen. A few of the first years got their taste of court play and for what it’s worth they fell deeper in love with the game they play. Sure you were subbed out a few times, but hearing you cheer for them with a few faces from your upbringing made it worthwhile. Even now as you set the ball to your ace, she makes a line shot and the game is won.

The opposite team moves in slow motion to try to savor their time on the court, but when dealing with sly plays and clever outcomes, the match was clearly over before it had begun. They were tough too, and when you see they had their supports shout great games, you remembered they too played with the vibrancy of love for the sport. Applauses were heard, yet the guys from your school were the most obvious.

“Hey SunaRin,” your voice calls to him from above. You were seated on his bed one afternoon after practice. You were reading an article for science class and were about to write your findings, while Suna was drifting in and out of sleep on your lap. His hair combed back by your fingers while his breathing made you know he was still awake…Somewhat.

“The next time we play, make sure you’re there to watch me win,” you instruct him, gently nudging him to go back to sleep. Rather, he turns to face you, nose scrunching in confusion asking you if you’re so sure you’d be able to pull that off. You amend your statement to include him and his team too if the roles were reversed.

Now, when you and the opposite team turn to the spectators, you notice a few faces outside your own support crew: those in red wave to the middle blocker from earlier, saying how they’re flattered they were knowing where the play came from (the timid first year explains how they watched the Nekoma matches to learn blocking a bit better and have been tailoring it to their specs as needed). The person in the back nods, sauntering off into the stairwell. He hadn’t changed a bit you figured. The other people who came to see you play were applauding still and shouting how good it was to see you come home; the coaches and sponsor wave while they talk to the managers to go over the checklist of cleaning up the equipment that day. Regardless, the old man from earlier calls out to the team on the hardwood floor: “welcome home little nine tails!” The tiger lily were a reference to the garden you tended with the old man’s wife before she passed, so when the younger monks come to the railing, they have a few blooms to hand you all. You place one in your hair behind your ear, thanking them as they did take their leave before the dusk prayer chants begin.

Suna, though in hindsight should have mentioned he was going to the first floor of the gym, is seen making a beeline toward you. A softened glare makes you flustered more so after he offers to buy you dinner for a job well done. He plays with the flower petals on your hair while you mention you rather clean up first prior to dinner.

[[Boys Inarizaki Team Result: Eliminated]]

[[Girls Inarizaki Team Result: Third Place all-around]]

Coming home though, with the medal in your pocket, makes it very hard for Suna to not want to touch you. His lips leave lazy kisses along your neck whispering praises of your name in the embers of your skin.

“You make it sound like I went off to war,” you chide, catching his lips with yours again.

“Can you blame me?” His hands trace along the exposed skin of your shirt riding up a higher the more you let him linger like this.

“No,” you snarl when his teeth graze your neck. You’re smiling in the bell tone you speak with, usually calm, but strong. You hide when he does bite down, causing you to grip the back of his shirt, his bed is much more comfortable than yours at the moment. Surely this wasn’t part of the plan when you came over after arriving back from the closing ceremonies and finding yourself entangled with your boyfriend above you was a definite bonus. Precocious confidence is and always will be something you both share, so for now, you fall pliant to his advances. Until you feel yourself being picked up; Suna’s hands sneakily slide behind the small of your back, raising you carefully so as to have you sit comfortably on his lap.

“Comfortable?” You ask, bending your knees to straddle him better. You don’t make a comment about the physical payoff you have on him, he hasn’t been with anyone else in this situation. You cup his face and tell him it’s ok, he doesn’t have to do anything he doesn’t want to.

“It’s a two way street love,” you peck his forehead. “And trust me, whenever or whatever you want to try is fine with me, ok?”

Suna inhales deeply saying you’re plotting his murder if you keep saying things like this. One day he’s going to snap, so before then, you make sure he understands the way you respond too. You guide his hands higher on your thigh as if he hasn’t tried before, your breathing hitches in your throat and he gauges your reaction with how you squirm in his tightening hold.

“You’re too good for me, you know that?” his voice rumbles in his chest the higher his hand climbs.

You hum, feeling an inviting heat exude from his hand.

“Suna,” you sigh with his name on your tongue. You lean forward, burrowing your face on the side of his neck. His hand is higher than necessary because the next thing you know, his fingers reach the band of your undies.

“Tell me to stop here,” he pinched the elastic teasingly. He is apprehensive because in all these scenarios in his mind’s eye when he’s alone, with a fist sound god own shaft, he doesn’t think this was plausible. You here always puts him on edge because he couldn’t believe all those months ago in the closet would lead here; you willingly stay by him, to help him grow, fall in a messy love with you.

Now the same person is here, on his lap, saying everything he’s imagined in his head, but only this time the reality is enough to warrant a second glance at you: your hair is tied back, there is a depth of a naughty pink on your cheeks he hasn’t noticed before. Sure kissing each other breathless always sequestered more time together. This wouldn’t be the last time either of you have seen each other half dressed. It was the norm though with his nonchalant manner of being in his own home. (You change in your bathroom at home to avoid your guardian fishing out how promiscuous you both really were.)

You whimper, replying with a breathy, “not yet.”

“You sure…?” His hand presses against the fabric part now and you feel yourself clench around nothing, but your body feels like it’s on fire. You hold his wrist from moving anywhere else but the front of the fabric; the warmth emitting from you is insanely dangerous. Suna groans, almost knocking his forehead into your sternum, muttering curses when you steady him, dropping his hand in the process. His palm feels how worked up you are, how pent up you can be just by him alone, and you look away for a moment, a wicked grin flashed across your face.

“Take care of that will you?”

Your voice is lined with a carnality he hasn’t heard yet; his hand slides up and under. The lewd sound of his fingers curling into you makes you breathe harder. Sounds Suna thought he couldn’t elicit from you come forth as your eyes roll back. Your breaths become needier the longer he circles around the spots between your gummy walls, and he notices the way your voice chants bold words: “more, puh-please?”

Or was it more like a moan if his first name? All you know of that is he is relentless. Minutes go by and you have Suna knuckles deep telling you you’re as dirty as he thought, and that he would never share you because you sound too good to be true. He’s being coy when he runs against a familiar nerve bundle and he closes his eyes because your response is heavenly. Your hips jolYou nod eagerly, trying to find words to match, but alas you fail as the movement praises long enough for you to focus on the sensation, your arousal slides down his hands and he mutters a quiet, “messy girl; all this because of me?”

His hand drives to the edge only to keep you taught enough to whimper a small, “yes.”

When he removes his hand altogether, it is coated in a sheer layer and you are instructed to look at him when he brings his lips to taste you.

“Fucking delicious,” he says, wicked grin. He pats your back, when you collect yourself. Suna offers to not get too carried away again, but you reassure him you can endure a little more after all, you confide in him a secret: “I am where I’m supposed to be.”

Suna blinks back at you, but the sensation of your other hand slipping underneath his tank top he chooses to wear. Your fingertips trace over the ridges where he is defined through the months worth of practice, you show him the kind of fire you can ignite just being yourself.

“You’re going to make me fall,” your voice is cautious. “Be careful little fox… ack!”

He leans back further and you fall bracing yourself by having your arms instinctively on either side of his face. Your bangs tickle his jawline, and he has this air of foreboding. Both his hands steady you by your hips, the electricity you conduct makes his pupils dilate waiting to see if—

“Rin,” your voice is oddly darker like you have a cold. “This is enough, yeah?”

A-are you this shy when you’re so bold before? Or are you worried you’d hurt him later? Time is relative, but now in context, the way your bodies lay atop the other is asking for answers to questions neither of you want to awkwardly answer.

“Ji,” his voice is intoxicating. “I’m already too far gone.”

You glance down with a rueful smile staring back at you; this fever you can’t sweat out. Not unless you’re able to work things out together. Languid and breathy kisses last longer than before… one of your hands snakes around his shoulders while the other grabs the fabric of his shirt. His hands don’t shy away either while his touches roam the area beneath your shirt as well. You break away from his lips for a moment to kiss take off the shirt over your head and shoulders while you blindly toss it to the side.

“Door,” you speak in hushed tones.

“Don’t care,” he replies.

“Close it,” your curt reply was more than enough to warrant him to roll you over onto the side of his bed. You stifle a laugh watching him murmur a few grumblings of privacy, but considering how hot and bothered he already was with you, the second the door is shut, he claims it’s only fair.

“What do you—?!”

His shirt is thrown at you, making you laugh when he comes back to bed. You shake your head, telling him he’s being a bit foolish.

“Don’t ignore me,” his voice taunts your ears and you gasp when his right hand slides under your thigh to pull you toward him as though this was a tango you could effectively pull off.

“Wasn’t planning on it,” you arch your back further curling into him before his mouth sears yours like a scalding piece of iron.

You don’t remember how nor does he recall why, yet twenty minutes later, you’re still reeling from the way you get him to show you how his own body reacts to you being uncontrollably seductive. Suffice to say if anyone thought Suna was lazy, let’s just say they didn’t pique his interest.

“Seems like you make more of a mess than I ever could,” you tease him by moving your hands up and down the exposed part of him.

“You little-Ah!-fuck,” his head lops back almost hitting his cranium to the wall.

“I know,” your hands are going at a more brutal pace and before you know it, he is bucking up trying to behave because you said so. “Uh-huh. Feels good don’t it? I need you to quiet down now little fox.”

His eyes are too far black and he calls you for what you truly are: “sadistic one.”

“Glad you remembered your big boy words,” you kiss his forehead, the beads of precum seem like crocodile tears on your digits. You let go so eloquently, wiping your hands on his chest before you maneuver your body off of his side of his bed. Standing, you stretch your arms above your head and your skirt adjusts itself mentioning you’re going ahead to clean up first. He can do whatever he wants to cool himself down.

“Time is ticking,” you tease. “Oh, and consider this a light payback from almost ruining me with that hand of yours babe.”

You gather a few pieces of clothing from the bag on the side of the bed by the desk. You pull his alternate jersey off the back of his chair and a set of old cheer shorts. Realizing it wasn’t going to take care of itself, Suna waits for you to be out of earshot and in his adjoining bathroom on the same floor.

You were right about one thing though: Suna is glad he closed the door because no one needed to know his girlfriend single-handedly brought him to this point after he gave her a slight feel of what he can do.

“God damn it woman,” he mutters. His bed is stripped by the time you exit; he passes by you telling you to flip the laundry when the washer goes off.

You, finding the humor in all this, say a smart ass remark about how chemistry and biology seem to be a fun science to study together.

“Fuck off.”

You make an interesting hand notion and his cheeks grow redder. He pouts at you as if to say ‘you win.’

“With you? Gladly.”

You wink when you watch him close the door to the bathroom that is still foggy from your shower. You mention through the door to turn on the fan before you step outside looking for a snack, settling for a cup of water and some citrus fruits. You make yourself a parfait with the open vanilla pudding you see in the back along with the granola you see next to the bread pantry. You make another one for your host for tonight, sending a quick text saying you were probably spending the night at a friend’s. Your guardian makes a sly remark about sending a brief “hello” to Suna and to “be responsible” and you send an equally smart reply, to which they send a laughing emoji or two saying you are old enough regardless.

“What’s making you smile so much yn?”

You jump slightly, dropping your spoon on the floor.

“Don’t do that!” You shake your head sassing him. Watching you pick up the spoon you had dropped makes Suna’s gaze stray away unless that was his plan you called him out on. He shakes his head saying something else entirely.

“My name looks good on your shoulders,” he chooses another spoon in a drawer not too far from where you stand by the sink. You turn your head to glance at him briefly before you dry your hands.

“Suna Rintaro, was that a proposal?”

He eats the parfait thanking you mid bite, a poker face comes on his lips. You miss the smallest hint of ‘maybe’ behind the dimming glow behind his hazel eyes. Would the domesticity kill his vibe? No. Never, especially if it involves you. For now though, Suna chooses to ride out the rest of the year with you.

Spring comes and along with it, warmer weather surrounds the gyms where the graduation ceremonies took place. Kita and Aran alongside the other seniors you’ve come accustomed to seeing everyday take photos. A few of the first years run and tackle their seniors, the girls are a bit more emotionally charged while those empaths on the boys’ team look to Suna and other second years to help keep the team in balance.

Your captain and the ace clasps the shoulders of their replacements saying the team is in good hands, after all, the newer members come the fall have excellent leadership. They turn to you reminding you to play your best, however the libero who was your closest friend and mentor says to keep evolving and to make the memories last that much longer with the new team.

“Be the glue to keep them together,” she says, hugging you tightly. “Whatever you learned from me, pass it on to the kouhai Jiro, yn. They love you, hahah.”

“You make it sound like you’re going further than me,” you say, keeping her at arm's length.

“We both know I am destined for greatness, but you dearie, have greatness thrust upon them,” she winks at you. Aran calls her name and she holds up her diploma. And you can see it in the way they have their own language in the in between and you suddenly start to view your seniors in a rose colored background: love does ground them in a reality they have shaped into their own. The road is short, but the journey is long. You’re sure to meet the company you keep again. Conversations about where to go now, you hear a few suggestions, until you instinctively say, “a game off the record at the usual spot?”

“Ooh, sounds like fun. What d’ya say hmm Shin-kun?” your captain has a halo around her smile, while her counterpart shakes his head.

She hands her diploma canister to her fellow captain in arms. He nods, mentioning you have all summer to play, but when your (personal) libero senpai falls in step behind you two, her voice is loud across the courtyard: “we need the memories to keep going!” The twist in the school motto is something that is said often in passing.

“They’ll be alright,” Aran says. Suna and the others around them look on.

“Never doubted them to begin with,” Suna’s words catch his company off guard.

“Be good to her,” the former captain reminds his kouhai.

Suna knows the implications and humbly agrees.

“You two,” this time the blonde Miya is brought into the short talk. “Don’t be too blunt with each other; both of ya cause enough trouble on yer own.”

They nod showing they understood the assignment. Especially since the setter is also the one to lead by a certain example. A monster in their own rights, you guess when you hold Suna’s gaze for a short while longer before you are called to join the graduates’ game.

There are a few more family members joining for the post ceremonies celebrations. Thankfully the dinner parties and whatnot would be held tomorrow afternoon, but for now, the girls are having their fun. It was refreshing to see the dynamic which makes your team work and gel together seem so natural because now that the ball is in the air, you make a pass to the captain whose talent is still keeping a level head every once in a while; the rest of your companions join little at a time. Fifteen minutes later though with the ball in the new captain’s hand, they pull you all into a final farewell. It’s similar to the huddle you had when you realized the final play at nationals sealed the third place spot.

—summer sunshine and midnight storms—

School begins and you’re at the club fair in your third year. To boost morale and encourage applicants, a few of the second years whet the appetite of other students who are scared to try a new club sport. A handful of the girls are trying their best, but the list is still a short one. Until another student bumps into you. She is a bit apprehensive, playing with her hands, but you see she is trying.

“Would you like to sign up?” you ask, pretending not to notice the volleyball marks on her forearms. Her partner is the wall behind the science building, you know because you’ve seen her there.

“Mmhm,” you hand her a pen and stroll along with her to the table.

“My name Jiro, yn. You can call me Ji…”

The pen is still flying across the blank spot.

“Saito, Aoi,” she lays the pen back on the paper.

“Aoi-chan,” you repeat. “What position do you like to try for?”

“Pinch server.”

This year’s team exchanges looks between you both.

“Wonderful,” you say. “I play libero, these are the rest of the members.”

She gives you a nod, mentioning if it wasn’t too much trouble she’d like to join your table at lunch. Your captain, who’s in your class this term, says it would be a grand idea.

“Our doors are always open.”

The timid girl leaves with a wider smile and her face. By the end of the day, you sit with the rest of the third years and a few of your kouhai. Though you review the names of the applicants, you think back to a few of the first year names. Sure Saito Aoi stands out, but the others do too. Two went to a middle school program and entered Inarizaki due to their scholarships for the sport. There was one brave second year who wanted to learn how to manage a club properly which was great to have since leaving the work for one of the third year manager(s) was rough. However the setter this year seemed disappointed no one would offer to give the position a try, but you remind her the first practice is the following day.

“Besides, I have a feeling tomorrow is going to give you an answer, Inoue-chan,” you wink. Libero or not, your carefree attitude is sometimes needed to turn someone around.

During practice though, there is a bit of chaos around your lot. The boys seemed to have started a war amongst themselves: some take their captain’s side, others take the brother’s. You’ve noticed your captain trying to talk sense into the hardheaded of the two while the ace tries to douse the fires in the brother’s camp. You’re next to your setter and you see she is so close to laughing, and the other members’ shoulders start to shake. Even the new members, before you know it, the laughter rings clear. It is infectious and entertaining, that is until a stray ball rolls to bump into the bottom of Saito's ankle. The laughs die down as she picks it up and gives it a bounce or two.

“Shall we?” You ask her, squeezing her shoulder. “Remember, Aoi-chan, I’m not a science wing’s wall…”

She smirks before she shows you what else she is capable of. Couple hours later, you see Aoi talking more comfortably with the other first years, along with the team’s setter.

“She’ll be alright,” your classmate says with a sheepish grin. “She’ll make her team proud like a certain libero for hire.”

“I write that once and what can I say? We needed someone like me.”

“Hah, that’s true. Maybe now it’s the strategists’ turn?”

You entertain the idea of coming back post graduation to see the new team formulate plays without you and it suddenly comes crashing down: this was the first step in moving forward.

Suna breaks away from his team during their break as well, heading your way. Your captain winks at you while you give her a thumbs up. Perhaps if she reasons she can receive Miya Atsumu deadly serves for an x amount in a row, she might convince the arrogance to settle for a date to the penny arcade by the farmer’s market. (The deal is made for three out of five, according to who tells the story, and it works. Some say it humbled him, others like yourself, like to think the crush is finally confessed in a manner of speaking.)

“Hi babe,” you greet him when he takes a seat next to you. He lets you rest your head on his shoulder. You and him enjoy watching the friendly rivalry grow. Empty threats are shouted but at the least, the den grows.

Another Friday night rolls around and though practice concludes on a solid note, you walk side by side with Suna. You talk animatedly about the progress as a whole the team is making; he squeezed in a word or two about how those close to the Miya brothers seem to have started a rumor about who liked who and other trivial things.

“Oh? And what did they say?” You press. The familiar gate of your place enters his per view. You stop in front of him, holding good hands like you always do.

“That I’d be crazy enough to let you go,” Suna answers you with a slightly forlorn expression on his face.

“Even if you do,” you squeeze his hands reassuring the truth you’re not too naïve to believe. “I’ll give you enough hope to take with you.”

“…?” He tilts his head to the side, the wind whistles by. Hope is something that is intangible, yet for you both, hope is the reflection of the triumphs you face together. Merit and grit during the training camps and games only cover a part of it. He knows this as do you, so here in front of your porch at the twilight hour, you bring his hands to your lips.

“Aren’t you a little sentimental already?” You ask him. “We’re in our third year and everything is just beginning.”

Suna lowers your hands to your sides before his hands hold your shoulders steady, and surely in your mind what he does next is in the top five of smooth moves. Quiet, short lived kisses are exchanged when the initiative is taken by him. His teammates tease him for being so affectionate with you versus the volatile way their members can’t break through his blocks. You stifle a chortle, a blush forming on your cheeks, when he promises to pick up where this started later. He grumbles when the break is over and you help him stand up.

The walk home after practice concludes is one of a sense of triumph. It’s like a truce was formed between the boys and girls’ team for once in their three years of schooling. You stop by a French bakery on the way to the crossroads where everyone starts to group off, but not before you convince everyone to try this place out. The door chimes above the ring as the smell of delectable treats and savory pastries flood the hungry group you bring in.

“Bonsoir!” You greet. There are trays on the right and you immediately seize one and start picking up small pastries to try. Suna hovers over your shoulder next to you, sneaking in a few buttery breads and in small retaliation, you put in a jam and cheese one. The others who choose to join you choose French toast derivatives and a modest size baguette for four, a chocolate croissant, and other braided brioche breads. The cashier happily hums the tune of La Vie en Rose and an older lady comes out from the back with a peach blossom mochi treat. She talks to her granddaughter just fine, you gather from the way their exchanges are. The rest of the team talk about other stuff like classes and perhaps other plans for the upcoming weekend. When it’s your turn to pay, you’re about to hand your card, but Suna already has the receipt in his fingers. You feign annoyance whining about it was your turn to pay for the sweets.

“Not if I can help it, doll,” he says the last part low enough for you to hear. “‘Sides, looks like you were having fun…”

The owners of the shop wave as you all trickle out of there. It was good to see everyone for now having fun because everyone knew before long the season would begin and their skills would be put to the test.

Circuits and match dates are already dropped for the pools for this year. You receive word from the managers from both teams there will be an extra practice today so they can release the stats of their prominent line-up. A lot of sports magazines and recruiters would be scouting the matches to see who would be a good fit for their training camps or universities. Some who are dedicated like Miya Atsumu and the ace of your team, are definite shoe-ins for those kinds of rewards. However, with your block percentages and rambunctious attitude to physically keep the ball up in the air above you, your name slowly starts to gain traction too. Four of out of the five prefectures have sent powerful kids to the training camps for Golden Week, yet only one or two have been liberos in the past. Or at least, that is what the rumor is, according to your team. Today’s practice was an open one, it was much deserved after a trying away match. Your team won, but it was just barely through the skin of your teeth since the opponents decided to target the holes in the defense the seconds you weren’t there. Luckily, the boys were scheduled to play a game close to home that day, so you figured you’d hear from Suna soon.

In the middle of the floor though, was the newest addition to the manager team, who was reading aloud the coverage of women’s youth volleyball (quarterly edition). She vehemently flips to where your prefecture is covered and there is nothing but praise for the coaching style and mentorship for the team. Words elevate your ease, yet when the captain’s name is brought up, she shakes her head knowing that this could either be a good thing or a burn.

“‘Under the captain’s lead, Inarizaki’s Girls Team glides through effortlessly,’” the manager says. The captain breathes a sigh of relief. Saito is seated opposite of the manager who says to wait a moment because she wasn’t done. Rather, the article wasn’t done. “‘Talent this year is something blooming in the streets of the Hyogo Prefecture since one of the more promising liberos is performing in top shape this season: Jiro, YN is a virtually unknown player. A Swiss Army knife on the court, it is hard to believe their opponents ever had a chance…’ I’m gonna skip to…”

The pages rustle in her hands. You mouth out a ‘sorry’ to your captain, who shakes her head. If she were jealous, she wouldn’t have been so quiet, yet the emotion was a bit closer to pride since her peer finally found some recognition. Perhaps this distraction was enough to set you aside on your walk home asking for some advice in the personal life department.

“‘Jiro, Yn is a name everyone will recognize one day. This year’s team has the fan favorite vote to take the Spring Inter-High Tournament first place spot. With a team with such powerful players, like [captain’s name] and Jiro, their opponents should watch out!’”

The girls squeal and cheer amongst themselves for a bit, dreaming ideas of seeing their names with their own dedicated articles about themselves once their senpai’s graduate. You tell them it’s alright, along with the setter, to chase their ideals because after all, they learned it from you three too.

Later, on the walk home from practice, your captain and you find yourselves passing the library which is the landmark dividing your neighborhoods. She slings her bag to her side and your drawstring bag settles atop your school tote bag.

“I need some help confessing,” she begins. You may be in her class, but since your homeroom teacher likes having the seats this term be in alphabetical order, she sits a couple rows ahead of you. You don’t see the way a certain blonde’s fan club ignores her opinions (or her efforts to be well known and not called ‘pigs’ by him). Then it clicks into focus for you; the way she was always around the guys during co-ed practices, the way the insults were a little more teasing and not more, well, insult-sounding. The way the brother and by default co-captain leads practice so they can have a little more time to talk about trivial things outside of volleyball…Your eyes light up when she implores you to not say his name because “I’d die.” And you concur, saying you won’t, so instead, you ask her a question.

“When did it start?” Your voice is starting to sound more in tuned with other girls your age.

“I don’t know. Last year I think?” She answers.

“Ah, I see. Does he know?”

“I-I don’t think so. I mean if he did, he must have done a really good job hiding it.”

You fold your arms over your chest with a pondering expression on your features.

“Perhaps asking Atsumu out directly would finally get him to see the light,” you say without any filter. You open your eyes and you see your friend turn three shades of peachy pink, and you’re immediately apologizing the moment she laughs out an, “Welp, guess I’m dead.”

“There are worse ways to die,” you jest, looping your arm around hers as you walk forward.

“The fan club could behead me—”

You two laugh and joke, carrying on until you reach her house. She says the cultural festival is happening soon at the temple during the last week of the peach blossom season. You mention you knew it would be going since the monks at the monastery in Tokyo would be joining their brother priests here in Hyogo for the festivities. Since the inter high, the girls’ team has come accustomed to your ties with being surrounded by the holy men. Your guardian at the time just nods along saying you were so much like your mother, befriending strangers and the like. The few whom you let in to you life outside of the educators and advisors in school, like Suna and the rest of the third years on either team, know your situation as a whole: mother died fairly young, like before you turned eight; in the time she had raised you, she has introduced you to the people who would come by often to play a neighborhood sport you fell in love with, the monks at the local temple always looked forward to your visits because unlike the other sects who use kung-fu or jiu jitsu as a form of discipline, these men (and women) played team sports to strengthen their bonds with each other. The team one afternoon announces to their kouhai you were going to be absent the next few days, when asked why, the captain and co-captain glance at their setter who knows you the best at the time, and they explain. Upon your return the following Monday, in your personal show locker, you see little notes from the kouhais, and one all the way in the back corner, from Suna.

“D’ya knows that SunaRin can’t call you ‘tiger lily’ because he thinks it’s something someone else who raised you should say?” Your friend currently asks.

You’ve since come inside her home, relaxing a bit in her room while your books are opened to study two different subjects (her strength was in the literature part while you were working on a physics problem with mathematical equations).

“Huh?” You poke your lips with the eraser of your mechanical pencil. “No, I guess not.”

She nods, sort of smiling at you while gauging your reaction. “It’s because he thinks your mother nicknamed you after the flower and the monks took it and ran. I overheard him in the courtyard the other day talking with Osamu when the baking club was selling their bagels for this year’s fundraiser.”

“I don’t mind, but I think it’s cute,” you pout, erasing your last block of your answers.

Your friend sighs, contentedly raising herself from the futon in her room. “I’m going to prepare some tea, would you like some?”

You nod, stretching saying you needed to take a break anyway. A few minutes go by and the impromptu switching of subjects begins.

The peach blossom festival is in full swing a few weeks later, and at the meeting spot near the north side of the playground, Suna, Atsumu, and Osamu stand by the railing. You are dressed in casual attire as well, a more modern take on a business styled suit, complete with a ribbon decoration braided into your hair. Your captain is dressed in a similar way, except she wears something bit more form fitting and she is suddenly a bit more shy about her body’s contour than before. The third in your group is the setter who unofficially have adopted Saito Aoi as her disciple (after noticing her passes improved the most along with surprising her fellow teammates with sets that were essentially honed to bring out the potential of a kill), comes around the corner too, about a block away from where the guys were.

“You said we were going to the festival,” she says with an exasperated sigh. “If I knew I was going to be on a platonic date with Samu-kun I would have at least not worn a yukata!”

“Aww, but I think you look cute,” you say with a widening grin. You play with the high ends of the belt tied around her waist. Shaking your head clears your thoughts. You place a knowing hand on both of their shoulders like you’re about to come up with a fastidious plan on the court. Except the court is a festival and the opponent is a haughty pretty blonde boy and his twin brother is just along for the mischief about to ensue.

“Ok, so tonight we’re mostly wingmen, got that?”

The two smile shrugging with the comment, “A Midsommer’s Night never looked this favorable.”

You walk away, bounding up to Suna who nods in your direction. His friends look your way to see the other two trailing behind you.

“Yer not chickening out,” Osamu pushes his brother forward. “Just tell ‘er what we already know.”

Such sage advice.

“I will when ya spill first ya loser,” Atsumu fires back. You’re already chatting with Suna, complimenting the attire. You laugh at his reaction, saying you didn’t think he cared so much before about matching details, not necessarily the overall outfit.

“C‘Mon, the festival’s this way,” you point to the signs to where the entrances were. Your confidence is a bit unnerving, but you’re able to bounce back rather eloquently when you’re about to reach the vendors. The atmosphere changes the air around you; the celebratory cheers and little prize holders runaround past their parents. Suna wraps a protective arm around your waist, while Osamu and the others chuckle. You shrug mentioning a soft thank you and you follow his eyes toward the first sweet potato cart: “hungry?” you ask. He leaves and orders a few for the lot to share. Eventually, as things go smoothly, you notice how the other four scamper off. The girls text you to meet back at the exit at the end of their night. Osamu is the first to text Suna as well, mentioning something or other about hitting the food vendors first, while you encourage your captain to hopefully best Atsumu at the gaming side of the blockade. You and Suna, though a bit more reserved now, wander around the festival enjoying a few of the art in artist alley.You and him buy two distinctly different hand fan charms: the pattern of one is a paw print of a kitsune, the other, he claims, has the color of a tiger’s eye jewel (or at least that was the craftsman intent).

“Your roar is quite strong,” he scratches his cheek. “I like that about you.”

He holds his hand out to you and in a moment you suddenly feel as cliche as it was, part of a romantic novel. Not necessarily saying this was a bit Deja Vu like, far from it. But a spell, sure felt like one, the second you let him grasp your hand. First loves are hard to see especially when you’ve grown so attached.

“Don’t let me go,” you speak without thinking and Suna, who knows you best, just hums saying he wouldn’t even if he had to choose a path far different than your own: he wants the road to be wide enough for him and you.

“I don’t think I could,” Suna confides in you, taking one a bite of the takoyaki you hold. Your mouth hangs in an open ‘o’ as if your epiphany was as simple as 2+2=4. His voice is dangerously low when he says the one thing he thought you already knew: “even if I did, you’re sure to make yourself heard.”

“Rin…” he pushes the pastry back to your lips. You take a bite as he walks a stone’s throw ahead of you, noticing two things before you did. The first was your team’s setter taking a selfie with Osamu in front of a string game; their prizes made each other laugh because of the implications of a stronger bond other than friendship. Certainly two converging points running parallel are about to intersect if not now, you reckon, then you’re sure in their university years. Then, a little further ahead, Suna sees your captain talking to his, and in this layback setting, he notices the physical language they tell, how close the blonde sticks by her the more her confidence builds.

You follow his eyes when you catch up to him and you throw away the wax paper which held your now eaten treat.

“I swear you’re either really intuitive or really a menace to society when our friends are literally about to make a move on each other…” you say placing a hand in your front pants pocket.

“Some people call it helping a friend in need, yn,” Suna says, grinning like an all knowing sun god.

You send a text within your group chat with the girls saying you were going to call it an early night with Suna, since things seemed to have progressed better on their own. Suna waits for your phone to light up saying thanks and, “we’ll let you know when we get home.”

With the festival behind you, you walk alongside Suna, telling him your favorite memories thus far via airdropping the few photos you snuck of him down artist alley. You’re off rambling about something or other, until Suna’s hand covers half the screen and he has a pout on his lips.

“Alright SunaRin, you have my undivided attention,” you lock your phone, laughing when you securely place it in your back pocket. Hazel green eyes like the marbles you taught his sister to play during one day in the summer, are quick to make sure your movements and warmth are committed to memory. There was an inkling of things being too good to be true when there is an air of foreboding the moment he pulls you closer to him. He just holds you there, close enough to hear his heartline beat through your ears. His hands stay where they are, drawing haphazard shapes along the cloth covering your shoulders the same way he keeps you steady from melting into a puddle on the sidewalk by supporting the small of your back.

“Don’t go.”

“Suna?”

His hold is tighter, more secure. Suna presses his nose into your neck, instead of talking he answers in the kisses he leaves behind. You’re a fixed point for him, just like now, which is why you notice his more aloof self waver with shaking hands.

“You’re trembling,” your hands press against his hair. You comb back a few loose strands, his ministrations stop, breathing in deep. Upon his exhale, he whispers something in your ear and your eyes are wide with slight fear.

“SunaRin, things will work out, like they always have,” your lips curl into a smile. “Even if we wind up a million miles away, you know we’d both be where we were meant to be: side by side is an ideal we can endure.”

“Are you sure about that?” his voice sounds a bit small, but then again you are reminded time wouldn’t always be on your side. “Because I don’t want either of us to be put in the position of sacrificing this if it means we can’t do what we want without the other.”

“Ah, so that’s what this is about,” you push him off of you for a minute to study his features. The festival seemed like eons ago, however your brain connects the dots. “Suna, love, my first everything of anything.”

You cup his face and peck his lips. “C’mon little kitsune.”

Your right hand reaches for his left, twirling out of his hold, then you curl into his side, poking his ribs. His expression of dejected annoyance melts away to his neutral stare, but affectionately does he keep you by his side as your walk continues. The door to your house is nearing as you bask in each other’s company while the stars shine above you both.

“It’s ok to have these bouts of doubt, it only proves your human, Rintaro,” his full name falls out of your mouth with ease. “But know this, I will be there for you to tell you otherwise.”

This time, you kiss him again, a bit more sternly. It’s been a rough couple of weeks since the Clubs Recruitment Day at school, especially since practices were starting up. Study sessions were also thrown into the mix as well and the time together for any extra hangouts (or dates for that matter) were thrown to the wayside. And so, you pack all your, “I miss you” and “I’ll see you soon” along with “Don’t fret so much, I still love you always,” in the way you carelessly throw your arms around his shoulders. Suna is all but gentle with you when he starts to return your act with more fervor. There is a clatter of teeth the moment he starts to lose himself in your hold. The spark of his fancy ignites something more meaningful, but knowing how you loved to ease him, he mentions a less than audible, “later princess,” when he presses his lips against your forehead. You guffaw at his leaving you on your doorstep a bit heated, but you know that if you were to invite him inside, neither of you would continue to carry on. Perhaps there is another time soon enough when you two would charm each other into bed. As that time comes in your young adult life, Suna and you come to terms with the choices of the dividing road you’re eventually going to walk alone.

—epilogue—

“It’s been five years since you’ve seen her face,” a manager sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“So? I don’t see the problem here,” a voice is cold against the warmth of the fluorescent lighting.

The manager scoffs.

“The tabloids are going to have a field day,” she insists. “It’s not everyday two kids from Hyogo reunite for the Olympic trials literally the day before the—”

The knock and twist of the doorknob causes the manager to digress. You’re a bit taller, but honestly, to Suna, you were always the perfect height. Your hair is shorter now, but still long enough to be tied back in a loose braid. The years were kind to you, especially since this last circuit included you recovering from a torn ACL surgery, so you slowly but surely step forward with a bit of a (nonexistent) limp; the brighter knee support keeps you steady enough. Your smile though is still the same as ever and if anyone else is in the room, they could hear the way the young middle blocker is learning to fall harder than his seventeen year old self ever did.

Is she shocked to see one if the top liberos in the world stop by this locker room in particular? Yes. Is she also supposed to stop her client from embracing that same libero, narrowly missing the, “I’ve missed you too,” exchanges? Also yes.

The manager says a mousy,”excuse me,” as she passes behind you to exit the room. She sighs when she pulls the door closed behind her. For those stragglers walking by, she says some excuse as to why that side of the locker rooms were closed. No one mentions the missing middle blocker because those who knew you were coming were already in the know. A few members of the training staff uttered whispers of your name saying there was a reason why you came all this way:

“Did ya hear she’s coming back from an injury? Docs cleared her from physical therapy not too long ago,” one the assistants to the men’s national team says. There are team files in their hands, your name is on top of one of the files for the women’s team. Suna’s though are shuffled along in their compatriot’s briefcase. Physicals were right around the corner and the women’s team were conducted a day later in order to have the medic staff have their equipment in order before the players were to be examined.

Behind those closed doors, you stare up at Suna. You haven’t changed much, you’re bold and decisive as always. He offers you a seat on the bench closest to him; he offers you a hand to take and without second guessing it, your calloused hands are still a bit more soft than he knows.

“You look good pretty boy,” you make a pass to gauge his reaction. Suna’s eyes widen with your comment, a smile tugs on the corner of his lips. His uniform and team jacket are worn with the letters of EJP while he notices yours with the JPN stitched in gold thread. The red is a stark contrast to your companion’s ivory attire at the moment. You glance around the room, there were photos of the teams over the years and you finally pause over the one where Suna is included for the first time. It has the year you were entering the V-League officially out of university on the bottom. You surmise it was a good time since he knew your love for the sport had run miles deeper than his, yet your last words to him before you left Hyogo were to go forth and make the inner voice in his subconscious proud, like you were of him. Granted, with the tears in your eyes due to the hay fever season starting, you almost broke down and cried. Almost. Until Suna is the last one to pull you into a hug; his hands hold your face, whispering a final, “Good luck out there gorgeous.”

This was the last time you’d physically in the presence of one another and for good reasons too. Careers in the sports world aside, you continue to inspire your teams respectfully to grow and carry on. Neither of you had wanted to let the communication fizzle out and virtually die, but soon after your accident, Suna on the off season, overhears his teammates converse with the others. Your name comes up frequently with the words of well-wishing and ‘get well soon confused Suna at first until one of the athletic trainers handed him an article on his personal tablet about your last game; your injury was aggravated even further during the last thirty minutes of the world championships. Suna’s hands gripped the tablet asking for more information, but when the athletic trainer asks if he’s alright, Suna who typically is seen as a bit more aloof in nature explains who you are. For those who were within hearing shot, they could tell their youngest member for that season was in a bit of a bind. Suggesting he keeps the news of the injury on the back burner for now, his captain tells him to play on to “win to lift her spirits because if the shoe was on the other foot, she would want you to do your best.”

You lean forward, gripping the bench with your right hand. Your left rests on your thigh for now; your head tilts to one side, giving him a once over.

“As long as I’m your only one,” he replies with the same attitude you expect from his seventeen year old self. Suna chooses to kneel down to be at your eye level, he notices the way you check him out and he says he doesn’t mind if you’re the one to do so. A steady hand rests on your good knee, and you cup his cheek like you always did. He so easily rests against your open palm, his eyes haven’t really changed much.

“Can we?” Your thumb swiped the bottom corner of his lips. Whatever you’re insinuating, Suna was game.

“Here?” He muses. “Surely you could exhibit some restraint.”

Suna moves his hands around your waist, sliding you closer to him, you wince a bit. You roll your eyes at him, reminding him of one of the few times you came over in the summer before third year began. It was a mischievous expression, surely. However, when you chose to enlighten him about the recruiters and the like coming by your place more frequently, Suna knew the dedication you have to the sport you both love has begun to slightly edge him; outside of receiving scholarship news, you were the first of the graduating class in the clubs to reassure him your relationship can be (and will be) enough to endure. The words you said to him on graduation day inspired him to go forward with his plans to enter the V-League: "we'll meet again, i know it in my bones. 'sides, we're both in high demand these days, Suna Rin..." Your smile while holding the canister with your diploma alongside his more subtle one had been one of his favorites, even going so far to have his sister frame the photo when he was finally recruited for the EJP not long after you left Hyogo to pursue your dreams in your own way.

Currently, the years of playing your position as libero had seemed to catch up with you. Suna frowns slightly, saying you should have rested a bit more before coming to see him here; his hands are gentle when he adjusts the knee support for you, sliding it back to where it goes. Instinctively, he presses a light kiss there, out of habit which developed over the course of your tenure as a high school 'power couple' (according to a majority of the student body).

“Suna,” your tone was kinder, even when you had your petty fights. He panics a bit, apologizing for what he did, yet you stop him the moment you raise his lips to yours; the moment he stands to lift you up he answers all your questions: “you will always be a part of me,” you say above his Cupid’s bow.

“Jiro,” he says your name with a seductive tone. “Careful love, you’d be playing with fire.”

“The door’s closed,” you point. If there were a star above your head, it would have bounced off your crown and hit his too while you stifle a chuckle. Your thing with doors never really went away in college too: your new roommate learned to keep doors either all the way open or closed since you claimed to not want any unwanted visitors. Then again, when you were on a mini-break from practice for a week, you had closed the door to your room while they had brought home their business partner for the entrepreneurship courses (his name was Sakusa Kiyoomi, and thankfully you were able to cross paths again, except this time it was at the signing event for the MSBY some time afterward).

“Fuck yeah it is,” Suna has an impish smirk on his features before he leads you around the corner to the showers where he makes sure you both make up for lost time. You're just as hungry as he is when the first series of kisses leave you gasping for more, hands are entangled underneath the pleasantries of the clothes you both wear. There is a brief pause prior to you two carrying on, breathing is a bit ragged when you ask him a question that has been weighing on your mind.

"Will you help me remember when you were mine?" your voice is stern and paired with an oddly demanding sheen to your eyes, you beckon him forward.

"As many times as you need," Suna's reply is deadly to your ears because in a matter of minutes, you find yourself still in the showers, with the water running, and clothes that were once dry find their way to being tossed half way across the tile.

Neither of you were wanting to be alone tonight, since right now, in between the snarling, the laughter, and the kiss-swollen bruises forming, both of you see briefly the list of "No More"'s (i.e. no more waking up alone for morning runs, no more eating meals cooked for one, laundry fare for single person, no more speed dates or [friendly] blind dates, no more. none of that].

One thing was for sure, your love for each other propelled you both forward with the winds of your fancy; making sure that you will reach new heights together. Suna tells you to lean on him more, whispers a question in your ear as though the information you provide makes his heart race faster than it did during practice. Your exposed back touches the wall tiles of the shower you're currently in, grasping his shoulders, almost letting out a taunting mewl of his name, and the man has the audacity to smile; whether you were caught or not depends on how loud you both are in the almost abandoned hallway. Steady, like what he exudes on the court, is what elated you to a new height. After all, if Suna thought you were good before, you were going to be fantastic after a few more rounds (ok, so maybe once more in the shower to get cleaned up, then another bout back at his place after a snack break in between, and once more in the morning before you were spotted by the paparazzo a block away prior to your well-earned, 'walk of shame,' choosing to wear one of the old jerseys of your lover [with the leggings you buy on the way there post-dinner date]).

Somewhere else, on the other side of a nearby neighborhood, a few old friends are closing a bar tab. One of them, a restaurateur, chuckles saying, “if anyone could make it work, it would be those two.”

#🌻— flying around collecting pollen—queue #sora after hours #🐝. wrkrbee #🔞: mdni with suna rin #cw: language #cw: fingering/handjobs[?]#cw:mentions of consent #nsfw:sunarintaro x libero!yn

3 notes · View notes