hi hii !! suo anon here, ive had this idea for a while like suo teaching the reader how to fight kinda like how he taught nirei !! or maybe him smthn like him seeing reader be super good at fighting for the first time, smthn fluffy ofc idk i think it wld be super sweet !! đŤśđŤś and thank u for reading rhis hehe
Hi suo anon, i really hope you like reading this as much as i liked writing this <3
Training With Suo
Suo knew you weren't weak. Not when he saw you try the Punch & Kick arcade machine for fun and almost break it with your kick. He was impressed, to say the least.
But it was only the strength that you had, not the technique, not the knowledge of how to use that strength at its best.
So here you are, pouting at Suo, giving him your best puppy eyes, "Suoooo," you drag out, batting your eyes, "please, tutor me. I promise I won't give up. You know me!"
It's definitely not that he doesn't want to tutor you; he would be glad. He just loves to tease you. "Mhmm. Let me think. What if I accidentally use my strength on you in the heat of the moment? You can never tell", Suo sighs, pretending to appear concerned.
"Things like that can happen during training! I can manage. Please!" You're all up in his face, and he cannot deny you any longer.
Giving his soft laugh, he gracefully strides towards the middle of the abandoned garage you guys were in. Perfect spot for training, no one to bother you.
"Alright then. Let me see what you got first," he smiles, standing with his hand behind his back, as if you aren't even a threat.
He feels the swish of the air before he feels the throbbing pain on his left side, just below his rib.
That was fast, he thinks to himself.
A smile appears on his face in appreciation of your strength, "that was a good one, y/n. though i must suggest that," he mimics your move, but his stance is more rigid, balancing his weight on one leg as the other bends back before swinging forward in a sharp speed, "working on your balance and angling your kicks better would significantly improve your technique. Right now, it lacks precision."
You nod, brows furrowed in concentration. Suo finds your expression cute rather than threatening. Or maybe it's just him. Anyone else would be a bit scared of your packed kicks.
"Alright," you huff out before you ready your stance. Just like suo said, precise & balanced. Graceful, just like him.
Once you make your move, you feel it's much better than what you used to do. Though not much has changed, just a slight shift in your stance and angles, and the little tweaks made your move appear sharper and more fluent.
"See? Wasn't that much better? The little tricks can help you out a lot." He softly claps at your improvement, earrings dangling with the soft wind.
"Now", he changes his stance, "I'll teach you how to throw someone around." He smiles like he's talking about his favorite dessert, "come at me," he beckons you with his hand.
You rush towards Suo, and he ducks under your extended arms. In a split second, he's behind you. Grabbing your arms, he exerts his strength to yank your arm in a circular motion, making you fall to your knees beside him.
You yelp in surprise. He was not actually using his strength on you, so this move would be a really quick and painful one on your opponent's arm in actual combat.
"Your turn." He doesn't give you a break as he launches at you. Your eyes open wide, and your body moves before even registering what you're doing. Just like you learned from him, you duck under his arm and swiftly move behind him. using his trick to twist his arm, making him fall beside you.
"That was amazing, y/n. You're a quick learner," he says, looking up at you, resting on his elbows on the floor. "Should I be scared of you now?" Suo teases, but you know damn well he's still a lot stronger than you.
Sitting beside him on the dirty floor, you glare at him playfully. "You should be!" You poke your finger at his chest, raising your eyebrow threateningly, "Don't piss me off."
Suo raises his hands in surrender, laughing at your antics, "never in my wildest dreams. I would hate for someone of your potential to be my enemy."
"Tomorrow, same time?" he tilts his head to look at you, both of you carelessly lying on the dusty garage floor. "Bet," you nod, giving him a fist bump that elicits a soft laugh from him.
"Will not lie," he murmurs, dusting off his pants once you guys get up to leave, his earrings reflecting the sun rays seeping through the rundown windows, "your kick may have done a number on me." he winces as he gets up, hand rubbing his left side where you landed your first kick.
"Oh my god, really? Suo, I'm so sorry," you ramble, frantically running around him and apologizing.
"Now you have to make it up to me, you know? A tea break would be fine with me." he sighs, appearing defeated, knowing it will work on you.
"O-okay. alright. Let's go to my place. My tea will patch you right up." You drag him with you, rambling about what you wish to learn next.
summary: after an office party, your junior volunteers to take you home. despite your crush on him, you have always told yourself that he's much too young for you, so you try to keep it friendly. but when he confesses his feelings to you in your kitchen, you don't exactly push him away.
length: 6.3k
tags: office au, age gap, explicit sexual content. dubious consent, (reader is a notch above tipsy from alcohol, but entirely willing). yuuta refers to you as senpai. this is very much my shameless ooc pornbrain take on the sakaki lazybones hentai. Divider by @/cafekitsune!
named it 743 just for you canni <3 @cannibal-anon
It's some time after midnight that you find yourself tipsy and fumbling in the hallway with the keys to your apartment. It's a little embarrassingâbeing way over 30 and getting drunk like thisâbut your co-worker and junior, Yuuta, doesn't seem to mind it at all. He has an arm around your shoulders, letting you rest against his side, not seeming to mind the weight one bit. He volunteered to walk you home after work-sponsored drinks, uttering not even a single complaint as he propped you up on the train and helped you up the stairs of your building. Somewhere in the back of your mind you're sure that a cute guy in his 20s has much better things to do on a friday night than to walk his drunk senpai's ass home, but his smile is so sweet you don't think about it too hard.
Yuuta's always nice to everyone, you remind yourself, he's just being nice by walking me home. And it's trueâhe's is the nicest guy in the office by a mile. From his very first day at your company when he was assigned your trainee, he's stuck to you like a chick imprinted on its mother. People at work tend to dump their work onto himâhe's the youngest in the office, and with no backbone, tends to be the one to pick up the slack. To you, his nervous flailing and his inability to say no to anyone frustrates you. He's polite to everyone, and does whatever he's toldâto the point that you think he's a little naive. But he's incredibly pleasing to look at, with those haunting deep dark blue eyes and that nervous, toothy smile, and you're sure that may just be entirely why he's been a hit in the office since his first day.
And also why you've found yourself taking a liking to him, despite the difference in age. A harmless crush, you think.
"Do you want me to do it?" he interrupts your thoughts, watching as you struggle to pick the right key from your key ring.
At the moment this situation feels funny. You giggle, your wrist going limp as you pass the keys to him. "O-Okay. It's the blue one. With the stars."
He chuckles as he takes them from you, receiving them with an open palm. "Right. That's cute."
You feel so warm when he smiles down at youâor maybe it's the beer sloshing in your veins. His sleeves are rolled up and as he turns the key to open your apartment, you find yourself admiring the way the muscles in his forearms tense as he moves, the way his veins look like chords wrapped around and end at his wrists, branching out and decorating the back of his hands⌠was your kohai always so handsome? Or is it simply beer goggles?
With his arm wrapped around your shoulders he leads you past the threshold. You quickly flip the switch in the hall to turn on the lights as he closes the door, and you kick off your shoes in the entranceâit's all muscle memory more than anything. To your surprise, Yuuta starts to do it too.
"Ah, Okkotsu-kun⌠you don't have to come in. I'm a-alright." Your words slur a little, and as you peel yourself apart from him it takes a few steps to get steady on your feet.
"Let me help you, senpai," he urges as he reaches for your bag, pulling it off your shoulder and placing it onto the floor. You're left standing in the entryway in just your blouse, skirt, and tights. It feels a little weird when you remember that you're his superior and he's seeing you like this.
"Um, it's okay, it's okay," you shake your head. You're not sure if you're saying it to him or to yourself.
Yuuta's laugh is so cute, boyish even. It makes your stomach churnâwell, he always does when he looks at you, but when you're sober its easier to remember you're too old for him, easier to shoo away the thoughts.
He tucks a lock of his dark hair behind his ear, the ends grazing his chin. You've always found that habit of his endearing. "I'm taking care of you, senpai. What kind of man would I be if I just left you at the door?"
"It's not that serious, I can take it from here," you chuckle, stepping up into your apartment. He follows you, hands hovering around your torso like you're a fall risk. "You're too niceâtoo nice for your own good."
"What do you mean?" He asks, unblinking eyes following you as you hop up and sit on the kitchen counter, something you've done a hundred times before, even as drunk as your are. It's a little wolfish, the way he watches you. But right now you're too warm and syrupy to care.
"You're justâŚ" you should shut up, but your lips keep moving before you can stop them. "You let so many people walk all over you, Okkotsu-kun."
"Can I get you some water?" He says, seemingly brushing off your concern.
"O-Okay."
Yuuta opens your fridge, casually, like he lives here. He eyes the water and pulls out the jug, setting it on the counter.
"The cups, they'reâ"
"Up here?" He turns to one of the cabinets on the wall beside you, pulls out a mug with a cute print on itâone that Yuuta got you for christmas last year.
"Lucky guess," you giggle. He smiles.
"Here, drink up," Yuuta offers the mug to you after it's been filled with water. He stands right across from where you're sitting, that intense stare coming back to his features as you tilt your head and swallow.
"Mm, thank you," you tell him as you set the mug down beside you. You lick the water off your lips and you swear Yuuta's watching you do it like he wants to do it himself.
After the silence lingers just a little too long, you start to feel on edge. Your feet kick in the air mindlessly, and you can't manage to make eye contact. You grip the edge of the counter hard enough to make your fingers go pale. You're drunk but not drunk enough for this, you realize.
Yuuta suddenly speaks. "The way people treat me at workâI don't really mind it, honestly."
You look up at him, blinking as you try to piece together what he's talking about. Oh right, what I said beforeâŚ
"I know you're young but⌠you need a little more backbone, ya know? I see people always dumping their work onto you, and you're so nice, you just do it.. I worry they're taking advantage of youâŚ"
Suddenly Yuuta's blushing. He looks down and away from you, shoulders caving in like he's embarrassed. He's fidgeting with his fingers, comically shy. "Ahh⌠I'm sorry for worrying you, senpai."
His reaction is not what you were expecting. "Okkotsuâit's okay, Iâ"
"I shouldn't be worrying you," he shakes his head, his hair falling in front of his face. "I'm sorry."
Perhaps it's you still being a little too tipsy, but you reach out to him and push his hair back, not unlike how he always tucks his fringe behind his ears. You hope the gesture is reassuring. He blinks up at you, lips parted, blushing furiously.
"Noâdon't be sorry! If anyone at work bothers you, please tell me, okay?"
Yuuta blinks slowly, before turning his head. He nuzzles into your palm with a satisfied hum. "Okay, senpai."
You want to pull back, but Yuuta places hands atop yours. He intertwines your fingers, just the tips of them against his cheeks, and you feel your face burn.
"OkkotsuâŚ"
"Your hands are really warm, senpai," his voice is almost dreamy now. You feel a little lost, head still foggy. "I could stay here forever."
He's so cuteâŚ
"With my hands on your face? You're silly," you ask, a laugh in your voice. Like the thought is ridiculous.
"With you, senpai," he replies, heat tinting his cheeks again. His voice doesn't match your playful toneâhe's shy and sincere.
You tilt your head, brows furrowing in confusion. "Me? But why?"
âBecause I like you,â even his ears are red. âI like you so muchâŚâ
Itâs the first time heâs ever said anything like this to you, and you suddenly feel like your ears are plugged with cotton. Maybe your face is as flustered as his is. Surely youâve thought about him like that, but to have it reciprocated? âAre you surââ
He doesn't let you finish your question, interrupting you by crossing the small distance between your faces and pressing his lips against your own. Yuutaâyour cute, much younger subordinateâis kissing you. And you don't even stop him.
His kiss betrays his personality; it's quite rough and needy, not what you expected. Frankly, nothing that's happening right now with him is what you'd expect. His hands move from yours on his face down to your sides, pressing against your waist as he leans into you. Your eyes are wide open in surprise but he shuts his, savoring your kiss.
"I-I don't understand," you manage to say when Yuuta gives you just enough space to breathe. He blinks slowly again, like the sense of urgency you're feeling just doesn't seem to exist with him.
"I've liked you for a long time. Since weâve first started working togetherâŚ"
"But⌠I'm much older than youâŚ"
Yuuta tilts his head, looking at you like you've grown another head. "What's that got to do with it?"
"Why do you like me? You're young, handsome, kind⌠there are plenty of girls your age who would date youâŚ" There's blood rushing in your ears, and you feel like your head's underwater. This moment doesn't feel realâit feels like you're out of your body, watching this from the audience.
He smiles. "Why wouldn't I like you? You're so kind to me⌠and so pretty⌠you're always looking out for meâŚ" his fingers slip lower, to the edge of your skirt. He pinches the fabric of your tights, pulling it away from your skin. Not harshly, but enough for you to feel the scratching sensation against your thigh. "I think about you all day, senpai."
There's a terrible feeling swirling in your gut that feels a lot like greed. You know it's probably several types of inappropriate to encourage him; but you're tipsy and you haven't gotten laid in years and he's so freaking hot and his silent begging with his droopy eyes makes it hard to think.
"Did you drinkâare you drunk?" you stammer. Maybe he'll say yes. Maybe he'll give you a reason to kick his ass out the door.
"No," his fingers are sweeping all over youâyou feel like your body's buzzing beneath your clothes. "I'm a lightweight," he chuckles, before looking down at you. "And I had to stay sober, to watch over you, senpai."
You wind your fingers up around his neck. "Okkotsu-kunâŚ"
"Can you call me Yuuta?" his voice is barely a whisper, and his hands shake a little as they settle on your hips. "I've never heard you say it beforeâŚ"
"YuutaâŚ" your voice is so small and your faces are so close but even like this you can watch him blush in real time.
"So cute when you say itâŚ." there's a breathy laugh against your lips before he asks, "Can I kiss you again?"
"Yes," you nod and not even a breath later his lips are on yours again, hungry and desperate. You feel one of his hands wrap around your nape, the other around your waist. It feels nice to be wanted like this, to be held right against his chest and kissed like he can't breathe if it's not the air from your lungs.
He groans when your hand slips into his hair, pressing into your chest just a little more. He can feel your bodyâthe swell of your chest, the curve of your thighsâand it spurs him on. You lean back and he follows along, tongue eagerly swiping against your bottom lip. Your legs widen as he stands between them, and you grant him access to your mouth. His tongue tastes sweet, like cherries.
But just as you lean just a little further back, Yuuta presses forward and bumps his head against the cabinet to your side.
"Oh, Yuuta! I'm sorry!" You rub the spot on his head but he just starts chuckling.
"Maybe we should move to somewhere more comfortable?" His arm at your waist sinks lower, and as your legs wrap around him he picks you up off the counter top. It's all giggles as your wrap your limbs around him and he carries you over towards the hall in your apartment. There's two doorsâa left and right door.
"The right one," you tell him, in hopes that he doesn't open the bathroom door and kill the mood.
He obediently opens the right door while holding you up, and then quite gently lays you down onto your bed. You try not to think about the mess on your floor, hoping he doesn't judge you too harshly for not cleaning your place up as much as you should've. Then again, save for the light pouring in from the hallway, the lights are off, so the room is quite dark.
That, however, doesn't stop Yuuta from looking down at you with an intensely infatuated stare.
"YuutaâŚ" you murmur his name, nervous as you lay against your sheets. Your body feels heavy and your thoughts feel foggy but even with all that, you still feel ashamedâlike he's going to judge you for the state of your room or the state of your dress or your body; you were not prepared for this to happen tonight.
He stands on his knees, just between your legs, still fully dressed just like you are. He starts to touch you, but only with soft, slow brushes of his fingers against your stocking-covered feet and ankles.
"Can I touch you, senpai?" he asks for permission again, and even in the low light you can see how red his face is.
"Yes⌠But, can you use my name too?" Your voice is suddenly warbling with shyness. Yuuta feels his heart pick up pace in his chest, starstruck by how sweet you sound.
Yuuta says your name as he wraps his fingers around one of your ankles, the sound foreign on his tongue. He lifts your foot up to his chest and says your name again, feeling it out, learning its shape. His eyes close as he places a kiss onto your foot and it's so intimate for what should be a hook up⌠again your stomach feels like its stirring up a typhoon, your face flushing with heat. While one hand holds your heel to his chest, the other slides up your calf, then your thigh⌠his fingers dip just under the edge of your skirt and your name slips out once more, soft and reverent.
"I haven't done this in a long timeâŚ" you confess, preemptively thinking about his eminent disappointment. Because that's what you imagine happening: he'll feel the difference in your ages right away, get bored and just give up.
Instead, he says, "That's okay," and kisses your calf, touch featherlight. His fingers push your skirt up, halfway up your thighs. "I haven't done it eitherânot really, not all the wayâŚ"
You grab onto his wrist, halting him. "T-then⌠are you sure you want to? You know, with me?"
He flips up your hand, kisses your knuckles. Your shy, nervous wreck of a junior seems to be suddenly brimming with confidence.
"I told you, I like you." Yuuta crawls a little closer to you now, using both his hands to push up your skirt and pry your legs apart. It's not done with any kind of force but it makes you gasp, if only because you weren't expecting it. Your pencil skirt sits bunched up at the waist, and Yuuta just stares down at your tights and the floral patterned panties below. He leans down closer but before he can bring his face to your thighs you quickly shove your hands down, covering the space between your legs.
"W-Wait, don't,"
"How come?"
You look down, right, leftâanywhere but his inquisitive gaze. "Um⌠no one's done that before⌠I justâŚ"
He loops his fingers around your wrists, gently tugging your hands away. "No one? What kind of guys have you dated before?"
"The awful kindâŚ" you trail off, embarrassed.
"Well," after pulling your hands away, he kisses your clothed mound, looks up at you with eyes pleading. "Then, can I be nice to you?"
You don't know what to do with your hands. He's kissing your clothed thighs and you're unsure where to put themâso you simply leave them at your sides, fingers nervously twitching against the sheets.
"CuteâŚ" he says, mostly to himself, as he kisses the dark, wet patch at your center. His fingers dip under your skirt, trying to find the waistband to your tights, but you're sure you've pulled them up higher. It would be impossible to remove them without taking off your skirt all together.
"Um, hold on," you look for the button to your skirt, but you must still be groggy from the alcohol. Your fingers pass over your waistband a few times unsuccessfully before Yuuta's chuckling, reaching up and doing it for you. He unbuttons your skirt and, together with your tights, peels them down and off your legs. Then, his hands slide beneath your blouse. He squeezes your breasts right over your bra.
"You're really lovely, senpai," he says, lips hovering just above your navel. "Are you nervous?"
"Y-yeah," you stutter, looking down at him. He places a kiss just above your panties, while slipping a hand beneath your bra. He rolls your nipple between pinched fingers and it makes you want to squirm.
"Me too."
"You don't seem all that nervousâŚ" Your knees close in around his shoulders, your skin feeling all goose-bumpy, nerves haywire.
He lifts up his hands off your tits and they hover over your chest, just in line of sight. It's dark but the light reflects off the edges of him, like the halo around a solar eclipse. You can see that light around his hands shaking in the space between you.
"I'm so nervous," he whispers, nervous laughter and all. "I know you wouldn't do this if you weren't like this⌠so I can't mess this upâŚ"
"Yuuta?" Your voice is suddenly so clear, like you've sobered up. It stops him in his tracks. "Can you kiss me again?"
You don't have to ask twiceâhe climbs up a little closer and settles down beside you, and in the dark all you can do is feel. You let him kiss you, open mouthed and with so much tongue. As he hovers over you, one of his hands slips into the waistband of your panties. He claims your lips as his and presses onto your clit, wet and stiff with need. You get off to the sensationsâto what you feel on your lips and your body, to the panting and grunting you hear coming from him. Maybe he's just as inexperienced as you, but he makes up for it with such wanton fervor. It feels good to be touched, after so long. Soon after he starts to touch you, one and then two long fingers pressing into you, you find yourself mindlessly lifting your hips off the bed to grind your clit against the palm of his hand. It's a little shameless but you're tipsy and Yuuta wants you to cum on his fingers so badly he could cry.
"Yuu-ta! I'm gonna cum," you tell him, breathless. He's kissing you stillâthe edge of your jaw, the soft flesh beneath your ear. But most importantly, he's flicking his fingers against that spongy spot inside you that's pushing you over the edge.
"Oh," he gasps when he feels you squeeze around his fingers. A soft cry that you try to stifle bubbles up past your lips, and you feel your whole face get hot with shame.
"Ah, you're coming, senpai⌠'sho cuteâŚ" he kisses your temple, and you're sure you're sweaty but he doesn't seem to mind. "You can be as loud as you want. I want to hear it."
"T-that's so embarrassing," you panting between syllables, chest rising and falling as Yuuta pulls out his fingers. He sucks on them and you couldn't feel any more mortified.
"No way," he kisses just beneath your shirt collar. "I've dreamed of hearing it, please don't stopâŚ"
"Dreamed? Of me?"
"Oh⌠uh, I shouldn't have said that," he replies, and even in the low light you can see him blushing again. "Do you think I'm a pervert?"
You laugh at that. "I'm the older one here, if anyone's the pervert, it's me. I'll have to resign, probably⌠it's unprofessional, I can't sleep with a trainee."
"Then I'll quit."
"Yuuta!" you shove playfully against his chest. "Don't be ridiculousâŚ"
"I don't care," he wraps his arm around your waist, dragging you down closer to his body. His body is pressed atop of yours, and you can feel his obvious boner through his slacks. "I've wanted you for so long so⌠please⌠don't turn me away."
"Do you really like me so much?" You tuck his hair behind his ear, and he smiles at you as if you'd hung the stars in his sky.
"Yes," he says your name against your lips before he captures them again, another kiss to the long list of kisses he's given you tonight. You're starting to feel like you never want him to stop. "I hope you like me tooâeven a littleâŚ"
"I like you, Yuuta," you tell him, and your stomach flips on itself when you see his eyes sparkle. His hold around your waist tightens. He's like a dog being held back by a leash, waiting for you to let go and let him run off. You can feel the anticipation boiling beneath his skin. "Be gentle with me," you murmur, legs spreading a little wider to accommodate him between your thighs. "I'm practically a senior citizen, compared to you."
That gets a good laugh out of him, his breath fanning against your neck. "Then I'll be gentle, obaa-chan."
"You're cheeky," you pinch at his ear but he just giggles into your neck, and you find that you're quite liking the sound of it. And you're liking the feel of his lips and his teeth against your neck, too. His hands start to fumble with your blouse at the same time you reach up to try and unbutton his shirt, and it's all a mess of hands grabbing at each other. Yuuta kisses you again but his hands move to help you, his fingers unbuttoning his dress shirt and loosening his tie. You unbutton your own blouse and, by giving yourselves just enough time to pull apart and yank your shirts off, you're both just a little more bare to each other. After he manages to stop kissing you long enough to get his pants off, Yuuta's hands graze over your side and your arms. Meanwhile you feel his chest with your fingertips in the dark, mapping it. He's leanânot a body builder or anything, but fit and toned. You're softer around the edges, and Yuuta likes the way his fingers sink into your curves, the way the fat feels between his fingers. He sucks in a breath as he splays his hand against your backside, grunting and grabbing as his hands become full of you. You've never really had anyone feel you and grab at you like thatâlike they just want you in your hands because its you and your body. Yuuta's barely even had you and he's already made you feel like you're really wanted.
His lips trail lower and lower; at one point (after a few tries) he unclasps your bra, finally putting you completely naked below him. He wraps his lips around one of your hardened nipples, sucking and nipping with his teeth. Your body arches into him, all on its own, and his hands on your hips give you a nice, firm squeeze. You can't help but whimper as he kisses trail lower, soon once again reunited with your soaked panties. His fingers hook under the fabric at your hips and pull down, the cute little flowers scrunching and rolling unceremoniously down your legs.
"So cute," Yuuta says, less to you and more to your pussy, "Can I taste you?"
You're still too ashamed to really say anything, so you nod and open up just a little wider. Your pussyâtrimmed, sticky, and now deemed cuteâblooms open for him, a most succulent flower. He uses his thumbs to open your lips before taking a tentative lick, a wet stripe up your center, licking up your arousal. No one's ever done this for you before, and again you find yourself not knowing how to react or what to do with yourself. But Yuuta tries different things, like kissing, licking, and sucking, eyes trained up on you to see what makes you feel good. You gasp when he flicks his tongue against your clitâyou're still sensitive from when he fingered you earlierâand he takes that as a sign to keep going. It's a little like torture, the way it hurts but winds you up. You want to come on his tongue, just as much as he wants you to.
"Right there," you gasp, your fingers twitching and itching to tug on his hair, to pull him even closer. His eyes shut as he focuses on sucking right where you want him, and you hear him moan when you arch off the bed, grinding into his tongue. It feels really fucking good, has you wondering just how much you've been missing out on all this time.
As your orgasm starts to build up again, you grab onto Yuuta's hair, tugging and keeping him right where it feels good. It washes over you quickly, a choked out sob leaving your lips as you come right on his tongue. When you've made it through your high and the come down, he's kissing your thighs like your body's a temple, one he's come to worship. You mess with his hair in your fingers, tug just a little to get his attention.
"Yuuta?"
"Mm?" He blinks at you slowly again, in that way that makes it feel like everything is deep in syrup and honey. He stands before you on his knees, his face glistening with your wetness, reflecting off that halo-light around the edges of his body.
"Can we�" You lift up your knee, graze it against the boner in his underwear. It's a little damp, his own arousal betraying him. He sucks in a harsh breath of air like even that simple touch was too much.
"Please," he asks, and you push yourself up off the bed to paw at his waistband. When you get it low enough, his cock springs out, and admittedly, his size is a little intimidating. He's long, pretty, and flushed, tip pearling with pre-cum.
He grows shy the longer you stare. "Is-is it okay?"
You can't help but giggle at his nervous stammering. "Yes, it's okay, it's pretty⌠I just didn't think you were so⌠big?"
"Um.. I'm sorry?"
"Idiot," you pull him in for a kiss. He melts into you. "Who apologizes for that?"
"Sorry"
You drag him close to you by the shoulders and pull him down, getting impatient once more with his overly submissive behavior.
"Stop apologizing," you place a hand to his chest. "Just do it, okay?"
He nods, and suddenly he's slotting himself between your legs, pushing them down to your chest with a little more strength than you had anticipated. It leaves you winded.
"Yuuta, umâŚ" he wraps a hand around his length, and rubs the tip against your slit, up and down just to feel you. It practically halts your train of thought, and it takes quite a bit of focus to remember what you wanted to say. "Um, condom? Do youâŚ"
His eyes widen and his face flushes red. "Oh um⌠I didn't bring one, should we stop?"
"No-no, it's okay⌠I'm on the pillâjust⌠if you wanted to, well, we can stop."
His cock catches on your entrance and he practically shivers on contact. "I just⌠want to do what you want, senpai."
He looks so very serious, uncharacteristically soâhe respects you, above all. So you cradle his face and kiss that worrisome expression away. "Well I want you, now,"
Without protest, he's quickly pushing inside you and kissing you, pressing you into the mattress. His lips swallow every little hum you make as he slides in, inch by inch. You are keenly aware of your body, feeling yourself stretch to accommodate his size. It feels wet, hot, and not to mention full. His tongue licks the roof of your mouth as his tip starts to press against your cervix and you, for a fraction of a second, start to panic; surely there can't be any more of him to place inside of you! Where will the rest fit? But then he sighs in content as you feel his thighs against the back of yours, and you surmise he must be in to the base.
A perfect fit.
"This okay?" he asks when he pulls away from your kiss. He doesn't move, eyes squeezed shut as your body adjusts. It feels so fucking good but he wants to wait for you.
"It's so much," you sigh, a little shaky.
"I knowâŚ" he's holding back, hissing when you suddenly squeeze around him. "Oh, sweetheart." The word 'sweetheart' just make you do it all over again. He chuckles. "Do you like that, sweetheart?"
"You're teasing me," you mean it to come out like a reprimand, but you're too busy panting to make it sound even the slightest bit menacing.
"Just a little bit." He pulls out slowly, watching your face with dark, deep eyes practically swallowed by the pupils. Every twitch of your lips, the way your eyes roll backâhe wants to savor it all, commit it to memory. He slides back in real slow and deep, and your whole body feels like jelly when he's pressing in to the hilt again. He stretches you so perfectly, it's like you were made for each other.
"You think so, senpai? I was made for you?"
"Did I say that out loud?" your hands fly up to cover your face, your stupid drunken tongue unable to hold back your thoughts. "Ah, I'm sorrâ"
"No, no, don't take it back," he thrusts into you again, one of his hands pulling one of yours away from your face and intertwining your fingers against the sheets. "Say it again, please."
"You were made for me," you repeat, dazed. You can't even look at him, eyes shielded by your other hand. "I was made for you"
"Good girl," he thrusts into you again, just a little faster and harder than before. Your eyes roll back and he says, "I think so too. You feel so good around meâI can't believe I get to make love to you, senpaiâŚ"
He picks up pace, every thrust pushing right up against your cervix, and truly you couldn't string words together to form a sentence if your life depended on it. So you just hold onto his shoulders and let him babble, way too fucked out on his cock to really make sense of what he's saying.
"I told you I think about you every day. Think about touching you, tasting you.. ngh, all of itâŚ"
"Oh, so you really are a pervert," you chuckle weakly, barely able to talk, really.
"Can't help it," he presses his thumb to your sensitive clit, and groans when you squeeze down on him in reply. "You're always in those cute little skirts and your button down shirts, just begging to be ripped off, for me to fuck you over your desk⌠your perfume surrounding me when you're next to me at work⌠God, itâyouâyou get me so damn hardâ"
You couldn't imagine in your wildest dreams having such an effect on someone, especially a guy so much younger than you. Honestly, you don't even think you've ever heard Yuuta curse like that before.
You part your lips to speak but Yuuta's fingers suddenly squeeze your hand even tighter. "I'm gonna come," he whines, hips thrusting faster into you. "Won't last much longer."
"That's okay, Yuuta," with your free hand, you push the hair that's hanging over his face behind his ear. "Want your cumâwant you to come inside me"
You swear his eyes glaze over at your words. His hands come down to your hips, squeezing hard and holding you right in place, pinned to the sheets. He fucks you with quick, short thrusts. You've never felt yourself so full and so thoroughly fucked and you feel like you'd melt into the bed if he weren't holding you in place.
You know when he comes because every sensation flips at onceâsuddenly it's even hotter inside, wetter too. You hear him groan your name into your ear, panting against your shoulder. And you feel him twitch and spill inside you, and still he fucks you through it, hard even as he's whimpering from overstimulation.
"Yuuta, it's okay,"
"Want you to cum," he protests. He's flipping you over, laying you flat belly-down on the sheets. You turn your head to the side and rest it on your forearms, your sweaty face feeling even hotter as he shamelessly squeezes your ass in his hands. Quickly his thighs end up on either side of your hips, and he's thrusting into you from behind, sliding right in, cum seeping out and around his dick.
And from this angle it feels so fucking deep.
"Yuuta, what the hell," you sigh, your body shaking beneath him as he fucks into you again real slow.
"I think this feels better for you, right?" He doesn't need to tell you about all the hours of porn and sex magazines he's poured into research to try and impress you. The way you're trembling beneath him is enough of an answer.
"Mhrphm," you try to somehow nod and agree but his hands grab around the small of your back. He's putting more weight into each thrust and you think to yourself that this is how you'll see God.
"Fuck," you choke out and it's really more of a whimper. You're sobbing as he leans down, his whole body caging you in. At this angle his cock is no longer driving into your cervix but instead right into your G-spot. Your body feels like you're covered in needles. He's kissing your neck, your jaw, and you frankly don't even know how he can be doing all that when you feel like you're gonna die. "Yuuta, fuck."
"You're almost there," he says, feeling the way you're squeezing him. He doesn't let up, fucking you even through your tears. "You're so goodâyou feel so good, senpai. I love your bodyâI love you. So come for me, one more time, yeah? Look at me,"
You open your eyes, cheeks caked with tears, and he's there. You're so wound up, drunk not just from the drinks but from his words, from his cock, from his eyes that he can't seem to rip off of you. An orgasm tears through your body, one that has you feeling like you're bursting at the seams, it feels so intense and you feel so fucking wet. You cry out and Yuuta moves in to kiss you, his body stilling as he buries himself deep. He comes right with you this time, his chest rising and falling against your back, and your kiss is barely a kiss but more like open-mouth panting, all tongue and teeth. You don't even care, really. Yuuta's so far in your guts you could puke out his dick, what's a little spit and teeth?
Soon after you catch your breath, Yuuta's gathering you up in his arms again. You feel weak and drunk and syrupy and fucked, but he's hugging you from behind and kissing you everywhere he can reach, fingers skating down and along your sides.
"Senpai?" His voice is suddenly shy again, like it was before he confessed his feelings to you.
"Hm?"
"I'm sorry for doing this before asking but⌠Would you be my girlfriend?"
You laugh and he feels real warm when he hears the sound. "I don't mind having sex with you⌠but maybe next time, take me on a date, yeah?"
His arm around your waist squeezes you tighter, his chin resting onto your shoulder.
"I'll take you on a million dates, I promise."
You're really sticky and after a few minutes, despite how sleepy you start to feel, you can't sleep like this. So you shuffle out of his arms and up and over the edge of your bed.
"I think I need to shower," you declare, looking down at him. "Wanna join me?"
In all the time you've worked with Yuuta, he's always been quick to smile and agree to anything asked of him. But you don't think he's ever agreed to do anything faster than how quickly he jumps out of your bed to follow you. He's so excitable; somehow, it's even more endearing, knowing it's because of you.
You and Yuta are close friends for as long as you can remember, opting to go to the same college but for different degrees. Yuta is in his third year of medical technology. You are in your third year of psychology. College life has sucked both of you in your own respective worlds. But after making a cringey post together about hiking backpacks, you both won an all expenses paid hiking trip. The trip was a well deserved break for the both of you drowning in the middle of your college livesâand an incidental anchor connecting the two of you in a deeper bond.
Normally you did not bother to check e-mails on a weekend. But since your thesis work has started, youâve been constantly on guard with the notifications from classmates, participants, and professors so checking e-mails has become a habit. So when you checked your email today, already dreading the incoming stress, you saw that you won a free all-expenses-paid hiking trip.Â
You thought it was spam at first, but when you read the details, it seemed legit. You tried to backtrack how you even won this ticket in the first place, but you couldnât seem to remember at all.
A message popped out on your phone.Â
Yu: âSenpai, did you win a free hiking trip from NatGeo?âÂ
It was from Yuta. Your childhood friend whoâs studying in the same university as you, but in a different course.Â
âYeah, how did u knowâ
XD remember how we made a post about our hiking bags from this specific brand on Instagram bc we saw they had a raffle thing for it?
Oh, that one! Shit I completely forgot, wtf
XD ye! Its ok
So its really legit then? Im looking at our post again. Itâs so cringey i wonder how this even won, wtfÂ
Lol yes, it was kinda painful to write wasnt itâŚ
You paused before thinking of a reply. A part of you is tempted to just dismiss the trip altogether. Honestly, you would have disregarded it immediately but knowing Yuta also won it changes things. College has made it difficult to plan things together. Despite being in the same university, you were both in wildly different programs: his was medical technology, yours was psychology. The last thing you know about Yuta is that he volunteers for the university clinic now and then, on top of his already hectic schedule. Always the overachieverâŚyou thought to yourself.
Hey yuta, i dont wanna go there if im alone. Come with me?
Oh ill go if youll go senpai
im literally in the same year as you and u still call me senpai
but youâre older!
wow thanks for the reminder
XDÂ
ok see u then nerd
see you then! đââď¸
You met Yuta at the meet-up place at a McDonald's. You recognized him immediately: the lone boy standing further from what you assume are other hiking winners. He was wearing a black hoodie and cargo pants. You sneakily got close, a trick you used to do when you were both younger but somehow he noticed ahead of time, turning his head to look at you. The solemn, slightly melancholic expression on his face morphed to the familiar warm smile you are so used to seeing on him when he sees you.Â
âSenpai, good morning,â he spoke softly.
âHey you idiot,â You spoke, grinning and hugging him close. âGuess who wasnât late because they didnât sleep a wink?â
He chuckled and hugged back. When you pulled away, you noticed how deep his eye bags have gotten. âAnd Iâm guessing Iâm not the only one who hasnât slept properly today?â
His cheeks turned a slight shade of pink. âItâs been a busy month for me lately. Itâs hard to even force myself to sleep,â he said, wiping his eyes.
You immediately sympathize, not pushing further.Â
âThe organizers. Theyâre not here yet?â
âNo, they said theyâll be here in 10 minutes,â
âOkay. Do you want anything from McDonald's?â
âNo senpai.â
âUh-huh. Sure. Come with me inside. Iâll treat you to something.â
His eyes widened a little at your insistence but Yuta knew better than to argue, following you inside the McDonald's as you ordered coffee for both of you.
This was your dynamic. You led. He followed. It was always like this. The familiarity was comforting to both of you. In the midst of the chaos of papers, grades, and expectations, the familiarity felt like a necessary escape.
You and Yuta stood outside the McDonald's, holding your coffee cups for warmth, just a few feet away from the other lucky winners who were getting to know each other. The one thing you both needed right now was the familiar space of silence you occupied, a protected bubble of soothing.
The organizers arrived in a bus and they all huddled you together inside. Yuta got inside and saved a seat for you by the window, knowing how you always loved a view during a trip. He sat next to you and you both sat in a comfortable span of peace for the next few hours of the trip.
A few hours later and you find yourself at the starting point of the hiking trail. The hiking trail was easy, the organizers said. But it was not something your body was even prepared for. The soil was slightly wet from the humidity, making you nervous in terms of finding your step.Â
âSenpai, hold my hand?â Yuta walked next to you, holding his hand out tentatively. He didnât even seem to have any trouble at all. You held his hand and for what felt like a long time, it was his hand that helped you walk through the slippery ground.Â
Now and then, youâd hear Yuta humming a song to himself. You glanced at him and he had a tired but weary smile on his face. The kind that was savoring a trip heâd never normally get for himself. You follow his gaze and find yourself really absorbing the beauty of the trail: the tiny flowers scattered throughout the trail, the leaves of trees lined with dew drops from the humid dawn, the soft cricket sounds, the sky turning from a shade of dark blue to hues of lavender and soft yellow.Â
âSenpai, do you think the other hikers find it weird that weâre not talking to them?â Yuta asked as he helped you step over big slippery rocks.
You held on to Yutaâs hand for support and regarded his question when you finally found your balance. Even here, miles away from the city, the thought of strangers finding him weird still haunts him enough to bring it up. With all his self-sufficiency, his self-consciousness seemed to follow him even up to here.
I squeezed his hand. âLet them. Itâs your well-deserved break. Youâre allowed to enjoy this however you want. Even if it means avoiding strangers and just helping your clumsy senpai from slipping to her death.â
Yuta laughed. âOkay. Yes. Good to know then,â he conceded, the anxious tone from his voice melting into a calmer, relaxed shift.Â
You smiled fondly at him. âNow, I will attempt to walk on my own while you listen to me rant about my thesis.â You let go of his hand and found your footing on your own.
He nodded but stayed close to you. âLet me hear it.â
You ranted about your work. The loss of sleep. The struggle with academic bureaucracyâthe emails that shouldn't make you jump but they do, the uncertainty of how youâve been managing it all together with three other research projects above this thesis you are working on. Not to mention the uncooperative research members you encounter, who made you go on a passionate, angry tirade about them. Yuta listened and was always an empathetic listener. He never judged, never gave platitudes.Â
âHow about you Yuta? Anything you want to rant about? Whatâs keeping you awake most of these days?â
Yuta paused for a bit. âWell⌠there are a few.â
âLet me hear it,â you spoke protectively. âI will hate them for you.â
Yuta laughed. âWell theyâre not really angry rants, just a fewâŚdisappointments.â He hesitated for a bit, but then he talked. He disliked the fundamental complexity of his projects. The expectations of maintaining a high GPA just to get to the next year. His own classmates sometimes put it on him to organize every class event even if they know he is overwhelmed. âIâm not mad at them. I have to learn how to be better at this too,â he said self-depreciatingly. âAnd the programâŚfrom 200 students we are now only 70. Itâs competitive but it is what it is. I donât plan to be whittled away.â
You look at him with undisguised awe. His humility and quiet resolve was always something amazing to watch unfold. Itâs why you respected him so much. âI want to be you when I grow up,â you said playfully. He only chuckled in response.
âWeâre here!â The organizer announced.
Youâve reached the top. And the view was a sight to behold. The sky was now painted with hues of orange and red mixed with soft yellows, the sun waking up behind the clouds. The peak of the trail overlooked the city skyline, where you had just been hours ago. It took your breath away. Yuta stood next to you with the same expression, silent and appreciative.
As you were admiring the skyline, you felt him move. You turned your head. He was looking at you. His cheeks turned to a shade of pink before turning away, looking at the sunrise. You felt your own face go warm, breaking eye contact.
You focused on the scenery, the feel of the cool air against your skin. The others seemed to fade in the background.Â
Yuta looked at you again just in time when you glanced at him.Â
You both held your gaze.Â
He was the first to break the silence with his soft, shy voice. âYou know, senpaiâŚâ
You tilted your head, your heart beating fast in your chest. His eyes seemed to roam from your eyes, lips, nose and back to your eyes again.
Yuta took a deep breath and took your hand in his. You blinked, looking at your locked hands, and back at his nervous eyes that held a softness framing his weary face.Â
ââŚIâve never felt this free before.âÂ
The simple truth of it hits you like a physical blow.Â
â...Then...we'll do it more," the words tumbled out of you. "Letâs keep making those cringey posts and get more of these free breaks,â You said in a mock-annoyed tone, trying to get back the authoritative edge despite feeling your heart beating a thousand miles per hour. âLetâs keep finding these moments of peace. We really deserve it.â
He smiled brightly, the corners of his eyes crinkling.
The dynamic shifted from the familiar to somethingâŚwarm, fond. Under the soft light of the sunrise, your intertwined hands held a promise of experiencing a pocket of feeling free, together. More often. If it meant seeing him smile again. Like sunshine.
(\ (\Â
(ââ˘ Ö â˘â) âĄ
âOâOâââââFrom the moon and back âđŚš × đ đâđŚš × đ đâđŚš × đ
Yuta okkotsu who whines when you straddle his lap occasionally. Not even in a sexual way. When you hips bump his he whines.
Yuta okkotsu who while your making out grabs your hand and places it on his hardon.
Yuta okkotsu who loves dry humping. Cupping your breast with his large hands. His boxers already wet with precum feeling the heat of your folds on him.
Yuta okkotsu who ends up losing it and holding you down to his chest. His hands gripping the flesh of your ass relishing in how your breasts feel against his chest.
Yuta okkkotsu who bucks his hip up into you. His dick bumping and nudging your clit in soft gentle movements as he groans in your ear.
Yuta okkotsu who begs you to cum with him. Not loud but softly in your ear as he squeezes your hips. His own stuttering as he cums again in his boxers.
THE DUALITY OF THIS MAN like yuta on the left pls look at me like im trash and belittle my entire existence in a monotone voice then pick me up and threaten me with that katana BUT yuta on the right is just so precious and adorable with that dorky smile i just wanna pinch his cheeks or bully him until he's flustered and looking at me all pitifully which would make me do it even more AHAHWHWUA JUST FOR HIM TO COME BACK IN THE FUTURE AS THE VERSION ON THE LEFT TO GET REVENGE IT WILL BE GLORUOUS AHAHHAG STEP ON ME YUTAAAAAAAAA
PLEASE POST THE YUTA ONE I BEG YOUđŠˇ(Yutaâs #1 Fan Forever) (Oh btw! On laptop the image limit is bigger so you can upload more images on desktop/website/Laptop the maximum is 30)
âello lovely, here is the yuta one. sorry i took so long i was sleeping đŁ. iâll use the website next time!! i hope you enjoy it.
Š đŁ˛â@.elisiii Ë.âÖš likes and reblogs are much appreciated
ABOUT â ever wondered what camping would be like with the jujutsu kaisen men? wonder no more! yours truly and a few other writers have put it into words for you ;)
COLLAB â all fellow writers are open to joinâthe more the merrier! here are the rules:
ă minimum word limit is 100; there's no maximum limit so feel free to write it as long as you'd want it to be!
ă no deadline yet as for the moment
ă preferably fluff and angst, but smut is also quite welcome!
ă just send me a message of your fic/drabble summary, the title, and the character(s) to be added
ă characters can be repeated
ă authors can submit more than one tent
ă try not to make it too dark!
THEME â basically anything related to camping, nature, and the jjk men! feel free to let your artistic sense flow, and don't forget to make it cute </3
âď¸ đ he purposefully forgot his sleeping bagâwell joke's on him, you're not backing down
â¸â¸ ă tent 02 ă â¸â¸
/\ HIDE N' SEEK â inumaki toge @/me!
âď¸ đ inumaki uses his cursed speech to find you in the maple forest
â¸â¸ ă tent 03 ă â¸â¸
/\ LIKE A DOMINO â yuuji itadori @inukiiexe
âď¸ đ your vacation plane crashesâyouâre convinced youâre doomed, and yuuji is busy turning the crash site into the DIY campsite of his dreams
â¸â¸ ă tent 04 ă â¸â¸
/\ BUILDING WOODEN SIGN â unassigned camper @cloudykumo
âď¸ đ there was no reason for calculus to really be any relevant to a fun camp trip with your friends. so why does it feel like it so accurately describes you and megumi fushiguro have been going through for who knows how long now? It's just you, him, this camp, and december third. not like that's any relevant, right? just like the unnecessary topic of the dichotomy paradox.
â¸â¸ ă tent 06 ă â¸â¸
/\ BUILDING WOODEN SIGN â sukuna ryomen @kunareads
âď¸ đ a ouija board, a campsite, a few curses seeking a demonic good time. the plan was flawless. the result was catastrophic. because the "demon" they summoned wasn't a hellish beast. It was... satoru gojo
â¸â¸ ă tent 08 ă â¸â¸
/\ BUILDING WOODEN SIGN â bsf's!brother sukuna ryomen @nanamisbbygirl
âď¸ đ telling ghost stories around the fire always seems fun in the moment, but not when the lights go out and itâs just you, your tent and a potentially haunted forest. good thing sukunaâs gonna be there for you (fluff, slightly suggestive, comfort, crack)
â¸â¸ ă tent 09 ă â¸â¸
/\ THE ULTIMATE SET-UP â inumaki toge @zigrethsnotebook
âď¸ đ gojo is trying his very best to couple up his second year students, specifically maki with yuuta and you with toge. somehow, he managed to get panda on his side, and in the end it was panda who suggested the camping trip as a âteam-bonding exerciseâ
âď¸ đ going camping with toji and smol megs wasn't what you though it would be.
â¸â¸ ă tent 13 ă â¸â¸
/\ CAMPING WITH CHOSO AND FRIENDS! â choso kamo @sixxels
âď¸ đ fratboy!choso and bestfriend!reader goes camping with his frat (fun fic)
â¸â¸ ă tent 14 ă â¸â¸
/\ BUILDING WOODEN SIGN â gojo satoru @yunamoona
â¸â¸ ă tent 15 ă â¸â¸
/\ TWO IDIOTS GO CAMPING â yuji itadori @grenadehearts
âď¸ đ itâs no fun when you and your boyfriend decide to watch friday the 13th a bit high and paranoid, especially when you have a camping trip planned tomorrowâŚ
credits for dividers in this post: one, two, three
â i kinda like the idea of okkotsu yuta being one of those guys that are just too awkward to pick up any girl and that in general get like zero attention from women (a loser, some might say), until one specific girl (you!!) hyper-fixates herself on him and eventually falls in love. kind of like an extrovert adopting an introvert sort of thing. youâd meet him somewhere crowded, like a bar or a party, and immediately get curious about him. itâs the way he avoids eye contact with everybody, holds his alcohol-free drink with trembling hands, or maybe the shirt and pants heâs wearing that are way too serious for the situation. he looks like a kicked puppy, almost forced to be here, pressed against the wall with a concerned frown. you canât really pinpoint what it is that makes you feral the very second you lay eyes on him, but there really is something about him, and itâs not just you having a weird nerd kink. you eye him up and down from afar a couple of times before making your way to him, with a charming smile and a short dress riding up your thighs.
âhey, handsome, are you having fun?â you great him with a compliment and a little laugh, tucking your hair behind your ears. his eyes widen as soon as they land on you, and he audibly gulps (you hear it over the music). heâs sweating already when he murmurs uncertainly, âm-me?â
your smile widens. âyes, you, silly!â you move closer, so he can hear you better. âiâm asking you if you are having fun. and calling you handsome.â
he looks lost and confused, but his eyes keep avoiding your figure. his trembling hands fix his shirt collar and he answers, concerned, âa-are you sure you have the right person? do we know e-each other?â
his stuttering is making your heart flutter. you tilt your head a little to the side. âyeah⌠and no, we donât know each other yet, but youâre cute and whatâs stopping us?â
your bluntness hits him like cold water and he looks at you like you just grew another head. nobody has ever called him cute before, except that old lady who befriended his grandma one time on vacation. she gave him candy too! but thatâs just another story.
before he can say anything else, his shock is replaced with something else. something deeper, warmer, like heat pooling under his navel. maybe for the first time, his eyes are lying on you, and it dawns on him: you are hot. like hella hot. not just beautiful, but bluntly damn fine. your vibe is welcoming, but confidence is exuding from you, your luscious hair, and candy-like smell. your dress is colorful, fitting, and short. your hips are round and your cleavage is showing, making his face flush even more. youâre holding your glass like you donât care whatâs inside, and youâre batting your eyelashes at him so sweetly itâs hypnotizin,g really. his throat dries, and words die in his mouth.
âdo you know anybody here?â you ask, positioning yourself next to him on the wall. your fingers brush his arm, and the whole room feels warmer. âa-a couple of peopleâ, he says after a while, avoiding eye contact again. heâs too cute, you think to yourself.
âmmhâ, your hum is sweet and it echoes through his body like a wave. âa âcouple of people?â your tone is low, suggestive, even when you arenât saying anything lustful. his ears are burning. you lean in, your tits brush his arm, and you say something along the lines of âtell me about yourself, cutie.â
he feels his face explode and his blood rush all over his body, up to the ringing in his ears. heâs a muttering mess as you hold onto his arm, eyes watery and big by and pretty as you scan his face over and over again.
âwhat the fuck.â on the other side of the room, yuji itadori is staring at you and yuta, brows furrowed, mouth parted. kugisaki nobara, sitting beside him, has her eyes widened open. âit like a scene from a dystopian fiction. are we even awake?â
âiâm so fucking mad yuta pulled before me,â is now saying yuji, angrily sipping on his cranberry vodka, while panda scoffs from behind him. âokkotsu having game was not on this yearâs bingo card.â
maki zenin, leaning on the wall a couple of steps away, smiles. âheâs a good guy, i think itâs only fair someone noticed,â then, her eyes trail up to your figure. you are laughing now, squeezing his arm, and yuta has a faint smile on his lips. she watches your hair fall onto your shoulders, then she adds âbut sheâs so gonna ruin him.â
oh, you are. and he is well aware of that, as your sirupy smell engulfs him whole. he doesnât mind being ruined, he thinks, as his eyes finally dart up to yours. you are beautiful, and heâll learn to take it. he swallows again, your smile widens. this is gonna be fun, you think.
synopsis: yuta has always been there for you. he always will be.
warnings: possessive!yuta, smut (mdni), fingering, oral (f!receiving), p in v, creampie, slight breeding kink if you squint, praising (lmk if thereâs more I missed!)
you donât remember a day of your childhood without yuta in it.
even during elementary school, he was the boy who carried your backpack when it was too heavy, the one who walked you home when it rained, the one who pressed bandaids onto your scraped knees with trembling fingers like heâd been the one hurt.
and he never changed.
not really.
you did, though.
you grew up, tried to date, tried to get over your dumb crush on the boy who looked at you like you hung the moon. you tried to move on.
and every time, every time, it fell apart.
this time, it shattered.
megumi cheated. that part still feels surreal to you. megumi, who was so calm, so steady, who pressed little smiles into your hair and promised to be different. he wasnât supposed to be like the others.
but he was.
you canât even cry anymore. itâs just numbness as you sit curled up on your bed, staring at your trembling hands.
a soft knock. then another.
then your door opens without waiting.
only one person does that.
ââŚhey,â yuta whispers, stepping inside your room like heâs afraid to break something. âi heard.â
he sits beside you slowly, like approaching a wounded animal. his hand touches your back, warm, careful, too careful.
âiâm sorry,â he murmurs. âyou donât deserve that. you never did.â
you swallow, throat tight. âyuta⌠i donât⌠i donât understand whatâs wrong with me. why does this keep happening? whyââ
âshh.â his arms slide around you, pulling you into his chest, tucking your head under his chin like youâve always belonged there. âthereâs nothing wrong with you. theyâre the ones who couldnât handle someone like you.â
you sniff, and his arms tighten a little too much. âyuta⌠i just wanted someone to treat me right.â
âyou have me.â
you freeze.
but yuta doesnât. he keeps speaking, soft, soothing, like heâs rehearsed every syllable. âiâve always treated you right. always taken care of you. isnât that enough?â
you pull back slightly. âyuta⌠thatâs notââ
âwhy do you keep choosing guys who break you?â his voice cracks. your stomach twists. âwhy do you keep giving pieces of yourself to people who donât even deserve to look at you?â
âthatâs not fair,â you whisper.
yuta exhales, eyes softening, but they donât lose the intensity simmering underneath. âi know. life isnât fair to you.â he cups your cheek. âbut i am.â
your heart stutters.
âyouâre upset,â yuta murmurs. âyou shouldnât be alone tonight.â
âyutaââ
âstay with me,â he says, thumb stroking your bottom lip. âlet me take care of you. like i always do.â
your breath catches. his hand slides down to your thigh, squeezing gently, warm through the fabric of your sleep shorts.
âiâll make you forget him,â he whispers, leaning in. âiâll make you forget all of them.â
you should pull away. you should.
but you donât.
your lips meet his.
and yutaâ
yuta makes a sound youâve never heard before, broken and relieved all at once, like heâs been waiting his whole life for this exact moment.
his hands push you back onto the bed. âyou donât know how long iâve wanted this,â he breathes, kissing down your neck, slow, claiming. âhow long iâve waited.â
âyutaââ your voice shakes. âi donât know if this is a good idea.â
âitâs the best idea youâve ever had.â he pulls your shorts off, kneeling between your thighs.
âlook at you. fuck. youâre shaking.â yuta kisses the inside of your knee. then higher. then higher. until his mouth closes around your clit and you choke on a gasp, hands flying to his hair. ây-yutaââ
he moans into you, tongue flicking, sucking, slow and precise like heâs been practicing on phantom memories for years. âyou taste better than i imagined,â he groans. âso sweet.â
your back arches. his fingers slide into you. two, long, fingers curling perfectly against your walls like he was made for you.
âfuck⌠yuta, slowââ
âso tight,â he says sweetly, kissing your thigh. âmy baby.â his fingers pump deeper, harder, thumb circling your clit with devastating tenderness until your vision blurs and your legs tremble around his shoulders.
you cum with a broken sob, and yuta moans like heâs the one falling apart. âthatâs it,â he whispers, kissing your inner thigh. âthatâs my girl.â wiping his fluid filled chin with one hand, he moves up your body, kissing your stomach, your ribs, your throat, until his face hovers above yours, he leans in to kiss you, and you taste yourself on him.
he pushes his sweats down, positioning himself between your legs, cock thick and flushed and already leaking. he rubs the tip against your clip beforeâ
he pushes in.
slow and deep.
a choked moan leaves your throat and yuta kisses your mouth again to swallow it, groaning when you tighten around him.
âfuckâ you feel perfect. youâre perfect.â
his thrusts start slow, controlled, but his hands tremble where they grip your hips. âdo you know how many nights i thought about this?â he gasps into your neck. âhow many nights i touched myself thinking about fucking you full of me?â
your nails dig into his back. âyutaâ!â
âiâd see you come home crying, running to someone else,â he growls, thrusts getting sharper, âwhen you shouldâve been here. with me. always with me.â
your breath breaks. your legs shake.
âiâm the one who stayed,â yuta whispers against your lips. âthe one who loves you. the only one who ever will.â
he pushes your knees to your chest, fucking you deeper, harder, until all you can do is cry and cling to him. âgonna cum inside you,â he pants. âis that what you want? to fill you up?â
âyes, yesââ you moan breathlessly, not thinking of anything but the pleasure you felt with every thrust he gave you, hitting that g-spot that made your eyes roll back.
his thrusts stutter, his breath shudders, and he cums deep, thick warmth spilling inside you as he moans your name like a prayer.
he doesnât pull out. he stays there, chest pressed to yours, breathing hard. âi love you,â he whispers. âi always did.â
you swallow. ââŚyutaâŚâ
his hand slides to your belly, tender and possessive all at once. âmaybe this time,â he murmurs, âthings will finally work out.â
thereâs a strange flicker in his eyes.
you almost askâ
what does he mean âthis timeâ?
but his arms wrap around you again, pulling you into the warmth of his chest.
synopsis: youâve always been yutaâs. youâve known it. but lately, youâve been spending more time with maki, laughing at her jokes, confiding in her more than him. yuta is usually gentle, kind, and patient⌠but jealousy is not something heâs familiar with. and heâs about to learn how badly it affects him.
he always waited patiently, smiling faintly, gentle hands brushing your hair back, warm and careful. but recently⌠something had shifted.
it started innocently enough, you and maki had been hanging out more, going to cafes, studying together, laughing at jokes that made yuta slightly⌠tight in the chest.
he never liked feeling like this. jealousy wasnât him. he was calm. patient. always kind. the yuta you knew, soft, sweet, gentle, was patient enough to let you have your friends.
but seeing you laughing at makiâs stupid jokes, your fingers brushing hers over textbooks or coffee cups, seeing the way your lips curled when she teased you, he felt it.
that raw, gnawing burn.
it started small, a twitch of his jaw, a tightening of his grip on the steering wheel when he drove you home, a quiet tension in his shoulders that you didnât notice.
until it became impossible to ignore.
âyouâve been spending a lot of time with maki lately,â he said, finally, voice soft, almost too soft. you blinked. âoh⌠she just wanted to go grab coffee. nothing big.â
âhm.â he nodded, smiling faintly, but the corner of his mouth twitched.
his jaw was tight, he didnât usually get jealous. not like this. but the way you leaned over, smiling at her in those photos youâd sent him later that night, the way she touched your arm while you laughed at her jokes, yuta could feel it, rising.
something dangerous.
that night, yuta didnât sleep well.
he imagined your fingers brushing hers, your lips turning upward at her words, your scent lingering on her hoodie.
and every thought, every picture, every laugh made him ache. not the sweet, tender ache he usually felt.
a raw, burning need that he couldnât ignore.
he texted you, pretending to be casual:
âhey, baby⌠dinner tomorrow?â
and when you texted back that you had plans with maki again, a shiver ran through him.
of fucking course.
he shouldâve known better than to bother you.
the next day, he waited for you at your apartment. you werenât suspicious, heâd never barged in like this before.
âyuta? what are you doing here?â you asked, cheerful.
âyouâve been seeing maki⌠a lot,â he murmured, voice low, calm⌠too calm.
âoh⌠we justââ
âno,â he cut you off gently. âenough with the excuses, baby.â
you froze, heart racing. something about his tone made your skin prickle. âwhat?â
he stepped closer, heat radiating from him. âi donât like it when you choose her over me. i donât like it when i see her laugh at your stupid jokes and you forget i exist.â
your throat went dry. he was usually sweet. gentle. kind. but now? his eyes were dark. hungry.
âI wasnât trying toââ
he took your face in his hands, tilting it up to look into your eyes. âI donât care.â
âyouâre mine. and youâll do good in remembering that, right?â
you were pressed against the wall, hands on his shoulders as he pressed you flush. his hands roamed everywhere. your thighs, your ass, under your shirt.
âso soft,â he muttered, voice low. âso fucking perfect, baby. all mine.â
you shivered, hips pressing into him. âyuta⌠iââ
âshh,â he whispered. âno talking. just feel. just be mine.â
he knelt in front of you suddenly, lifting your skirt with swift pace. âyouâve been teasing me with her,â he growled, lips brushing your folds. âbut now⌠now itâs me who gets to taste, baby. me.â
he spread you apart with his fingers, teasing, circling, making you whimper like a fool.
âlook at you,â he murmured. âso wet for me already. how cute.â
and when he finally sank his mouth to you, slow and deliberate, teasing with tongue and teeth, you moaned helplessly.
âfuckâyutaâoh god!â
he fingered you, tongue fucking you in tandem, relentless, unyielding. you felt like you were floating, helpless, his hands gripping your hips, his teeth nipping gently at your thighs.
he didnât stop until you were trembling, cumming hard around him. he pulled back just enough to smirk, lips glistening. âso fucking perfect, baby.â
then he didnât let you recover.
he flipped you around, pressing you onto the bed, lifting your legs over his shoulders. he unbuckled his pants, not wasting any second until his cock slipped out, hard and flushed.
he smacked your cunt with his tip, forcing a whine out of you, before he entered you slowly, watching your face, the way you gasped, the way your walls clenched around him.
âso tight for me,â he panted. âso fucking good for me, honey.â
you clutched his shoulders, nails digging in. âyuta⌠oh god⌠donât stopâpleaseââ
he didnât.
he didnât until you came again, screaming his name, shaking beneath him, and he followed soon after, groaning your name as he filled you completely, leaving nothing behind.
he collapsed atop you, chest heaving. âyou⌠understand now, donât you?â he murmured, brushing hair from your face, gentle again.
you nodded, flushed, sticky, breathless.
ây-yes⌠iâm yours, yuta.â
he smiled softly, wiping your tears with the back of his hand. âgood girl,â he whispered.
later, he held you close, still flushed, hair sticking to his chest, fingers tracing your spine.
he was gentle now. soft. but underneath the calm, the possessive heat simmered, dangerous and delicious.
âyou like her?â he asked quietly, voice low, teasing.
you shivered. âi⌠sheâs my friend.â
âhm,â he hummed, lips brushing your temple. âbut you like me more, donât you?â
you nodded.
âalways.â
âgood girl,â he whispered.
âIâm sorry..I was too rough on you wasnât I?â
I feel like Yutaâs definitely a hair puller. Heâs the type too love pulling your hair while hes fucking you from behind. Hand on your hip. Another pulling your hair.
He also loves having his hair pulled. Pull it when heâs annoying you and he whines. Pull it when you wanna makeout and his full attention is on you.
Yuta would run his fingers through your hair. To focus and ground himself. Or when your snuggled up against him in bed. Not hair pulling but you get the gist.
He loves when hes ontop of you making out and your fingers tug his hair.
Its the fastest way to get him going. Pull his hair and he has a boner. Careful. If you pull more heâll cum in his pants and whine about it later.
olympian!yuta x d1!reader | directory | prev. | next.
summary: at the division one level, tennis is more than a sport. itâs your livelihood, and with your doubles partner maki training overseas for the summer, you know you need to step up your game for your last season. luckily for you, your coach has connections. and who better to train you than a rising star olympian? over the course of the summer, youâll push each other to your breaking points, and maybe farther. set by set, day by day, you start to untangle the mystery that is yuta okkotsu, the man he is off the court and the force he is on it. you might have finally met your match. but just like alwaysâitâs all in the name of the game.
warnings: swearing, no use of y/n, obscenely excessive use of italics and em-dashes as always, nobara wants to be a matchmaker so bad, i can't write a fic without making megumi a little bit angsty, y'all something possessed me during The Fence Scene
|| sfw (but itâs a little steamy guys). 9.1k words.
IT FEELS WRONGÂ to type her name into your search engine. You try three separate times before Yuta gets back from Wimbledon, but your thumb just hovers over the button, unable to press it.
You know itâs public knowledge. She was an Olympian with a Wikipedia pageâNobara already told you how she died. But diving into it yourself just feels so wrong, knowing youâll be seeing Yuta any day now, appearing on the court like some kind of hyperactive mirage as you crest over the hill in the morning. (He always tells you when heâs leaving for some 1000 or Slam or whatever, but he always shows up again unannounced.)
So you donât look, and you promise yourself you wonât ask. But all of his words in Gojoâs office take on a new tint in retrospect, painted over with the specter of Rika Orimoto.
I was lost in it, I guess.
He found me at a time when I was really desperate for the guidance.
I didnât know where I was going.
Heâd said Inumaki and youâd just assumed they were doubles partners. That maybe there was a falling out and theyâd made up, or agreed to part ways to get stronger on their own. Itâs on you, jumping to conclusions. Mixed doubles. Youâre kicking yourself for not asking.
Made me build myself up from the ground.
They all said I was a different player when I came back.
Doubles was my first love.
His faraway gaze, biting his bottom lip, finger tense against his knee. The Olympics⌠sometimes I think I should switch back. I know Inumaki would. But it might be too late, now, I guess. AndâŚ
And what?
You want to puzzle out every part of Yuta Okkotsu. Heâs such an enigma that every time you uncover something new about him, ten new questions pop up. Youâre always reaching for answers, and heâs always creating more questions, and itâs an impossible dance woven into and around your choreography on the court.
But heâs not here for you to get to know him. Heâs here to train you.
And train you do.
Even when Yuta is gone, youâre working yourself to the bone. His quietly approving nod when he returns to find you better than he left you has become something you crave, and even your teammates can sense the shift in you, mindset and otherwise.
âI get why he calls you Ace,â Ino says one day, leaning against the fence and spraying water into his face as a reprieve from the midday sun. âI donât think I can keep up anymore.â
âOh, donât flatter yourself,â you grin, swiping the sweat from the back of your neck. âYou never could.â
âExcuse you!â Ino gapes and turns the water bottle on you, the intent written clear in his mischievous smile. And thatâs how Gojo and Shoko arrive to find him chasing you around the court, a trail of water behind you. Yujiâs also drenched, because he couldnât help getting involved (Iâll save you!), and part of Megumiâs hair lies flat and soaked to his forehead. Thereâs absolute murder in his eyes. You are trying so hard not to laugh.
âI see weâre all acting our age,â Shoko says in that wry tone that always toes the line between amused and irritated. You can never quite tell which side sheâs landed on.
âCoach,â Ino salutes, and promptly slinks off to the opposite corner of the court where Hakari is waiting.
âYouâre all insufferable,â Shoko drawls, but Gojo only looks mildly wounded as he whines about not being invited to the water fight.
Official practices wonât start until the end of August, but youâve been gathering pretty regularly as more of your teammates come back to campus, and Gojo and Shoko usually swing by for some informal instruction in the afternoons.
You shake out your hair, still damp from Inoâs water attack. Youâre not complainingâitâs hot as balls, and youâd honestly dump a whole bucket of ice water over your head right now.
âShow me that backhand, Hoshi,â Shoko calls, headed toward the far court. Riko and the twins wonât be here until tomorrow, and Junpei is still at a camp out east, so the rest of you have been rotating all morning. Kiraraâs paired up with Choso right now, who possibly has the strongest backhand on the whole menâs team, and sheâs been making him serve to her for the better part of twenty minutes so she can slam it back at him.
Shoko takes his place and Choso bounds over to say hi to Gojo. You take the opportunity to grab your bag and guzzle more water because god, is it hot out here.
The sun is out in full force, glinting off the collection of pins on your tennis bag. Every tournament you go to, every new city, you find one, adding it to the line marching up and down your bag, now encroaching onto the front pocket. You pull your visor out as the reflections threaten to blind you.
When you turn, Gojo is standing there, looking over you appraisingly but saying nothing.
âCat got your tongue?â you tease. A glance past him reveals that Choso has gotten distracted by Yuji, and heâs talking animatedly to his half-brother as Megumi idles beside them. Megumi and Choso have a weird relationship and youâre pretty sure the resentment is one-sided, but you havenât bothered digging into the minefield that is Megumiâs list of qualms with people.
Gojo rolls his eyesâhis sunglasses are tinted too dark to ever see his eyes, but he puts his entire head into the motion just so you know. âYouâre improving. Fast. Here.â He grabs his own racket and heads to the other side of your court, gesturing for you to serve.
You canât help the smile spreading across your face as you skip back to the service line. You love playing with Gojo. He and Shoko challenge you like your teammates havenât been able to in a while (save Maki), and heâs so damn fast you swear he must have an extra pair of eyes that can see your moves before you make them.
Itâs not the same thrill you get from playing with Yuta, but itâs a familiar joy, like a good run that leaves you feeling exhausted but satisfied.
You give him no warning before you serve, sending it in a perfect arc right to his racket. Youâre not shooting to get him out on the first touch right now, like you always try to do with Yuta. You want to rally.
âAh, donât go easy,â Gojo calls, effortlessly flicking the ball back to you. âMakes me feel old.â
Your smile goes sharper as you tug your visor down on your head. âYour funeral, Coach.â
The first game goes by in a blink, sweat dripping into your eyesâlove-love. Fifteen-love. Fifteen-all. Fifteen-thirty. Thirty-all. Forty-thirty. Game!
You twirl the racket in your hands, grinning as the two of you silently move in opposite directions around the net to switch sides. The serve is his, and rather than call love-love, Gojo yells dramatically, âRedemption!â
It is, in fact, redemption, because gets the point off the first serve. âTo think I had mercy on you earlier,â you scoff, biding your time as he hurls another ball into your service box. You backhand it, and when Gojo plays it back to you, grinning, you hit him with a clean volley that slams into no manâs land, that elusive area between the box and the baseline. âHah!â you crow as he fumbles for the ball and comes up short.
Gojo practically cackles. âOh, youâre asking for it.â
You arenât sure how much time passes, ignorant of the length of your shadows stretching across the ground, attuned only to the delicate balance of trash talk and high-level play you and Gojo are throwing back and forth.
Itâs not until you hear Hakariâs low, impressed whistle that you realize that everyone else has gathered around you in a wide semicircle, all the attention on the court pinned on this impromptu duel between you and your coach.
âYou got faster,â Choso muses.
âAce,â Ino says emphatically.
Gojo spreads his arms wide, shrugging helplessly at Shoko and his gathered audience. âSheâs murdering me. In cold blood! And youâre all accomplices!â
As dramatic as Gojo is, youâve just caught him out with your fourth ace, so his reaction isnât totally invalid.
You canât help having a little fun with it, though.
In lieu of a response, you serve him a fifth ace, shutting down the fourth game of set three. âAw, Coach. You really think so?â You give him a shit-eating grin. Gojo is panting. Youâre dripping sweat onto the concrete.
Kirara and Yuji take the liberty of calling your points as the set goes on, your other teammates crowing support in varying degrees of volume (and with varying degrees of profanity). At one point, Gojo sends you diving for no manâs land, but youâre not close enough for the lunge. He dances victoriously to the other side of the court and Megumi loudly boos him from the sideline.
âExcuse me!â Gojo gasps, clutching at his heart. âThe audacity. Have I done nothing for you?â
Shoko, not at all subtly, covers her mouth and says, âBoooooo.â
Gojo turns to gape at her.
âWhat?â she shrugs, looking around absently. âWho said that?â
Gojo looks at you mournfully. âIâm alone in this world.â
Maybe itâs a little mean to laugh.
By the time you win the set, six games to four, the both of you are exhausted. But you donât think you could sleep right now if you tried.
Itâs not often that you and one of your coaches play a full match, and even less common that you win. The few times you have, itâs been after long stretches of 5-5 sets, pushed to seven for the two-win margin.
Your skin feels electrified with the understanding of what this means, this tangible proof of your progress.
It was one thing for Gojo and Shoko to say thereâs only so much they could teach you.
Itâs another thing entirely to believe it.
â
âHeard you gave Gojo a little humbling yesterday,â Yuta says conversationally as he gives you a very substantial humbling with the most ridiculous slice youâve ever seen. Itâs a single cut through the air, elegant and sharp at the same time, starting in the air and ending around his waist as he puts a flawless backspin on the ball.
Instead of hitting it back, you snatch the ball out of the air. âUh, pause. Iâm learning,â you gesture vaguely to Yutaâs side of the court, âthat.â You know how to slice, but not like that. You lob the ball back at him. âOkay, give it to me high.â
âWay to change the subject.â
You stick out your tongue in a show of great maturity. âYes, I whooped his ass, and it was wonderful. Happy?â
âVery. Now you just have to get so many service breaks you end him in two sets.â He serves it high, a smooth arc that finds your racket easily as you raise it above your head. You slam it down with a turn of your wrist, trying to cut through the air the way Yuta did, and send the ball directly into the net.
âFuck.â You shake your head, both at the botched hit and the concept of beating Gojo in two sets. You would have to get a significant number of service breaks, and itâs always harder to win a game your opponent serves. But itâs also so very like Yuta, to find you at the finish line of one goal and immediately give you a newer, more impossible one. âWhat did I do wrong?â
âHere.â You blink, and heâs beside you, gesturing for you to fix your grip on your racket. You step back to the line, raising your arm as if to receive a high ball.
His puts his hand on your elbow, guiding you through the motion, slow and precise.
Itâs mid-July, but so early that the sun isnât yet pounding down on your shoulders. Still, the moment he touches you, youâre warm all over, hyperaware of his breath near your temple and his calloused fingers choreographing your movement through the air.
âRight here,â he says, as you instinctively push your elbow back to allow for the rotation of your racket. âKeep it low and keep it forward. Justâflick, yeah. Good.â
âOh,â you say lamely. Your words are a jumble in the back of your mind right now, utterly unreachable. âUh, yeah.â
Yuta steps away, and with the absence of his warmth comes the return of your mental faculties. Jesus. This is not good. Itâs not like you didnât know Yuta was attractive. You just thought you had yourself under control enough to notâto not feel like this.
You shake out your shoulders, like youâre just getting the stiffness out of your muscles and not trying to forget his touch. Heâs already circled back to the other side of the court, tossing a ball idly in one hand. âReady?â
âReady.â Youâre going to lock in to training. Youâre not going to pay attention to whatever the fuck just happened.
He serves another high ball, and you do exactly what he told you to do. High, low, keep your elbow forwardâbam.
âYeah!â Yuta shouts, taking it in stride and passing it back, and then youâre rallying almost subconsciously. âJeez, Ace. Nobody learns that fast.â
You grin. âGuess I do.â
Thereâs a shriek in the distance, and Yuta freezes, entirely missing your ball as he spins toward the noise. âWhat wasââ
âAh,â you say. Because you know exactly what that was.
âWEâRE BAAACK!â
Three silhouettes scatter down the hill, increasingly loud and in varying degrees of chaos. Yutaâs worried frown fades into amused confusion as the twins dump their gear and skip on to the court, Riko on their heels.
âYouâre early,â you grin as Riko barrels into you.
âSomeone told me there was an Olympian down here, so.â
âOh, so youâre not here because you love me?â You stick out your bottom lip, wounded, but the farce doesnât last long because the twins are now boxing you in from both sides, crowing about how much they missed you.
You glance over Nanakoâs shoulder, laughing as Yuta watches the four of you with a soft little smile. âWell, let me introduce you to the man of the hour, then.â You gesture for him to come over as the girls release you. âYuta, this is Riko, Nanako, and Mimiko. Guys, thisââ
âYouâre Yuta Okkotsu,â Nanako gushes. âWe know!â
Mimiko jabs her in the ribs with an elbow and hisses, âDonât be weird.â
âThey Googled you,â Riko informs him, and Yuta takes it all in stride, falling into easy conversation with the three of them. The sunâs higher in the sky now, heat waves rising from the concrete, and the others are cresting the hill, slowly filling the court with idle chatter and hitting balls back and forth.
âThey stole your man,â Kirara remarks as she bounces a ball atop her racket. You roll your eyes, listening to Riko rambling (Is it true you can use a katana? We should sword fight!)Â and holding your racket flat about a foot over hers, bouncing her ball back down to create a little ball-bouncing vacuum. Itâs one of the exercises you remember from your very earliest rec tennis campsâtennis ball sandwich.
Eventually the ball escapes the confines of your rackets and rolls over to Junpei, whoâs idling by himself, watching Yuta with a kind of awed, timid expression.
âYoshino, youâre back!â Kirara grins, bounding off to talk to him. You greet him with a wave and step back to observe the familiar chaos of the courts around you.
Youâre going to have to start training late again, just to get the place to yourself. Not that you donât love your teammates, but itâll be hard to get Yuta one-on-one with everyone crowding him like this.
You single out Yuji and Megumi when they arrive, Yuji wide awake and bursting with energy, Megumi looking like he wants to crawl into a hole and sleep forever. So, the usual. You flag them down.
âCome play doubles,â you call.
Yuta raises a brow at you and Megumi frowns. âAgainst you guys?â
âYe of little self confidence.â But heâs not wrong. Yuta is an Olympian, and heâs been training you. âFine, Megumi with me. Get ready to lose, Yuta.â
Youâre curious about what it would be like to actually play on the same side as Yuta in a doubles match, but for now, this will do.
âYour serve, you insane morning person,â Megumi calls, voice droll as he lobs a ball at Yuji.
âYes, sir!â
Megumi groans.
Yuji serves the first game, and the only reason he and Yuta donât win is because Yuji keeps getting distracted by Yutaâs moves and gushing over how cool he is.
âItadori,â he says finally, after youâve won game one and Megumi is smirking, all his morning exhaustion evaporated.
Because yes, Yuta is a good sport, and heâs great with people, as evidenced by the gaggle of girls who ambushed him earlier. But heâs a menace on this tennis court, and he will not be caving easily.
You serve the second game, and itâs much more difficult, though you still manage to avoid a service break. Yuji, true to his word as ever, locks in, and you marvel at exactly how much of a threat he is. Itâs how bright and easygoing he is that throws everyone off. Heâs constantly underestimated, even in doubles when heâs got Megumiâs Scary Dog Privilege thing going on.
Once he and Yuta have figured out each otherâs strengths, they lean into them hard, and you and Megumi are fighting to keep up. But Megumi is also a lethal player, entirely silent but also wholly unpredictable if you donât know him.
Yuji knows him, anticipating and countering all his hits like itâs second nature. But Yuta does not, and that becomes very clear when Megumi goes from being entirely still to slamming a ball into the left service box in half a second, so narrowly inside the line that Yuta has no chance.
He grits his teeth, but thereâs a hungry smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. Heâs recognized a challenge.
Yuji and Yuta take the next game, and the next, and youâre 2-2. Itâs nearing lunch, and you know you should probably let Yuji and Megumi get back to their own doubles work. This isnât a tournament, after all.
âWanna just do next game wins?â
âTrying to get off easy, I see,â Yuta returns coolly. But he nods, and tosses the ball back to Yuji to serve. âTo seven?â Itâs the usual tiebreak score for when a tournament match goes 6-6, and everyone nods, settling into place.
Itâs not long before youâre both at six, and game point has even Megumi trash talking just a little. âDonât get comfortable,â he says to Yuji, taunting.
âIâm very comfortable,â Yuji grins, and serves a fast one that you have to dive to return. Itâs yours, and then Yuta slams it back to Megumi, and Megumi hurls a high ball thatâs the perfect temptation for Yuji. He should let it go, but he doesnât, because he has a chance.
His return goes just low, catching the very top of the net before toppling into your box. You dive, playing it back without thinking.
And Yuta lets the ball go. âWhat?â he tilts his head, amused. âThat was a let. Why did youâŚâ
âItâs college tennis, Yuta,â you grin. âThatâs playable.â
âShit!â
âDid we just win?â Megumi murmurs. âJesus, we just won.â He glances at you, brow raised. âNot bad.â
You know you wouldnât have if the rules in pro and NCAA tennis were the same. He would have slammed that low ball back at you, and you wouldnât have had a shot in hell.
But a win is a win.
âThat was awesome!â Yuji shouts, bouncing foot to foot excitedly. âFushiguro, wasnât that awesome?â Ever graceful in defeat.
âUh-huh,â Megumi says, shaking out his wrists. Enthusiastic as ever. But your eyes are on Yuta, whoâs just looking you as he twirls the racket in his hand.
âNot bad, Ace,â he says, just loud enough for you to hear across the court. âNot bad.â
â
When Yuta leaves the following week, itâs for the Generali Open in Austria.
âItâs only a 250,â he shrugs. âWanna stay sharp.â
âOnly a 250,â you mock, making your voice deeper. âOnly a professionalââ
âI donât sound like that!â
You spend his absence training with Shoko, now that the whole team is back in action and the numbers are off. She seems quietly pleased by your progress, running unforgiving drills and correcting your new slice until itâs perfect.
âHeâs been good for you,â she notes.
âHe has.â You try and fail to fight down the blush, hoping Shoko will write off the heat in your cheeks as exertion. But she smiles, a small, private thing, and you figure nothing has really ever gotten past her shrewd observation.
Itâs not as easy to stream the Generali as the more major tournaments, but you manage to follow most of Yutaâs progress online. He doesnât do as well as he usually does, and it worries you a little. What if youâre taking too much time from his independent training? You need him, not the other way around. If heâs been getting rusty just because heâs given you so much of his summerâŚ
Those nervous thoughts are still plaguing you at the end of July, knees tucked to your chest on the bench at the edge of the court. Itâs sheltered by a metal canopy overhead, and currently itâs your only reprieve from the pouring rain.
It would be stupid to ruin your practice balls in the water pooling on the court, but something kept you out here even as you saw the warning storm clouds rolling in. The rain is soothing, loud, sheets of water that only barely mist you with the help of your jacket and the shelter overhead.
âPrime practice weather, huh?â
You jump. Yutaâs appeared beside you, the hood of a windbreaker pulled over his head, and heâs drenched. The rain was so loud you couldnât hear his approach.
âYouâre back!â
âIâm back,â he chuckles. âWhy are you out here?â
âWhy are you?â you return, shrugging as he takes his place on the bench beside you. A non-answer.
âHere.â Yuta gestures for you to hold out your hand. He presses something cool and round into your palm.
âWhatâŚ?â
Heâs avoiding your eyes now, gazing out at the rain as you were only moments earlier. You wonder how long he watched you as he approached, unguarded.
You unfurl your fingers to find a shiny enamel pin, a white flower with petals unfurling from a clustered yellow center. Beneath it is a red banner with ĂSTERREICH marching across in thin, gold lettering.
âAustria,â he says. In German, you gather. âItâs an edelweiss. I just thought⌠you know, your bag.â
Some absurd, wild feeling kicks up in your gut, the dancing chaos of a candle just lit.
He went out and found this for you. He noticed the pins on your bag, and he took the time to get this and bring it all the way here from Europe. Just to press it into your hand in the midst of a heavy rain. He didnât have to come all the way out here, either. Couldâve waited for tomorrow morning.
âItâs beautiful,â you grin, holding it up to the faint light. âI⌠thank you.â You wait for him to look at you, and youâre staring at the bashful, hesitant Yuta now, not the professional tennis player version of himself.
Or are you? Thereâs something in his eyes thatâs a touch more on the side of his athlete persona, something pleased and a little hungry.
The lines are starting to blur.
You tuck the pin into your pocket, unable to keep the smile off your face. Damn this boy.
You have to be reading too much into this.
âHow was it? Austria, I mean,â you say, facing forward again. Itâs easier like this, to speak staring out into the rain, your legs practically touching on the bench but not quite.
He sighs, resigned. âI donât know. It was fine. I just⌠was off, this time. I should have won.â
âGotta give someone else a chance sometimes,â you tease, a pleased thrum in your chest when you get a soft huff of breath out of him, a chuckle. âWhat was on your mind?â
Heâs silent for a while. âI donât know. There are some things I need to⌠figure out, I think.â
You hum, a quiet agreement, because yeah. You need to do some major figuring out, too.
âIf youâre spending too much time here,â you start, though you donât really want to say it. âI mean, if you wantâI just mean itâs okay if you need to train me less. I know Iâve taken a lot of your time, and I wasnât really thinking about how that could impact your career, which was selfish, and Iââ
âNo!â he says, and the volume of it takes you aback a bit. You pull your knees away from your chest, planting your feet on the ground as you turn to face him. âNo, Iâsorry. No, itâs not that at all. Youâve been helping.â
You must look unconvinced, because he continues, âReally! Youâre⌠I actually feel like youâre a more challenging opponent than some of the pros, half the time. I mean, some of the guys at that 250 didnât hold a candle to you, Ace.â His voice is softer now, back in control. âI mean that.â
âOh,â you breathe. âThatâs⌠thatâs good. Iâm glad.â
Your knees are touching, now, just barely. Heâs warm. âMe too.â
You turn back toward the rain, feeling some combination of relief and confusion as you watch the water cascade over the vacant courts.
You imagine yourself out there, playing against Yuta. Losing, winning. Maybe heâs seeing the same game, somehow, making the same mental moves, maybe heâs internalized your playstyle just as much as you have his.
âWhy do you play?â you murmur, and for a second you donât think he hears; the only sound is the steady wash of rain on the pavement, the light pattern of your breathing.
But then he says, âWhen I was a kid, my neighbor was my best friend. We grew up together. Started learning tennis, playing with those little kid rackets and the short nets.â He smiles faintly, but his eyes are somewhere far away, on a kidâs tennis court in his childhood town. âI didnât even want to learn, at first, but I was six and in puppy love and Iâd have done anything she asked me to.â
âRika,â you murmur, feeling as though you have to interject, have to let him know that you looked into it at least a little. Saying nothing would feel like a violation of his trust. He doesnât ask how you know, doesnât seem upset by the sound of her name on your lips.
âRika,â he echoes. There is so much bittersweet affection in the single word that it almost hurts to hear. âWe didnât really mean to be⌠good. It just came so naturally to both of us, and suddenly we were these doubles child prodigies.â
Your imaginary tennis match morphs into another one, with a much younger Yuta, a shadow of a girl at his side. Making their way through the ranks, so young, so talented.
âWe were teenagers when we got into the Olympics. And we were doing well, too. I remember her grabbing my hand after we won this one game, and she just said, Yuta, I think weâre gonna do it. I think we can actually win.â
His voice is strained, like something is stuck in the back of his throat, but he keeps going, so you donât make a move to stop him. Something tells you he needs to say this as much as you need to hear it.
âIt was a freak accident,â he murmurs. âHalfway through the tournament. She just⌠got a taxi, never got out of it.â
Slowly, subtly, you turn to look at him. The wind has shifted, blowing lighter droplets of water into your faces, a cool mist. And now you arenât so sure if Yutaâs face is damp from the rain, like yours, or⌠well.
âYuta,â you murmur. You take his hand without thinking too much about it. âIâm so sorry.â
He shrugs, swallows hard. âYeah. Me too.â He laughs humorlessly, shakes his head a little as if to ward off the memory. âI kind of went off the grid for a while after that. Miguel found me, turned me into a singles player. I did singles for the 2024 Olympics. Didnât get very far. I wasnât enough, not alone. But, yâknow, thereâs next time.â
He finally looks at you, making no move to let go of your hand. And you know he doesnât want hollow words or pity. He wants you to understand. And on some level, you think you do.
âDo you miss it?â you murmur. âDoubles.â
âAlways.â He laughs a little, looking down at your intertwined hands. âIt was my first love. Well, I mean⌠she was, really.â He sighs. âI went back to doubles for a while, in smaller tournaments, off the professional grid. With Inumaki. And I knew we were good enough to get back thereâthe Olympics, I mean.â
He worries at his bottom lip, and you squeeze his hand a little, before you can second-guess yourself. âBut?â you ask, because you know Inumaki was never in the Olympics.
âIt felt wrong to do doubles without her,â he shrugs. âOr it did, for a while. I justâI needed to figure things out for myself. I had to figure out if I still loved this sport if Rika wasnât in it.â
For the love of the game or the love of the girl.
âI think TogeâInumaki, I meanâI think he knew that. It was his idea that we split for a while, actually.â He shakes his head with a fond smile. âItâs funny. Something about Toge. When he tells you do something, you just⌠you really canât say no.â
âI know people like that,â you grin, Makiâs face floating to the front of your mind. âHe sounds like a good friend.â
âHe is,â Yuta says immediately. âYou should meet him. Youâd get along.â He smiles.
Every time he smiles, you think you might be in a lot of trouble.
âAnd you?â he asks after a beat. âWhy do you play?â
Thatâs a question you havenât been asked in a long time. But the answer hasnât changed, not in all your years of training and travel and tournaments. âIt makes me feel alive. Like nothing else does.â It sounds silly when you say it aloud, but itâs true. âI tried every sport out there as a kid. It was a big city, big schools, and I remember being so little and telling my mom I wanted to make something of myself. Stand out.â
âThink you did a pretty good job,â he teases.
âOh, hush.â But youâre smiling. You possibly havenât stopped smiling, actually, in several minutes now. âI went to this community education tennis thing when I was like, five, six? Little Dora the Explorer tennis racket and everything. And I just loved it.â You shake your head fondly, remembering the early days of your tennis career, a roulette wheel of doubles partners, rec leagues and junior high and high school.
âOverachiever,â he says. âPlanning out your whole life at six.â
âSays you.â
âIâm pretty sure if youâd asked me why I played tennis when I was six, I wouldnât have said to make something of myself. Iâd just say, oh, uh, Rika told me to.â
The idea of a little Yuta doggedly following Rika around, tennis racket in hand, discovering he was actually good at the game, makes you giggle. Itâs a sweet thought. âIâm glad she did.â
He holds your gaze for a long, charged moment, and you wonder if that was the wrong thing to say. I had to figure out if I still loved this sport if Rika wasnât in it.
But then he says, âYeah. I am, too.â
The two of you sit there for a while in the rain, watching. His story plays over and over in your mind, bits and pieces overlapping and rearranging. Rika. Toge. Yuta, alone. Africa. Miguel.
âItâs late,â you say finally, when your phone lights up with a text from Nobara. âWe should probablyâŚâ
âRight.â Yuta turns back to you, sheepish. âYeah.â You know he stays with Gojo when heâs here, so itâs not far, but his place is in the opposite direction of yours from here. You stand, the rain having died down significantly in the time you were sharing the silence.
âIâll see you tomorrow?â Your fingers wrap around the pin in your pocket, and though you should be wet and cold, you feel warm from the inside out. He nods, and you turn to go.
But then thereâs a hand wrapped around your wrist. His grip is gentle, and when you turn to face him he looks surprised, as if his arm has moved of its own accord.
âYuta?â you ask hesitantly.
âCome with me.â
âWhat?â
âTo Cincinnati,â he says, avoiding your gaze. âIâyou donât have to. Obviously. It just⌠would be nice to have you there, and you could meet Toge then, andââ
âYes.â
His face splits into a grin. âYeah?â
Yuta Okkotsu at the Cincinnati Open, destroying everything in his path, a single-minded machine. You in the bleachers, holding your breath, analyzing his every move until he wins and you can shout as loud as he makes you feel.
You nod, his smile mirroring itself on your face. âYeah.â
â
samurai: [1 Attachment]
samurai:Â your ticket
âI just donât understand,â Nobara groans, slapping a palm down on Tsumikiâs kitchen table to punctuate her despair. âSets? Yes. Match? Fine. But why is a game not an actual game? How is it a smaller thing than a set? Thatâs so stupid.â
She looks at you expectantly, and it takes a moment for the words to register. Your best friend is talking to you. Get your shit together, you think, placing your phone on the table.
âItâs points, games, sets, match,â you say, because youâve had this conversation before. âYou have points and sets and matches in volleyball. We just have one extra unit.â
âBut why?â she demands, turning to Tsumiki for backup.
Tsumiki shrugs, sliding a bowl of popcorn across the table for you to intercept. Itâs Sunday, which means itâs girls day, and you have it all down to a science by now. âI donât pretend to understand the lawless world of tennis.â You nod gratefully as you accept the bowl, an uneven, green ceramic one that youâre pretty sure she mentioned Megumi making in junior high.
The Fushiguro in her is undeniable. Sometimes sheâll press her lips together or let her eyebrows dip in a way that just so precisely reminds you of Megumi, you have to do a double take. But in so many other ways, theyâre nothing alike.
Tsumikiâs apartment is littered with books and plants and half-used candles, lived-in and cozy in the way of a harried grad student. Thereâs a volleyball on the floor by the couch, a pair of well-worn court sneakers near the door, but she never went pro.
She could have, easily. Itâs no easy feat, captaining your team to the NCAA Championship. Nobara never stops talking about how Tsumiki couldâve won gold if sheâd just let herself have one second of glory.
But as much as Tsumiki loves the court, she loves kids more, and her masterâs in social work was never really in question. Sheâs content as youâve ever seen her, clad in sweats and her familiar ponytail, moving about her space with the ease of someone who knows exactly who she is and where sheâs going. Itâs this that contrasts Megumi so deeply, you think.
He knows who he is, has maybe the most fleshed-out moral compass of any 21-year-old youâve ever met, but you can see the conflict in him every time heâs on the court. The desire to be the best, to go pro, go Olympian. And the shadow of Toji Zenin hanging over his every serve. I will not be him, heâd said once, when the hour was so late it was early and all your filters had evaporated.
You wonât be, youâd said. You arenât.
You think heâs getting closer to believing that, though, every day heâs here, every match he plays at Yujiâs side, every time he rolls his eyes at Gojoâs antics. This is a place for discovery.
Youâve been discovering a lot, lately.
samurai:Â if you still want to go. no pressure!! :)
You flip your phone over, feeling heat rush to your cheeks.
âOkay,â Nobara says, turning back to you and narrowing her gaze at your phone. âYouâre usually much more excitable during our infinite variations of this argument. Whatâs wrong with you?â
Itâs true. Youâve spent more than one late night preaching on the NCAA tennis point system. Itâs not that weird! Four points in a game. You have to win six games in a set, and thereâs three sets, and thatâs match. Thatâs it!
But you canât find it in yourself to spout the same vehement protests right now.
You canât fucking stop thinking about Yuta.
And, wellâthis is Nobara and Tsumiki. So you say, âI canât fucking stop thinking about Yuta.â
âOH MY GOD!â Nobara shrieks. âI knew it. Oh, I knew it!â
âIt wasnât supposed to be a problem!â you groan, planting your chin in your hand with your elbow on the table. âItâs not like I didnât know I was attracted to him, but like, who wouldnât be?â
Nobara raises her hand.
âOh, shut up!â
âAlright,â Tsumiki says, pulling out a chair and settling in with a mug of tea. âWhy is this bad? If youâre into him.â
âWhy is it bad?â You gape at her. âItâsâheâs an actual, literal Olympian and heâs here to train me as a favor for Gojo. Heâs not supposedâweâre not supposed toââ
âSays who?â Nobara asks, munching on a handful of her own popcorn. âHeâs only a year older than you. He doesnât actually teach here. Youâre not on the same team. Thereâs no weird conflict of interest. Isnât he literally only here for another month?â
âThatâs another thing!â you cry. âWho knows if Iâll even see him again after this?â
âWhere does he live?â Tsumiki asks.
Nobara doesnât miss a beat. âHere. California.â You glare at her, and she waves her phone gleefully. âI love public records!â
âSo⌠why wouldnât you see him again?â Tsumiki asks gently.
âBecause he lives an hour north, and when heâs done here he⌠he has to go focus on his own career. Right?â
Tsumiki looks, per usual, knowing. The strands of hair escaping her ponytail fall into her face as she tilts her head, studying you, and you feel laid bare. âWho are you asking?â she says, not accusing, but you know the question is rhetorical anyway.
You sigh, and look at Nobara. Sheâs going to have a field day with this, but you have to say it before his unanswered messages burn a hole through this kitchen table.
âHe asked me to go to Cincinnati with him.â
Nobara fully knocks over her chair with how fast she stands up, gripping the table so tightly her knuckles are white. âHe what?â She throws her hands in the air, then abruptly turns around. She takes a long, deep breath and goes to right the chair before turning back to you, composed. âGirl. Youâre telling me that this man, who spends every waking minute of his free time with you, invited you on a cross-country trip with him, and you still think heâs doing this just because Gojo asked him to?â She plants her hands on her hips. âPlease think for a moment. A very long moment, preferably, because if you open your mouth and say yes Iâm going to throw so much popcorn at you.â
âTsumiki,â you grumble, but she just grins and sits back in her chair, making no move to intercede.
âI will get Maki on the phone right now,â Nobara threatens. âActually, Iâm gonna. You were gonna tell her anyway, right?â She waits for you to nod before she grabs her phone, and itâs ringing on speaker in a split second. You canât even use the time difference to object, because itâs mid-afternoon for Maki.
âMaki. Love of my life. Woman of my dreams.â
âYou want something,â Maki sighs.
âOh, you know me so well. Can you tell your beloved roommate sheâs being stupid?â
âYeah.â Maki doesnât miss a beat. About?â
âOkay,â you call, chucking a piece of popcorn at Nobara. âFirst of all, have you no faith in me?â
âNot when it comes to men,â Maki says. âThatâs what this is about, right?â
You throw your hands up in the air, glancing at the phone, Nobara, Tsumiki. âI donât actually know why I talk. Why do I tell you things? All of you are weird and psychic and knowing. Just tell me what to do with the rest of my life, at this point. I know you know.â
âYou avoid talking about him,â Maki says. âWhich is a conscious decision. If you talked about him all the time like you wanted to, Iâd be suspicious, right? So you did the opposite and thought I wouldnât notice that you never talk about the guy youâre spending all of your time with.â
âI hate how well you know me.â
âFalse. Anyway, Nobaraâs right. Youâre overthinking this. You donât need to make up reasons to stop yourself from falling for someone. Youâre just nervous, which is also fine, but donât lie to yourself about it.â
A grin spreads across your face, despite how called out you feel right now. âThatâs reaaal rich, coming from you,â you say in a sing-song voice.
âOh my god,â Nobara says, putting the phone down. âDid she pine over me? Of course she pined over me. Maki, thatâs so romantic.â
âI donât know why I speak, either,â she drawls. âLook, you can make a move, or you can not. I promise you the world isnât going to blow up either way.â
She makes it sound so easy. But you arenât even sure how you feel. âI donât know if Iâdo I even know him well enough to have feelings for him? Is it just an attraction thing? I donât know!â
âDoes it matter?â
Thereâs a question.
Does it?
âYouâre not proposing,â Tsumiki points out. âYouâd just be expressing interest. If he also expresses interest, hooray, you can figure it out from there. Maybe itâs a fling. Maybe itâs more. You wonât know until you just⌠do it.â
âOh, hey, Tsumiki,â Maki says. âHow are you?â
They proceed to have an entirely normal conversation while you have a silent crisis at Tsumikiâs kitchen table. Yuta is a brilliant tennis player and a genuine person. Heâs funny and thoughtful and he got you a fucking edelweiss pin from Austria. He confided in you. He told you about Rika. He held your hand in the rain.
He looked at you like a challenge, without the net between you as context.
Maybe itâs only physical. Maybe itâs not. You just know youâre drawn to Yuta Okkotsu like a bird to the sky. And you cannot let it eat you alive.
âEarth to lover girl,â Maki calls from the phone, and you shake yourself out of it.
âHuh?â
âI asked about the team. Are we looking good for Kyoto?â
Ah. Thereâs only about a week and half between Makiâs return and the Kyoto Tech Invitational.
âInvitationalâ is a strong word, really. Itâs very informal, an annual preseason tournament with the school just up the coast. Though itâs always a good way to get back into external competition, you know it wouldnât be possible with any other school. There are so many connections between Kyoto and Kaisen.
For one, their womenâs team is coached by the twinsâ dad, Gojoâs old doubles partner. Mimiko and Nanako opted not to attend the same school despite their obvious shoo-in status, because I refuse to be a nepo baby and I cannot handle Dad constantly looking over my shoulder, god!
Geto and Gojo might be the best of (more than) friends, but the assistant coach at Kyoto hates Gojo more than anyone youâve ever known. Itâs kind of hilarious.
âI think we are,â you say honestly. âMegumi and Yuji are on fire. Choso got better over the summer. Even the younger kids are really hitting their stride right off the bat. Rikoâs been training with Kirara on the side, I think, and itâs showing.â
âGood.â Makiâs sister also goes to Kyoto Tech. She takes destroying her very seriously. âYeah, good. Okay, I gotta run. Are you okay with your Yuta crisis, or do we need to figure that out?â
âNo,â you say. âI mean, yeah. No, yeah. Iâgot it.â
âVery convincing,â Maki says, her voice dripping with sarcasm.
But the more you think about it, the more you think youâre right. Youâve got it.
Youâre going to train with Yuta Okkotsu until you can hold your own against him. And then, before he leaves at the end of the summer, youâre going to tell him you want to see him again.
Then the ballâs on his side of the court, and if youâve read this wrong, you donât have to spend the rest of the summer awkwardly avoiding the topic.
Itâs a plan. You like plans. All you need to do is survive one more month.
Youâve got this.
â
The sun is halfway down when you traverse the hill this time, your shadow long in the waning light. Itâs been great to have your full team back, but a little overwhelming to train with Yuta while all of them are watching. The two of you have taken to meeting up closer to eight, when the floodlights come on and the courts are mostly abandoned.
Yuta is already there, bouncing a ball off the fence. He catches it when he sees you, smiling. âHey.â
âHi.â
Youâve done exactly what you promised yourself you were going to do. The past few days, you havenât let yourself think about Yuta in any context other than the game.
Except when your gaze catches on the new pin on your tennis bag.
But for the most part, youâve locked it down, thrown yourself into the game. And itâs working. Steadily, youâre getting closer and closer to his level.
You fall into the training session the same as always, trading banter back and forth, running drills, honing your backhand and slice and serves and that lethal ace thatâs only gotten more inevitable since you started working with Yuta.
About an hour and a half has passed by the time you break for water, but youâre still buzzing with energy, electrified by the unmatched feeling of playing someone who challenges you, meets you, in every way.
âMock set?â you ask, not wanting to stop. Itâs a little late to do a whole match, but six or seven games to four points canât hurt.
Youâve done it many times before.
Youâve just never won. Not a whole set, just you and Yuta, alone.
âLetâs do it,â he says, his eyes bright with adrenaline and the love of the game. You know he feels the same as you right now. Desperate to keep going, keep playing, keep growing.
âLove-love,â you call. And youâre going.
High. Low. Sharp. Serves and aces and faults, backhands and dives and slices, points and points and points. Game one is yours. Game two is his. He gets a service break on game three, and you fight him for it on game four, getting one right back.
Getting a service break on Yuta Okkotsu is no small thing. You feel electric.
âDonât get comfortable,â he says, an echo of Megumiâs taunt on the court the other day.
He sends a nasty fastball to you in the fifth game, and you pull the very slice he taught you. Forward, low, put your legs into it. Your game. âMe? Never.â
He sends an ace just like yours just inside the line at the end of the sixth.
Next game wins.
âSet point,â you pant, grinning as you shove wayward strands of hair behind your ears. You can do this. You can beat Yuta Okkotsu.
âHave at it, Ace.â His tone is light and lilting, an unspoken taunt:Â You think you can pull this off?
âOh, I will.â
Love-love turns into fifteen-love. Fifteen-all, fifteen-thirty, thirty-all, forty-thirty. Game point.
You position yourself on the service line, breathe once, deep, and serve.
The rally stretches well into the double digits, and you lose track of how many times itâs soared across the net when you see itâyour chance.
Itâs coming at you high, and you know in the moment youâre going to end it right now.
You wind back with your right arm, meet the ball in the air, and slam it.
No manâs land.
âGame!â you shout victoriously. âHoly shit. Game.â
Sweat pools along the small of your back, plasters loose strands of hair to your face as you lean forward with your hands on your knees, exhausted. You look up at Yuta through the glare of the floodlights, wishing youâd worn your visor despite the lack of sun. Thereâs some cocky, stupid taunt on the tip of your tongue, waiting to tease him for losing to you after so much trash talking.
But when you lock eyes, thereâs something you donât recognize in his expressionâsomething that has you standing straight up, crossing to the edge of the court to meet him on the other side of the net. The shadows of his face seem sharper, darker. He starts toward you in tandem, meeting you where the net divides your territories. The muscles of his arms are outlined in sweat and manufactured light, and you force yourself to look away, back to his face, to the subtle curve of his lips and the darkness of his irises.
âI won,â you grin, a lame claim to victoryâyour initial riposte has been buried under whatever strange thing has taken over Yutaâs gaze.
âYou did,â he says. His voice is almost hoarseâhusky from physical exertion, probably, and youâre about to comment on it when he drops his racket to the ground, not even breaking eye contact with you.
You have never seen him treat his tennis racket with so little regard.
Is he upset with you? Heâs not a poor sport, and you know you won that match fair and squareâ
He steps forward so suddenly that you take a step back, right up against the cool chain link of the courtâs walls. His hand comes up to grip the metal just beside your head. You canât look away. Heâs got the same intensity now that he does at match point, a relentless attention that youâre too afraid to break.
âYuta?â you whisper. Any louder and something in the air will shatter.
âYou won,â he says, leaning down so that the words are breathed against the shell of your ear. Arms at your sides, your racket slips the remaining few inches to the ground with a dull thunk.
And now you know what it is, this look, this hunger. Because you feel it too, with his breath on your skin and the overwhelming sense of his body looming just inches away from your own, his heat a strange, sharp contrast to the metal of the fence at your back.
âI did,â you say as his other hand comes to rest at your waist, sending a ripple of heat up your spine. He pulls back ever so slightly to look you in the eyes again, and then his gaze floats down to your mouth. It doesnât flicker between your lips and your eyes, just shamelessly moves to your mouth and stays.
So you grab him by the sweat-stained fabric of his tank top and yank him down toward you, crashing your lips into his with the force of a flawless backhand, and thereâs no court or fence or balls or rackets or air. Itâs all heat, any pretense of professionalism or semblance of denial shredded at your feet, sweaty skin against sweaty skin and desperate exhales against hungry lips.
âYuta,â you gasp between stolen breaths, because itâs the only word you know. Youâre formless, shapeless, intangible, and heâs all you can feel, all youâve ever felt.
His lips are just behind your ear, now, breath hot on your neck, one hand on your waist, and youâre on fire. âYouâre amazing,â he whispers. Something shoots down your spine, not a shiver but a bolt of electricity.
Tennis has always been the thing that makes you feel the most alive.
But this? Oh.
You didnât know you could feel like this.
âYouâre the one who trained me,â you murmur, fingers finding their way to his hair, his back, his neck. âItâs justââ
He silences you by slamming his lips back into yours, and when he pulls back to let you breathe itâs only by millimeters. âDonât,â he breathes. âDonât be humble.â
Itâs not a request, but itâs not a demand, either. Itâs a strange middle ground, and you find yourself grabbing him by the shoulders before you know what youâre doing, pushing your weight forward into his.
âWhââ
In the span of a second, youâve pushed him back into the fence, and now youâre the one caging him in, your smirk a challenge as you look up at him beneath the floodlights. Donât be humble.
âFine,â you say, and this time one hand takes him by the jaw, the other gripping the fence as you pull him into you. Air is no object. Youâre breathing each other now.
He whispers your name like itâs his greatest conviction.
At some point, the floodlights flicker and go out. Itâs late.
You donât care.
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a/n: GOD I'M SORRY november is a particularly crazy time in my line of work but now i'm back with the yuta bug after execution (how could i not be)
that fence part was the first thing I wrote for this fic like legitimately ten+ months ago and i still don't know what came over me tbh
Warnings: reader wears a dress, praise kink, pet names (princess), oral sex, blow jobs, deepthroating, cowgirl position, and creampie
Part of my event: 12 Days Leading to a Sexy Christmas!!
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Yuta loved it when you wore short dresses. Flowy ones. Tight club ones. Doesnât matter the kind, he just loves seeing them on you.
After coming home from a party with friends, you both couldnât keep your hands off each other. His hands find themselves on your ass, which is barely hidden from your cute, tight little dress. Your hands are captured in his dark hair as you both kiss each other feverishly. You manage to kiss yourselves crazy all around the apartment until getting to the living room couch. You playfully push him down on it, and he lands there with a thwump. You couldnât help but laugh at his confused face. However, when you climbed on top of him, his face changed entirely.
âGod, you look so sexy,â he compliments. âI could barely contain myself all night.â He looks up at you with his big doe eyes. âI was ready to leave at any time to just take you back here.â
âYeah? And do what?â you ask cheekily. You loved hearing his dirty thoughts about you.
âI would carry you inside and toss you on the bed and fuck you while you still wore that sexy dress,â he explains. You hum in his ear, indicating your own arousal to his comments. You bring your hips down on him and grind yourself on his erection. âO-Oh fuck, princess.â
His face heats up a cute red as you continue rubbing yourself on him. He doesnât hold back his moans. God, he is so adorable.
âOh, Yuta, does it feel good?â you ask, your hands back in his dark hair, making him look into your eyes.
âFuck yes,â he replies. âYou always feel so fucking good, princess.â
âI do?â you ask, but you already know the answer, of course.
âYeah, yeah, you feel so amazing, and you look so amazing,â he compliments.
âAww, youâre so sweet,â you say. âI could say the same for you, too, Yuta.â You caress his hair in your hands, and he grabs your hand and kisses it.
âYouâre too good to me,â he says.
âNo, youâre too good to me,â you reply. âIn fact, let me show you how good you are to me by giving you something nice.â
You move your body down him and reach his hard, clothed cock just waiting for you.
âYou donât have to do that,â he says, his hands clutching your face gracefully. You give him a smile.
âBut I want to, Yuta,â you tell him. âI want to make you feel good.â
âSee? So good to me,â he repeats.
âOnly for you,â you say. You take hold of his pants zipper and zip them down. He helps you to take off both his pants and underwear, leaving him in just his t-shirt. His cock is so cute and hard, just waiting for you to take it into your mouth. You look up at his eyes while taking the tip into your mouth and sucking lightly. Just the tip, and oh my, that boyâs eyes turn dark gray. That only happens when heâs really horny. Itâs your favorite side of him.
âOh, princess,â he groans. Your tongue swirls around his tip some more, getting it oh so wet.
You begin taking in more of his cock into your mouth, going as far as you can on his dick. His hand reaches out and plants itself firmly on your head. Your nose touches his happy trail as you go so far to reach the shaft. You feel small burning tears at the corners of your eyes. The back of your throat closed in as well, trying to accommodate Yutaâs size.
âDonât overdo it,â he whispers. âYouâll hurt yourself.â He grabs your hair and helps you back up his dick to the tip again.
You shallowly begin retaking his tip, and you let your saliva drip down his cock, making a mess on his hips and the couch. You look up into his eyes, and his eyes are leering down at you. A part of him wants to grab you and fuck your mouth till he comes down your throat, but the other part wants to let you take him how you wish. The inner conflict would normally consume him, but your mouth feels so good on him that it all begins to melt away.
You push your tongue up against his cock, stimulating the tip while still being able to go up and down. You hear him moan softly and feel him slightly thrust into your mouth.
âI-It feels so amazing, princess,â he compliments. âYouâre doing such a great job.â His moans were almost biting away at his words, nearly making them incoherent.
You hum around his cock, and the vibrations of your voice make him tense, and his cock head almost breathe out in desperation.
You continue to suck his hard cock, and his moans become breathier. You can tell heâs getting closer. You love the effect you have on him.
You come off his dick and raise yourself to stand over him. His eyes flash desperation, but he stops when he sees you begin to climb into his lap. You lift your short dress slightly to reveal the absence of underwear. His eyebrows raise in surprise and excitement. You place your hands on his shoulders, and his hands find themselves on your ass, helping you back down on his cock.
You fold onto him when his dick fills you up. His breathy moan hits your neck, and your hands pull at his hair.
âMmm, Yuta,â you breathe.
âP-Princess,â he says. He grabs your ass hard and begins moving you all by himself. You clutch his shoulders, holding on for dear life while he uses you. âYour pussy feels so fucking good.â
âYuuutaa,â you moan. You are entirely at his mercy. Youâve teased him for too long now.
âIâm gonna cum inside this cute little pussy,â he says. You canât even form coherent sentences as his cock hammers in and out from the strength of his arms, raising you up and down. âIâve wanted to fuck you so good ever since you put this little dress of yours.â
Your screams reach a new sound as his dick reaches your G-spot. He barely must try, and he makes you scream.
âDoes it feel good, princess?â he asks, even with his overstimulated voice.
âYes, oh my god, yes,â you rush out. Your chest heaving against his face. You squeeze his cock while you orgasm. You feel all over your body and shake in his grasp
âCum, princess,â Yuta says. He knows youâre about to cum. You do as he commands and cum hard with your cream coating his cock and causing a small ring around his shaft.
He fucks you more on the couch, knocking against the floor from the sheer force of his strength. Heâs ready to fill you up with his own cum. He brings you down one more time and cums hard inside you. The moan you hear from him is pure bliss. You lean back and admire the sweat on his forehead, his hair sticking to his forehead.
âYouâre so beautiful,â he says.
âSo are you,â you reply. You both smile before leaning into a sweet kiss.
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Š c1nna1nmyr0ll 2025, all rights reserved. do not plagiarize, use for ai, copy, translate, or repost my content on any platform. comments, reblogs, and likes are loved
Helloo :3 So this week has been shit for me. I just keep on crying and i'm also sick so that sucks ngl. So I just hope it will get better and it might just cheer me up if I write comfort with my favorite jjk character.
Anyway this is kinda like a second part to this story. I might just make a series out of this idk đ¤
Summary:
You woke up early to look after Yuka since she woke up crying in the middle of the night. But you had a nightmare so you're kind of happy that she woke you up. In the morning Yuta notices that your sick and calls off his mission with Maki to look after you. He comforts you while you're sick AND also from the nightmare you had earlier.
The baby monitor on the bedside table picks up on Yuka's crying. Your eyes flutter open at the sound. For once you're happy that Yuka woke you up with her cries since that got you to wake up from this awfull nightmare. Your eyes move over to Yuta who is still asleep beside you. You slowly sit up and try to calm your breathing down. Some moonlight shines infrom the gaps of the curtain. Atleast Yuta didn't wake up from Yuka's crying. He still has a mission with Maki today. After swinging your legs off the bed you get up to check on Yuka. She's probably hungry. The only issuse is that your dear daughter won't fall back asleep even after getting feed which means you can already prepare yourself of staying up all day. You can already imagine the image of Yuta's concerned face when he finds out about this. But you're ready to sacrifies some of your sleep for Yuta. As you feel your nose starting to run you use your Yuta's hoodie to rub it away.
Yuka's crying greets you as you push the door to her nursery open. You craddel her against your shoulder. Her pacifier is lying in her crib probably from when she was squirming around. "Shhh...shhh...I know you're probably hungry, huh? Let's go get you feed." There is probably still some milk for her in the fridge. Before you leave the nursery with Yuka, you make sure to grab her favorite plushie for some comfort. You don't want her to cry and wake Yuta up. Softly swaying from side to side to keep Yuka calm while your heating the milk up. Atleast you can keep your mind of that awfull nightmare. Yuka is babbling around. "You will keep me up now, huh?" The only some what respond you get is her drooling onto you. "Great.."
After some time you check if the milk is the perfect temperature you sit down on the couch in the livingroom to feed Yuka. "Just us two now..." your gaze wanders across the room as you hold Yuka against your chest. Now that everything is so quiet your brain keeps on trying to make you remember your nightmare. You shake your head as if to get ride of the thoughts. Yuka makes an noise with the bottle still in her mouth after you shook your head. "Sorry..." It's so quiet in the livingroom except for Yuka's sound and some cars driving by outside. This will be really exhausting and you can already tell how much energy Yuka is gaining just from drinking her milk. You cough into your arm.
Yuta's eyes flutter open from the sunlight entering through the gaps of the curtain. He doesn't even have to feel around in bed to know you aren't beside him. The cold feeling next to him is already telling him that. From the noises from the livingroom which sound awfully like Yuka, he knows you will be probably be with her. "Good morning, sweetheart." His voice comes from the bedroom you both share. Now you look even worse and sick. Yuka is crawling around on the floor playing with some toys. Yuta was changing his shirt while walking into the livingroom but stopping halfway as he sees how sick you look. "Sweetheart, you're sick. You should have woken me up." He sighs and moves over to you. His hand softly feeling your forehead. He should have known that you wouldn't rest on your own even after giving birth just six months ago. Yuka crawls over to Yuta and holds onto her father.
"I didn't want to wake you up because of your mission with Maki...." You softly rub your eyes. Besides you can't fall asleep still scared from the nightmare even if hours have passed. "I will call off the mission with Maki and before you protest she can handel this one alone. Now rest I will take care of Yuka." After bending down to pick Yuka up he moves over to call Maki. You can hear Yuta's voice softly in the background. You cough into your arm. Ugh you feel like your burning up...you probably are.
Your nose is all red from the rubbing and it also hurts. Yuka makes some noises from Yuta's arms while he is on the phone talking with Maki. You curle up on the couch to try and rest even if you don't want to admit it you can feel the exhaustion catching up to you.
"Yeah...even if she won't admit it she's sick. I have to take care of her-" Is all you can hear from the hallway. Yuta's voice is calming and you start to feel sleepy slowly your eyes flutter shut.
Yuta stops talking as he hears you quickly sit up and hear crying. His face turns into an frown. "Hey...I have to check on her.." He quickly hangs up before even letting Maki answere him. He puts Yuka in her crib to comfort you as quickly as possible. You sit on the couch and curle up into yourself while you cry. Everytime you close your eyes you can only see the nightmare. "Hey, what's wrong sweetie? Why are you crying, huh?" Yuta kneels down infront of you and strokes your cheek. You try to choke out some words but only get loud sobs outside. "No...no you don't have to talk. Let me just hold you.." His arms wrap around your body. "Was it an nightmare? What was it..? I want to help you." He plants kisses onto your head. You sob loudly and cling onto his body.
"....I...before I woke up I had a nightmare...thanks to Yuka's crying I woke up from it-" You get cut off by an loud sob. You lean against his body. His mouth keeps kissing your head and forehead. "Shh...shh...everything is okay...nothing bad will happen...nothing..." he mumbles against your forehead. His hand slowly moves you to lay down on the couch. An blanket is drapped down ontop of you. "I will lay with you until you fall asleep...until every bad thought leaves your mind...until you forget everything bad that has ever happend to you. Don't forget that I love you so much. Nothing can ever change that." His body moves to lay next to yours. You quickly press yourself against Yuta. Your body is shaking from the sobs leaving your body.
Yuta keeps whispering sweet nothings and reasurring words into your ear while stroking your hair until you start to doze off. Everytime your body as much as shivers Yuta starts to whisper again and slowly rock you both. Yuka is in her nursery either sleeping or just playing with something. The baby monitor is standing on the coffee table so if anything happens Yuta can go and check on her.
Yuta is standing in the kitchen while quietly cooking some soup. Yuka is sitting in her high chair trying her best to read an book. After you feel asleep Yuta brought you back into the bedroom to rest properly. He does feel bad that he didn't noticed earlier how you were feeling. He know you will probably pout if you find out that he left the door open to make sure he can calm you down if he needs to. "Dada...." Yuka hits her palms on the book to gain Yuta's attention. "DADA!" Yuka squirms around in her high chair. "What is it, sweetie?" Yuta glances in Yuka's direction. "Mama! Mama!" Yuka points at the doorway to the bedroom. "Yea, mama is asleep in there so we need to be quiet." He smiles at her.
Your eyes flutter open. So Yuta carried you back to bed, huh. The scent of the soup is picked up by your nose. "Mama! Mama!" You can hear Yuka say loudly. You really do love Yuta and Yuka with all your heart...that's probably while you always fear of losing them so much...you rub you eyes and cough again. The shaking of your body doesn't stop even as you curle up under the blanket. "Sweetheart...are you alright?" Yuta looks into the room with an concerned look.
"...I found some chocolate on my side oft he bed....Ahhh! I put it there and couldn't find it..." Yuta deadpans at you. "Sweetheart, what...? So you mean to tell me that you have been hiding chocolate in our bed..which is why I have been waking up with melted chocolate on me...?" You nod at him. "Great..."
You sit up as Yuta brings you your soup. You open your mouth so that he can feed you. "You get so clingy and whiny when you're sick." He softly starts to feed you. After eating Yuta sits down next to you. "Now go back to sleep, sweetheart...I will look after you and chase away any bad dreams you have.." Your eyes close while he strokes your hair. As you start to enter the world of sleep you feel a kiss placed on your forehead. Now you can sleep without any worries that Yuta has everything under control and also looks after Yuka...
đž no man's land đ set three: work-life balance
olympian!yuta x d1!reader | directory | prev. | next.
summary: at the division one level, tennis is more than a sport. itâs your livelihood, and with your doubles partner maki training overseas for the summer, you know you need to step up your game for your last season. luckily for you, your coach has connections. and who better to train you than a rising star olympian? over the course of the summer, youâll push each other to your breaking points, and maybe farther. set by set, day by day, you start to untangle the mystery that is yuta okkotsu, the man he is off the court and the force he is on it. you might have finally met your match. but just like alwaysâitâs all in the name of the game.
warnings: swearing, no use of y/n, obscenely excessive use of italics and em-dashes as always, memelord toge inumaki, choso being awful at technology, THE RETURN OF THE KING (maki), naoya warning, naoya warning against just in case, jogo is also here but he's just a guy, think of this as the beach episode but they're just at a tennis tournament in ohio, where there's a wii there's a way, toge has such incredible beef with matt the npc mii it's not even funny, lil' steamy toward the end there tbh
|| sfw. 10k words.
YUTA OKKOTSU ISÂ not an impulsive person.
Itâs part of what makes him such a good tennis player. Heâs calculating, always measuring his opponents up against every possible variable, treating every set like a game of chess. Itâs why he and Rika were unstoppable at each otherâs sideâbecause he was calm and cool and collected, and she was bright and reckless and undying, until she wasnât.
He knows the moment Gojo sends him your highlight reel that you have potential like he hasnât seen in a long, long time. Something about the way you navigate the court as if itâs your natural habitat, the way you serve like a first language. And that ace.
âShe wants the Accelerator Program,â Gojo tells him over the phone.
âSheâs making it,â Yuta says without missing a beat. âIâll make sure.â He doesnât say what heâs thinking, which is more along the lines of sheâs going all the way to the fucking Olympics, as soon as I can get her out of her head.
He recognizes himself in you. Raised on doubles, afraid to stand alone. To excel in singles is to learn to take up your share of space on the court, to be unafraid of the dive and the fallback, to take advantage of the openings on the oppositionâs side that come with solo play. He has struggled with all the same things, and Miguel has trained them out of him, by sword and by racket and by telling Yuta to stop holding himself back and just play already.
Youâre brilliant, and he knows he can help you get even better.
He doesnât quite expect how much youâll make him better.
He knows heâs too serious about the game, but he canât help it, itâs inside of him. Victory in his veins, Gojo said once, and he wasnât really wrong. But you donât shy away from the intensity of Yuta on the court the way everyone else seems to. You rise to meet him, dish out the trash talk as well as you take it. He hasnât felt matched like this in a long, long time, not just as a player but as a person, and he savors it, becomes addicted to it, canât get enough of the strain and push and pull of the way you play, the way you tease, the way you exist.
And you make him feel normal. Like a part of something. He sits surrounded by your friends in the campus dining center and laughs and bickers and tells stories, and he shows you his favorite songs when you drive him to the airport, and he starts to think of your team, your friends, as his friends, too. Something in him settles, something that hasnât been still in a very long while.
You beat Gojo and heâs so proud he feels like he could burst. He didnât know it would feel like this, helping someone become better, teaching them, guiding them. Maybe itâs just because itâs you. His puts his hand on your elbow and you learn a move he took years to master in a single attempt.
He feels like heâs on fire.
Itâs not until the Generali Open that he realizes just how deeply youâve settled into his bones. He raises the ball to serve and thinks, Letâs do this.
That was not part of the plan.
Every time he plays in the pro circuits, he presses his lips to the ball and thinks, Itâs for you, Rika. Every time. For years and years and years, her face in his mind, her voice in his ear.
Why didnât he think that? What changed? Whatâ
Itâs not rocket science. He can put two and two together. Youâve transformed him from a single-minded tennis machine on autopilot to the person heâs been trying to become for years. He has been trying for so, so long to decide if he loves this game without Rika in it.
He was beginning to think the answer was no.
But here he is, pressing the ball to his lips and feeling energized not by the memory of Rika but by the thrill of the game, and he knows thatâs because of you.
It shouldnât feel like a betrayal, but he canât get past it.
He loses the match.
He canât stop thinking about you.
Thereâs a tourist shop on the way back to his hotel, and he slips inside, only half-conscious of what heâs looking for. He knows it when he sees it, a flower unfurling, the way you make him feel every time you egg him on, ask him a question, listen to him in a way that doesnât just hear but sees.
Itâs the only thing he purchases in Austria, and he knows he wonât remember this trip for the destination or the tournament but for what it made him realize. For what you made him realize, even from six thousand miles away.
When he gets back, he knows he should just get a taxi to Gojoâs and crash. Should act like a sane person and wait until he sees you the next morning. But the pin burns a hole in his pocket and itâs pouring rain and somehow, somehow, he knows that the weather hasnât stopped you.
His first love was supposed to be his last. That was part of his plan, his careful calculations. If Yuta knows anything at all about himself, itâs that heâs all-in. Tennis. Love. One and the same, really.
Falling for you, falling into you, accidentally and seamlessly and so, so easily, was not part of the plan.
In the end, though, how could he not? You move like the game was made for you and your laugh puts the sun in the sky and you challenge him every damn day, on the court and off of it, with that sharp grin and quick wit and undeniable talent and drive. You are a force, and after your very first training session, he thought, God, Rika would have loved you.
So he walks through the rain, thinking about how much he loved her. And he doesnât know what to do.
But the turmoil in his mind comes grinding to a halt when he sees you in the rain, untouched by the chaos of the weather, like the sky is sparing only you. And it should, he thinks. You deserve the whole sky, and everything else.
And then he presses the pin into your hand and suddenly heâs talking about Rika, spilling his guts, laying all his insecurities and his tragedies out for you to pick through, and you do not pity him. You do not offer empty words. You listen and you see and you tell him why you play, and he remembers.
He remembers all over again how he fell in love with tennis. The sheer joy he felt the first time he hit the ball over the net, the pride of his first victory, the dance of the sport that became so much a part of him itâs written in his bone marrow. How he loved Rika and he loved the game and they conflated until he thought those things were one and the same. And theyâre not.
He knows heâs obsessive. Things have a tendency to consume him, and Rika was no different. But your love of the game is so great it strikes some tuning fork inside of him, and thereâs this resonance, and itâs not just because heâs infatuated with you, and that is the difference.
Youâve just proven to him that he can love his career and he can love a person, and you know what, he might even have more love to spare. You put your hand over his and suddenly he understands that he has the capacity to extend his devotion to the world around him. His heart was broken once, but the excess of love in it has not escaped through the cracks.
The words are out of his mouth before heâs even decided to say them, just like his hand wrapped around your wrist without his permission. Come with me.
It is not part of the plan.
You say yes, and he thinks he could power entire galaxies with the supernova in his chest.
Realizing that heâs in love with you and acting on it are two very different things, and Yuta is too afraid of derailing this bright, new thing to ruin it now. Heâs going to wait it out. Heâs going to get you into that Accelerator Program and heâs going to congratulate you and then heâs going to ask you if you feel what he feels, this absurd tangle of livewires that shouldnât fit inside his heart, and if you say no, he will⌠he doesnât know.
But that is not for now. That is for later.
Until you beat him.
âDonât get comfortable,â he says, stealing Fushiguroâs words because youâre right in front of him and he canât think of any of his own, and you smirk because of course you never get comfortable, thatâs why youâre so goddamn good, thatâs why heâs so goddamn in love.
You beat him so gracefully, so undeniably, with sharp hits and brilliant returns and inevitable serves, and his plan evaporates. He cannot wait, not with you right here, right now, sweat painting your cheekbones in the floodlights and your breath coming uneven through your teeth.
âI won,â you say.
Youâve won everything.
Yuta Okkotsu is not an impulsive person, so when he backs you up against the chain link fence and his breath tangles with yours in the air, he knows heâs completely, royally fucked.
He doesnât remember dropping his racket, too focused on the curve of your lips as they part slightly, an unasked question trapped behind your teeth, and your face is so close to his he thinks he might just keel right over, and he has to claw his fingers around the fence just to keep himself standing.
This is nothing. His hand is on your waist and youâre looking at each other and that is not a sin, that is not even an action. This could be an innocent touch, an accidental glance at your lips, this could (should) be nothing.
But somehow, with this one touch, with your eyes wide and locked on his, heâs both bigger and smaller than heâs ever been all at once.
He doesnât know if he moves first, or if you do. All he knows is the taste of you, the clash of teeth and tongues, the slip of sweat and the press of bodies and oh, how stupid to think he could have waited a second longer for this.
You say his name and he implodes.
âYouâre amazing,â he whispers, and itâs all he can get out despite the millions of other words balled up in his chest, You saved my life because you saved my heart and I am so in love with you and I feel alive with you and I never want to take my hand off your skin again.
You deflect, you try to give him credit, and he will have none of it. Because sure, Gojo called him and asked him to train you, and he did, for a while. But you havenât needed him for a long time now. You trained yourself into the ground and built yourself back up again and you are a brilliant, intangible thing. âDonât.â He will not let you take this from yourself. âDonât be humble.â
Your hand is cupping his jaw, and he canât help leaning into the touch, and suddenly heâs spinning and the cool metal of the fence is pressing into his back and youâre the one in control, which feels right, because havenât you always been?
Yuta Okkotsu is not an impulsive person, but with you, heâs an unchecked electrical charge.
He loses and finds himself in the gaps between your fingers, your lips against his skin, and he knows something so fundamental has just clicked into place.
It is almost unfathomable, Yuta thinks as you slide a hand up his spine, that he was asleep for so long and did not know it.
But heâs wide awake now.
YOU HAVENâT TALKEDÂ about it.
You havenât talked about the kiss.
Kiss feels like such a ridiculously small word for the way he set you on fire at that tennis court, the way his touch lit you up from the inside out. But whatever it was, you havenât brought it up since. Every time the feeling floats to the tip of your tongue, you arenât sure how to put it into words, and so you channel it into the game, hitting and serving and rallying until your arms are sore, and then itâs time for Cincinnati. Everything is crazy and busy and surreal, and youâre on a plane, watching California grow small through the half-open window, and you havenât talked about it.
Youâre hardly about to do so on a plane next to a veritable tennis celebrity, whoâs already been recognized at least three times. Itâs strange, realizing that this comes with the territory of being good at your game, being an Olympian. You wonder if youâll get there, and then quickly shake the thought away in favor of a statement, like Nobara taught youâbecause my god, girl, could you doubt yourself any louder? Weâre practicing manifestation. Sit your ass down.
So: You wonder what it will feel like when you get there.
The Round of 64 wonât start until Saturday, but you arrive on Thursday to get settled and watch some of the qualifiers before Yuta is slated to play. The courts here are standard concrete, hard and blue, but maintained so well you itch to play on them the second you lay eyes on the property. Itâs the kind of court you know youâd kill on, unlike clay or grassâyouâre still constantly in awe of how easily Yuta adapted to the courts at Wimbledon, the way he could anticipate the ballâs movement on grass despite the slower pace of the game. You resolve to ask him about that, soon, about training on other surfaces. You need to be ready for everything.
But first, Yuta has a meeting on the agenda. Not a meeting for himâa meeting for you.
âThis,â he says, nodding with a small smile, âis Toge Inumaki.â
When Yuta talked about Inumaki, you pictured someone calm and collected like he is, someone with an indomitable presence. Imposing. Intimidating. Yuta said you canât not listen to Toge. So you thought heâd be⌠well, you donât know what you thought.
But it sure wasnât this.
Toge greets you with a very dramatic bow, floppy blond hair nearly brushing the asphalt, and then grins and says, âAt your service. Get it? Service? Tennis pun.â
You like him immediately.
Yuta just sighs, but youâre instantly reminded in a weird way of Nobara. Youâre certain they would either despise each other or get along in a way that would threaten the whole of the universe.
You introduce yourself, shaking his hand, and say, âYuta speaks very highly of you.â The shit-eating grin Toge shoots him over your shoulder just makes Yuta sigh again.
âAs he should,â Toge says, then drags you toward the courts. âNow, Yuta tells me youâve got quite an ace.â
The court is a practice one, populated only by a few doubles players on the far end, but youâre fairly certain itâs reserved only for actual competitors.
âI donât think Iâm allowed to be here,â you murmur to Yuta as Toge skips through the open gate.
He just smiles. âNobody is going to see you play and think you donât belong here. I can promise you that.â
Something in you warms at the praise, and you have to turn your face away under the guise of adjusting your visor so he doesnât see your blush.
Toge tosses you a ball, and you catch it in one hand before bouncing it a few times, getting a feel for the court.
You glance at Yuta, uncertain. He nods.
You hold your racket high and serve an absolute bullet.
Toge actually shrieks as it barrels toward him, lurching back but coming up drastically short. The ball bounces inside the line and rolls harmlessly toward the fence, and Togeâs jaw drops as he turns to you.
âHoly shit,â he says, then starts bouncing on the balls of his feet as he glances between you and Yuta. âYuta. Where did you find this woman? What the fuck? Sheâs a god.â He looks back at you. âYouâre a tennis god.â
Yuta just smiles at you sheepishly, like sorry about him, but Toge has already launched into a very off-key rendition of God is a Woman and you actually think youâd like him to be your friend immediately.
You accept the next ball Yuta tosses your way and interrupt Togeâs singing with a shouted, âLove-love.â
And you play.
â
Yuta is going to take his first opponent in three sets without even breaking a sweat. Heâs already dominated the first two, and heâs not letting up on the lanky guy across the court, some guy named Eso who looks oddly familiar but you canât place.
Toge, fresh off his own first match, whistles low beside you.
âWhat a freak,â he says reverently. Your phone buzzes.
cho:Â can you tell your man to chill?
cho:Â he has no mercy. none
cho:Â :((((
It takes you a moment to figure out what heâs talking about, and then you remember with a start that Eso is Chosoâs brother, one of the ones from out of state heâs always talking about. You swear to god he has a million siblings and you canât keep track to save your life.
you:Â âmy manâ
you:Â youâre typing in lowercase?
you:Â who are you and what have you done with choso
cho:Â ino shut off my auto caps and punctuation and i cant figure out how to turn them back on
cho:Â he said i type like a heathen
You laugh out loud. Choso is maybe the most hopeless person you know when it comes to technology. Once, heâd wanted to watch one of his brothers in the US Open and couldnât figure out how to get to the stream. Hakari had to explain the concept of pirating and painstakingly get Choso to get to the bootleg link without infecting his computer with a thousand viruses.
Toge looks at you questioningly. âThatâs my friendâs brother,â you say, nodding at Eso. âOne of his other ones is here too, actually.â You pull up the bracket and scan for his name. âHe could end up playing Yuta too, if he gets to the third round.â
âShould I start booing Yuta?â Toge asks earnestly. âI have no issue with that.â He opens his mouth as if to start shouting obscenities and you clap a hand over it.
âToge!â
Even if he had wanted to boo Yuta, thereâs no time, because the set has just ended with a killer backhand to the far corner of the court. Yuta wins. Esoâs shoulders slump in a sigh, but he approaches the net to shake Yutaâs hand over it. You can see their mouths moving as Yuta laughs, and you wonder if theyâre talking about Choso. He and Yuta get along well and are around the same age, Choso having stretched his D1 eligibility like Maki to stick around another season.
When you and Toge find Yuta after the match, heâs already pulled up the bracket on his phone, searching for his next opponent.
âYou canât let yourself bask in the glory for two seconds?â Yuta is such a single-minded beast on the court. Always thinking about his next move, his next set, his next opponent.
When he hears your voice, he looks up from the screen so fast youâre briefly worried his neck might snap. âHey,â he grins.
âHey yourself.â
âWhy donât you ever look that excited to see me?â Toge says, offended, and goes to tackle Yuta in a hug. âGive me your affection!â
âGet off me, you gremlin.â Heâs doing a terrible job stifling his laughter.
Two days later, Yuta takes on a cocky guy with a long, blond ponytail and a leering, condescending smirk. You donât even remember his name after hearing it twice, but his voice is high and grating, and youâre glad when Yuta pummels him.
Menâs tennis, at least in the pro circuits, plays five sets rather than three, and it fascinates youâseeing the pace work itself out, the stretch of time that forces each player to their limit. Not that Yuta has really been pushed to his limit yet, or anywhere close.
Toge is also impressive on the court, sweeping through his opponents effortlessly, and then itâs the third match.
Sure enough, Yuta winds up against Choso and Esoâs brother. His name is Kechizu, and you can see something of Chosoâs playstyle in his movements. Choso comes from a tennis family, and all of them have distinct serves but the same familiar backhand that makes them such a threat. You wonder what happens when they play each other.
By now, the crowd knows what to expect of Yuta Okkotsu, and theyâre dialed in on his every move. You almost feel a little bad for Kechizu, pitted against such a big-time opponent. But Kechizu doesnât look sorry. In fact, he looks like heâs having the time of his life, absorbing every blow without a flinch and adapting to Yutaâs strategy as he goes.
This match goes to the fourth set, and Kechizu even manages to get a service break once, but heâs still out of his element against Yutaâs sheer skill.
cho:Â oh my god
cho:Â not again
takumaaa :D: girl choso is in mourning
takumaaa :D: mourning? morning? wait
You donât know when Ino got into your phone again to change his contact name. Itâs been a recurring battle for years now.
takumaaa :D: AHA itâs mourning i was right
Right as Yuta wins, your phone rings, and you glance down to see Makiâs name dancing across the screen.
âAre you in Pacific time?â you ask without prelude. âI can feel it. I can feel the aura.â Youâve been religiously counting down the days until she comes back from Japan, and today sheâs supposed to have landed back in the States. Fucking finally. Your one hesitation about going to Cincinnati with Yuta was that you wouldnât be there to greet her, but she shut you down so fast you didnât even have a chance to argue. Youâre going, sheâd said, and if you fight me Iâll stay in Japan.
You both knew damn well it was an empty threat, but you laughed and told her the message had been received.
âIndeed,â she says through a yawn. âAlso, no you canât. Youâre in Central. Shut up.â She has a point. âListen, Iâm about to go sleep for at least twenty-four hours. But what if I came to Cinci after?â
You almost drop your phone.
âWhat?â You process the words. Maki, here. âI mean, yes, god, yes. But are youâlike, are you sure? You just got back.â
âIâm sure,â Maki says, and you were expecting it, because sheâs sure about everything. Except when she was pining after Nobara, which Nobara has begged you for details about ever since that one dinner. âI want to meet this Okkotsu guy, watch some pro play before we have to lock in for the invitational. Also, my dickwad cousin is there, and I wanna see him get his assed whooped. Is that cool with you?â
âIs that cool with me,â you scoff. âI mean, Nobara might kill us both. But yes. Please do. Please come. Thatâsâyes.â Youâve missed Maki so much, and youâre dying to get her on the court again, to test your new skills against hers, to hear all about training under Mei Mei and to introduce Maki and Yuta andâ
Oh, god.
Maki knows you as well as you know your own racket. Even through the phone, sheâs picked up on more of your whirlwind of feelings surrounding Yuta than youâd like to admit. You havenât told her about the kiss yet. But sheâll know the second she lays eyes on you.
Toge nods toward the courts, an indication that heâs going to go catch up with Yuta, and you wave him off and mouth be there soon.
âDonât bother with a hotel room,â you tell her. âYou can crash in mine.â
âYou sure?â she says, that teasing undertone shining clear through her exhaustion. âYou donât wanna share that bed withââ
âMaki!â
â
Itâs a Saturday morning the day Maki finally arrives, the day of the quarterfinals. The Ohio sun is unrelenting, the air humid and slicking the back of your neck with sweat. You spent the morning hitting with Yuta and Toge, the two of them warming up for their matches today and you absorbing everything you could.
The way they play together reminds you of you and Makiâwordlessly anticipating one anotherâs moves, making for long rallies and fast shots, and it made you miss her even more. She steps out of the cab, all quiet confidence and readiness, wholly herself after settling in back home and kicking the jet lag.
You practically scream as you barrel into her, nearly knocking her right back into the backseat. âChrist, hello to you too,â she huffs, but you can hear the affection in her voice as she hugs you back.
âI missed you so much,â you say. âNever, ever, ever do that again.â
âWhat, train under an Olympian?â she smirks, knowing that wasnât what you meant. âI feel like that resolution wonât last long, givenâŚâ When she pulls back, you follow her gaze over your shoulder to see Yuta engaged in animated conversation with Toge. She raises a brow at you and you feel your whole face go beet-red.
âItâs notââ
âYes,â she interrupts, slinging an arm around your shoulder. âIt is.â
You sigh and lean into Makiâs familiar warmth, and itâs like she never left. Thank god. You missed your partner. You missed your best friend.
She grabs her stuff from the trunkâracket, tennis bag, and alarmingly small backpack. Sheâs an absurdly light packer, and youâre the opposite. Yeah, you probably donât need ten pairs of socks for a weekend trip, but what if something happens to eight pairs of them and then youâre left without extra socks? You never know.
You snag Makiâs stupidly light backpack and let her handle her tennis stuff, leading the way to the hotel entrance. âThis is Maki,â you proclaim proudly as Yuta and Toge turn to face you. âDoubles partner extraordinaire, and also my best friend.â
Yuta holds out a hand. âNice to meet you,â he says, and it would sound like stiff small talk coming from anyone else. But you can tell he means it.
âOkkotsu,â Maki says, shaking his hand firmly before he can introduce himself. âHeard a lot about you.â Yuta raises a brow your way, and you tug your visor down on your head as if thatâll hide the red in your face. âAnd you must be Inumaki.â
Togeâs eyes widen. âShe knows me,â he stage-whispers to Yuta.
Maki and Yuta fall into conversation as you enter the hotel, and Toge holds the door before letting it swing closed behind the both of you. âSheâs scary,â he murmurs.
âOh my god. Sheâs not, I promise!â As soon as you say it, youâre pretty sure youâve just lied.
Maki can be pretty imposing if you donât know her, and even if you do know her, sheâs someone you want to keep on your good side. As Yuji and Megumi well know, the wrath of Maki Zenin is not lightly incurred or escaped.
Toge gives you a meaningful look that reads something like yeah right, and you just giggle. Maki and Yuta seem to already get along, having jumped into a conversation about her awful cousin Naoya and the way he tries to run his opponents down early. Itâll be a beneficial discussion if he does make it far enough to play Yuta or Toge.
You hope he doesnât. Heâs a dick.
After dumping Makiâs stuff in your room, Toge heads out to get ready for his quarterfinal matchup and Yuta heads to the practice courts. You and Maki walk around the many courts hosting the dayâs matches, catching glimpses of familiar and unfamiliar players, simultaneously analyzing matchups and catching up on the summer.
âThat woman is insane,â Maki says. âI actually donât know how Iâm not dead. I swear she doesnât feel normal human emotions. She ran me into the ground.â
Mei Mei is terrifying on the court, but according to Maki, sheâs also terrifying off of it. âHalf the time I was convinced sheâs living a double life scamming people out of their money. But the other half, sheâs such a damn good tennis player I couldnât even care.â
Maki goes on a tirade about the drills Mei Mei had her run day after day, and her kind of creepy little brother who was always hanging around the courts, but the ranting is punctuated with statements that subtly make you understand Maki had a great summer. That it was hard, but worth her time; that it was brutal, but necessary. That she respects Mei Mei as a tennis player even if maybe nobody should respect her as a person, and that sheâs excited to get back on the court here and kick some ass.
Then she asks about you.
More specifically, about you and Yuta.
For a while youâre able to dodge the question, walking her through your summer training in the same way she did hers, but by the time youâve done two laps around all the courts, youâve run out of ways to evade.
âSo you kissed,â she says, and you stop in your tracks.
âDamn it!â You glare at her. âHow do you know everything all the time? Do you have spies?â
âNo, but I have eyes,â she drawls, leaning against the side of a vacant set of bleachers. âYou keep dancing around each other. Whatâs the deal? Are you a thing or not?â
You climb up onto the bleachers and bury your head in your hands. âI donât know,â you groan truthfully. âWe havenât talked about it since it happened. I canât figure out if itâs just a casual thing or if he, likeâŚâ
âForget his feelings for a second,â Maki says, and you look up through your hands at her. âDo you want to be with him?â
You instinctively go to blurt out I donât know, but Makiâs no-bullshit expression stops you.
Of course you do know. Itâs all youâve been able to think about since he pressed you up against that fence.
âYeah,â you murmur, and Maki nods, unfazed.
âThen ask if he does, too, and get it over with. Worst case scenario, it was a casual thing and you move on. Best case scenario, it wasnât, and youâre dating a pro tennis player.â She shrugs, like this is all simple and easy and black-and-white, like the concept of asking Yuta what you mean to him doesnât tie your stomach into a bunch of knots like a fucking balloon animal.
Reading your hesitation, Maki sighs, pulling herself up onto the bleachers next to you. âIf you wait, itâs just gonna mess with your head even more.â
You know sheâs right. Makiâs always right.
The gates open and an official leads two players onto the court in front of you as people start to file in from other matches. Toge finds you in the crowd and waves excitedly, and you crack a grin and wave back. Youâve unintentionally stopped right at his court.
Someone sits down beside you, and you turn to find Yuta, a relieved smile on his face. âThought I was gonna be late,â he says, then glances over you and waves at Maki.
Maki is entirely at ease, but youâre worried Yuta can somehow read the conversation you just had in the air. Like your messed up feelings are written all over your face.
But he just turns to face the court, elbows on his knees, dialing in. He must recognize the other guy on the court, though you donât. âOh, heâs got this,â Yuta says, half to himself.
And he does. Whatever worries you have about Yuta fade into the back of your mind the second Toge serves, and youâre locked in, head following the ball back and forth and back and forth as Toge wins one set, loses, wins another.
Four sets and the guy is slinking off the court while the PA system announces that Toge Inumaki has advanced to the semifinals. Youâre cheering, grabbing Yutaâs arm as you jump up and down, and he laughs and throws an arm over your shoulder in celebration.
Did the sun just get hotter?
Maki shoots you a look out of the corner of her eye. Fine, you mouth.
Youâll talk to him.
But right now, itâs his turn.
You reconnect with Toge outside the court as Yuta splits off to get to his own match, and the three of you take your time getting there, knowing youâll be early enough to get good seats.
Yutaâs opponent is a bulkier guy, Jogo or something, who plays an incredibly different style of tennis than Yutaâs other opponents. Heâs all power and brute force, none of Yutaâs finesse, but itâs threatening in a different way. You can see the calculation in Yutaâs eyes, and by the third game of the first set, it becomes clear what strategy heâs settled on.
Heâs going to run Jogo around this court like a dog.
Jogo might have the strength, but he doesnât have Yutaâs endurance, and by the time the second set rolls around, Yuta is consistently winning service breaks. You canât help grinning as you watch. Jogo is undoubtedly talented. But heâs no match for Yuta Okkotsu.
Is anyone?
Jogo is exhausted by set three, but he turns it around and pulls one over on Yuta, though the victory is narrow. He tries to keep Yuta close to the baseline, but thereâs no point, because Yutaâs returns are all over the place. Thereâs no rhyme or reason to his trajectoriesâheâll hit four different places on the court and then the fifth one three times in a row, just to fuck with Jogo.
Four sets and itâs over, Yuta victorious. Toge is grinning, and you arenât sure if itâs because of the win or because of the heightening chances of playing his best friend.
Theyâre not pitted against each other in the semifinals. But if they both win, itâll be a hell of a final round.
You glance at Maki as the announcer crowns Yuta victorious, and to any bystander sheâd look bored. But youâre well versed in the subtlest changes in her expressions, and you can tell sheâs deeply impressed.
âIf he plays like that,â she tells you lowly, âI am so excited to get your ass back on the court.â
â
Toge is hanging upside down on the couch in the hotel common room, watching some Instagram reel without headphones on, and laughing like a maniac.
âThis guy is insane,â he says, shoving the screen your way. You flop down on the floor with your back against the couch beside him and take the phone in your hand just as the reel starts over.
Itâs a guy with pink hair. Heâd remind you of Yuji if it werenât for the dark tattoos on his face and the sheer condescension of his expressionâsomeone who should by all standards be intimidating, if it werenât for the fact that the thing heâs so intensely ranting about is a low-quality recording of Yutaâs quarterfinals match. Heâs giving commentary that also appears in thick white bubble letters, and you feel like youâre watching a video game stream.
âLook at this bitch,â the guy says, zooming in on Jogo. âHe moves like a fuckinâ rock. My nephew can do better than that.â
Then the camera pans to Yuta, and the man whistles appreciatively before laughing a little maniacally. âThis one, though. This little guy is insane, look at himâboom,â he cackles as Yuta hits an ace that Jogo has no hope of getting to in time. âOoh, heâs a good fight. He might look like a little middle school twink, but look at that serve.â He plays another clip back and you donât even hear what he says, because youâre cackling at the way he just called Olympian Yuta Okkotsu a âlittle middle school twink.â
Toge grins, takes his phone back, and hits follow.
âThis guyâs whole livelihood is unhinged commentary on tennis,â he says. âHe even does NCAA.â
You raise a brow and make a note to look into this later. Has he talked about you?
âThat shit is monetized?â
Toge shrugs. âYou can monetize anything nowadays. I have a burner account where I just post AI covers of Waluigi singing Post Malone songs and that shit blows up every time.â
The same man that apparently monetizes AI-generated Waluigi online is set to play Naoya Zenin in the semifinals.
âI kind of wish it was you,â Toge tells Yuta. âMore fun that way.â
âIâll kick your ass any time you like,â Yuta reassures him. Then Togeâs gaze drifts to the loungeâs television setup, lingering on the Wii.
âAnytime?â Toge grins.
Yuta groans. âOh, no.â
Toge tries to flip himself off the couch and winds up half on the floor, half in your lap. âWell, hello,â you say.
Without missing a beat, he asks, âYou any good at Wii tennis?â
âI thought youâd never ask.â You shoot Maki a massive grin as Yuta reluctantly digs four controllers out of the basket near the window, and she smirks back.
Youâve spent many a night in tense competition with Yuji and Megumi on the court. Youâve possibly spent even more nights duking it out on the Wii.
âI love doubles on Wii,â Toge says in a sing-song voice. âThat way I donât have to play Matt. That guy is op numero uno. I swear, he wants me dead.â
The familiar Wii Sports theme has all four of you lining up in front of the TV, and for some reason you feel more competitive about this than real tennis, at least in this moment. Itâs partially the late hour, partially being reunited with Maki, and partially the way Toge keeps sneaking smug glances at you and Maki.
âYou really think you have a chance, huh?â Maki snorts.
Toge goes pale.
âSheâs kidding,â you whisper, nudging him in the ribs. Maki raises a brow at you and you amend, âKind of.â
Toge selects a random Mii and opens up the customization settings so fast nobody has time to stop him. Itâs actually mildly alarming how adept he is at navigating Wii controls, mostly because heâs a professional tennis player and how in godâs name does he have this much time on his hands? The eyebrows are now floating above the head of the green-skinned INUMAKIIII, making them look like alien antennae.
âHe does this every time,â Yuta sighs, resigned.
Yuta picks a generic-looking guy but changes the name to Yuta, and you follow suit, side-eyeing him as you type in Ace.
He smiles.
Maki zeroes in on where, apparently, somebody has painstakingly duplicated the Matt NPC as a playable avatar. She gives Toge a shit-eating grin.
âNo,â he begs with a levity that actually shocks you. âNo, spare me, please. Not Matt. Anyone but Matt.â
She picks Matt.
Toge mourns her avatar choice for the entirety of the first match, which you dominate. Then Yuta looks at him and says, âAre you gonna keep playing around?â
An entirely new Toge emerges from the ashes of the one you once knew.
This man is an absolute menace. You have never seen anyone play the Wii more intenselyâor preciselyâthan Toge Inumaki, at least when heâs not on the ground monologuing about Mattâs vengeance.
âToge,â you say after heâs beaten you and Maki into the ground twice. âWhat the actual fuck? What Wii tennis prodigy school did you go to?â
âThis is just how I train,â he says, so entirely deadpan that for a second you actually believe him.
Once heâs in his element, he loudly challenges âMattâ to a singles âduel of honor,â and Maki obliges. She actually holds her own against him, and they go back and forth for so long that you and Yuta strike up a conversation on the couch.
âHeâs the most insane person Iâve ever met,â you tell Yuta sagely, nodding in Togeâs direction. âAnd thatâs⌠a statement, coming from me.â
âOh, I know.â Yuta nods fondly. âNo words to describe Toge Inumaki, I guess. Did I tell you he lost a bet once and spoke only in sushi ingredients for a full forty-eight hours?â
âHeâŚâ You blink. âWhat?â
âMhm. We call it the Salmon Incident. I still canât decide if the worst part was him running around shouting about tuna mayo, or me actually understanding what he meant by the second day.â
âDear god.â
Yuta shakes his head. âGod certainly was not there.â
Toge shrieks so loud you nearly jump off the couch, instead falling practically into Yutaâs lap as your heart stutters. âJesus, Toge!â
âHeâs done it,â Toge announces, spinning to face you and dramatically wiping away imaginary tears. âHeâs thwarted me once again.â
âHe is right here and warned you that you would lose,â Maki shrugs.
Yuta chuckles, and the sound rumbles against your shoulder. Youâre suddenly hyperaware of your position, your side pressed up against his chest, fingers wrapped around his forearm. Oh, god.
He must register your embarrassment, because he just offers you a reassuring smile. Which makes it worse. He can probably feel your pulse through your wrist.
You very pointedly donât look at Maki as you murmur an apology and stand up, making a conscious effort not to physically shake out your limbs in the absence of Yutaâs warmth.
Toge closes his eyes and points the Wii remote at Yuta. âPlease,â he whispers. âAvenge me.â
Yuta does.
â
Naoya Zenin is a prick.
Every story Makiâs ever told about him has confirmed this, but his match against Toge hasnât even started before you see exactly what she means. From your vantage point about halfway up the bleachers, you can see the harsh movement of his mouth, Toge turned away from you.
Youâre too far to understand what heâs saying, but Yuta grimaces. âTogeâs off his game,â he murmurs. âWhatever that guy just saidâŚâ
Itâs nothing obviousâyou watch Toge grin, make some fast quip, dance back to his side of the court as light as always. But Yuta knows Toge like you know Maki. If he says something is wrong, something is wrong.
âFuck him,â Maki seethes. âI hope Inumaki runs him into the ground.â
For a brief, ridiculous moment, you can only see Naoya as a cartoonish little Mii.
Toge serves harder than usual, and Naoya makes absolutely no move toward the ball. He just lets it hit inside the line, practically gives Toge the point, and then gives him a lazy, wide grin.
âWhat is he doing?â you mutter.
âWhat he does best.â Maki scowls. âManipulation.â
Youâve only known Toge for a few days, but already youâre certain heâs one of the most unflappable people out there. Sure, he might threaten to go to war against an NPC, but itâs hard to imagine anyone actually getting under his skin.
But sure enough, his next serve is off, closer to Naoya as if he wants him to hit it back. To move, to try. Naoya returns a lazy backhand, and they rally a few times before Naoya slams it just inside the baseline. Toge lunges, but itâs too late.
âFuck,â you mutter, glancing at Yuta. He looks concerned, but only mildly.
Earlier today, he and some tall guy named Dagon stretched their semifinal matchup to five sets, pushing each other to the edge. Dagon rivaled Yuta in the fluidity of his movements, like the air was water around him, moving so fast you felt like he mustâve had extra arms or some shit. And he was strong to bootâlike Jogo, but with all of Yutaâs grace.
Still, Yuta won, cementing his spot in the finals. And you expected that final matchup to come down to him and Toge. But now, youâre not so sure.
âGive him a few games. Heâll turn this around.â Yuta sounds so sure of himself, not in an arrogant sense, but in a way so matter-of-fact that you canât help but believe him.
You wonder if Yuta has that sort of confidence in you. The thought makes something dangerous light itself up in your chest.
Toge does turn it around, snagging two service breaks by the time he takes the first set. But Naoya still looks unconcerned, and he keeps sending knowing glances Togeâs way, oscillating between high effort and absolutely none. Itâs not just throwing Toge offâthe audience is antsy, too, and you can tell none of them actually want Naoya to win.
They trade sets, back and forth, and after Naoya ties it up by taking set four, he actually yawns. Arms in the air, stretching, making no effort to hide it.
âOh, fuck you,â Maki mutters beside you. You know looks canât kill, because if they did, Naoya would be burning alive.
At one point, you get so frustrated you stand up to take a lap around the bleachers. Theyâre trading games back and forth, 4-4 now, and itâs been over three hours.
5-5.
6-6.
Itâs a tiebreak game. You canât stop running your hands through your hair, tugging just enough to hurt, because you want to strangle Naoya Zenin and his self-satisfied smirk. Even he canât hide how tired he is now, the both of them panting as they take their positions.
You curse out loud when you realize itâs Naoyaâs serve. The odds are stacked against Toge.
He gets the first point, but Toge gets the second. Then itâs 3-3. 4-4. 5-5. 6-5 as Naoya slams one right to Togeâs feet, giving him no time to get a racket under the ball. 6-6.
6-7, and Toge looks out into the crowd and locks eyes with Yuta. Youâre sure youâre about to witness some kind of serious exchange. But then Toge lifts his hands and moves them up and down like heâs dribbling two balls, mouthing âsix seven.â
âOh my god,â you say out loud. âI actually think he should lose for that.â You donât mean it, and Yuta canât help laughing. But then itâs 7-7. 7-8. 8-8. Itâs been four hours.
9-8. Match point.
If Naoya gets this, the tiebreak is over. The match is his.
âCome on,â you murmur under your breath. âCome on, Toge.â
They rally for what feels like forever but really canât be more than twenty seconds. And then Naoya, with the most audacity youâve ever seen, runs his hand through his hair as Togeâs ball soars through the air toward him. Like heâs bored.
And he slams it back.
Naoya wins.
â
Maki is still fuming hours later as the four of you hit on the practice courts, cursing Naoya out as she nails balls into the fence. âYou have to run him into the ground,â she tells Yuta firmly.
âAvenge Toge like you did last night,â you nod. Yuta sighs.
The thing is, Maki is infinitely more upset about the loss than Toge. Toge actually seems⌠entirely unfazed. You stand at Yutaâs side, watching as Toge balances a tennis ball on his nose like a trick seal.
âHow is he so unaffected by this?â you murmur, not really expecting a response.
âWork life balance!â Toge shouts.
Turns out, whatever Naoya said to him on the court was about Togeâs family. Apparently heâd done some research. Toge was more surprised that Naoya knew anything than affected by the actual shit-talking.
âOh, you know, stuff about how Iâm the worthless son and will never live up to my familyâs great expectations or some shit,â he shrugged. âTruly, I donât care. He doesnât know anything.â
You were sure he couldnât mean that, but he really seems indifferent about the whole ordeal. Itâs like the words slid right off him, rain on a parka. The most you got out of him was a solemn nod and a Yuta, you must fight to the death. He is my Matt.
Yuta shrugs. âHeâs just like that.â
When Maki is done raging about Naoyaâs very existence, you fall into place at her side, the boys across from you on the court. This is what youâve been waiting for. Your blood feels alive with anticipation.
Itâs time to play doubles.
It is everything you thought it would be. Youâre at an entirely new level from where you were at the beginning of the summer, but so is Maki. You read each otherâs intentions and movements, adapt to each otherâs improvements in the silent language of eye contact and minute gestures. Itâs as if youâve been growing side by side all these months, not an entire ocean apart.
This is the level of play youâre hungry for, the kind thatâll matter in the Olympics. NCAA tennis reduces a whole exhausting three sets of doubles to one point, and itâs always felt like such a diminishment of all the work and time that goes into it.
You and Maki lose, but you canât deny itâs the best tennis youâve ever played. Youâre exhausted, limbs sagging, breath coming short and shallow, but you feel more accomplished than you have after any victory.
Well. Almost any victory, you think.
Your back against a chain link fence. Yutaâs breath mingling with yoursâ
âNice, Ace,â Yuta calls, and your gaze snaps to his as if drawn by opposite magnetic poles. âThat last slice was perfect.â
âIâthanks,â you call back, trying desperately to collect yourself. âThat was great, both of you.â
âCount me impressed, Inumaki,â Maki admits.
Toge does a backflipâyou didnât know he could do thatâand then shrugs, and Maki stares at him for a long moment before informing him, âYou are so concerning. As a person.â
He beams.
âI wish you could come back to Kaisen after this,â you sigh as you grab your water bottle, taking a long, cold swig. âWith Yuta. That was the best doubles match Iâve played inâŚâ
Maki meets your gaze. âYears,â she finishes.
âWhat if I did?â
You freeze, turning to face Toge. âWhat? Arenât you on the full ATP tour?â You frown. âWhenâs your next comp, next weekend?â
âI can play hooky,â Toge says devilishly, wiggling his brows. Yuta snorts, and Toge grins. âNah, nah. Iâm not going to Winston-Salem. Itâs a 250 and Iâm in the top thirty already. Should be fine.â
âBrag much?â Yuta teases.
âWould you be cool with that?â Toge asks Yuta. âMe crashing for a few days, playing doubles with these insane college prodigies you found? I wanna see Gojo anyway.â
âYou know Gojo, too?â Maki groans. âWhy does he know everyone?â
Toge just grins and says, âMy secrets shall never be revealed.â
âYou should, though,â Yuta says. âCome back with us. Itâll be good. Keep us sharp before the US Open, get you guys ready for that invitational.â He directs this last part at you and Maki.
âHe knows your schedule,â Maki notes, low enough that only you can hear. âInteresting.â
âYeah, because heâs training me,â you mutter heatedly.
âYeah, thatâs why.â She snorts.
Yuta and Toge are talking travel plans now, calling up Gojo to see if Toge can crash for a few nights, and so you turn back to Maki and desperately whisper, âHelp me.â
âThis, Iâm afraid, is a you problem,â she says, and for what itâs worth, thereâs some genuine sympathy in her voice as she puts a hand on your shoulder. âJust talk to him. Bite the bullet.â
âHorrible advice.â But you turn and look at Yuta again, right as he laughs, bright and loud and open, at something Gojo said on the phone.
Damn it.
You have to talk to him.
â
Your room is directly across the hall from Yutaâs. He booked a single, Toge on the floor below because apparently he snores like an elephant. Makiâs already knocked out on the bed, and you find yourself pacing back and forth, back and forth, just thinking.
He is just feet away, if youâd get your head out of your ass and knock on his door.
For maybe two full minutes, you stand with your hand on your own doorknob, willing yourself to open it.
Whatâs the worst that can happen? Makiâs voice says in your head.
Well, he could say no. No, he doesnât have feelings for you, everything was purely physical, a distraction, a convenience, and why would you think that and now itâs weird and actually I have to go train alone for the rest of the summer and Iâm never coming back andâ
âShut up,â you hiss, and then clap a hand over your mouth, looking back over your shoulder to see if Maki heard. She doesnât stir, and you let out an unsteady breath.
Fuck it.
You open the door.
Youâre staring directly at Yuta.
âOh,â he says. âSorry. I, uh⌠I guess we hadâŚâ
You almost blurt out some stupid lie like oh, I was just going to the ice machine! But you bite your tongue, because something in Yutaâs eyes mirrors yours right now. Youâre pretty sure you opened your doors for the same reason.
âYeah,â you breathe. âUmâŚâ
âDo youâŚâ He laughs sheepishly, glancing behind you to see Maki already occupying your room. âDo you want to come in?â
You nod mutely, quietly closing your own door behind you and padding across the hall. Yutaâs room is neat, just an open suitcase on the floor in the corner with all his clothes tidy and folded, his tennis stuff leaning against the wall near the door. Not enough to pretend to look at, to avert your gaze from his.
He shuts the door, and before you can say anything, he takes a deep breath and says, âLook, Iâm sorry.â
Your heart plummets.
He crosses in front of you on his way to the bed and pats the space beside him. You hesitate for a second before moving toward him, perching on the edge.
âI know we should have talked about this sooner and itâs⌠itâs entirely my fault that itâs taken so long. I justâI guess I had some reservations aboutâŚâ
âYou donât need to do this,â you say in a rush, and Yuta looks at you, surprised. âIâyou donât need to apologize, I mean. Itâs fine, I get it, if it was just a one-time thing and you donât feel that way, we can just keep on training likeââ
âWait, no! No,â Yuta blurts, seeming surprised by his own volume and sitting back a bit, stunned. âI mean⌠no, thatâs not what I meant at all. God, Iâm bad at this. Listen.â He pulls one leg up on the bed, turning to face you fully, and reaches out to take your hand in both of his.
You can feel your heartbeat in every part of your body.
âI donât have reservations about you. Iâve never had reservations about you. Please know that.â He swallows, hard, and you find yourself following the line of his throat, his arms, his watch, anything but his eyes. âItâs more of⌠I told you about Rika, already. I donât know if I told you I loved her like that, but it probably wasnât hard to tell.â He sighs.
At that, you meet his gaze. His eyes are wide, earnest, dark. So many emotions contained in such little space. Itâs just like he makes you feel, like your heart is too big for your skin.
âAfter she died, I didnât feel⌠worthy, I guess. Of survival. Why her and not me, you know? Without her everything felt so pointless.â He laughs humorlessly. âItâs like IâI wasnât needed by anyone, so was any of it worth it? It took me a long time to realize that people did care about me. Iâm still figuring that out, actually. Finding the confidence to⌠to know itâs okay to live, even without her.â
Oh.
All the tension flows out of you, a broken damn. âYuta,â you murmur. His cheeks go a little red at the sound of his name on your lips. âIâm proud of you.â
He goes still.
âI mean it.â You put your free hand on top of his. âItâs⌠thatâs not easy. Letting yourself open up again. And we can take itâthis, whatever this isâas slow as you need to.â
âWhatever this is,â he echoes, a faint smile on his face. âWhat is this?â
Somehow, you feel like the first time you went to the US Open as a kid. Sitting on the very edge of your seat, heart in your throat as the ball flew back and forth, scared to blink for fear of missing anything. Like somehow, everything hinges on this moment, right now.
"Thatâs what I wanted to ask,â you say quietly.
Yuta swallows, looks down like heâs steeling himself. âI know I said, just now, that I was learning to⌠to live, without her.â And then his eyes lock onto yours, dark, intense. âI meant that. But I also meant learning to love.â
The single syllable steals the breath right out of your lungs.
âI know thatâs a big, stupid word with a lot of connotations,â he chuckles nervously. âAnd I know I can be⌠intense. And you donât need to feel that way too, not now, not yet, I justâyou said itâs a hard thing, opening up again. And it is, it should be. But thatâs the thing. Itâs not hard, with you. Itâs likeâgod, I canât even help myself. I canât stop it.â
He lets go of one of your hands, his fingers floating up to your cheek, your jaw. âYouâre incredible, Ace.â
âIâŚâ You find yourself tilting your head, leaning to meet his touch. You want him near you in every way possible. âYuta, you⌠youâre incredible, too. I mean that.â Your wrap your fingers around his wrist, pressing his hand against your face.
And you say, âI want this. I want you.â
There is one long, silent moment.
And then Yuta smiles and says, âThank god.â
In a split second, heâs on you, his hand slipping down your jaw to your neck, your shoulder, and his lips are on yours again, and itâs like you never stopped kissing but also, somehow, like youâve never felt this before. You donât remember laying down. You donât remember sliding your hands beneath the thin, white fabric of his shirt. âYuta.â
He breathes against your cheekbone, so close the strands of his dark hair brush your forehead. âHm?â
His hands are wide, strong, long fingers pressed against your collarbone, caressing the strands of your hair. Every one of your senses is amplifiedâyour heartbeat is thunder, his uneven breaths a bassline, your skin and his hot against each other.
âYouâre sure about this?â you breathe. âItâs not gonna⌠mess with your focus, you donât need toââ
Yuta silences you by pressing his lips to yours, smirking as he pulls away. âIâm sure.â Thereâs a mischievous glint in his eye as he cages you in with his elbows on the mattress, his knee between your legs. âYou know. Work-life balance.â
Well, youâre not going to argue with that.
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a/n: yutaâs POV is for @princess-okkotsu specifically it had not even occurred to me until this brilliant suggestion thank you
yuuta loves you so, so much.
(he'd do anything to keep you his.)
suggestive content, follow-up to this drabble
âThat guy was way out of line, right?â
Yuuta asks you this seemingly out of the blue, eyes wide and searching as he curls up next to you in bed. Even in the lowlight, you can make out that innocent look on his face that makes you giggle fondly.
âDefinitely, Yuu,â you agree, pressing a kiss to both of his cheeks. âThank you for defending me.â
He still looks conflicted despite your words, and your heart softens. Yuuta is a really nice person; most days, he wouldnât hurt a fly. But he has a fierce sense of loyalty when it comes to those he cares aboutâespecially you. He has no reason to feel guilty about knocking that guy out, not with the way he was actingâ
âYou saw what I did, right?âÂ
You pause in confusion, carding your fingers gently through his hair. âUm, yeah? Everyone did.â
When your gaze meets his again, his eyes are ink-dark and burning. You realize instantly that itâs not guilt that courses his words at all, itâs greed. Heâs not asking because he feels sorry, heâs asking because he wants your approval.
âI mean, you told him no,â Yuuta continues, to himself more than to you. âYou wouldnât have liked him.â
His hand lands at the nape of your neck, pulling you closer until youâre pressed against his sweat-soaked skin. He noses at your cheek, lips brushing over your jaw, over your cheeks.
âYou only like me, anyway. Thatâs what you always tell me.â
A light whine leaves your lips as he roughly sucks the spot over your pulse. His other hand wraps over your wrist, pinning it to the bedâheâs stronger than he looks.
âYouâre so beautiful,â he slurs.
âMore, Yuu,â you beg.
Your thigh slips between his legs, and you can feel him slowly rutting against you, feral need gnawing at his sense of self. His breath is hot, sticking to your skin, filling your senses.
For a moment, he lifts himself away from you, stare seeming to devour you whole. The moonlight glitters against the silver chain that swings around his neck, pooling in shards over his pale skin. Your chest rises and falls, quiet pants filling the air.
âI did the right thing,â he says, confirming to himself as his eyes rake over your body, quivering with desire beneath him. Then, his gaze lifts to yours, eyes crinkling with that same soft, gentle smile.
(It doesnât feel soft and gentle, somehow.)
âI mean, youâre mine, right?â
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