#ushiwaka x you

[qardenofeden]

ushijima wakatoshi wasn’t a man of pda, you knew that much. it’s not that he shied away from it per se, he just... was taught to value modesty.

and that’s exactly how you got here, sitting across from him as dishes upon dishes were served on your table. steamers of xiao long bao were placed before you as he paused from eating his hot garlic ribs to thank your server.

“wakatoshi, you ordered too much... it’s only our first date as a couple,” you say, concern furrowing your brows as you looked at the table.

“that is precisely why i ordered a lot. plus, i just finished a match and i’m quite hungry. i hope you don’t mind,” he deadpans before adding a meek, “is it not to your liking?”

...well, as meek as one ushijima wakatoshi can be, anyway.

you two had just come from one of his matches and to no one’s surprise, shiratorizawa won yet again. as a reward, you offered to grab dinner with him at his favorite foreign restaurant, but you seemed to have forgotten a major key detail— wakatoshi was used to living in luxury. you’ve never even heard of this place before, that’s how fancy and niche it was.

“no, no. it’s fine! it’s your celebration, after all,” you reassure him, hoping he doesn’t take notice of your... mood.

“our celebration,” he corrects. brown eyes hold your gaze, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d think you were in trouble. “you finally said yes to me after months of courtship. i apologize if my schedule has not allowed me to take you out on a proper date prior to this.”

was it getting hot in here? you feel like melting under his stare. why is he so naturally intimidating?

“it’s okay. i’ve been a little busy too with requirements and whatnot,” you shy away from his eyes and begin eating.

except... oh, you don’t like that.

the flavors are too much, and your mouth feels like it’s going to explode with how powerful the taste is. did you accidentally order from the spicy section?!

ushijima must have detected your slight internal panic, because he immediately asks, “is everything okay?”

you cough out, putting on a fake smile as you nod. “mhm, all good!”

“are you certain..? you look... flustered.”

god, there he was again. wakatoshi, you’re scaring me!! you mentally yell.

“...okay, i’ve never... been here before so i just ordered whatever i thought was the most basic option on the menu.” your eyes avoid his, feeling small before him. “sorry,” you feel like a loser. hopefully he doesn’t break up with you for this.

“ah. i wish you had said that sooner. i would have explained their food and helped you choose.”

wakatoshi eyes the table before wordlessly rearranging the sequence of the dishes. he takes your plate and moves the steamer of the xiao long baos in front of you, then gently places your original dish to the xlb’s previous spot. he takes off the lid and takes one dumpling for himself.

“these are soup dumplings. i picked your favorite meat, so you should have no problem eating them,” he bites his dumpling into half as the soup leaks out from the center and into his spoon. “see?”

you look at him, then down at the dumplings before taking one for yourself and mimicking his actions. “mmh...” you nod, “that’s actually pretty good.”

“do you mind if i eat your...”

you nod enthusiastically before he can even finish. “take it, take it. i love the dumplings. woah. can i have more?”

ushijima chuckles, his chest letting out guttural breaths as his lips curved into a smile. “of course. eat as much as you’d like.”

needless to say, you and wakatoshi will definitely be coming back. who knows, maybe it could even be the start of a tradition.

atsumu post-match &&& bokuto post-match

a/n: this is still post-match right... just not courtside-immediately-after-game post match. sry lol sigh ushijima what am i supposed to do w u my nonchalant king

[seumyo]

yearning drunk!husband ushijima wakatoshi.

NOTE. contains a bit of alcohol content—though nothing too explicit or anything concerning <33

It always started the same way—kind of like an inside joke that grew wings, feathers, a tab, and Ushijima’s name on the reservation list.

Ushijima never initiated going out drinking with his Schweiden Adlers teammates. In fact, he rarely said anything about it at all. It was always someone else who mentioned it after a game. Always someone else who slung an arm over his shoulder and declared, “C’mon, Ushiwaka, we have to celebrate,” even though Ushijima had never once expressed interest in alcohol, bar food, or drunken conversations.

Still, he always went.

Because it’d be rude if he didn’t at least stay for a few minutes, he thinks.

Sometimes he showed up in his team windbreaker, sometimes in a long, dark gray coat that made him look like a trench-wearing monument of silence. And he never said no, even when the clamor of celebration was already grating at the edges of his patience.

Tonight was one of those nights.

They’d won by the skin of their teeth—an overtime set against a grueling opponent, the kind of match that made even the benchwarmers feel like champions by the end. So of course Heiwajima had started the round-up in the locker room. Hoshiumi had shouted over everyone about their lucky bar down the street, and within twenty minutes, the entire team had found themselves in their regular private suite.

Ushijima sat at the end of the table, his back straight, a glass in front of him filled with alcohol he didn’t particularly like. His teammates were loud and loose and chaotic—laughing at Sokolov trying to arm-wrestle the bar’s bouncer, clapping every time someone dropped a fork, and yelling across the table in at least three different languages.

“A thousand yen says he’ll ask about his wife in twenty minutes,” Hoshiumi said quietly, leaning toward their captain, Hirugami Fukurou.

“You’re giving him way too much credit,” Romero replied, fondly grinning. “He gets wistful around minute twelve.”

“He gets wistful the moment he sits down.”

Ushijima was unmoved. He stared at his drink, took a single sip, and let it rest in his hand. He didn’t participate in the yelling, the toasts, or the story someone was animatedly telling about a missed serve from three seasons ago. He just existed—quietly, stoically—as a satellite to the chaos.

Except, of course, they all knew he was waiting.

He always was.

There was a pattern to the transformation. First, he’d sit there like stone. Then he’d blink a little more slowly. His brows would draw together—not in anger, but in vague confusion, like he was lost in a thought he couldn’t solve. His fingers would move against his glass, not to drink but to fidget, just a little.

And then…

“Has anyone seen my phone?” Ushijima asked, barely louder than the buzz of conversation.

Hoshiumi slid it across the table immediately. “Right here, Ushiwaka. Sorry! We took a few pictures here and there.”

“Thank you.”

He looked down at the screen. It was still lit with the last message from you from earlier that day: Good luck, baby. Don’t forget to stretch your left shoulder. He’d never replied—he never did, not when he was already in headspace—but now, he stared at it like it was the only thing tethering him to reality.

“You want to text her?” Hoshiumi asks, lightly teasing, which Ushijima didn’t catch onto.

Ushijima didn’t answer. He opened the thread and typed a few letters. Deleted them. Typed something else. Backspaced. Then just stared.

And then finally: “She hasn’t replied.”

His teammates laughed.

“There it is!”

“It’s only been seventeen minutes! I win!”

“No, you cheated. I said ten, and he didn’t even check his phone until minute twelve!”

“Shh, shh, look at him—he’s pouting.”

“Wait, is this the pout phase? I thought that came after the silent brooding phase.”

“Technically we’re entering pout-brood overlap. It’s a dangerous time.”

Ushijima didn’t argue. He simply set the phone down again and folded his hands in front of him. Kageyama leaned over.

“You want me to call her for you, Ushijima-san?”

Ah, yes. Kageyama was too nice for his own good. Trying to enhance his socialization and trying to lessen his awkwardness with his teammates when the conversation didn’t revolve around volleyball.

Ushijima nodded. Just once. Immediately. “Yes.”

...

“Amazing! He’s not even trying to hide it.”

“Can you imagine being that in love?”

“He just wants his wife. Look at him. He’s a whole sad poem in one sitting.”

“She’s gonna get here, and he’s gonna light up like a lantern.”

“May this love run me over.”

Kageyama stood and walked a few paces away from the table, already dialing your number. Meanwhile, the others watched Ushijima sip his drink again—not because he wanted it, but because it gave his hands something to do. His eyes were glued to the screen even though no new notifications had appeared.

Romero leaned in conspiratorially to Hirugami. “Do you think she talks to him in, like, soft tones? Calls him ‘baby’ and stuff?”

“I think so,” he shrugs. “I think they’re sweet like that.”

“Aw, young love.”

The teasing continued, but it softened. Because underneath the jokes and the laughs was a sort of awe.

Their teammate—so serious, so focused, so unreadable on court—was completely and utterly soft when it came to his wife. Not in a loud way. Not in any way that could be easily teased, really. It was quiet. Heavy. Real.

When Kageyama returned, he had a pleased expression. “She’s on her way. Said she just got off work and is driving over.”

Ushijima gave another slow blink.

“Thank you.”

Kageyama nods. Somehow they manage to have conversations even if they just continue nodding to each other.

As soon as Kageyama said it, his phone buzzed with a new message. He didn’t even need to open it. He could tell by the way his entire body relaxed by a single, barely noticeable degree.

Sorry, hun. Just got off work. Are you okay?

He replied.

I’m okay. I miss you.

And then he set the phone down and folded his hands again, this time with more calm. More certainty. You were coming. That was all he needed to know.

The others noticed the shift immediately.

“He smiled.”

“No, he didn’t.”

“He did! Don’t argue with me; I saw it. It was micro. But it counted.”

“He’s already halfway out the door with his heart.”

“Watch, the second she walks through that door, he’ll go full puppy mode.”

Sure enough, fifteen minutes later, the door opened. A gust of cold air followed you inside, along with the soft jingle of the bar’s entrance bell. You spotted them easily—your eyes landing on Ushijima before anything else. And his entire body seemed to change shape.

He stood up—not quickly, but instantly, with a kind of gravity no one else in the room had.

You smiled as you approached, slipping out of your coat and brushing off the cold that nipped your nose softly. “Hi, love,” you greeted softly. “You ready to go?”

“Yes,” Ushijima said, already reaching for his jacket.

As he shrugged it on, you turned to the table. “Hope he wasn’t too much trouble?”

Hoshiumi leaned on the table with a grin. “[Name], your husband is the definition of ‘not trouble.’ We’re just grateful you came to collect him before he sighed himself into the carpet.”

“Tell them what he said!” someone shouted.

“He asked if anyone had seen his phone like it was a national emergency.”

“And he didn’t pout—he brooded. Like a man out of a romantic novel.”

“I think I did,” Ushijima just nodded at their comments about him.

He then stood by quietly, waiting for you to finish your goodbyes. When you looped your arm through his, he leaned ever so slightly toward you.

As they left, Romero raised his glass.

“To [Name]’s husband,” he declared. The table cheered.

Outside, as you two walked toward the car, you glanced up at him, fingers tightening around his arm.

“You really okay?” you asked.

He hummed. Then, in that low, steady voice only you ever got to hear, it softened—

“I missed you,” he said again. “They were loud. I wanted to see you very much.”

You smiled and gave his arm a firm, loving squeeze. “Well. I’m here now.”

And... yeah.

That’s what he’s been wanting to hear all night.

SEUMYO © 2025. PLEASE DO NOT REPOST, PLAGIARIZE, MODIFY OR TRANSLATE.

[evamame]

your husband ushijima lets your kids play pretend with him whenever they want. despite his harder and more indifferent exterior, he’s awfully soft whenever his babies ask to have a little playtime. it’s not anything unusual for you to walk into the living room and see him strangely invested in acting as a princess during a pretend tea party with your daughter, or being the co-pilot on a fake flight with your son. he’s obedient and, to your amusement, plays along with anything your little angels request.

the other day you had walked into your daughter’s bedroom to find ushijima sitting cross legged on her pink rug, covered in sparkly hair clips as she used a fake blow dryer to dry his hair. his hair had gotten soaken wet after she gave him a fake scalp massage at her “hair salon.” when she’d finished her treatments, you found ushijima walking around the house with a, to say the least, terrifyingly beautiful makeover of blue eyeshadow, cheeks flushed an artificial hot pink, and a complimenting purple colored lipstick on his lips. his hair was brushed out in any and every direction, probably because the cheap toy hairbrushes your daughter has do nothing but tangle and get caught in the stands. the fake scissors worked great in giving him a nice trim off the top, though.

after washing off the cheap children’s makeup from his face before he could get some type of reaction, he can’t even catch a break to relax on the couch. before he has more than a minute to himself, your son comes toddling into the living room begging to play doctor and give him a “check up.” nothing ushijima won’t say no to for his little ones, so he lays down and allows your son to use a plastic toy stethoscope to check places a stethoscope can’t actually check. rather than checking the beating of his heart, your son uses it on his legs and arms to check for any injuries he may have gotten from volleyball. after that he injects a “special medicine” using a needle into ushijima’s. . . forehead? before finally completing the most important part of any checkup, using a thermometer to check for a fever by placing it across his abdomen. no problems, guess he’s all set!

masterlist | taglist | tags: @scoupsworld @mires765 @amaliaaliena

a/n: can’t stop won’t stop with these baby hcs

© evamame 2025. all rights reserved. please do not repost, modify, steal, plagiarize, or translate my work.

[yanyannica]

it's not like ushijima wakatoshi to get jealous over anything, but the one time you heavily suspect he does...

"oh? you jealous?"

your tall hunk of a boyfriend stares you down with a mild crease between his eyebrows. you stare back just as intensely with a dopey grin, waiting for an admission from your ever-stoic boyfriend.

it's not everyday you get to see him react like this, so you practically jump the opportunity.

you watch tentatively as he brings up a hand to his chest, clutching his shirt as his gaze drops to the ground — expression stoned not much unlike a rock as he contemplates your words. he never fails to look so serious.

"...am i?"

the blatant confusion on his face couldn't be any more funnier, and you had to stifle your laugh into your hand lest you hurt his feelings.

you really should've known better — of course he wouldn't know what to call it even if it slapped him in the face. we were talking about the guy who went up to you during a random tuesday and confessed that he had an constant urge to kiss you, and innocently asked if you knew anything about it like he was inquiring about homework.

(for an entire week before you officially got together, you had to convince him that no — you were most definitely not hypnotizing him.)

"you're such an idiot, you know?" you nudge his side teasingly, leaning your weight against him as you struggle to keep your giggles at bay.

your hulk of a boyfriend is way too adorable sometimes.

"i'm not quite sure what jealousy feels like. my apologies."

you grimace a bit at his response, now hyper-aware of the way his athletic body feels against your side.

he's never had to be jealous of anything because everyone else is busy being jealous of him!

you pout at him, before poking his side. softly, of course. you might break a finger or two if you went any harder.

you turn back to the matter at hand before it completely derails — you need full details on this rare side of him. "well, what did it feel like when you saw me talking to that guy?"

ushijima takes a moment before his eyes clear up.

"something felt weird here," he gently patted the spot over his heart and your eyes widen in surprise, pulling away to look at him more firmly. "like it got pinched. it didn’t hurt physically, but it made me... sad."

your heart clenches, hard. you swear you heard it crack within your chest too. oh my god. it was one hundred percent your fault! no questions asked!

you reach out to his arms as your eyes turn glassy, "oh, baby. i'm so sor —"

"my muscles contracted by themselves too, like how it feels when i want to hit a spike."

... ha?

your eyes nearly fall out of their sockets. the romantic air disperses in a matter of miliseconds, crashing down to earth.

a spike?!

what the hell? well, good thing you kept the conversation short, or else that guy would've had his head blown off...

a shudder runs down your spine.

you sweat profusely at his profound statement, "n-next time you feel bothered by something like that, make sure you approach me first before doing anything, okay?" for safety purposes!

ushijima blinks at you, completely none the wiser to your inner turmoil.

"alright," he pauses, as if there's something else he wants to say, contemplating it for a few moments before speaking up again. "i don't like feeling jealous. is that a bad thing?"

reallyyyyy such a baby. your baby.

"i'm really sorry for making you feel that way, toshi," leaning up on your tippy toes, you coerce him to lean down into your hold — placing a chaste kiss to his cheek. "you do know that you're the only one i have eyes for, yes?"

he nods affirmatively, like an obedient child heeding their parents' words like it's gospel.

"you trust me, right?"

another truthful nod of approval. you sigh in utter relief as you let him go for him to resume his practice, satisfied at how you were able to prevent a major crisis from occurring.

"i will make sure to consult you first before spiking."

you feel a tear form.

"toshi — baby, no —"

oh toshi yes */smirks deviously

[cosmic-evening]

whenever anyone in his volleyball team teases USHIJIMA WAKATOSHI about his relationship, he laughs it off.

it's quite easy for him to act cool about it — the man was the absolute pinnacle of nonchalance. in fact, back in high school, most of shiratorizawa hadn't even seen him smile.

but oh, if only they could see him now, behind the door of your shared apartment.

after volleyball training, ushijima always skips the team dinners and comes straight home.

straight home to you.

you could be doing anything, even the most mundane tasks like folding laundry, and he'd still come and find you as soon as he walks in the door. he likes nothing more than to sit and help you with chores while listening to you talk about your day.

and when you're done, the two of you curl up on the couch to watch a rom-com — but to be honest, he's not really paying a lot of attention to the movie. he's more watching you, the way your eyes widen slightly when something unexpected happens, or the way your eyes crinkle in laughter in response to the movie.

it's strange, really — if any of his volleyball teammates knew he skipped team dinners to watch rom-coms with you, they wouldn't believe him. yet here you are.

and if he steals a kiss at the end of the movie, no one has to know except the two of you.

hq m.list | gen m.list

[akaaiholic]

Little Gift

Ushijima Wakatoshi x Fem!Reader | Drabble-Ish?

Ushijima, your husband who was now a father of two, gave out his left index finger out with a smile in hopes of his second two-month old to reach out and hold his father’s finger with his entire hand.

To his surprise, the baby grabs it on with his left hand, fingers wrapped around with a slight grip. Ushijima’s eyes widened, surely it was coincidence that his finger was grabbed by his son’s left hand. His heart softened, cooing quietly at his son with a smile,

“Will you have my gift too one day?”

As your eldest daughter was teaching your three year old son how to hold a crayon since he’s been interested in his older sister’s hobby, she became confused as to why her brother’s dominant hand wasn’t his right hand.

Her eyebrows furrows as she tries to introduce a purple crayon to him after convincing him to switch colors with her by laying it in front of him after both his hands were empty. He picks it up once more with his left hand, dragging the stick swiftly across the paper.

As papers continue to scatter across the table full of color, the door unlocks and Ushijima comes home, both of them racing to greet him.

“Hello, my princess and prince. What have you been up to today? Where’s your mother?”

“Mama.. nap time…”

Ushijima chuckled a little, oh how your sweet husband is excited to wake you up with a kiss again after your long day.

His daughter guides his hand to the table, covered with all the artwork they’ve made within the past two hours. Ushijima skims through the scribbles and stick portraits made by the two kids,

“My little artists have been busy today, hm? Let me take a look after i’ve cleaned up..”

Your daughter jumps into his train of thought,

“And! He holds the crayons with his left hand, not his right like I do!”

Ushijima beamed with a smile, kissing his son’s crown.

“He’s just like your dada, he has a little gift.”

akaai’s notes: happy father’s day to Ushijima Wakatoshi!! and all the dads out there too ig… i wrote this instead of going to bed too (it’s 3 am..) hhhhh goodnight world !! twt @/akaaiholic

[clawsdevour]

like the first time

wc: 0.2k content warning: post-time skip, boifran ushijima, smut, SIZE KINK... :3, he's gentle btw, not proofread

note: back from vacay :P

. ◌⠀𓈒⠀ °⠀

"f-ffuck.." your slightly parted lips whispered in ragged breaths, tickling your boyfriend ushijima's ear.

"you okay?" ushijima's husky voice asked from above you as the heat simmered between your two bare bodies that basked in the intimate ambience.

even though this wasn't the first time having sex with your boyfriend, the stretch from his unearthly girth was just too much. everytime ushijima manages to get the tip in, your nails are already digging crescents into his broad shoulders while you cling onto dear life.

his cock was like a weapon, large and thick. everytime ushijima shoves it in with one big thrust, it feels like you're being split in half while tears swell in the corners of your eyes. the way it stings from the stretch is remarkable before it starts to turn into pleasure, both feelings you'll never forget about ushijima.

though, ushijima's care never fails to bring you comfort. his patient dark eyes peer into yours, following his delicate but calloused fingers wipe the tears that fall. his gaze looks for any sign of pain in hopes he can ease it or take it away. his warm lips nip at the sides of your face while you accommodate to his size beneath. warm whispers of sweet praises peck your skin while his eyes soften as you make contact.

rocking your hips ever so slightly once you think you're ready, he immediately notices—creasing his brow ever so slightly.

"are you ready?" ushijima asked, kissing the back of your hand.

nodding while you watched him rise, a tight grip being placed on the sides of your hips. bracing for the blow that stung like the first time you've ever had a taste of his length, ushijima thrusts ever so slightly, causing your back jolt into an arch.

"g-gosh toshi, you're too big" you whimper between sobs with pinched eyebrows, nails clawing at his muscular forearms to grasp upon.

"no.." he pauses for a moment.

ushijima's eyes narrow down, as if zooming in on the visible bulge on your lower abdomen caused by his insane size.

"..you're just so small."

masterlist here

[flufftato]

The Perfect Match

Haikyuu! ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Ushijima Wakatoshi ❥➳·₊˚

ꕀ

〃fluff, Time-skipped! 〃pairing: Ushijima Wakatoshi x fem!reader 〃wc: 849

a/n: craving for some ben & jerry's now but pls don't eat ice creams during cramps. it'll only get worse ;-;

update: okay i just realised the roster was off?? i did read the ts before, but i completely blanked on who ended up on which team 😭 i only remembered Kage and Ushi is on the same team and Bo and Hinata is on another. no wonder i feel weird when Sakusa came up on the list. update is coming soon!

Ushijima is a man of privacy.

Ever since he joined the Schweiden Adlers, he has only engaged in activities or conversations related to volleyball. His personal life remains a mystery — even to his coach.

Not once has he joined a celebratory drink after a game, so his teammates have stopped asking him for a while now. They are used to how boring Ushijima is and how he is only interested in volleyball.

They even half-joked that if Ushijima ever got married, it would probably be to a volleyball. Komori had already planned what kind of wedding gift to bring for him and the lucky volleyball.

So imagine how surprised they were (besides Sakusa) when they found out that Ushijima is married.

Not dating. Married. To an actual person.

There had been no hints. No ring nor texting on his phone. Ushijima was always one hundred percent focused during every pratice, every match.

His teammates found out of his marriage only because Ushijima admitted himself in one of their interviews.

The interviewer gestured towards the crowd with a teasing smile, “You’ve got quite the fanbase today, Ushijima-san. Did you notice all the girls cheering for you?”

Ushijima didn’t even glance at the group. He just blurted out a “I’m married” with his ever calm tone as if he was just sharing what he had for breakfast that morning.

The court fell into a complete silence.

His teammates’ heads snapped to him so fast, the interviewer might have worried they'd sprain their necks if she wasn’t too busy gaping at the composed wing spiker who had just casually dropped the bomb.

From that day on, his teammates — or more specifically, Komori — made it his life mission to uncover the identity of the mysterious spouse.

He would peek over Ushijima’s shoulder after practice, trying to catch a glimpse of his phone when he was checking the time. He was dying to see what the poor lucky lady looks like.

But unfortunately for him, Ushijima’s home and lock screens are both images of a volleyball. One close-up. One mid-air.

Komori almost cried.

But just when he was about to give up, Ushijima picked up your call one day during practice, thinking it was an emergency call because you would usually just text him.

“Hey, is everything alright?” Ushijima’s voice is steady and low as usual, but there was a notable warmth in it.

From the other end of the line came your voice — loud, distressed and very much audible to everyone nearby.

“TOSHI. THIS IS CODE RED, I REPEAT, CODE RED!”

He blinked and pulled the phone back slightly, “What is a code red?”

“I just started my period and someone — and I mean YOU — ate the last tub of ice cream last night and left the EMPTY CONTAINER in the freezer!”

Kageyama turned slowly towards Ushijima with a volleyball in his hands, while Komori abandoned stretching session all together and was now openly eavesdropping from the side.

Ushijima replied clamly, “I thought we were sharing it.”

“We WERE until you annihilated it. Do you know what’s left? Frozen peas. I’m sitting here with a heating pad, craving ice cream, and all I have is peas. I’m in actual pain, emotionally and physically. I was lied to by a container and betrayed by the love of my life.”

“I’ll stop by the store after practice.”

“I want Ben & Jerry’s Chocolate chip cookie dough and chocolate fudge brownie.”

“Got it.”

“Say it back to me.”

“……Chocolate chip cookie dough and chocolate fudge brownie.”

“Ben & Jerry’s.”

“Ben & Jerry’s.”

“I feel slightly better already. Stay safe at practice and come home soon with my ice creams, love you!” you hung up the phone.

Komori stared with his jaw dropped while Ushijima, who was probably already planning in his head which route would get him to the grocery store fastest, put away his phone, “Is she always like that?”

Ushijima adjusted his kneepads. “Only when she’s upset. Or excited,” he paused. “Or awake.”

An uncharacteristically invested Kageyama turned to Komori, “That’s a yes.”

Sakusa, who had been stretching nearby, didn’t even look up. “You married your emotional foil. I respect that.”

Komori was still buffering, “So that’s your type? Loud, dramatic, and emotionally attached to dairy?”

“She’s expressive,” Ushijima said simply. “And straightforward.”

“Yeah, with volume,” Komori sighed. “But I guess…that makes you both the perfect match? Since you’re so quiet, stone-faced and emotionally constipated.”

Ushijima blinked slowly.

“I mean that lovingly,” Komori added quickly.

“I don’t mind her being loud,” with the faintest curve tugging at the corner of his lips, Ushijima hold Komori’s gaze, and for a split second, Komori could have sworn Ushijima’s eyes softened, “She fills the space.”

There was a beat before Komori chuckled, “You’re whipped, aren’t you?”

Instead of replying, Ushijima simply walked off to refill his water bottle. Not that Komori expected a reply.

He didn’t need one.

Because everyone in the court who had witnessed the call, and the unmistakable tenderness in Ushijima’s eyes already knew you had him wrapped right around your finger.

© flufftato • please do not repost, edit, claim, translate without permission •

[allthatjazz416]

Ushijima NSFW 💎

"Soft Spot" an Ushijima TIMESKIP fic Tags: Fem!Reader! Post-game sex! Needy!Ushi! Switch!Ushi! SoftDom!Ushi! PussyWorship! Fingering! Oral (f. receiving)! Creampie! Intimate! SlowSex! BodyWorship! CouchSex! Aftercare! Word Count: 4.1k Note: MY MAN! 🫶 This was supposed to be fluff just rotting in my drafts but then I turned it into smut so yeah. YAY! MORE SMUT ON THIS BLOG igs! I love him so much!

The door shuts behind him with a soft click.

You don’t even have to look up from your spot on the couch to know it’s him. There’s a particular way Ushijima Wakatoshi walks—purposeful, steady, solid like he’s always got the weight of a team riding on his shoulders. And maybe he does. Being one of Japan’s top players isn’t easy on the body—or the heart.

But here, at home, he isn’t the stoic powerhouse that people see on TV. Here, he’s yours.

“Hi, baby,” you call gently, peeking over the blanket draped over your legs.

He’s already walking toward you, gym bag half-zipped, hair damp from a quick rinse at the stadium. He looks tired, like the pressure’s still clinging to his skin.

“Hey,” he says, voice low and soft.

You shift the blanket open in invitation. That’s all it takes.

Without another word, Ushijima drops his bag by the door and crosses the room with long, quiet strides. He peels off his hoodie, revealing the familiar contours of his strong frame—broad shoulders, lean muscle, arms that have caught a thousand spikes. Arms that now wrap around you like you're his entire world.

He practically melts into you.

All 90kg of pro athlete presses into your side until you're half lying down, half holding him up. You shift, letting him climb fully onto the couch with you, until you’re lying back and he’s resting on top of you, head tucked against your neck, breath warm against your collarbone. You swear he lets out the softest sigh—like he’s been holding it in all day.

“Tough match?” you murmur, threading your fingers into his hair. It’s soft from the shower, still damp in places.

He shakes his head slowly. “We won.”

You smile. “That’s good.”

He hums. But something’s still off.

You brush your fingers down the slope of his back, feeling tension coiled there. “What’s wrong, Toshi?”

He’s quiet. Then, in that same blunt, painfully honest tone he always uses—on court, in press interviews, and apparently now with his face buried in your chest—he says

“I missed you.”

Your heart clenches.

You curl your arms tighter around him. “You’re here now.”

His voice comes again, muffled. “I don’t like being away from you. It makes my chest feel... strange. Empty.”

God. This big, serious man. Always so composed, so exact with his words. And yet, here he is—clinging to you like something fragile.

“You’re allowed to feel that way,” you whisper, kissing the top of his head. “Even aces need to be babied sometimes.”

He huffs. “I’m not a baby.”

You glance down. He’s pouting. Pouting. It’s faint, but it’s there.

“No, of course not,” you tease, brushing your nose against his temple. “You’re my big, strong, six-foot-three husband who needs forehead kisses when he gets overwhelmed.”

“…Yes.”

You laugh, heart full.

You kiss him right on the forehead.

And then again, when he nuzzles impossibly closer, when his hand slides beneath your shirt just to feel your skin, grounding himself in you.

He doesn’t need to say anything else. You feel it in the way he breathes easier with every passing second, how the tension leaks from his body the longer he stays in your arms.

To the world, Ushijima Wakatoshi is composed. Cold. Unshakable.

But here, in your arms, he’s just your man.

And he’s never felt safer.

It’s quiet for a long time.

Ushijima doesn’t move much. He just lays on top of you, resting all that heavy strength like he trusts you to carry the weight he can’t speak aloud. And you do. You always will.

Your fingers keep working through his hair, gentle and repetitive. It’s the only motion in the room, besides his slow breathing against your skin.

You whisper soft things sometimes. Nothing important. Just little reassurances.

“I love you, you know.”

His arm tightens around your waist.

“You did good today. You always do.”

Another breath.

“I’m proud of you, even when you don’t say anything. Especially then.”

There’s a pause. Then—

“I like it when you talk like that,” he admits. Quiet. Honest. Voice a little rough.

You smile, tilting your head so your lips brush against his hair. “Why’s that?”

“I don’t have to think as much when you talk.”

Your heart tugs.

“I’ll talk all night, if it helps.”

“…It does.”

And maybe it’s the softness of the moment. Or the way he’s breathing against your neck—slow, then shallower. The subtle shift in his hips. The warm palm stroking just under your ribs like it’s second nature.

But something stirs.

Your hand drifts from his hair to the nape of his neck. Down, over the ridge of his spine. You press your palm to the small of his back and hold him flush to you.

You feel it. The twitch.

Just the slightest grind of his hips—barely a shift, but unmistakable.

His breath stutters.

You smile lazily. “Toshi.”

“…Yes?”

“You’re hard.”

He stiffens. And for once, he doesn’t have a clear answer. You hear him swallow.

“I didn’t mean to—” he starts.

You cut him off, fingers slipping under the hem of his shirt to feel the bare skin of his back. “I know. It’s okay.”

He pulls back just slightly, so he can look at you. His eyes search yours—deep green and open in a way that no one else ever gets to see. You feel him breathe, heavy and warm, and his voice comes a little lower now.

“May I…?”

You don’t even let him finish.

You lean up and kiss him. Slow. Deep. One hand cradling the back of his neck while the other drifts lower, sliding down the ridge of his spine to rest over his ass. He groans softly into your mouth, and it’s like something clicks—like he finally gives himself permission to want.

His hips roll into yours, firmer this time.

You let out a breathy moan, caught off guard by how needy he suddenly feels. How desperate. Like holding it in all day has built into something molten.

“You want me, baby?” you whisper against his lips.

He nods. His voice is tight when he answers. “I want to feel you. All of you.”

Your hand slides up the back of his shirt, slowly dragging it over his skin. He helps you pull it off, tossing it to the side, his chest rising and falling fast. You press soft kisses to his collarbone, his neck, the side of his jaw.

“You can have me,” you murmur. “Come on, get comfortable.”

He shifts above you, big hands trembling slightly as they slide beneath your shirt now, and you raise your arms for him, letting him peel it away. His eyes drink you in—every soft, warm inch of you—and when he leans down to kiss your chest, it’s so gentle it almost breaks you.

His touch is reverent. Careful.

Like he’s afraid you’ll disappear.

You run your hands down his back, nails dragging lightly, and he shudders—his hips grinding instinctively into the heat between your legs. You gasp, clinging to him, and he freezes like he’s done something wrong.

“Again,” you breathe. “Do that again.”

And when he does—when he ruts slow and deep into you, fully clothed, grinding his thick cock against your panties like he’s trying to merge with you—you hear the smallest sound fall from his throat. 

A whimper.

God, it goes straight to your core.

You cup his cheek and whisper, “That’s it, baby. Just let go.”

His jaw tenses, nostrils flaring. For a moment, he just looks at you—like you’ve undone something in him he can’t put back.

Then, slowly, Ushijima leans down and kisses you again. Slower this time. Lingering. One big hand slides under your thigh, spreading you wider, until you're cradled beneath him completely—held in place like you’re the softest thing in the world.

“I want to taste you,” he murmurs, lips brushing against your jaw.

You blink. “Wha—Toshi—”

“I need to.” He’s already moving, already shifting down your body with purpose, lips kissing down your sternum, your belly. “Please.”

He rarely asks for things. Never begs. But there’s a tension in his voice like he’s starving for you.

Your legs part instinctively when his fingers hook your panties, dragging them down slow enough to make your breath hitch. He doesn’t rush, doesn’t even touch you right away—just stares for a second, jaw clenching like he’s trying to burn the image of your dripping cunt into his memory.

“You’re wet,” he says, leaning in to kiss your mound then your clit

“I told you,” you breathe. “You grind on me like that, I’m soaked.”

His eyes flick up to meet yours, blown wide and dark. “I love you so much…”

But his voice trails off because his mouth is already moving—already licking a slow, deliberate stripe up the center of your folds—your back arches.

“Oh my god—Toshi—!”

He groans. The sound vibrates straight through you.

His grip tightens on your hips as he locks you down, big hands sliding under your ass to tilt your cunt up toward his mouth. His tongue moves with almost painful control—slow licks, teasing circles, tasting every inch like he’s learning you. Worshipping you.

You reach for his hair, panting. “Toshi, honey…”

“You’re soft here,” he murmurs against you, nosing through your folds. “And here.”

Your thighs try to close around his head, but he presses them apart again—firm and gentle. “Don’t hide from me.”

He says it like it’s a request, but he means it. He’s not going anywhere.

And then—God—his tongue flicks your clit, careful at first, then firmer, and your legs shake.

“You taste so good,” he mutters between licks. “I want you to come like this.”

His voice is low, hoarse with need, and every word is followed by more of his mouth—sucking softly, lapping hungrily. He starts moaning into you when you start grinding back, like your pleasure is turning him on even more than your body.

You start to roll your hips against his mouth, slow and needy, and the second you do, he lets out a noise. Something low and guttural, like it shocks even him.

“You like that?” you breathe.

His answer is to pull you closer—grip firm, head tilting for a better angle—like he’s lost the ability to speak. And really, he has. There’s nothing in the world for him right now but the taste of you.

His tongue starts working tighter circles, flicking up and over your clit with maddening precision. He’s so fucking focused. You can feel it in every stroke. Not just hunger. Devotion.

Your head falls back. “Oh—fuck—Toshi…”

He groans again—loudly—like your voice is feeding him. You glance down and see him rutting into the couch, hips grinding down like he can’t help it. His cock is straining in his pants, swollen and twitching, and he’s not even touching it.

God. He’s getting off just from eating you.

“Fuck,” you whisper, thighs shaking. “You’re gonna make me—Toshi, I’m so close—”

But he doesn’t let up. His tongue gets firmer, lips sucking greedily, and suddenly there’s a finger—his thick finger—sliding through your slick folds, pressing slow and deep into you while his mouth stays locked on your clit.

Your back bows.

Your breath catches, and then you’re crying out—loud and unfiltered—coming so hard your thighs clamp around his head without permission.

He groans into your cunt like he’s the one falling apart.

You’re trembling, fingers twisted in his hair, trying to breathe as the aftershocks roll through you—but he’s not done.

Not even close.

His head lifts for just a second, lips glossy, chin wet, pupils blown. “One more.”

“T-Toshi—wait—”

“One more,” he repeats, kissing the inside of your thigh as he slides another thick finger in beside the first, stretching you wider, slow and deliberate. “Let me make you feel good again.”

His voice is so quiet. So gentle. But his fingers start fucking into you steadily, his other hand coming up so he can rub slow, careful circles over your clit with his thumb—watching your face like it’s the only thing anchoring him.

You’re gasping. Writhing. All thought slipping away.

“I love how you fall apart,” he breathes. “How warm you feel. How sweet.”

And then—just when your body’s coiled tight again, hips canting to meet every thrust—he leans in, brushing his lips over your inner thigh, kissing the skin softly like he’s trying to soothe the ache he’s building.

You try to catch your breath—limbs still twitching, brain still foggy from the first high—but Ushijima isn’t satisfied. Not even close.

His mouth glistens. His hair’s a mess. His chest is heaving.

And his eyes?

God. His eyes are starving.

“One more,” he says again, soft and sure, like he’s promising something sacred. His voice cracks just slightly—“please”—but his fingers are already moving.

You don’t resist. You couldn’t even if you tried.

The stretch makes your mouth fall open—so full, that its so good—and you let out a noise that doesn’t even sound like you.

He groans like it turns him on more than anything else he’s ever heard.

“You’re so tight,” he murmurs, watching the way your walls clench around his fingers. “So fucking tight…”

He loves watching you squirm, so he pushes his fingers deeper, while letting the rhythm build. Making you whine, legs twitching, and his lips part like he wants to taste the sound.

“You’re still sensitive,” he says, like it’s a fact. Like it’s precious. “But I know you can take more.”

You moan, helpless, rolling your hips up against his hand.

“That’s it,” he breathes, his pace steady, precise. “Just like that. Let me feel you.”

His fingers crook just right, pressing against that perfect spot, and you see stars. Your head falls back against the couch cushion, chest rising in frantic waves as the pleasure starts to build again—hotter this time, deeper.

“T-Toshi—fuck—”

He leans in again, lips brushing just above your mound now, so close you can feel the heat of his breath.

“Don’t hold back,” he whispers. “I want all of it.”

You don’t even get a chance to catch the words fully before he drops his head again—devours you like a man driven by instinct alone. Not desperate. Just… determined. Worshipful.

His tongue flicks quick little circles around your clit, every motion in sync with the firm pump of his fingers inside you. He’s so good at this—so methodical, so unshakably present, like he could spend all night buried between your legs and never tire of it.

You cry out, hips lifting to meet his mouth, but he pins you down with one big arm thrown across your stomach. Holding you in place. Keeping you spread.

“So sweet,” he mutters against your cunt, so low and hoarse it vibrates straight through you. “I want to stay here forever.”

You moan. Loud. Unfiltered.

His mouth closes over your clit again—this time sucking. Gentle at first, then sharper. Just enough to send a ripple of pure heat through your core.

You arch off the couch. “Oh my god, Toshi—fuck—don’t stop—”

He doesn’t. He can’t. His whole body is moving with you now, like he’s syncing himself to your rhythm, adjusting every lick and pump to chase the edge he knows you’re hovering on.

Your hands fly to his hair, anchoring there. He groans when you tug. Louder when you grind.

“You’re so good,” you pant, dizzy with need. “You’re so fucking good at this—Toshi—Toshi—I’m cumming—”

It slams into you like a wave. Hot, blinding, sudden. You scream his name—unfiltered and raw—and your whole body shakes, thighs clamping around his ears as you come harder than before. Maybe harder than you ever have.

He moans into it. Doesn’t move, doesn’t ease up. Just keeps working you through it like he’s addicted to your orgasm.

You gush. Soaked. Boneless.

And he drinks it in like it’s all he’s ever wanted.

You’re still trembling. Still split wide open, body wrecked and twitching.

But all you can say is “Fuck.”

he stays between your legs like he’s savoring the aftermath—kissing your inner thigh, licking softly through your folds like he wants to clean every drop himself.

Your breath is broken. Your body limp. But your heart is full—aching, blooming, beating so fast it almost hurts.

When he finally pulls back, you see it his mouth flushed and wet, chin slick, eyes darker than dusk. His chest is heaving like he’s just sprinted ten miles, and his hands are still gripping your thighs.

“Can I make love to you now?” he asks.

You nod. Barely more than a twitch of your head, but it’s enough.

Ushijima doesn’t wait for anything else.

He moves fast—still controlled, but burning with purpose—his hand goes to his waistband, dragging his sweatpants and briefs down in one swift movement.

His cock springs free—hard, flushed, glistening with precum. It’s thick and heavy, the head angry-red and already leaking against his abs.

You can’t help the way your breath stutters. The way your thighs instinctively twitch open wider.

He leans over you, bracketing your hips with his own, and lines himself up without ceremony. One big hand curls around the back of your knee, pushing your leg up as he rolls his hips forward—just enough to tease the tip through your folds.

You whimper at the contact—so sensitive, so open—and he groans at the sound, deep and guttural.

“Look at you,” he mutters, voice low. “So beautiful.”

Then he shifts—bends lower—bringing his chest flush to yours, bracing one forearm beside your head as his nose brushes along your cheek.

And then he pushes in.

Slow. Unyielding.

You feel every inch of him stretch you open—thick and hot, dragging against your walls like he’s meant to fit there. You suck in a breath, hands flying to his shoulders as he sinks deeper, deeper, until he bottoms out with a quiet curse.

Your back arches. His name leaves your lips in a desperate gasp.

“Shit—Toshi—”

He stays still for just a second, breathing hard against your skin, letting you feel all of him. Letting you adjust.

“You’re taking me so well,” he rasps, voice thick, reverent. “So fucking good for me.”

And then he starts to move.

Slow thrusts at first. Deep. Measured. Each one deliberate, like he’s trying to memorize the way you feel wrapped around him.

You cling to him, body pliant, every roll of his hips making you feel fuller, closer, burning deeper.

His mouth finds yours in a kiss—unhurried, open, all tongue and breath. He moans into it, swallowing your whimpers like they feed something feral in him. Like you’re giving him everything he’s ever wanted.

“You feel incredible,” he murmurs against your lips. “So warm… so soft…”

He trails kisses down your cheek, across your jaw, to the hollow of your throat. Every press of his lips is tender, almost worshipful.

“I could stay inside you forever,” he breathes. “Just like this. Wrapped in you. Drenched in you.”

You whine—high, helpless—and your hips buck up to meet him, greedy for more. He groans at the squeeze of your walls, then shifts just slightly, angling his thrusts—

And fuck.

He hits there. That perfect spot that makes your breath catch and your thighs twitch.

“That’s it,” he pants, kissing the corner of your mouth. “Right there. You feel that?”

You nod, but it’s shaky, broken—your voice lost somewhere in the haze of heat curling low in your belly. He rolls his hips again, deeper, and your mouth falls open in a soft cry.

Your nails dig into his shoulders, but he doesn’t flinch. If anything, he presses in closer—his chest flush to yours, heartbeat pounding hard enough you feel it echo against your ribs.

He’s everywhere. All of him—his hands, his voice, his body—wrapped around you, inside you, like you were made to take him.

“You’re perfect,” he murmurs into your skin. “So fucking perfect…”

He kisses you again—slower this time, lips dragging sweet and messy over yours as his hips move in a steady rhythm. You taste your own breath between kisses. Feel his tongue sweep your bottom lip. His hand slides up your side, strong and steady, fingers spreading wide to anchor at your ribs.

And the way he holds you—it’s not just control. It’s need. Like he wants to memorize you with his palms.

Every thrust sinks in deeper, more purposeful, every drag of his cock brushing right against that tender, aching spot inside you. You whine into his mouth, clinging to him like you’ll fly apart without him holding you together.

“You take me so well,” he breathes, lips brushing your cheek. “Feel so good—like you’re made for me.”

“T-Toshi—” you gasp, but your voice warbles, overwhelmed by the slow build. “Feels so good, I—fuck—”

He shushes you with a kiss. “I know,” he whispers. “I know, baby… I’ve got you.”

And he does.

He rocks into you with a pace that’s steady but unrelenting, pulling pleasure from you like it’s something sacred. His body pressed tight to yours, the heat of him seeping into your skin, his breath warm against your ear as he murmurs your name like a prayer.

You’re melting under him. Quivering. Pleasure licking hot and heavy through your veins, winding tighter with every thrust.

“I’m close,” you whisper, almost in disbelief. “I’m—Toshi—I’m gonna—”

“I want to feel you,” he groans, voice wrecked and thick. “Come for me. Please.”

He angles his hips again, fucks up into you hard enough to knock the breath from your lungs, and your orgasm hits—sharp and shuddering, tearing through you like a lightning bolt.

Your mouth drops open in a silent scream. Your back arches, your walls clamp down around him—and Wakatoshi moans as he buries himself deep, holding you through it.

“Fuck—just like that—”

You don’t stop shaking. The aftershocks roll through you, wave after wave, until your fingers go slack on his shoulders and your head falls back, dazed and flushed.

But he’s still moving—less rhythm now, more desperation.

His mouth crashes to yours again—hot and messy, all tongue and teeth—as he chases his own high. You feel his cock twitch inside you, his thrusts turning erratic, hips stuttering as his whole body goes tight.

And then—with a broken groan of your name—he spills into you, thick and hot, hips jerking one last time as he comes hard, buried as deep as he can go.

The only sound in the room is your shared breathing. Heavy. Shaky. Real.

He doesn’t pull out. Doesn’t move. Just collapses over you gently, his arms bracketing your head, his weight solid and grounding.

For a moment, there’s nothing but his heartbeat against your chest.

And then he kisses your temple. Soft. Barely there.

“I love you,” he murmurs, like a truth he’s been carrying for years.

You smile, even if you’re too spent to say it back right away. Your body’s limp beneath him—boneless, blissed out—but your heart’s still racing, full to the brim.

He doesn’t move far. Just shifts slightly, careful not to crush you, his forearm still beside your head as he presses another kiss to your cheek. Then another—your jaw, your nose, the corner of your mouth—each one a little firmer, a little more lingering than the last.

“Toshi,” you whisper, eyes fluttering closed.

He hums like he didn’t hear. Or like he doesn’t care. Just keeps kissing you—your collarbone, your shoulder, your chest—lazy and warm, lips brushing every inch of skin he can reach like he’s mapping you in reverence.

You giggle softly, body twitching under him. “You’re insatiable.”

“I’m thorough,” he replies, deadpan—but there’s a faint curve to his lips, a telltale spark of amusement in his voice.

You roll your head toward him, eyes heavy, hand lifting to cup his cheek. “You’re sweet.”

He kisses your palm.

“You’re mine,” he says simply, and the way he says it makes your heart clench all over again.

Then he finally lifts himself—just enough to reach for the throw blanket behind you on the couch. He tucks it over your bodies with practiced care, one arm sliding back beneath your head like a pillow, the other curled around your waist, pulling you close.

You let out a sleepy sigh, face tucked into his chest, still flushed and sticky and a little overwhelmed.

And Wakatoshi?

He just holds you like you’re the only thing he’ll ever need again.

divider crdts: @/cursed-carmine (bow ↑) @/anitalenia (banners under Ushi pic) @/arminsumi (mdni banner up)

[everrinsly]

orange peels. fluff. fem!reader. | not proofread.

where he peels you an orange and feeds you a slice.

♡ For all your favorite (emotionally-constipated) pro athletes.

more reads!

જ⁀🏐ᯓ⚽⋆⭒˚.⋆

You didn’t usually stop for videos like these.

Most of the time, you scrolled past them: overexposed couples doing challenges, sweet voiceovers layered over romantic theories that felt too curated, too perfect. 

But this one had caught you. Maybe it was the quiet tone, the simplicity. 

Or maybe it was just that the couch was warm, the apartment smelled faintly like his shampoo, and your heart was a little softer than usual.

So you didn’t scroll away.

The video was simple: “If he peels an orange for you without complaining, he loves you.”

You watched quietly as a girl explained that if someone peels an orange for you—unprompted, or even when asked—it means they love you because peeling oranges is annoying, messy, sticky. And people only do it for someone they really care about.

You watched it twice. The first time, thoughtful. The second time, your chest ached in a warm, slow way. 

Then you peeked over the top of your screen, eyes drifting toward the kitchen where he stood, fresh from a workout, hair damp at the nape of his neck, lazily sipping water like he hadn’t just run ten kilometers. 

The bowl of oranges on the counter caught your eye.

You hesitantly padded over and softly called out his name. 

He looked over with a quiet grunt—his usual hm, baby—that meant you had his attention.

You held up one of the oranges, almost sheepishly. “Can you… peel this for me?”

He blinked. “You can’t peel it yourself?”

You immediately regretted asking. “N-No—I mean, I can, I just… I saw this thing, and…”

You trailed off, your voice getting smaller, ashamed. 

But he didn’t press. He never did with you.

He set his water down without a word and walked over, gently plucking the orange from your hands. You watched him with wide eyes as he dug his thumb in and started peeling, long fingers curling around the fruit—slow, methodical, and entirely effortless. The peel comes off in one clean strip, juice clinging to his fingertips.

You bit your lip, trying to hide your flustered smile.

When he finished, he broke it into perfect wedges and pushed them toward you on a folded paper towel, eyes flicking up to yours.

“There.”

You stared at the fruit, then at him, heart fluttering.

“T-Thank you,” you whispered.

He stared at you for a second too long before picking up a slice, eyes still locked on yours.

“Open,” he said simply.

You blinked, lips parting in surprise. He didn’t usually do things like this, but something in his voice, gentle but firm, made you obey before you could even think to hesitate.

Your mouth opened just slightly, and he brought the slice to your lips with an ease that made your breath catch. He was close now, closer than before, the citrus slice bright between his fingers.

His free hand lingered at your jaw, fingers brushing against your cheek so softly it was barely a touch. He cupped your face, warm and steady, and used his thumb to press the orange gently past your lips.

You bit down, tasting the sweet burst of the fruit, then felt the pad of his thumb, featherlight, brushing the juice that had slipped at the corner of your mouth.

He didn’t pull away.

His fingers shifted, tracing the edge of your bottom lip like he was committing the shape of you to memory. His touch was careful, unhurried, like touching you was something he wanted to savor. 

You blinked up at him, mouth still full, lips sticky with sweetness. Your heart was pounding so hard it felt like he might hear it.

His voice dropped, low and quiet.

“You’ve got something here,” he said, thumb ghosting over the spot again.

You swallowed the fruit, your breath shaky. “You did that on purpose.”

His mouth quirked up, barely. “Maybe.”

His hand fell slowly, fingers deliberately brushing down your jaw like he didn’t want to let go just yet. “You’re too easy to fluster.”

“And you’re too—too…”

He kissed your forehead, a lingering press of the lips that utterly ruined your train of thought.

“Mm. Too what, pretty?”

You couldn’t even answer. Your whole face was burning.

He smirked, just a little. But there was a softness in his eyes, a kind of quiet affection that made you want to melt into him like he wasn’t just looking at you, but through you—past your shyness, your messy thoughts, and straight to the softest parts of you that only he seemed to touch without hurting.

This was different.

This was more.

You think there should be a new theory: “If he peels an orange for you without complaining… and feeds you the slice himself, his fingers brushing your lips like it’s the most natural thing in the world… he’s already yours… because there’s no doubt he'd peel you oranges for the rest of his life.”

This quiet, blunt, infuriatingly gentle boy who never said much, but always did the most—

He’s all in, completely and wholly.

[qardenofeden]

ushijima wakatoshi is not a man of many words, and when he does talk, he comes across as pretty blunt. but it’s not with ill intent; he means well, he’s just so brutally honest sometimes, which is why you immediately shut down when you hear the words “i don’t like you,” escape his lips.

your classes had just ended, and it’s a friday afternoon when you finally work up the courage to confess to the man who stands before you. the cherry blossoms around you dance in the air, painting a romantic, picture perfect scene between the two of you. your arms are outstretched as you present to him your favorite brand of chocolates.

“i…” you look down in disappointment, avoiding his gaze as much as you could, as if it’d miraculously hide you from him.

“i don’t understand you one bit,” he says, his monotone voice unwavering.

you’re thankful you didn’t bring any of your friends along. this was humiliation at its finest. on the bright side though, it’s a friday and you don’t have any classes after. so you’re free to cry your eyes out and curl up in bed as much as you want.

but these thoughts of yours do little to distract you from the moment, and your eyes can’t help but water a little as you look down and take a shivery breath.

“i asked tendou about you.”

that catches your attention, and suddenly you’re taking a deep breath as you look up in shock. he asked tendou?! now that’s going to spread throughout the entire school!

the tears resting on your eyes reflect the golden sun above. your brows furrow in confusion, and if it stuns wakatoshi, he sure as hell doesn’t show it. “why are you tearing up? you did not even let me finish before crying.”

“what else is there to say, ushijima?” the use of his last name sends a small shock through his veins, and yet ushijima still remains unmoved. “you don’t like m—”

you’re quickly interrupted when he speaks, saying “there it is again.”

and you scoff, because he’s not listening. but maybe you should, so you look behind to see just what he was referring to, but nothing’s there.

“what are you—”

“i feel strange whenever i’m around you.” he interrupts again, before clearing his throat and quickly apologizing. “i’m sorry, i did not mean… you can continue.”

“wait, no, what?” you scoff again in disbelief, brows furrowing as your eyes fidget around, searching for something that can help you understand just what the hell ushijima was talking about.

“when you looked up at me with teary eyes, i felt a pang in my chest,” he says, before continuing like he was explaining his symptoms to the doctor, “and when you referred to me as my last name.”

and finally, ushijima’s unwavering confidence almost looks like it falters as he looks away, breathing an exhale. he speaks again, tone finally somehow… softening. “i feel a different pang though when you visit my practice matches and cheer me on…”

no way. you made the ushijima wakatoshi shy? japan’s number one best ace?

he must be rambling, he thinks, but regardless, if wakatoshi hurt you, he wants to apologize and make up for it. starting by explaining. so, he dismisses his thoughts and continues.

“but, more specifically, i asked tendou why i felt irritated when i saw you tutoring that boy in your class,” he finally looks at you now, confidence returning as he tilts his head slightly to the left, “i have a crush on you too, it seems.”

you’re at a loss for words. because, didn’t he just say, moments prior, that he doesn’t like you?!

“i do not, however, like sweets.”

and you let out a chuckle as you bring your hands up to your chest. maybe it hasn’t fully sinked in, because you still can’t talk.

“i do not understand you because you make me feel all these emotions. and i don’t like what i don’t understand, but…”

ushijima brings his hands to yours, taking the chocolate as he opens it. he takes a bite, and there’s a faint hint of pink in his cheeks.

“there are a few exceptions in life.”

and then you see it. the man before you isn’t ushijima wakatoshi, japan’s top one best ace. it’s wakatoshi, your wakatoshi, whose biggest enemy is the concept of emotions.

[seumyo]

Hey love, saw you're taking hq requests. Anything with Ushijima will work, maybe a post-argument one👀👀

I love your work muah😘

the aftermath of an argument with ushijima.

Ushijima was not a man easily bothered.

His emotions moved like tectonic plates—rarely shifting, but when they did, the tremors ran deep. That night, the silence in the apartment wasn’t new to him. Silence was common in their shared space, but this one wasn’t quiet—it was laden. It hung from the ceiling like smoke, settling into the cushions and clinging to the floorboards.

He stood in the kitchen, his massive frame almost out of place amidst the sleek, modern lines of your careful decorating. The sink dripped once. Twice. He looked down at his hands. They were calloused, strong, still curled ever so slightly at his sides from the aftermath of the argument.

It had been about something ridiculous. Something shallow, or so he’d called it. Something he regretted minimizing now.

“You think it doesn’t matter because it’s not your family,” you had snapped, your voice sharp but tremulous. “But it’s mine, and it hurts.”

You had been talking about your cousin’s wedding—how Ushijima hadn’t wanted to go because of the travel, the crowd, the chaos. He hadn’t understood why you were so upset. To him, missing a wedding wasn’t a tragedy. But to you, it was about belonging, being seen, and getting along, not always having to explain why your husband seemed so... remote.

So detached.

He had stood, arms crossed, jaw tight. “I don’t see why you’re making this into something it’s not.”

That had been the wrong thing to say.

“You know I already said yes to them,” you’d said, your voice gentle but expectant. “We leave Friday.”

And he, with that same stone-cut calm, had answered, “That soon? I thought we agreed not to travel this month.”

You had blinked, already bristling, though trying not to show it. “No, you said you didn’t want to travel. I told you it was important to me.”

“It’s one weekend. I don’t understand why it matters so much,” he had replied.

That pushed it even further.

You had inhaled sharply, like you’d just stepped into cold wind. “It matters because they’re my family. I want them to see you. I want them to see us. Plus, it’s about getting along with them—they went to our wedding!”

“I don’t enjoy those events. It’s loud. They ask too many personal questions. I’m not... suited for them.”

“God, Wakatoshi,” you snapped, and that was when he felt the fight truly take off. “Not everything is about your comfort. Sometimes you have to show up even when you don’t want to. It’s rude that only they show up to our special event and we don’t make an effort to go to theirs.”

He had gone quiet then, eyes narrowing slightly. “So I’m inconsiderate now.”

“That’s not what I said.”

“It’s what you meant.”

You sighed and walked away then, into the bedroom, closing the door behind you. Not slamming it—you never slammed anything. But the click of it had echoed louder than any yell.

Ushijima had never believed marriage would be easy. His father—an emotionally distant man—had once told him plainly, “Love is not a solution. It’s a context.” At the time, he hadn’t understood what that meant. Now, standing in the dim glow of the kitchen, it was starting to become clear.

Love didn’t erase tension. It didn’t mean you would always forgive him without explanation, nor that you wouldn’t need to feel seen just as much as loved.

Now, Ushijima found himself standing there, unmoving, still trying to make sense of it all. He had already replayed the conversation in his mind five times. Each time, his own words sounded more clumsy. His tone was colder.

He wasn’t good with feelings. He never had been. But you had always made space for that. You never demanded he change, only that he try. And tonight, he hadn’t even tried.

He walked slowly to the closed bedroom door and raised his hand to knock. He hesitated. He could walk away. Wait until morning; let it fade. But this wasn’t like a sprained tendon that healed with rest. This kind of thing festered if left alone.

He knocked once.

You didn’t answer. He opened the door anyway, slowly.

You were sitting on the bed, a paperback in your hands you clearly weren’t reading. You looked up when he entered, your expression unreadable.

He closed the door behind him.

“I was wrong,” he said, voice low.

You blinked, not reacting. You weren’t going to make it easy.

“I minimized what you were feeling. I didn’t understand it, so I assumed it didn’t matter. That was—” he paused, searching for the right word. “—selfish.”

You lowered your book. “You said it was insignificant.”

“I was frustrated,” he said, slowly. “That’s not an excuse. It’s just the truth.”

You were quiet for a moment. Then: “You never get upset over this kind of thing. But tonight, you looked like you weren’t even listening.”

He moved to sit at the edge of the bed, leaving space between them.

“I listen better when I’m not trying to win,” he said. “Tonight I was trying to win.”

You looked at him for a long time, eyes softening just a little. “I know your parents didn’t fight in front of you. That you never saw what working through something looks like.”

He nodded. “They avoided each other for days. Weeks sometimes. I don’t want to be like that.”

Your brows furrowed. “Then why do you go so quiet when we argue?”

“Because I’m afraid,” he said simply. “Afraid of saying something I can’t take back. Afraid of making you look at me differently.”

You looked down, fingers playing with the edge of your blanket. “But silence feels like rejection.”

“I didn’t know that.” He exhaled. “I know now.”

A pause. You looked up at him again, the corners of your mouth tight. “You made me feel like I was being dramatic.”

He reached out, not touching you yet, but letting his hand hover near yours. “You weren’t. You were telling me how much something mattered to you. I should have treated that with respect.”

You nodded slowly. You looked tired (not of him, hopefully), but not angry anymore. “You always make things feel steady. But sometimes I don’t want steady. I want to feel like you care, even when it’s messy.”

“I do care,” he said. “Even when it’s messy.”

He finally touched your hand. You let him.

“I don’t always understand your emotions right away,” he said, voice still low. “But I want to. And I will keep showing up. Even when I don’t get it the first time.”

You swallowed. “You say things like that and then act like you don’t care for hours.”

“I’m learning,” he said. “Not fast. Not gracefully. But I’m learning.”

You gave a short breath that could have been a laugh or a sigh. You leaned against him, shoulder to shoulder, letting the weight of your body press into his. “Okay.”

He turned, resting his cheek lightly against the top of your head. “Okay?”

“I want you to come to the wedding still,” you said. “But I think it’s ok if you really don’t want to come.”

“I will,” he said. “Because you asked. And because I want to.”

You smiled then, faintly. “I still think you’re going to hate it.”

“Probably,” he admitted.

“But you’ll be there?”

“I’ll be there,” he repeated. “With you.”

You sat in the soft dark for a while after that, the silence gentler this time, less like smoke and more like a warm blanket. Eventually, you reached for his hand with both of yours, holding it like an anchor.

He didn’t let go.

SEUMYO © 2025. PLEASE DO NOT REPOST, PLAGIARIZE, MODIFY OR TRANSLATE.

[evamame]

ushijima gives the bluntest compliments. you two will just be walking together, hand in hand, and he’ll randomly blurt out something like, “you look very beautiful today.” or “i like when you smile like that.” he never sugarcoats his words, but that’s exactly how you know he is so genuine with everything he says. nothing he tells you is anything but the complete and honest truth. and through every fleeting moment where he acknowledges his inner thoughts out loud, one thing is clear—he’s so deeply in love with you.

[realcube]

PERFORMANCE ENHANCER (18+)

synopsis : while in paris for the 2024 summer olympics, ushijima is advised that ejaculation releases stress and hence boosts athleticism. so, the night before his match, he asks for your help.

tws/tags : ts! ushiwaka, cursing, vaginal, riding, size kink, creampie, oral (giving), rough sex, slight hair pulling, petnames, praise — minors dni!

note : this is for the summer olympics collab by @tetzoro. tysm for allowing me to join <3 fyi studies differ but it is mostly shown that sex has no significant impact on athleticism. also smut is labelled if you want to cut to it lol — wc: 6k

it was never a question as to whether or not ushijima would qualify for the olympics; you knew for certain he was going to be on that team, so the only query that ever crossed your mind was when should you start packing?

usually that kind of mindset leads to disaster and disappoint, but in this case you were right to make that assumption because next thing you knew, you and ushijima were on a chartered flight straight to france, along with the rest of the japanese volleyball team.

you were excited to explore paris — the city of love — with your husband. although you were well aware that this was far from your honeymoon, and in fact more like a business trip for ushijima. hence, training will occupy most of his schedule, and any downtime he may have, he'll likely spend with his long-distance best friend tendou, who you both haven't seen since your wedding two years ago.

having made peace with this fact, you hung around on the main street, poking around in some luxury stores while ushijima visited the chocolaterie tendou works at. his friend was aware that he qualified for the olypmics and would be coming to paris, but it was still astounding to see ushijima walk through the front door of his shop, in the flesh.

with a massive grin, they hug and catch up with each other, discussing all the new things that have happened in their lives since they last saw other. well, tendou did most of the talking, but ushijima did make a couple of brief contributions about his thriving marriage and volleyball career.

"so," tendou hums with his elbow propped up on the table and his chin resting on his knuckles, "how are you feeling about your match against argentina?" he quirks a brow.

"good."

despite his curt response and dry demeanour, tendou can tell simply by ushijima's subtle mannerisms that there is something weighing on his mind. "oh, c'mon, mr perfect. let's get deep!" he urges, and ushijima knits his brows in thought.

what he's experiencing is so complex and foreign, he can't quite put a finger on it. he needs a couple of moments to find a way to describe it. "stressed. representing japan in an international tournament is a lot of pressure." he's been under pressure before though and prospered, so he doesn't understand why this is any different.

"huh, who would've thought? the almighty super ace of the century is finally feelin' the heat?" tendou exaggerates his syllables and narrows his eyes to look at ushiwaka with an amused expression, but all he gets is blank stare in return, so he continues, "well, you've got no chance of winning if you're nervous, that's for sure."

he says it so nonchalantly, it causes ushijima to falter, "what?" of course, that's not his desired outcome, and tendou seems to know what he is talking about, so wakatoshi asks, "what can i do to win?"

"not lose." tendou titters to himself, but ushijima's piercing stare persists. "you need to release the stress! free yourself of all your worldly doubts. luckily for you, my good friend, i know how you can do that."

"how?" ushijima is quick to respond.

tendou smirks and leans across the table until his face is inches away from ushijima's. "you need to beat it."

"beat what?"

"masturbate!" tendou yells, accompanied with an exasperated sigh, as he falls back into his chair. despite how they were having this conversation in the back of the store, tendou exclaimed that word loud enough to cause some customers browsing in the front to tilt their heads. "when you finish, not only does it it release sperm, but it also lets out all your pent-up fears and worries."

ushijima raises an eyebrow in doubt, which prompts tendou to elaborate, "also, when you orgasm, hormones pump through your body that kill all the stress chemicals. that's why it feels so good!"

seeing that ushijima is still suspicious, tendou throws his arms up in defeat, "fine! don't believe me if you want, but just know this information was told to me by a reliable and knowledgeable source: shirabu."

"shirabu kenjirō?"

when tendou hums in agreement, ushijima takes a moment to reflect. last he heard, shirabu is a medical student, studying to become a doctor, and they don't let just anyone into med school. additionally, biology and health is in shirabu's realm of expertise, so it would make sense for ushijima to take his advice.

with a nod of resounding certainty, ushijima declares proudly, "okay. i will masturbate."

"great. glad i could help." tendou grins, leaning his cheek onto his hand, "but you don't have to do it yourself. that was just an example. you should do whatever will make you finish—..."

tendou's voice trails off as he searches for the right word, "hardest. so in your case, that might not be masturbating. i mean, you've got a real pretty wife."

though he wasn't keen on tendou calling you 'real pretty' in that suggestive tone, ushijima kept that comment inside, and instead said, "i think i know what you meant."

tendou wishes he could just leave the conversation at that and move on, but knowing his thick-skulled friend, he had to confirm, "what do i mean?"

"my wife should masturbate on my behalf."

"no!"

⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡ ⋆

eventually, ushijima may have understood what tendou was talking about. he was still sceptical about the whole thing but as the game grew closer and closer, he found himself becoming desperate for any solution to cure his volleyball nerves.

so, once the night before his match arrived, he figured there was no harm in trying.

you had just come out of the bathroom with your hair down and dripping, and your salacious body clad only in a short towel that didn't leave very much to the imagination; as your tits were threatening to escape with every movement you made, and the bottom of your perky ass was just peeking out. he watches intently from the bed. it's as though you knew what he had planned.

and perhaps you did, considering how he urged you to get in the shower as soon as the two of you got home from your excursions. due to the fact that he has a very strict sleeping schedule and needs to be in bed by 22 at the latest, which means you guys need to start having sex by 21. he lasts a while.

"(y/n)." the simple act of uttering your name in his husky voice already has you scrambling over to him, kneeling beside him on the covers.

"yes?" you respond with a cute twinkle in your eyes. ever doting and caring: one of the many things he loves about you.

"i am stressed for the game against argentina tomorrow."

you frown, already had the inkling that something was bothering him. "i'm sorry, toshi." you rest your head on his shoulder, nuzzling into him as you stroke his muscular chest, "it's completely normal to feel that way, especially since you'll be competing against your archenemy: tōru oikawa."

he isn't sure what you mean by that — him and oikawa are on decent terms — but he enjoys your comforting words so he allows you to witter on without interruption.

"i'm also sorry that you felt as though you couldn't tell me this sooner; we could've done something about it. still, if there's anything i can do to help now, just say the word."

"sex." he responds plainly, taking your request literally.

"huh?" you stutter, unsure if you heard him correctly.

naturally, ushijima misinterprets your confusion and takes the opportunity to explain what he was told, "tendou and shirabu said that ejaculation let outs tension, so i would like your help with that. tendou mentioned that i could do it on my own, but i would prefer to do it with you."

your jaw hung open and your eyes darted across your husband's face, unsure of what to address first: his sweet desire to make love to you on such a special night, or his impressive use of the word 'ejaculation'.

clutching the fabric of his shirt, you pressed a long kiss to his lips, tasting his minty breath, before squealing, "yes, of course we can!" you throw one leg around him so you are now straddling his lap. he smiles at your sweet reaction and places a strong hand your waist to hold you in place.

while running your hands reassuringly over his arms and admiring his toned biceps, you pout, "oh but toshi, we can't have you waking up all sore in the morning." you point out, however it's as though a solution to your problem occurs to you instantly as you blurt out, with wide eyes and a cheery smile, "but that's okay! i can just ride you, yeah?" you eagerly tease him by grinding your hips against his already throbbing erection.

using his grip on you, he puts a swift end to your antics, and your whole body is no match for the strength in his right arm alone. "that sounds like a lot of effort." ushijima was aware of how long he can go for, and it left him exhausted most of the time, so he can't imagine how you would feel after doing all the work for such an extended period of time. you were just his precious wife after all, deserving of being spoiled and catered for — in bed or otherwise — so riding wasn't an act he ever expected from you.

"it will be, but it's only for one night and i'd do anything for you." he reassure him while laying against his chest, as his hand stroked your back. with your ear pressed against him, you could hear the faint drumming of his heartbeat.

so selfless too, another thing he loved about you. he smiled when you leaned into his embrace, carefully running his hand up and down your spine, as though you were the most fragile thing he's ever touched and may shatter at any moment.

"thank you, my angel."

oh, this man is horny. typically he only calls you nicknames when he is fucked out. even then, they were mostly limited to 'dear' or 'honey'. not that you minded, hearing him call you by your real name was hot, also the scarcity made the times when he did call you petnames all the more sweet.

so to hear him call you 'angel' before you've even started is very telling as to how badly he needs you. more than he lets on, that's for sure. such a stoic man; even after years of being together, you still find it difficult to read him sometimes, but the way he hardens underneath you is unmistakable.

[NSFW]

wearing nothing underneath the robe, you grind down against his clothed cock and he almost winces at the warmth of your bare pussy. so sensitive that he can feel every curve and dip of your needy cunt, and he revels at how your folds kiss his firm length.

in order to supress his bubbling moans, he hurriedly locks lips with you, fixing his hand onto your back so he can pull you closer. the passion from your lips against his is addicting and the heat of your body against his just feels so right. he wants nothing more than for you to melt into him so you can become one.

though he doesn't like how he can't feel your pretty tits pressed against him, only the fluffy fabric of your robe. his hands find their way to your shoulders, where he roughly tugs off your robe in one swift motion, casting it to the side.

the fiery kiss only ends when you gasp at the sudden chilliness that washes over you. the cold is combatted by ushijima's strong embrace as he holds your delicate figure against his own. it's nice to be his strong arms, it makes you feel so secure and you fit into him perfectly.

meanwhile, ushijima is focused on the lewd sensation of your tits squished against him. being able to feel your hard nipples poke him through the thin fabric of his shirt made it difficult to resist flipping you over and fucking you from behind, with one hand messily tangled in your hair while it hits it raw. like he usually does.

his kisses trail from your cheeks, across your jaw and down your neck. naturally, at that point you pull away from his embrace so he can continue lower, until he had your bud locked between his teeth. sucking and flicking it with his tongue while his hand worked at fondling your other tit, slowly falling so he was caressing your waist.

now that you've retracted, you take this opportunity to tug at the elastic of his shorts, pulling at it just enough for his aching erection to spring free. you've experienced ushijima's size before, but it's still baffling every time you see it. how a nice girl like you could take a monster like him.

drool pricked at the corner of your lips at the sight of girth, admiring the beast in your hands. ushijima stopped sucking on your tits when he realised you had let out his cock, and he couldn't help but smirk as he watched you idly toy with it while staring intently.

his poor angel. he knew how nervous you could get sometimes before taking him and he wasn't one to rush you, so he sat in comfortable silence, admiring your gorgeous figure and stroking your hip with his thumb. though the more he looked at you, the more he longed to dive right back into your tits and have another taste. or push you onto your back and explore between your thighs with his mouth.

though his raging fantasies were interrupted as you finally take his cock. not into your pussy, but rather, your mouth. that wasn't what ushijima was expecting, but he'd never complain. not when it comes to your head. how the warmth of your mouth consumed him, and your tongue licked seductively down his shaft. of course, you were never able to take his whole length but that's not your fault; most amateurs couldn't. and he preferred it like this, actually. he liked seeing you with your cheeks puffed out — his coarse fingers brushing your stray hair away from your face so he could witness every lewd detail — and watching you struggle to deepthroat him, coughing and spluttering whenever you'd try. just a reminder of how diligent you are when it comes to pleasuring him.

a layer of your spit shines on his cock, coating him so nicely, as you continue to suck him off. your movements are slow but thorough, gripping him with his lips as tightly as you can when you drag upwards, and ensuring your tongue rubs properly against the underside of his shaft. you were doing so well, as a reward you received the occasional hushed grunt from your husband.

usually this gentle approach would be the correct one, as ushijima prefers a moderate pace to begin with, that gradually builds up into a frantic, hasty one. however, today there was just something so tempting about you that he couldn't resist. maybe it was the obscene way your plump lips wrapped around his girth. or maybe it was how your glossy eyes looked to him for approval after every frivolous attempt to deepthroat. at which, he'd always flash you a brief yet kind smile, sometimes even mutter something along the lines of 'you're so cute' or 'good job, baby.'

regardless, there was an allure about you that he couldn't quite explain, but it is what triggered him to abruptly grab you by the hair and yank you off his cock and into a rough kiss. he just couldn't get enough of those gorgeous lips, and he utilised his grip on the back of your head to pull you in as close as physically possible. he wanted to feel every inch of your nude body against him.

after your initial shock to his actions, you soon melt into the kiss and move your lips rhythmically against his, allowing his tongue to slip past your defences and into your mouth. and while all your senses were saturated by the intoxicating kiss, you almost didn't notice when ushijima's other hand — that was previously groping your ass — sneaked down between your wet folds and teased the entrance of your pussy.

you moaned into the kiss at the stimulation of your needy hole, but despite your longing, you knew it wasn't right. you exit the kiss only partly, and say, virtually still upon his lips, "toshi.. don't. you need to save the energy in your arms."

"i always have energy for you." he counters, as his finger threatens to penetrate you.

"let's not risk it." you smile, pushing yourself back so you are sat upright on his lap with each leg on either side of him. aligning his cock with your hole, you notice he's still slightly damp with your spit, but not enough to make for sufficient lubricant, so you run his dick between your lips, allowing him to soak up your wetness.

he grunted at how your wet folds stroked his length, as his hand wandered up from your shoulder to your face so he could cup your cheek. "can you handle it, (y/n)? it's okay if you can't." of course he's been in you before but in the past, extensive prep is required before you can even fathom the idea of taking him. and on this occasion, you've not undergone any preparation at all. "i don't want to hurt you."

he doesn't mean to sound patronising; that's just how he expresses concern. well, maybe he does mean it a little, but that is only because the bedroom is the place where he gets to be the smart one, considering how quickly you get fucked dumb by his massive dick, unable to speak right or think straight.

"i can and i will, toshi! i was made to fit you." you whine, and you were quick to try and prove it by letting yourself relax onto his cock. however, you reacted by jolting, as the tip alone had your walls stretching and sore. you bit your bottom lip to try cope with discomfort, as your legs trembled at the strain.

"made to fit me?" he smirked, amused by your proclamation and how it was immediately followed by proof of his doubts. the way your body writhed said more than enough. "it's too much for you, sweetheart."

using the back of your hand to cover your tense expression, you shook your head, "no.. it's not." you squeak and mewl as you lower yourself on his cock, the wetness caused by the congestive sensation being just enough to make the descent bearable.

"mmph— too big, toshi." you moaned, and hearing his name fall from your lips in such a dirty manner send all his blood rushing straight to his cock. a part of him wanted to grasp your shoulders and push you all the way down to his base. but the other part knew that he'd destroy your insides if he did that. he'll have to learn to be patient; the burden of having a wife with such a tight little cunt.

your sopping pussy clamping down on him caused a lustful haze to cloud his mind, so he was barely able to choke out, "hurts?"

you nod meekly.

a shaky sigh huffs out of his nose, as he tries to deal with your gummy walls swallow the head of his cock. his eyes were fixated on where you two connect, your hips were quivering yet you had barely covered half of him. slick from your moist cunt seeped down the rest of his shaft that you had yet to take. "you don't have to." he reassured you, a big hand grazing over the silky skin of your stomach, then resting to the side of your tit while he idly thumbed your sensitive nipples.

"but i wanna." you whine, sinking down on his cock ever so slightly, but even taking a couple additional inches caused an intense abdominal pain, resulting in quiet sobs hiccupping from you. it burned and stained your body in such a delicious way. your hungry pussy gnawing at his cock was addicting, and even when it poked you in the most personal and irregular places you still couldn't get enough. in fact, it made you want to fit his whole length even more, because seeing stars is always the goal with wakatoshi.

ushijima swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat while he was admiring your pretty pussy graciously accepting more of his cock. "my beautiful girl.." he cooed at you, paying close attention to the way your face twisted in pain as you sunk further down, fighting to reach the base, although you were getting closer.

more lubricant would've been useful, perhaps it would've got you started quicker like it usually does but a small part of him enjoyed you watching you struggle a bit; it's a display of how devoted you are. "do it." he grunted.

motivated by his firm command, you keep pushing down on his cock, no matter how tough it may be. your eyes are squeezed shut and your husband's strong hand cradles your ass just as you finally made it down to his base. your breathing is already heavy so you pause for catch your breath and marinate in the sensation of his cock brushing your cervix and visibly protruding from your lower stomach.

during this time, ushijima's clutch slipping from your ass, over your folds until he was rigorously palming your throbbing clit. you recoil a bit from his arousing touch, and grumble, "arms.." referring to preserving strength for tomorrow's match.

begrudgingly, he took his hand away. a whole night of sex without putting effort into pleasuring you didn't feel right to ushijima. the way he showed affection and that he cares about you is by rubbing that puffy clit, or letting you lie down while he stood at the end of the bed and ramming into you from behind, not stopping until he had you creaming all over his fat cock. so refraining from pleasing you didn't come naturally to him.

but he must not realise the effect his dick alone has you, especially without much lube — the friction of him dragging against your clammy insides was enough to have you teetering on your first orgasm already.

once you were ready, you braced yourself by placing your hands on his chest and used your knees and arms to supports you while you slid up his length. your insides freeing from his congestion was a relief yet simultaneously so empty, it's as though you craved it as soon as each inch withdrew from you.

"gah!— toshi, feels.." your words get lost in a chorus of your own staggered moans, "s' good."

wakatoshi normally wasn't very vocal in bed at all, so it was very telling that the combination of your tight pussy and unintentional dirty-talk already had him grunting and moaning shallowly under his breath.

as he watched you lift yourself up, he pet your leg soothingly, "that's right, princess— hnn—" he caught himself and clenched his jaw before an unwelcome noise left him, "keep going."

soon you were able to build momentum and start riding him properly. it took a moment to develop a suitable rhythm and to stop your yourself from wincing every time you sunk down on him, but once your hole built more slicker and wetter, it became easier.

it's not long before you're able to glide up and down his shaft with relative ease, whimpers bubbling in your throat from the luxurious satisfaction. at first you went steady, purposefully to savour each and every delicious inch of your well endowed husband.

going at your own rate and slowly bobbing on his cock was practical for you — enough stimulation to have your knees weak already. but your unrushed method wasn't doing it for him. not to say he wasn't entirely entranced by the way your pussy devours him and rubs against his raw flesh, but he need more of you in order to cum. he wants you to be bouncing on his dick until he's completely fucked your brains out and you've milked him dry.

"(y/n)." he states, while you were leaned forward, with your arms holding yourself upright on his chest while your hips got to work in rocking against him. your head hung low because you were concentrated on riding him, and your hair partially fell into your face.

but upon hearing his stern voice, you garner enough strength to lift your head to meet his molten brown eyes. he smiles at the lewd expression painted on your face; it served as a nice reminder that even a dribble of his cock was enough to drive you mad with bliss. he could tell by your watery eyes and your flickering grin that you fucking loved it.

"(y/n)." he repeats your name, though it's more breathy this time and he glances at the place where the two of you connect when he says it then, before he looks back at you expectantly. and of course, you know exactly what to you do.

you let out a deep sigh, drop your head and hope for the best — using your knees and hips to push yourself upwards so you can drop back down onto him at a heightened pace. every time his dick pierced into you, there was a meaty stretch of your walls — a salacious ache that you never could comprehend because as soon as you experienced it, you'd immediately shoot off his cock, then sink back down onto it, over and over again.

you didn't understand what you were feeling down there but you knew for certain was good. your back arched into the filthy euphoria and moans were spilling from you like a flood. "ngh— fuck! stop.." you whine, despite how you were responsible for the sharp jolts of electricity shooting through you; and you were the one hungrily bouncing on his cock like a desperate slut. impaling yourself with his length until your legs were shuddering beneath you.

when it got so fast, the riding became sloppy, you'd hardly touch the base before you'd pull yourself up. likewise, you'd rarely reach the tip before sinking down again. but you were just too eager to pay attention to these small details. alas your movements are no longer deliberate and every buck of your hips is senseless and fuelled by pure lust and hedonism.

it got harder when you could feel your orgasm impending. the pulsing in your abdomen wracking through your entire body, tingling and making it difficult for you to keep bobbing on his cock when your stomach was on the verge of exploding and your legs were ready to give out under you.

but ushijima's intense glare on your exposed, shaking figure brought you motivation to persevere. as well as his protective hands that stroked your trembling thighs, while gazing at you with adoration and desire. he wasn't a man of many words but the way he looked at you spoke a thousand.

and these sappy eyes only faltered when your walls clenching around his dick eventually led to him being knocked over the edge and spilling his first orgasm all into your homey cunt. a raspy groan was torn out of him and his eyes flutter close while his seed pump through your insides; the thick warmth spreading through your core caused your eyes to twist shut, and force of his load pushed you off his cock.

he had made a vulgar mess of his precious girl, your little hole was dripping with cum. to be stuffed with your husband's fluid love was so filling yet comforting — and you were truly stuffed, the volume of his load replacing the mass of his cock. "thank you, babe.." you pant, head still spinning from your frantic bouncing.

"thank you." he corrected, eyes trained on you still sitting atop his flaccid cock, but it hardened with every passing second, at the sight of your pert nipples teasing him as your chest rose and fell, or your pretty lips he longed to kiss passionately. "two rounds is hard-work, dear. i'm impressed."

perhaps you were just to fucked out to count. still, you gulp to clear your dry throat and splutter, "two?"

"yes." ushijima confirmed. though strand of his hair still clung to his shining cheeks and forehead, he seemed to have overcome the post-orgasmic exhaustion already. "so there's one more left."

you groan. you should've expected this considering usually ushijima can go for upwards of four rounds, but it's different when you are doing all the work. "but 'm tired!"

"two ejaculations are recommended to get rid of all the stress." he explains, but from how you wearily hang your head and you're quick breaths, he could tell you weren't listening.

"one more, (y/n)."

"but toshi!.." you whine in retaliation.

"yes, my angel?"

you narrow your eyes at him and although he wears that big, dumb look on his face you tell he knows what he is doing. he is aware of the effect those cute nicknames have on you, especially in his deep, husky voice. how can you refuse? plus a small part of you wants to keep going anyway, and not stop until you forget your own name,

you huff out your nose and lift your hips over his tip once more — which has already fully stiffened — then abruptly drop them, taking his big length in one swift gulp. one that caused you to recoil and squeal, and even wakatoshi to gasp slightly at being enveloped by your tight insides again so fast.

it's easier to fit him this time because your hole is already drenched with his cum and your own, but his dick was still as big as it was a minute ago, and it still strained your walls— having to contort beyond their means to accommodate his girth. " toshi, shhuh.. shit— too big!" you whimper.

"not for my girl." he grunts, a firm grip on the fat of your thigh while you frantically ride him, "make it fit."

"mph, mkay.." your knuckles white as you hold onto his shirt for dear life, mustering every ounce of energy you have to keep thrusting yourself up and down on your husband's mighty cock, but every part of you gave away your exhaustion: beads of sweat budding on your forehead, shaking muscles and rapid breaths.

ushijima could tell you were struggling and that only egged him even closer orgasm. though he was kind enough to offer you some grunts of reassurance between moans. "my perfect girl, go on.."

there were moments when then the bursts of pleasure were drowned out by the futility of repeatedly bouncing on his stubborn erection but you persisted, even when your legs had virtually gone numb and your sore pussy was still being rammed into.

"can't.." you whimper, your knees now beginning to wobble with each bounce, making your position unstable until wakatoshi steadied you by the ass.

"so tight, princess. i need you to." he grits, grabbing your ass to aid you in your staggered movements, guiding you up and down on his soiled length but even then, your aching legs prevented you from riding with any real vigour, "i'm close."

despite his encouragement, you couldn't find the strength to continue and your hips gradually decreased in ferocity until you lay dejected against his chest, feebly bucking your hips while his cock stirred inside your sticky walls.

you mutters all sorts of slurred gibberish that resembled 'sorry', with your face pressed against his chest as he rubbed comforting circles on your back.

"don't be sorry." he says, hands fixing themselves to your hips, "you're still going to help me, angel."

with his tight grip on your hips, he lifts you as though you're weightless and pushes you back down his length, all the way to base which makes you shiver as his tip intrudes your cervix. initially shocked, you gape at the determines look on your husband's face as he uses your weak body as his own little fucktoy, slamming you down on his cock over and over. but it doesn't take long for you to melt into the atmosphere and get turned on by the way he manhandles you, treating you like his personal property.

the power his strong hands hold over you is indescribable. his dick ploughs into your sopping hole at an ungodly pace — so fast and rough your tits shook and it left your limb neck nodding along with each bounce. yet all you could focus on his cock stretching out your insides, hitting all the right spots on your sensitive walls.

your hair thrashed about too, with every violent snap of ushijima's arms, and it wasn't long before the heat pooling at your core came gushing out. "tosh— hhn— 'm comi—" the words couldn't even form on your tongue completely before they were crushed and swept away in a flood of melodious moans and sobs.

as you climaxed, your back arched into him and your coated walls began to convulse around his brimming cock, which served as the catalyst to him shooting his second load into your already filthy pussy.

your tight cunt wrung him dry for every last drop, and even through his high, he held you through yours, as you twitched and screamed with pleasure in his arms from the most overwhelming and satisfying orgasm of your life. he kept you close, wrestling against his own muffled moans — they were hard to suppress when your hole clamped down on him like it never wanted to let go.

soon, the intensity had faded, and you were left lying on his chest, enjoying each other's embrace and listening to each other's heartbeat while he was buried inside you. once you both found your bearings, he looked to you for approval before easing you off his cock.

you hissed at first; the feeling of emptiness had become so oddly foreign to you. and it stung a little but it was so unbelievably worth it.

"thank you, (y/n)." wakatoshi mutters against your forehead, tickling you a bit, "i'm proud of you, and grateful to have you as my wife."

"i'm grateful for you too, wakatoshi." you muse, mind still a bit hazy, "proud of me for what?"

"for lasting so long. that must have been a lot of effort."

you scoff, idly tracing hearts on his chest with your finger, "yeah, right. i didn't even make it through the whole thing, you literally had to carry me at the end."

"that's because you're not used to it." he explains kindly, as he shifts his hand to take yours, stroking the back of it with his thumb, "but it's okay. you will receive plenty of training when we go home."

⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡ ⋆

BONUS

tw// oral (receiving)

the whole arena erupted into cheers when japan scored the final point against argentina and won the match! the audience were screaming and the players were all doing celebrations of their own — the atmosphere was simply electric and joyus.

from the stands, you looked at your boyfriend who was standing on the court, staring back at you with a cute little smile on his face. or at least, that's what it looked like from where you were sitting, so you blew him a kiss.

you later realised that it was probably a devious smirk, as that was the moment when the ejacultion hypothesis was confirmed, and he was probably thinking about the new pre-game ritual that had been established.

it's useful though. think of it like this: whenever he has a match, you also get some training!

but of course, you would only agree to take part in this 'pre-game ritual' if certain criteria were met. meaning that after every game, ushijima has to dick you down good and bury his head between your legs, eating you out for minimum ten minutes (twenty if he wins).

[bellsnoctvrnal]

your feet hurt || u. wakatoshi x fem!reader

contains : ushijima wakatoshi (timeskip!) x female reader

tags / warnings : you're wearing a dress and heels, just toshi being sweetie

notes : there's a character ai bot on my account for this hehe, under the same username :)

masterlist // requests are open

every wednesday night, you and ushijima agreed that it should be date night. ever since he became a professional volleyball player, his schedule was constantly packed. you were around a lot, yes, but not without the flashing cameras and constant parading questions.

of course, he married you the moment you got out of high school. he loved you and didn't see anyone else in the picture. he was quiet and very, very reserved. no matter how much an interviewer could push, no one knew wakatoshi like you did.

so, like clockwork, you two got ready and went out to the fancy restaurant about twenty minutes from your shared home. he drove you everywhere, hand constantly resting on your thighs. he was the gentlemen, opening your door, keeping his arm around you to steer clear of puddles.

" you look lovely, as always " he muttered, leaning down close to your ear as you two waited nicely to be seated.

" aw, toshi, you do as well! " you smiled up at him, arm wrapping around his bicep and tugging slightly.

you were in a nice dress that stopped just about your mid thighs, the heels you chose doing absolutely nothing against ushijima's brooding height. but it made you feel pretty. ushijima made you feel pretty.

as you walked to your table, you quickly noticed how troublesome these heels would be, but you were sitting for ninety percent of the night. so, no big deal! the kinda hostess showed you to a nice corner with no one else, sitting you at the table you always sat at.

ushijima pulled your chair back, waiting till you were all settled before helping you push back in. he sat down across from you, shifting setting the napkin over his knee. he looked over and softly smiled, eyes crinkling.

" thank you for accompanying me tonight. " he hummed, aligning his silverware just how he liked.

" oh, toshi, you need to stop that! I hope I'm the only one accompanying you, ever " you retorted, chuckling softly as the waiter came by and poured your signature red wine.

ushijimas eyes flickered up to yours, with a concerned look, " of course, do you think otherwise? " he asked, but you couldn't tell if he was joking or not.

the rest of the dinner was always the same, constant compliments from ushijima that left you blushing and giggling. you two ate like normally, ushijima paid like normally (even though marrying technically shares a bank account), and you two were up and ready to go home.

ushijima held the middle of your back, helping you walk with his pace. your long and quick strides made your feet cramp, but you tried to hide the way your eyebrows furrowed with every step. the stone walkways didn't make it any better, only unstable ground to trip over.

ushijima noticed how you were quiet, eyes focused on the ground to not fall flat on your face. " are you alright, darling? " he asked, looking down at you.

" mhm! sorry just tired " you chimed, wincing when your thin heel hit a crack in the stone.

without a moment too long to think, you noticed ushijima reaching further around your back and his other arm reaching for your legs. his cool hands pulled your legs up, readjusting to carry you in bridal style.

" ushijima wakatoshi! what are you doing!? " you yelped, immediately wrapping your arms around his neck and looking away from the ground.

the public eye sneered, either out of jealousy or discomfort. did ushijima care? absolutely not. his wife was in pain, and he was relieving it. everyone should have a ushijima in their lives!

" your feet hurt " he calmly said, looking at you from the corner of his eye, " I don't want it to ruin your night. is this alright? " he asked curiously, not wanting to overstep your boundaries.

" I - " you laughed, pressing a kiss into his cheek, " oh, toshi, this is plenty alright. thank you " you sighed, kicking your feet freely and continuing to laugh.

seeing you smile and hearing your laugh, so carefree while in his arms, gave him his own sense of comfort. he smiled softly, before chuckling and shaking his head. " what will the world do with you when I'm gone? " he asked to himself.

---- ♡

[clawsdevour]

damp

wc: 0.3k content warning: timeskip, established relationship, timeskip, ushijima x reader, smut, not proofread, i miss ushi

ׄ 𓂂 ઇ⠀⠀⠀ ׅ

everytime ushijima hops out of the bath, you can't help but stare as he leaves the door open for that whiff of cool air to ventilate in.

the water clings onto your boyfriend's body, making his chiseled torso shine and highlighting every muscle in his being. your eyes drool with satisfaction before your shyness creeps upon your face before looking away hoping to not get caught. course, your eyes always find a way to return on his huge stature.

the water beads lay softly on the curves and small peculiar areas of his damp, soft skin. he's drying his short head of hair, leaning over the sink to take a good look in the mirror wondering if he needs to shave or not.

ushijima's defined back muscles make you feral. like crazy. all you can think of is decorating it with your marks that show everyone that he's yours. the thought of your legs over his shoulders make you smirk with excitement.

you can't help but think of everything you want to do to him, it's just something about the way ushijima looks right out of the shower that keeps you on your tippy toes to which he doesn't even know how good he straight up looks.

all you wanna do is have ushijima in your arms as his built body's on top, almost like he's suffocating all the air out of your lungs. you want all his weight on you while he stuffs you full of his hot essence.. wanting to see it drip down your folds as if he's marking you.

just wild thoughts, you think to yourself. eyes still watching his every move while the light reflects every muscle as his arms continue to ruffle his hair with the wet towel.

you need his arms to hold you tight while he pounds his size into you deeply and slowly. the need to feel him moving inside you repeatedly makes your intimate area drip with just the thought of him shirtless.

though, the show's over when he slips on his loose tee. the moment he faces you is the moment you gotta look busy..

masterlist here