ushihinasimp

[ushihinasimp]

Shōyō could never hide how much he loved it when Ushijima lost control in bed — strong, intense, and unapologetically his.

He loved it when Ushijima being rough and choked him midfucking.

[ushihinasimp]

Falling for Senpai

The first time Ushijima Wakatoshi stepped into the gym of High School, he wasn’t expecting much.

He had been convinced—more like dragged—by his friend Sakusa Kiyoomi to check out the volleyball club. “You should at least see the team before making a decision,” Sakusa had said, arms crossed, looking unimpressed as always.

So here he was, standing by the entrance of the gym, staring at the team of third-years already deep into their practice. The sound of sneakers squeaking against the wooden floor and the satisfying smack of a volleyball being spiked filled the air. It was a strong team, that much he could tell at a glance. But none of that held his attention for long.

Because amidst the group of upperclassmen, he saw him.

A third-year with bright orange hair, as if the setting sun had chosen to rest atop his head. He was much shorter than the rest of his teammates, yet he moved across the court with a presence so commanding it was impossible to look away.

And then he jumped.

Ushijima’s breath hitched.

Despite his smaller frame, the third-year soared high—so high it was almost as if the sky itself was reaching for him. His body twisted in mid-air, arm swinging down with sharp precision, and the ball slammed onto the other side of the court.

“Nice kill, Hinata!” one of his teammates called out.

Hinata.

The name settled into Ushijima’s mind as he watched the orange-haired third-year land with a light bounce, spinning around with a bright, triumphant smile. His energy was unlike anything Ushijima had ever seen—electric, contagious, mesmerizing.

“Oi, Wakatoshi.”

Sakusa’s voice snapped him out of his trance. Ushijima turned his head slightly, only to see his friend staring at him with narrowed eyes.

“We’re here to check out the team, not stare at the third-years like a lost puppy,” Sakusa muttered, crossing his arms.

Ushijima said nothing, but his eyes flickered back to the court—back to Hinata.

And then, as if feeling his gaze, the third-year turned around. Their eyes met for the first time.

“Ah! You guys must be the first-years, right?”

Hinata’s voice was light, cheerful, carrying none of the intimidation a top player should have. He jogged toward them without hesitation, stopping right in front of Ushijima.

Up close, the difference in their height was even more noticeable. Hinata barely reached his shoulder. And yet, looking down at him, Ushijima didn’t feel taller at all. If anything, Hinata’s energy filled the space between them, making him seem larger than life.

“You’re really tall for a first-year!” Hinata grinned, tilting his head slightly to look up at him. “What’s your name?”

Ushijima hesitated for a moment. His heart was beating a little too fast, something unfamiliar and new twisting inside his chest.

“…Ushijima Wakatoshi.”

“Ushijima, huh?” Hinata beamed, sticking out a hand toward him. “Nice to meet you! I’m Hinata Shoyo, third-year and outside hitter! Welcome to the team!”

Ushijima looked at his outstretched hand. Then, slowly, he took it.

Warm. That was the first thought that crossed his mind.

And the second?

I think I just fell in love with my senpai.

[ushihinasimp]

The bar had an understated elegance—warm lighting glowed against dark wooden walls, and shelves stocked with expensive whiskey and sake lined the back. The scent of aged alcohol, tobacco, and the faintest hint of citrus lingered in the air. The occasional clink of glasses and low hum of conversation added to the intimate, relaxed atmosphere. It was a place for professionals looking to unwind, and for four former volleyball players, it had become their unofficial meeting spot.

At their usual booth, Kuroo Tetsurou flicked the ash from his cigarette, his tie already undone and his sleeves rolled up. “Alright, gentlemen,” he drawled, a lazy smirk tugging at his lips. “Which one of us is the most washed-up?”

Iwaizumi Hajime, sipping his bourbon, didn’t even hesitate. “It’s you.”

Kuroo let out a sharp laugh, pointing at him. “You didn’t even think about that!”

“Didn’t need to,” Iwaizumi shot back, setting his glass down. “You work too much, complain about back pain, and text Kei about it like he’s your doctor.”

Kuroo made an exaggerated scoffing noise. “Excuse me for trusting my beloved husband.” He flicked his lighter open and closed, absentmindedly playing with the flame. “For the record, Kei says I’m aging like fine wine.”

“More like expired milk,” Daichi muttered, dragging his cigarette to his lips.

Ushijima Wakatoshi, who had been listening quietly, let out a small chuckle.

Kuroo turned to him. “Alright, Ushijima, settle this. Who’s the most washed-up?”

Ushijima set his whiskey glass down with a quiet clink. His deep voice was as even as ever. “I don’t believe any of us are washed-up.”

Kuroo groaned. “You’re too nice, man.”

Daichi smirked. “He just doesn’t want to admit it’s him.”

Ushijima shook his head, taking another sip of whiskey before saying, “Shoyo would not allow it.”

At the mention of his name, the table perked up.

Kuroo grinned. “Speaking of which, how’s married life treating you?”

Ushijima exhaled, glancing down at the cigarette in his hand. A moment of hesitation passed before he finally admitted, “Shoyo wants me to quit smoking.”

That earned a round of knowing laughter.

Iwaizumi nudged his glass toward him. “And how’s that going?”

Ushijima took a long, deliberate drag from his cigarette. The smoke curled up between his fingers before he finally exhaled, looking entirely unbothered. “…Not well.”

Daichi chuckled. “Figured.”

Kuroo leaned forward, grinning. “Then how does he reacts when he catches you?”

Ushijima let out a small sigh, his gaze softening in a way that only happened when he talked about his husband. “He scolds me. And then he pouts.”

Iwaizumi whistled. “Damn. He must really want you to stop.”

Ushijima nodded. “Shoyo says he doesn’t want me getting sick. And that I smell like smoke too often.”

Kuroo smirked. “What, he doesn’t like the scent of expensive tobacco?”

Ushijima shook his head. “No. He says he prefers how I smell after a shower.”

There was a beat of silence before Kuroo let out a dramatic groan. “Look at you. God, you’re so in love.”

Ushijima didn’t deny it. Instead, he took another slow drag from his cigarette before setting it down in the ashtray. “I try to quit,” he admitted. “But it’s difficult.”

Iwaizumi nodded, tipping his glass toward him. “Addiction’s a bitch.”

Daichi exhaled a trail of smoke. “You’ll figure it out. Just don’t let Shoyo catch you again.”

Ushijima hummed. “He always does.”

That earned another round of laughter, the kind only old friends could share.

Kuroo leaned back in his chair, rolling his glass between his fingers. “Man, Iwa, I still can’t believe you’re actually a trainer now. Feels like you just went from screaming at Oikawa to screaming at pro athletes.”

Iwaizumi snorted, swirling his whiskey. “Not that different, honestly. Oikawa was just as stubborn as these guys.” He took a sip, then sighed. “But, yeah… some days, I miss playing myself.”

Daichi leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “We all do.”

Ushijima, silent as ever, took a slow drag from his cigarette before exhaling toward the ceiling. “The drive to win never really leaves,” he said simply.

There was a quiet understanding in the air. Late-night practices, brutal drills, the feeling of sweat-soaked jerseys clinging to their backs—those memories still lived in them, even if their bodies had moved on.

“But look at us now,” Kuroo said, lifting his glass in mock celebration. “Corporate dogs, all of us. I spend my days buried in meetings, you—” he nodded at Daichi, “—are bossing around a whole police force, Iwa’s breaking pro players, and Wakatoshi’s out there terrifying his subordinates.”

Ushijima took another sip of his drink. “I am not terrifying.”

“You made an intern cry last week,” Daichi pointed out.

Ushijima frowned slightly. “He was underprepared.”

Kuroo smirked. “See? Terrifying.”

The conversation drifted between work, relationships, and memories of their volleyball days—late-night practices, punishing drills, the burning desire to win. And now? Now they had careers, mortgages, and significant others waiting at home.

Things had changed, but at that moment, sitting together with cigarettes between their fingers and alcohol warming their throats, it felt like nothing had changed at all.

And maybe, in some ways, nothing ever would.

[ushihinasimp]

Ushijima saved this childhood picture of Shoyo coz he’s way too cute

[ushihinasimp]

i really….like…..ushihina…..

[ushihinasimp]

He's never been good at sugar coating things anyway

[ushihinasimp]

The Council Whisperer

The executive council room felt like a battlefield. Ushijima Wakatoshi, the head of the university’s executive council, stood at the front of the long table with his arms crossed, his towering figure casting an imposing shadow over the group. His sharp green eyes scanned the room like a hawk, and everyone held their breath, praying they wouldn’t be the next target of his stern critique.

“Terushima,” Ushijima said, his voice low but firm.

“Y-Yes, sir!” Terushima Yuuji sat up straight, his usual boisterous energy nowhere to be found.

“You left the venue locked on the day of the event. Do you understand how much of a delay that caused? Be more thorough next time.”

“I-I won’t let it happen again!” Terushima stammered, looking like a scolded puppy.

Before Terushima could even recover, Ushijima’s gaze shifted.

“Futakuchi. The budget for the upcoming festival is disorganized. If you’re going to joke around with Terushima during meetings, I suggest you use that time to fix your spreadsheets instead.”

Futakuchi winced but attempted a smirk to save face. “Got it, boss. No more fun allowed.”

“And Suga,” Ushijima continued, ignoring Futakuchi’s quip, “your task report is two days late. You’re supposed to be setting an example for the others.”

Sugawara Koushi, usually calm and composed, looked genuinely chastened. “I’ll submit it tonight. Sorry about that.”

The room was suffocating under Ushijima’s unrelenting scrutiny. Terushima and Futakuchi exchanged glances, silently pleading for salvation. Across the table,Kunimi Akira, the timid secretary, fidgeted with his pen, while Nishinoya Yū and Tanaka Ryuunosuke sat frozen in their chairs, too scared to breathe too loudly. Even Oikawa Tooru, who prided himself on his charisma, was unusually quiet, clearly unwilling to risk provoking Ushijima.

Finally, when Ushijima launched into a lecture about “accountability” that showed no signs of ending, Futakuchi leaned over to whisper to Sugawara. “Text Hinata.”

“Already did,” Suga whispered back, clutching his phone like it was a lifeline. “He said he’s coming.”

As if on cue, the door swung open, and in came Hinata Shōyō.

“Ah, there he is,” Terushima muttered under his breath, relief flooding his tone.

Hinata strode into the room, his bright orange hair practically glowing in the harsh fluorescent light. He wore a small smile, but it carried an unmistakable authority that immediately caught everyone’s attention.

“Wakatoshi-kun,” Hinata said, his tone warm but firm.

Ushijima’s lecture ground to a halt as he turned toward Hinata. The shift in his demeanor was immediate. His rigid posture softened, and his intense expression gave way to something far gentler.

“Shōyō,” Ushijima greeted him, his voice quieter now.

The room felt like it collectively exhaled.

Hinata walked up to Ushijima, standing close enough that the taller man instinctively leaned down to hear him better. “You’ve been at this for hours. They get it. How about you give them a break?”

Ushijima frowned slightly but didn’t argue. “They made a lot of mistakes this time, Shōyō.”

“I know,” Hinata said, his voice soothing yet firm. “But they won’t do better if they’re too scared to mess up. Trust me, they’ll work harder if you’re a little nicer.”

For a moment, the room held its breath, watching as Ushijima considered Hinata’s words. Then, with a slow nod, he relented.

“Very well. Meeting adjourned,” Ushijima said, his tone much softer than before.

The council members wasted no time. Chairs scraped against the floor as everyone stood, muttering their thanks to Hinata as they hurried out of the room.

“Shōyō, you’re a lifesaver,” Sugawara said, patting Hinata on the shoulder as he passed.

“You’re our hero!” Terushima added, giving Hinata a thumbs-up.

“Remind me to buy you a drink later,” Futakuchi said with a wink before disappearing out the door.

Once the room was empty, Hinata turned to Ushijima, his hands on his hips. His bright smile had morphed into a stern pout.

“Toshi,” Hinata began, using his boyfriend’s nickname, “you really need to stop scaring them so much. Do you know how stressed they looked?”

“They made mistakes,” Ushijima said, his brows furrowing. “If I don’t address them—”

“There’s a difference between addressing mistakes and terrifying them into submission,” Hinata interrupted, crossing his arms. “You’re way too intense sometimes. You can’t just bulldoze through people.”

Ushijima stared at him, a faint crease forming between his brows. “Bulldoze?”

“Yes, bulldoze!” Hinata said, poking him lightly in the chest. “You’re so serious all the time. They’re trying their best, Toshi. You have to encourage them, not scare them into working harder.”

Ushijima sighed, his broad shoulders relaxing slightly. “I understand. I’ll… try to be more encouraging.”

“Good,” Hinata said, his frown melting into a smile. “See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

Ushijima reached out, wrapping an arm around Hinata’s waist and pulling him close. “You’re the only one who can talk to me like this.”

“Someone has to,” Hinata teased, leaning into Ushijima’s embrace. “You’d scare away the whole council if I wasn’t around.”

“I don’t need them,” Ushijima said simply, pressing a kiss to the top of Hinata’s head. “I just need you.”

Hinata laughed, his cheeks tinged with pink. “That’s sweet, but you still have to be nice to them, okay?”

“Okay,” Ushijima agreed, holding him just a little tighter.

From the hallway, Terushima peeked through the door, smirking as he whispered to Sugawara.

“See? Told you Hinata’s the real boss here.”

Suga nodded solemnly. “He’s amazing. We should start calling him Captain Sunshine.”

“You say that like we’re not already doing that behind his back,” Futakuchi replied with a grin before they both snuck away, leaving the couple in peace.

———-

Group Chat : The First Year Survivors

Yamaguchi: So… Atsumu-san is really hosting a party? In Okinawa? That’s wild.

Yachi: Yeah, I heard it’s supposed to be really casual, but knowing Atsumu-san, I bet it’ll be over the top.

Kageyama: He’s been bugging me about this for weeks. Says it’s “necessary for team bonding.”

Tsukishima: Sounds more like a way for him to show off.

Hinata: Who cares! This is going to be so fun!!! I’ve never been to Okinawa before!

Yamaguchi: Same! I already packed snacks for the road trip. I can’t wait.

Yachi: Wait, is Ushijima-san okay with this?

Kageyama: Yeah, have you told him yet?

Hinata: 🙄 I’m not sneaking off or anything. Of course I’m going to tell him!

Tsukishima: I give it five minutes before he tries to veto the entire trip.

Hinata: Oh, come on. He’s not that bad.

Yamaguchi: Hinata, we’re just saying… good luck.

⸻

Hinata: Toshi.

Ushijima: Yes, Shoyo?

Hinata: I’ll be going to Okinawa this weekend. I’ll be back Sunday morning.

Ushijima: With who? What occasion?

Hinata: Atsumu-san is hosting a small party for first years. We’re driving there in Kageyama’s car.

Ushijima: It’s not necessary for you to go there and join them.

Hinata: What do you mean??

Ushijima: The event will only tire you. You’ll have lack of sleep, and you might get sick.

Hinata: I’m not asking for your permission, Toshi. I just wanted to let you know that I’m going.

Ushijima: Why is it so hard for you to listen to me, Shoyo? You still have assignments to finish. Going there will waste your time and energy.

Hinata: But I want to go! I’ll finish my assignments when I get back!

Ushijima: If you want to go, then just go. You won’t listen to me anyway.

Hinata: Toshi, why are you angry?

Ushijima: I’m angry or not, you’ll still go. So it doesn’t matter.

⸻

On the Way to Okinawa

The car ride was lively, with Hinata, Yamaguchi, Yachi, Kageyama, and Tsukishima all crammed into Kageyama’s car.

“Hinata,” Yamaguchi said, glancing back at his friend from the passenger seat. “How did Ushijima-san take the news?”

Hinata slumped in his seat, pouting. “He’s mad.”

“I told you,” Tsukishima said, smirking. “He probably wants you to stay home and do assignments or something boring like that.”

“That’s exactly what he said!” Hinata groaned, throwing his hands in the air.

Yachi frowned. “But… I mean, I get why he’s worried. You do tend to overdo it sometimes.”

“I’ll be fine!” Hinata waved her concern away. “I just wish he didn’t get so sulky about it.”

Kageyama, keeping his eyes on the road, muttered, “You two argue like an old married couple.”

“Hey!” Hinata protested, crossing his arms. “You don’t see me throwing a fit every time you do something dumb with Atsumu-san.”

“That’s because Atsumu lets me do what I want,” Kageyama said simply.

Tsukishima snorted. “Probably because he’s too busy planning ridiculous parties to notice.”

“Shut up!” Kageyama snapped, his ears turning red.

The rest of the car burst into laughter as they sped toward Okinawa.

⸻

Executive Council Meeting

The tension in the room was unbearable. Ushijima stood at the head of the table, his voice as sharp as ever as he picked apart every detail of the council’s recent projects.

“Terushima,” he said, his tone flat but firm. “Your event preparation was disorganized. Do better next time.”

Terushima wilted in his seat. “Y-Yes, sir!”

“Futakuchi,” Ushijima continued, his gaze like a laser. “Your budget proposal was submitted late. That’s unacceptable.”

“Got it, boss,” Futakuchi muttered, scratching the back of his neck.

Sugawara leaned over to whisper to Nishinoya, “He’s worse than usual. Did something happen?”

“It’s Hinata,” Nishinoya whispered back. “They’re fighting again.”

“Great,” Futakuchi muttered, catching the exchange. “Remind me to send Hinata a thank-you gift for this.”

⸻

Another Argument

Hinata: Wakatoshi, can you please stop scaring the council members? They told me you’ve been impossible today.

Ushijima: Then can you please not go to the party and focus on your priorities?

Hinata: I already told you, I’ll manage my assignments when I get back. Why are you being like this??

Ushijima: Because I’m worried about you, Shoyo. I always listen to your concerns about the council. Why can’t you listen to me for once?

Hinata: This isn’t the same! You’re just being sulky because I didn’t do what you wanted.

Ushijima: I’m sulky because you don’t trust my judgment. Don’t be selfish, Shoyo.

Hinata: Fine. If you’re going to act like this, I don’t want to talk to you right now.

Ushijima: No need to talk then. Do what you want.

Hinata tossed his phone onto the bed, groaning. “He’s impossible!”

Yamaguchi, sharing the hotel room with him, looked up from his book. “Still mad?”

Hinata nodded. “He’s being so stubborn! Why can’t he just trust that I’ll be fine?”

Yamaguchi sighed. “Well… he’s always like this when it comes to you. Just give him time. He’ll come around.”

⸻

Updates From Okinawa

Hinata: We arrived already.

Ushijima: Ok.

Hinata: I already ate, and now I feel sleepy.

Ushijima: What did you have for lunch?

Hinata: Curry rice.

Ushijima: Ok.

Hinata: Are you still angry?

Ushijima: Yes.

Hinata: Ok. I’ll take a nap.

Ushijima: Ok. Have a good sleep.

Yamaguchi, watching Hinata put his phone away with a dramatic sigh, chuckled. “Still no good?”

“No good,” Hinata said, flopping onto the bed. “Why is he like this?”

Yamaguchi smiled. “Because he cares about you. Don’t worry—he’ll cool off soon enough.”

“I hope so,” Hinata muttered before closing his eyes.

Meanwhile, Ushijima stared at his phone, rereading the last message. A small sigh escaped him as he set it down.

———-

Unexpected Message

Yachi was comfortably curled up in her hotel bed, scrolling through her phone, when it vibrated with a message. She opened it, and her eyes went wide when she saw the sender.

From: Ushijima Wakatoshi.

Her heart raced. Why was he messaging her? Was he upset about something? Did Hinata say something about the trip that made him angry? Was she about to face the full brunt of Ushijima’s notorious temper?

She cautiously opened the chat.

Ushijima: Yachi, good evening.

Yachi: Hello, Ushijima-san. Is there anything I can help you with?

Ushijima: What is Shoyo doing?

Yachi blinked in surprise. Oh, so this is about Hinata. Still, Ushijima’s serious demeanor loomed in her mind, and she responded quickly.

Yachi: He’s sleeping, right after we had our dinner.

Ushijima: At this hour? Why so early?

Yachi: I’m not sure. He said he felt very sleepy…

Ushijima: What did he have for dinner?

Yachi: We all had hot pot with crab. It was good.

Ushijima: Crab?

Yachi frowned. Was something wrong with crab? She hesitated before typing.

Yachi: Yes, Ushijima-san.

A pause. Her phone vibrated again.

Ushijima: Yachi, can you please check on him?

Her stomach dropped. Oh no, is something wrong?!

Yachi: Oh, okay, Ushijima-san. Please wait.

Ushijima: I’ll be waiting.

Yachi scrambled out of bed and rushed to Hinata’s room. She knocked once before bursting in, startling Yamaguchi, who was sitting by the couch.

“What’s going on?” Yamaguchi asked, confused.

“It’s Hinata!” Yachi said in a panicked voice. She hurried to the bed, shaking Hinata gently. “Shoyo, are you okay? Wake up!”

Hinata groaned, his face pale and clammy. He sat up suddenly, clutching his stomach, and before Yachi or Yamaguchi could react, he bolted to the bathroom.

“Oh no,” Yachi whispered as she heard him retching.

⸻

Yachi’s hands shook as she typed her update to Ushijima.

Yachi: Ushijima-san… Shoyo is sick. He vomited and has a fever.

The reply came almost instantly.

Ushijima: Please check his blue pouch in his bag. There’s a grey pill. Give him one.

Yachi rushed to Hinata’s bag, digging through it until she found the blue pouch. Inside, she spotted the grey pills Ushijima had mentioned.

Yachi: Okay, will do.

Ushijima: I’ll be there in 30 minutes.

Yachi froze. He’s coming here?!

Yachi: Okay, Ushijima-san. And… we’re sorry.

⸻

Yamaguchi helped Hinata back to the bed, his face full of concern. “What happened?”

“I don’t know…” Hinata mumbled, his voice weak. “I just feel so sick.”

Yachi handed him a glass of water along with the pill. “Here, take this. Ushijima-san said it will help.”

Hinata’s eyes widened slightly. “Toshi? You told him?”

“Of course I did!” Yachi said, exasperated. “He’s on his way here right now.”

Hinata groaned, sinking further into the blankets. “He’s going to lecture me about eating too much crab, isn’t he?”

“I think he’s more worried than anything,” Yamaguchi said softly.

Yachi nodded, though she still felt a little shaky. “Let’s just make sure you’re okay before he gets here. Otherwise… well, I don’t even want to imagine what he’ll do if you’re not.”

Hinata managed a weak laugh, though the color still hadn’t returned to his face.

———-

Instincts of the Heart

Ushijima Wakatoshi always trusted his instincts. It was part of what made him a great volleyball player and an even better leader. But when it came to Hinata Shoyo, those instincts weren’t just strong—they were almost impossible to ignore.

From the moment Shoyo told him about the Okinawa trip, Ushijima felt uneasy. He didn’t want to stop Hinata from enjoying himself, but something about the timing didn’t sit right. So, without telling his tiny but feisty boyfriend, Ushijima made arrangements to travel to Okinawa as well.

He told himself it was just to keep an eye on Hinata, to ensure his safety. But deep down, he knew it was because his heart couldn’t rest when they were apart, especially when something felt wrong.

⸻

When the message from Yachi came through, Ushijima’s gut tightened.

“Shoyo is sick, he vomited and has a fever.”

That was all he needed to hear.

Ushijima was already en route, but he pushed his car faster. His emotions swirled—worry for Hinata’s health, frustration that his instincts were right, and guilt for not insisting harder that Hinata stay home.

By the time he arrived at Atsumu’s villa, Ushijima’s usual composed demeanor was strained. The moment he stepped through the front door, all conversations stopped.

Atsumu, lounging in the living room with Kageyama, froze mid-sentence.

Everyone knew who Ushijima was here for. His towering frame and sharp gaze left no room for questions.

“Where is Shoyo?” Ushijima’s voice was calm but commanding.

Yachi, who had been waiting nervously near the doorway, stepped forward. “This way, Ushijima-san,” she said, her voice a little shaky.

Ushijima nodded once. “Thank you, Yachi.”

She led him to the room where Hinata was resting, and once they reached the door, she decided to leave them alone. “I’ll… leave you to it,” she murmured, stepping away quickly.

⸻

Inside the room, Ushijima found Hinata curled up on the bed, his small frame buried under a blanket. His fiery orange hair was damp with sweat, and his face looked pale and tired.

Ushijima let out a quiet sigh, his emotions softening at the sight. He had already let out most of his frustration during the drive here, so now there was only concern. He sat down on the edge of the bed, his large hand gently stroking Hinata’s hair.

Hinata stirred at the touch, his eyes fluttering open. His raspy voice broke the silence. “Hmm… Toshi?”

“Yes, I’m here,” Ushijima said softly, his voice steady but filled with warmth.

Hinata’s eyes filled with tears. “Toshi, are you still mad at me? I feel sick…” His voice cracked as he fought the urge to cry, feeling small and helpless.

Ushijima shook his head and pinched Hinata’s cheek gently. “Now who’s crying like a little kid?”

Hinata let out a loud sob, burying his face in the blanket. “I feel awful, Toshi! I can’t do anything, and I’m pathetic!”

Ushijima couldn’t help but chuckle lightly at his boyfriend’s dramatic response. He leaned closer, his tone firm but kind. “Now, do you want to keep crying and stay here, or do you want to go home with me?”

“Wanna go home with Toshi…” Hinata sniffled, clutching at Ushijima’s shirt like a lifeline.

Ushijima’s voice softened further, though he couldn’t resist one more question. “After this, are you going to keep being stubborn?”

“I’ll listen to you…” Hinata mumbled, his tears slowing. “Please don’t be angry anymore…”

Satisfied with the answer, Ushijima gently picked Hinata up in his arms. Hinata clung to him tightly, resting his head against Ushijima’s chest as the bigger man gathered his belongings with one hand, slinging Hinata’s bag over his shoulder.

As Ushijima stood to leave, Hinata nuzzled against his neck, his voice barely audible. “Toshi… rub my back.”

Ushijima let out a rare chuckle, complying immediately as he rubbed soothing circles on Hinata’s back. “You’re so spoiled sometimes,” he murmured, but his tone was full of affection.

Hinata hummed in contentment, his small frame relaxing against Ushijima.

To everyone else, Hinata Shoyo was a ball of fiery energy and sass. But to Ushijima, he was the cutest, most precious person in the world. And no matter how stubborn or spoiled Hinata could be, Ushijima would never stop spoiling and loving him.

After all, there was no one else like his Shoyo.

[ushihinasimp]

Someone draw this for me :)

Credits : @Nara_Teepakom on X

[ushihinasimp]

Collision

Final part

After MSBY’s triumph over Schweiden—after a hard-fought victory that left both teams bloodied but unbowed—the tension off the court deepened in ways neither Hinata nor Ushijima could have foreseen. Somehow, between the stolen glances during practice matches and the lingering heat of post-match kisses, they had grown inexplicably closer. Despite their pride, their exchanges were constant—texts, calls, secret visits. Every time Ushijima traveled to Miyagi, he sought only Hinata Shoyo, whose defiant spirit both frustrated and fascinated him.

That night, in the dim hush of Ushijima’s apartment in Tokyo, the victory still pulsed in the background like a fading echo, Hinata had stayed over. The remnants of their passion from the previous night lay scattered between them—a tangled comforter, whispered breaths and loud moans, and a truth too raw to name. As dawn began to filter through the drawn curtains, Hinata lay half-bare, his naked body ensconced beneath a thick comforter. His heart was still racing with aftershocks of desire, his skin recalling every touch.

Unable to sleep, Hinata’s voice trembled as he finally broke the silence.

“What are we, Ushijima?”

He asked softly, the question hanging in the cool morning air like a challenge and a plea all at once.

Ushijima, sitting at the edge of the bed and methodically buttoning up his shirt, paused. Each movement revealed muscles that had fought battles on the court and in moments of unbridled passion. His eyes, dark and intense, met Hinata’s with an unreadable expression.

“Why do you ask?” he replied in a measured tone, his voice betraying nothing of the storm beneath.

Hinata’s frustration flared. “Hey, I’m the one who asked you first!” he snapped, his tone edged with both indignation and vulnerability.

A quiet smile tugged at Ushijima’s lips. “Whatever you want to call it, I’ll leave it to you,” he answered calmly, as if the answer were as simple as a well-rehearsed play.

But Hinata wasn’t satisfied. His pride and raw need clashed as he tried to argue, “So, we can sleep with anyone—”

“No,” Ushijima interrupted sharply, his tone final. Now fully clothed, he stepped closer until the heat between them was undeniable. He reached out, his hand gently cradling Hinata’s cheek as if to both comfort and claim. His eyes, dark and smoldering, bore into Hinata’s with a ferocity that made the younger man’s breath catch.

“I’m committed, Hinata.” Ushijima’s voice was low and fierce. “If you ask me whether I’ve ever slept around—the answer is no. And I would hate the idea of someone else, anyone other than me, touching you. I won’t allow that.”

The words struck Hinata like a blow, igniting a tumult of conflicting emotions. “Possessive bastard…” he sputtered, his cheeks burning with a mix of anger and something far more tender, something that hinted at a truth he wasn’t ready to admit.

His mind rebelled against the notion of being treated like property, yet deep down, he felt the undeniable pull—like gravity—drawing him to Ushijima’s fierce declaration. He couldn’t articulate it, couldn’t say that somewhere inside, he longed to belong, that he craved the ownership whispered through Ushijima’s vows.

For a long moment, silence reigned, heavy and charged. Neither was willing to break it with further words; both knew what was left unspoken between them. In that fragile stillness, their pride warred with their truth—a truth that, if admitted, would change everything.

And though neither would ever say it aloud, in that messy collision of love and hate, they belonged to one another. Each touch, each whispered promise in the darkness, cemented that secret truth. Even as Hinata’s face flushed scarlet with indignation, he could not escape the reality that whispered through every heartbeat.

They were bound—by triumph and defeat, by desire and defiance—in a way that neither the victory over Schweiden nor the chaos of their tangled emotions could ever unravel.

Ushijima pulled Hinata into a deep, consuming kiss—one that left no room for doubt. His lips pressed hard against Hinata’s, his large hands cradling the sides of the younger man’s face as if grounding him, as if reminding him that there was no escape from this. From them.

Their breaths mingled, erratic and needy. When they finally broke apart, their foreheads pressed together, they simply stared. Neither spoke. Neither dared to. It felt like forever.

Hinata’s chest rose and fell rapidly. His lips tingled, swollen from the intensity of the kiss. He was so close to giving in—to admitting what should have been obvious from the very start.

Ushijima’s sharp eyes roamed over Hinata’s flushed face, lingering on his trembling lips before his rough fingers traced over them, then down to the soft skin of his cheek. His thumb stroked the warmth there, feeling the heat that had nothing to do with embarrassment.

“You are mine, Shoyo.”

The words were low, final. A declaration.

Hinata’s breath hitched. Ushijima had never called him that before. Not Hinata. Just Shoyo.

Something inside him broke at the way Ushijima said his name—deep and intimate, like a whispered vow.

Hinata’s lips parted, but Ushijima spoke again, his voice firm, unwavering.

“Like I said, whatever you want to call us, I’ll leave it to you. I could be anything you want me to be.”

The older man leaned in, his breath warm, his face dangerously close. He didn’t move any further, didn’t press. He was waiting. Waiting for Hinata to decide.

Hinata swallowed hard, his throat dry, his heart pounding wildly. He was at the edge—one step away from falling into something inescapable.

And he was tired of fighting it.

Slowly, almost hesitantly, his hands slid up, wrapping around Ushijima’s strong neck. The older male stilled at the touch, his body tense beneath Hinata’s fingertips. Then, with deliberate intent, Hinata pulled him closer, closing the final gap between them.

This time, Hinata kissed him. It was slower, softer—no less possessive, but carrying a different weight. It was acceptance. It was surrender. It was the moment Hinata let himself fall.

As they parted, Hinata’s tongue flicked out, licking his lips. His pupils were blown wide with something dark, something final.

Then, with a smirk that was both teasing and deadly serious, he murmured,

“Then, you are mine too.”

His fingers ghosted over Ushijima’s sharp jawline, then down to his lips, tracing the very mouth that had claimed him so many times before.

Ushijima let out a deep chuckle, his lips curving slightly into a smirk.

They were both too stubborn to admit it in words. Too prideful to confess love in a way that others did. But this was their truth. This was how they claimed each other.

“I’ve been captivated from the very beginning, Shoyo,” Ushijima murmured against his skin, pressing a lingering kiss to his temple. “I’ve always been yours to keep.”

And Hinata, resting his forehead against Ushijima’s, finally allowed himself to believe it.

[ushihinasimp]

Hinata wasn’t sure when he started feeling it—the suffocating weight of Ushijima Wakatoshi’s quiet presence, pressing down like a tide that never receded. The man never raised his voice. He never shouted, never showed the storms that raged behind his dark eyes. But the way he watched was enough to make Hinata feel like a bird in a cage made of iron will and silent obsession.

It began with small things—subtle, almost unnoticeable.

“You didn’t answer my call last night.” Ushijima’s deep voice hummed with tranquility as he stood behind Hinata outside the Karasuno school. His broad frame blocked the setting sun, casting Hinata in shadow. His tone was level. Calm. Too calm.

“I—” Hinata fumbled with his bag strap, feeling his pulse quicken. “I was busy. Kageyama and I were watching game footage—”

“Kageyama.” Ushijima’s lips barely moved as he repeated the name, like tasting something bitter. His eyes didn’t blink. “You seem close.”

Hinata’s heart stuttered. “Well, yeah. He’s my setter—”

“Do you laugh with him like you laugh with me?” Ushijima’s voice didn’t rise. It remained a low, even murmur, but something sharp flickered behind his eyes. His gaze was heavy, suffocating. “Do you let him make you smile the way I do?”

The question rooted Hinata to the ground. His mouth opened, but no words came out. “Toshi—”

“I wonder,” Ushijima continued softly, almost to himself, “if I should break his hands. Would that make him stop touching what’s mine?”

Hinata felt cold all over. “You… you don’t mean that.” His voice wavered, a tremor betraying his own denial.

A long silence stretched between them, broken only by the sound of the wind rustling the gym’s banners. Ushijima’s expression remained serene, his eyes unblinking.

“Of course not,” he said, lips curling into a small, almost kind smile. “I wouldn’t hurt anyone.”

Hinata exhaled, feeling a weak laugh bubble up—until Ushijima reached out, brushing his knuckles against Hinata’s cheek in a touch so gentle it made him shiver.

“But I would,” Ushijima whispered. His eyes never left Hinata’s. “If you ever leave me.”

Hinata took a step back. His heart hammered so loudly it drowned out his thoughts. “I’m not—”

“You love me,” Ushijima said with serene finality, as though it were a law of nature. “You’ll always love me.”

“You’re scaring me,” Hinata whispered, voice small.

Ushijima’s hand dropped to his side. His calm didn’t waver. “Good. Fear keeps you close.”

The silence that followed wasn’t peace—it was the calm before the crash of waves. Hinata felt the weight of it like a noose tightening around his throat. He swallowed hard, his eyes burning with something between fury and helplessness.

“I’m not a possession,” he said, his voice rising with trembling defiance. “I’m not yours to keep.”

Ushijima’s expression didn’t change. His gaze was as calm as a storm’s eye, steady, deep, and bottomless. He tilted his head ever so slightly, his voice soft and impossibly composed.

“You already are.”

#toxicushijima

[ushihinasimp]

Their first Valentine’s Day

Hinata stands in front of Ushijima, fidgeting, his face slightly pink as he holds out a small, neatly wrapped box.

“I, um… made you this.” His voice is quiet, almost shy, unlike his usual energy.

Ushijima takes the box carefully, his large hands dwarfing the delicate package. He unwraps it with his usual patience, revealing homemade chocolates inside—imperfect, slightly uneven, but clearly made with care.

Ushijima’s eyes soften. “You made this?”

Hinata nods quickly, looking away. “Yeah… I hope it’s not weird or anything and… i hope you’ll like it…”

Ushijima is silent for a moment, staring at the chocolates. Then, with slow, deliberate movement, he takes one and places it in his mouth.

The sweetness melts on his tongue, rich and warm—but nothing is sweeter than the thought behind it.

Ushijima chews, swallows, and looks at Hinata with an unreadable expression.

“…This is special.” His voice is quiet, almost reverent.

Hinata blinks. “Huh?”

Ushijima meets his gaze, eyes filled with something deep, unwavering, endless.

“You made this for me.”

A simple statement, but Hinata feels his heart stutter.

Ushijima reaches out, palming Hinata’s cheek with the same tenderness as always.

“I love it.” His thumb brushes over Hinata’s warm skin. “Thank you, Shouyou.”

And just like that, Hinata melts.

Ushijima doesn’t smile often. But today—he does.

And for Hinata, that’s worth more than anything.

—

White Day arrived like a gentle afterglow—a few days after their first, tender Valentine’s. In a quiet moment away from the usual rush, Ushijima presented Hinata with a small, exquisitely wrapped box. Inside lay fancy chocolates from a famous brand, a stark contrast to the humble, homemade treats of their first celebration.

Hinata’s eyes widened in astonishment as he carefully examined the gift.

“Woah, I’ve never had this chocolate before, Toshi. It’s a famous one,” he whispered, a mix of surprise and delight dancing in his voice.

Though Hinata knew Ushijima need not have spent so much, his heart swelled with gratitude. With quiet determination, he tiptoed closer and pressed a soft kiss to Ushijima’s cheek.

“Thank you, Toshi! This is special coming from you,” he murmured, his words tender and sincere.

That moment, framed by the gentle clink of distant conversation and the soft glow of the setting sun, lit up Ushijima’s usually unreadable face. His eyes, however, shimmered with deep affection—a brightness Hinata had come to cherish more than any victory on the court.

Ushijima wasn’t one for sweets or chocolates, yet being with Hinata made him eager to embrace these new experiences, these firsts. Each gesture, each shared delight, was a silent promise—a promise that their love, in all its unconventional splendor, would continue to grow richer every day.

In that quiet, radiant moment, as Hinata’s soft smile mirrored the warmth of Ushijima’s gaze, they both knew: every day together was as sweet as the finest chocolate, and their love—ever bold, ever tender—was a gift to be cherished forever.

And with that quiet understanding, Ushijima whispered to himself and to Hinata, “Valentine’s Day is not so bad after all.”

[ushihinasimp]

LOL 😆

They go to a different school you wouldn't know them

[ushihinasimp]

Collision pt. 3

Another time, after practice match in Shiratorizawa.

The kiss was violence. A clash of fury and desperation, of teeth and breath and heat.

Hinata struggled, his hands shoving at Ushijima’s chest, but the older man didn’t let go. His grip on Hinata’s face was unyielding, possessive, brutal in its certainty. His fingers dug into Hinata’s jaw, holding him still even as the younger man thrashed, caught between resistance and surrender.

When they finally tore apart, Hinata staggered back, gasping, his chest rising and falling erratically. He swiped his hand across his mouth as if trying to scrub away the burn of Ushijima’s lips—but the fire had already seeped into him, curling in his gut, in his veins, in his bones.

“What… what the hell was that?” Hinata’s voice was hoarse, raw. Shaken.

Ushijima stood there, unmoved. His face was unreadable, but his eyes burned—dark, consuming, ruthless in their intensity.

“It was what you wanted.”

Hinata’s breath caught, his body stiffening.

“No!” His voice cracked, spilling with anger, with something else he didn’t want to name. Did Ushijima know? Could he see it? “That’s not— You don’t get to decide what I want!”

Ushijima’s brow furrowed slightly, confusion flickering through his features, but his voice remained dangerously calm.

“You kissed me back.”

Hinata flinched.

“Shut up!” His fists clenched, his whole body trembling. “I hate you!” The words came out louder than he intended, drenched in something closer to hysteria than conviction. “You think you can just—just overpower me, control me, like you do on the court? Like I’m some kind of conquest to be won?”

Ushijima didn’t react. Didn’t blink. He just stared, his silence heavy, suffocating.

Hinata hated that. Hated how calm he was.

“Do you think I’m weak?” he spat, stepping closer, his smaller frame bristling with defiance. “Do you think you can just—”

“I think you’re the strongest person I’ve ever known.”

The words struck like a punch.

Hinata froze.

“But even strong people,” Ushijima continued, his voice steady, unwavering, “need someone to protect them.”

“I don’t need you to protect me!” Hinata snapped, heart hammering. “I’ve been fighting my own battles long before you ever—”

“Then why do you always run straight into me?”

Hinata sucked in a breath.

Ushijima’s composure cracked, his voice rising for the first time, shaking with an intensity that sent chills down Hinata’s spine.

“Why do you always throw yourself in my path like you want me to stop you?” Ushijima’s fists clenched at his sides. “Why do you push me until I can’t—” He cut himself off, his breath ragged.

Hinata stared.

He didn’t know what to say, what to feel. His anger tangled with something darker, deeper, something he refused to name.

Then Hinata’s voice wavered.

“Because you’re the only one I can’t beat.”

The silence between them stretched, thick and suffocating, like a wound too deep to heal.

Ushijima’s fingers twitched at his sides, like he was holding himself back, like he wasn’t sure whether to reach for Hinata again or to keep his distance.

His entire body was tense, wound so tight he looked like he might snap.

“I don’t want to fight you.” Ushijima’s voice was low, pained. “But I don’t know how to stop.”

“Then let me go.” Hinata’s voice was barely above a whisper.

Ushijima closed his eyes. And when he opened them, his resolve was absolute.

“I can’t.”

The confession slammed into Hinata’s chest like a death sentence.

His breath hitched, his vision blurring.

“You have to.”

“No.” Ushijima stepped forward. “I won’t.”

Hinata’s pulse roared in his ears.

His fingers trembled at his sides. “Then this—” he gestured wildly between them, voice breaking. “This will destroy us.”

“Then let it.”

Ushijima’s voice was dark, resolute.

He took another step forward, until his presence loomed over Hinata, swallowing him whole. His voice dropped to a whisper, a promise, a curse.

“If I have to burn with you, I’ll burn.”

Hinata let out a shaky breath.

“You’re suffocating me, Ushijima.”

Ushijima exhaled, long and slow. His voice, when it came, was shattered.

“And you’re the air I breathe.”

The weight of his words crushed them both.

Hinata’s knees buckled.

Ushijima caught him—instantly, effortlessly, like he was made to hold him.

Hinata didn’t fight. Not this time.

His hands clutched at Ushijima’s shirt, small fingers desperate, shaking.

His body trembled under the sheer weight of everything, of this.

This fire between them.

This war.

This love.

This hate.

This obsession.

They clung to each other like drowning men.

And if this was their ruin, then neither would stop until they burned to ash.

[ushihinasimp]

Collision pt.2

Hinata’s heart slammed against his ribs, his breath coming in sharp, shallow gasps as Ushijima’s confession settled into the air between them like a living thing.

“I’m terrified of you.”

The words didn’t make sense. They shouldn’t have made sense. Ushijima Wakatoshi—the unshakable, immovable force that had haunted his every step—was saying that he was afraid?

Hinata swallowed hard, his voice hoarse. “You’re… terrified of me?”

Ushijima didn’t answer. But his silence felt like an answer.

His broad shoulders were tight, his fists clenched at his sides as though he was holding something back—something far more dangerous than anger.

Hinata’s stomach twisted.

This isn’t right.

He had spent years crashing against Ushijima like a storm against a cliff, over and over, unrelenting, desperate to prove he was more than just an obstacle to be crushed. But this—this was different. Ushijima wasn’t standing over him like he always did, towering, suffocating. He was…

Cornered.

That realization sent a spark of something electric through Hinata’s veins, something terrifying and exhilarating all at once. He took a step forward, heat rising in his chest.

“You’re lying,” Hinata accused. His voice cracked. “You’re just trying to mess with me, aren’t you?”

Ushijima exhaled sharply. His jaw tensed, eyes dark and unreadable. “I never lie.”

Hinata’s breath hitched. His pulse pounded in his ears. He hated how his body reacted, how his skin burned, how his hands itched—not to pull away, but to push, to shove, to shake the truth out of him.

“Then what the hell are you doing?” Hinata demanded, stepping closer, the heat between them suffocating. “Why do you always look at me like that? Why do you always try to crush me?”

“Because I have to.” Ushijima’s voice was low, almost strained.

Hinata felt his blood turn to fire. “Why?”

“Because if I don’t—” Ushijima’s breath came slow, heavy, like every word hurt—“I’ll lose control.”

The admission hit Hinata like a blow. He staggered back, chest heaving.

“Control of what?”

Ushijima didn’t answer right away. His throat bobbed as he swallowed, and when he finally spoke, his voice was so quiet it sent chills down Hinata’s spine.

“Everything.”

Silence.

The space between them felt too small, the air too thick. Hinata’s hands trembled, his heart pounding so hard it hurt. His body was screaming at him to move—run, fight, something—but he couldn’t.

He wouldn’t.

Hinata stepped forward again, reckless and unafraid, always unafraid.

“I’m not scared of you,” he said fiercely. “No matter how strong you are, no matter how much you try to intimidate me—I’m not afraid.”

Ushijima’s eyes darkened.

Hinata could feel the heat of his breath now, could see the tension in the way Ushijima’s fingers twitched at his sides—like he wanted to reach out, to grab, to claim.

And then he did.

Ushijima’s large hand wrapped around Hinata’s wrist, firm, steady—too gentle, and yet, not gentle at all.

“That’s why I can’t let you go,” Ushijima murmured. “Because you never stop. You don’t know how to stop.”

Hinata’s breath caught in his throat. His pulse skipped.

“Let me go,” he whispered. But the words lacked conviction.

Ushijima didn’t move. His grip stayed firm, grounding. Unrelenting.

“You don’t want me to,” Ushijima said, his voice smooth, assured. Daring.

Hinata’s chest ached with something violent. “Stop it.”

“You don’t want me to,” Ushijima repeated, softer this time, like he was telling the truth.

Something inside Hinata cracked. His breath came too fast, too uneven. He hated this—hated how much his body betrayed him, how much power Ushijima’s words had over him.

His nails dug into his palms. His throat felt tight. And when he spoke again, it was barely more than a breath.

“I hate you.”

Ushijima nodded once, calm, accepting. “I hate you too.”

It should have ended there.

Hinata should have shoved him away, stormed out, let the hate fester between them like it always had.

But then Ushijima’s fingers slid up.

From his wrist to his forearm. Up to his shoulder. Then higher—along the side of his neck, rough fingertips brushing the flushed skin just below his jaw.

Hinata shivered.

His breath stuttered.

Their noses brushed. Their lips were so close that every inhale felt stolen.

“You’re lying,” Hinata whispered, his voice shaking.

Ushijima’s eyes burned into his. “So are you.”

Hinata didn’t get a chance to reply.

Ushijima kissed him—fierce, desperate, full of all the things they never said.

It was not soft.

It was brutal. It was suffocating. It was a war.

Hinata fought. He shoved against Ushijima’s chest, but Ushijima only pressed harder, his grip unyielding. Hinata growled against his lips, biting down on Ushijima’s lower lip in defiance. Ushijima didn’t flinch—he pushed back, backing Hinata into the lockers with enough force to make them rattle.

Hinata gasped, but he didn’t pull away.

His fingers curled into Ushijima’s jersey, fisting the fabric, holding on even as he hated himself for it.

It was unbearable. It was intoxicating.

And it was over in an instant.

They ripped apart, panting, staring.

Hinata’s lips were swollen. His heart was wrecked. His entire body burned.

Ushijima’s breathing was heavy, his shoulders rising and falling with the force of it. His gaze flickered, just for a moment, to Hinata’s mouth.

He was already addicted.

And before Hinata could speak, could move, could think—Ushijima turned and walked out of the locker room, leaving him standing there, breathless, ruined.

Hate was a dangerous thing.

And this? This was something worse.

[ushihinasimp]

Collision

“Stay out of my way.”

Hinata glared up at Ushijima, fire sparking in his eyes as he clenched his fists at his sides. He was panting after the grueling practice match between Karasuno and Shiratorizawa, sweat dripping down his face.

“You stay out of mine!” Hinata snapped. His voice trembled with fury, raw and sharp.

Ushijima’s eyes narrowed. He loomed over Hinata like a storm cloud ready to break. His expression, usually calm and unreadable, darkened with something cold and cutting. “You’re reckless. You don’t think. Players like you break easily.”

“Shut up!” Hinata’s heart raced. Every word felt like a knife. “I’m not some fragile little kid you can push around. I will beat you one day, Ushijima!”

“You will not,” Ushijima said with absolute certainty. “Because you lack control.”

Hinata felt the sting of those words deep in his chest. His pride and determination burned like a raging inferno, but his insecurities gnawed at him. He couldn’t stand how effortlessly Ushijima dismissed him, how his strength made it seem like Hinata’s dreams were just childish fantasies.

They walked off the court with tension crackling between them, heat rising like summer thunder. Their teammates noticed it, the sharp glares, the unspoken challenges, and the way their words carried the weight of a war no one else could see.

That night, as the camp continued, Hinata couldn’t shake the anger bubbling inside him. He paced outside, kicking at the gravel path. His mind spun with the image of Ushijima’s piercing gaze, his calm superiority.

“Arrogant bastard,” Hinata muttered under his breath.

“I heard that.”

Hinata whirled around. Ushijima stood behind him, hands in his pockets, expression as unreadable as ever. The moonlight cast shadows across his sharp features.

“What do you want?” Hinata spat.

Ushijima took a step forward, his voice low. “I don’t understand why you let your emotions control you.”

Hinata clenched his jaw. “Why do you care? It’s not like you’re perfect!”

“I’m not.” Ushijima’s honesty was unexpected, disarming. He paused, eyes serious. “But I don’t let anger cloud my judgment. It makes you weak.”

“I’m not weak!” Hinata’s voice cracked with the force of his emotions. “I’m fighting harder than anyone just to keep up! You don’t get to talk down to me like you’re better!”

Ushijima’s eyes softened — just barely. “I respect your strength. But your pride will destroy you if you let it.”

The words hung between them, heavy with truth and challenge.

“You don’t know anything about me,” Hinata whispered.

“I know more than you think,” Ushijima replied. “I’ve been watching you for a long time.”

Hinata blinked, caught off guard. “What?”

Ushijima took a step closer, his gaze unrelenting. “You’re the only player I’ve ever wanted to crush because I knew — if I didn’t — you would tear through every wall I built. You don’t stop.”

Hinata’s heart pounded. The heat of anger twisted into something deeper, something dangerous and undeniable. His breath hitched. “Why—”

“Because,” Ushijima interrupted, “you terrify me.”

The silence between them burned.

And just like that, the fault lines of hate began to crack into something else.

[ushihinasimp]

Toshi: Shoyo? Kageyama said you’re sick… Why didn’t you tell me?

Shoyo: I’m fine, really. It’s just a fever…

Toshi: What do you mean, “just a fever,” Sho? You should’ve let me know. I’m your boyfriend. Am I not reliable to you?

Shoyo: No! It’s not that… please don’t get mad 😣 You’re scary when you’re angry.

Toshi: I’m not mad. I’m just upset you didn’t tell me.

Shoyo: I’m sorryyy… I just didn’t want to worry you, Toshi.

Toshi: You won’t ever be a burden to me, you know that.

Shoyo: 🥺

Toshi: I’m coming over now. Do you want anything? And don’t ever think you’re “burdening” me because I’m bringing you food. That’s silly.

Shoyo: Anything’s fine, just hurry here, okay? I want to see you

Toshi: Alright. Be good and wait for me, okay? I’ll be there soon.

Shoyo: Okay 🥰

Moments later, Shoyo lay curled up in bed, a small, hopeful smile on his face, waiting for the soft knock he knew would come soon.

[ushihinasimp]

The training camp was supposed to be a neutral ground, a place where rivalries were put aside for the sake of growth and improvement. But when Oikawa Tooru and Ushijima Wakatoshi found themselves in the same space, peace was a distant dream.

It started with Oikawa being his usual self, throwing casual jabs at Ushijima whenever they crossed paths.

“Wow, Ushiwaka, I’m impressed! You finally managed to get someone to like you. Though, it’s a wonder Hinata didn’t run the other way,” Oikawa teased, his grin sharp.

Ushijima ignored him at first, focusing on drills and pretending not to hear. But Oikawa wasn’t done.

“Don’t you think you’re a little… too much for someone like him? Chibi-chan is so pure, so full of life. You’re… well, you.”

That was when Ushijima turned, his stoic expression darkening. “Say what you want about me, but leave Hinata out of it.”

Oikawa smirked, sensing he had hit a nerve. “Oh? Struck a chord, did I? Face it, Ushiwaka. You don’t deserve someone like him. He’s too good for you. One day, he’ll realize it too.”

Ushijima’s jaw clenched. He wasn’t one to fight—he prided himself on his control—but Oikawa’s words struck deep, igniting something he couldn’t suppress.

Before anyone could intervene, Ushijima’s fist collided with Oikawa’s face. The crack echoed through the gym, stunning everyone into silence.

Oikawa staggered but quickly retaliated, throwing a punch of his own. Chaos erupted as their teammates scrambled to pull them apart.

“Stay away from Hinata,” Ushijima warned, his voice low and deadly.

Oikawa wiped the blood from his lip, laughing bitterly. “You just proved my point, Ushiwaka. You’re nothing but a brute.”

Ushijima lunged again, but Tendou and Goshiki held him back, forcing him to retreat.

By the next morning, everyone at the training camp was talking about the fight. Speculations swirled, with most people shocked that the usually composed Ushijima had lost control.

Hinata found out from Kageyama, who delivered the news in his usual blunt manner. “Ushijima and Oikawa got into a fight yesterday. Apparently, it was about you.”

Hinata froze, his water bottle slipping from his hands. “What?!”

“Yeah. Heard Oikawa said something about you guys, and Ushijima punched him.”

Hinata didn’t wait to hear the rest. He ran off to find Ushijima, his heart pounding.

When Hinata finally found Ushijima, the sight made his heart ache. Ushijima was sitting on the edge of a bench, a bruise blooming on his cheek and his knuckles red and swollen.

“Wakatoshi!” Hinata called, rushing to him.

Ushijima looked up, his expression softening slightly at the sight of Hinata. “Shoyo…”

“What were you thinking?” Hinata scolded, his voice trembling. “Why would you fight him? You got hurt!”

Ushijima frowned. “He insulted us. He said things I couldn’t let go.”

“That doesn’t matter!” Hinata snapped. “I don’t care what he said. I care that you got hurt! You’re supposed to be better than this, Wakatoshi!”

Ushijima blinked, startled by Hinata’s anger. “I was defending you.”

Hinata shook his head, his fists clenching. “I don’t need you to fight for me! I hate fighting! I hate seeing people get hurt, especially you!”

“But—”

“No, Wakatoshi,” Hinata interrupted, his voice breaking. “You don’t understand. This isn’t about Oikawa. This is about you. I don’t like seeing you this way. And right now, I…” He hesitated, his eyes shining with unshed tears. “I don’t want to see you for a while.”

Ushijima froze, his chest tightening painfully. “Shoyo, I—”

“Just… give me some time, okay?” Hinata said softly before turning and walking away, leaving Ushijima sitting there, confused and hurt.

For the rest of the day, Ushijima replayed Hinata’s words in his mind, trying to make sense of them. He didn’t understand why Hinata was angry—he had only been trying to protect him.

Tendou, as always, noticed his captain’s turmoil. “You really messed up, didn’t you, Wakatoshi-kun?”

“I don’t understand,” Ushijima admitted, his voice quiet. “I was protecting him.”

Tendou sighed, sitting down beside him. “You might’ve thought you were protecting him, but what Shoyo wanted was for you to stay you. Not someone who punches people. He doesn’t want you hurt, physically or emotionally.”

Ushijima stared at the ground, his brows furrowed. “I didn’t think of it that way.”

“Obviously,” Tendou said, rolling his eyes. “You’ve got to fix this, Wakatoshi-kun. You care about Chibi-chan, right?”

“Of course,” Ushijima replied immediately.

“Then do what he needs, not what you think he needs. And start by giving him the space he asked for.”

Ushijima nodded slowly, his heart heavy. For the first time, he realized that loving Hinata wasn’t just about protecting him—it was about understanding him.

And he vowed to make things right, no matter what it took.

The silence from Hinata had been unbearable. For three days, Ushijima had carried the weight of his mistake, his chest tightening every time he looked at his phone, waiting for a reply that never came.

But Ushijima was nothing if not persistent. Every morning, he sent a message:

Good morning, Shoyo. Don’t skip breakfast.

Throughout the day, he reminded him to eat, to rest, to not overdo it during practice. And every night, he ended with the same:

Sleep tight, Shoyo.

There was never a reply.

Ushijima lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, his phone resting on the bedside table. The weight of Hinata’s silence was suffocating. He turned to look at the glowing screen, his last message—Sleep tight—still unread.

With a heavy sigh, he reached for his phone again, his thumb hesitating over the keyboard. It was late. Surely, Hinata was already asleep. But the ache in his chest pushed him forward.

Shoyo, he typed, the words coming slowly.

I am sorry.

Forgive me, please?

I miss you and I want to see you.

He pressed send, his heart pounding as he placed the phone back on the table. For a moment, the silence in his room seemed louder, heavier.

Then, a soft beep broke through the quiet. Ushijima’s eyes snapped to his phone, his heart racing as Hinata’s name appeared on the screen.

Hinata’s Reply

Promise you won’t do anything reckless again, kay?

I miss u too…

Ushijima stared at the message, his chest flooding with relief and something warmer, something that made him feel lighter than he had in days. He quickly typed back, his fingers steadier than he expected.

Can we meet tomorrow?

There was a pause, and then:

Okay. I want to eat meatbuns tomorrow.

A small smile tugged at Ushijima’s lips. Typical Shoyo.

Sure, I’ll buy you anything you want.

Yay! Meatbuns is enough :D

See you tomorrow, Wakatoshi! Good night :)

Ushijima’s smile grew.

Can’t wait to see you, Sho. Good night.

For the first time in three days, Ushijima felt the tension ease from his body. He placed his phone back on the bedside table, a soft sigh escaping him as he closed his eyes.

Tomorrow, he would see Hinata again. Tomorrow, he would make things right.

And for the first time in days, Ushijima fell asleep with a smile on his face.