#ushijima wakatoshi fanfic | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mambalae-s · 1 year

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fallen glory — ushijima wakatoshi x reader

wc: 3.2k words

cw: god! wakatoshi x nymph! reader; unprotected sex; breeding kink; size kink; wakatoshi is a big boi; reader is described as a black woman; degradation; manhandling; ; creampie; not proof read; if i’m forgetting anything please let me know!

notes from author: please, if you’re under 18, do NOT interact with or read this post. i will block you.

there are legends among mortal towns, the tellings of stories passed on by flesh and bone. a god, mankind will utter through shrouds of smoke, beneath fire-lit nights of centuries old, where the stars would even hold their breath to hear the words of divine destruction. a god so mighty and fearsome that wields power in his breath alone, that the earth would tear herself apart and offer her burning heart, that she would so desperately beseech her master that this mere sacrifice would be enough to please him. mankind would sing those sorrow-filled ballads of flaming rivers that sputtered brilliant embers, so brilliant in their dying glory that venus herself would weep and beg for mercy.

and this god, oh, this righteous and almighty god, his heart would mirror the depths of darkness. how cruel, this god, that he would beckon the tempests and the floods to destroy and ruin the earth, that he would paint wars and famine across endless seas and planes until there would be nothing left of man. when he bestows his wrath on bellowing thunders and rips the heavens asunder with magnificent lightning, he holds no mercy for the weak and unfaithful. his eyes behold, and his left hand cast their judgement, and the earth can do nothing but wait with bated breath as the universe stands still around her, powerless, and without charge of the pestilence that would next consume her and wipe her filthy soul clean once more.

oh, but who could imagine the divine’s demise at the hands of a damsel?

let these words not travel far, lest they spread across continents and reveal him for what he is. let the world not know of his mortality, of a heart that quivers before summer-touched evenings and sings wretched hymns of manly lust and desire. of his visits to the holy garden, they must not learn, even less should they know of the soul that resides there — the very same that would tame the tempest, and incite a hunger so ravenous and feral only to quench it all the same.

he’s here; you know without even looking, and your intuition tells you that he knows that you know. you don’t need to look behind you to know that wakatoshi’s watching you, eyes of gold and olive that stalk you like a hunter. he takes in every part of your image as a devotee does with visions. the droplets of water that glisten across dark brown skin, the sheer white fabric that clings to your full mounds and ass, barely doing anything to conceal your perked nipples, or the dip between your plush thighs. by the heavens, you truly are a vision of sin and desire — one that held the key to destruction between two-toned lips and written like scriptures among dark coils of hair akin to sacred vines.

“well?” you sigh, sinking further into the pond. the cool water kisses your skin with a tenderness that washes away the day’s searing heat. goosebumps rise across your body and you lull your head to the side, and that’s when you see him, your god come here to visit the garden of eden. “will you just stand there or are you gonna join me?”

how brazen, you must’ve sounded, irreverent as if you knew not the god who’d walked into your sanctuary. yet you knew all too well who he was, and you knew what he’d come for. you knew that, just with the sight of your body drenched in water, you could unravel this benevolent god and reduce him to nothing but a man lost in desire. since the first day he found you here on a lonely spring’s afternoon so many years ago, you’d somehow wrapped his tongue between your teeth and poisoned him with pleasure untold so that he would return time and time again. he reminds you of a lunatic, seeking the taste of your nectar like a man who knows nothing else, and you’d become his drug and his achilles heel, the very thing that could unwind this god and render him to nothingness.

the waters part to make way, welcoming wakatoshi into the pool as he comes close to you. his body presses against yours and he leaves no room between, so greedy in the way his fingers dip into your waist and burying his face into the crook of your neck to take in your scent. you reach up one hand to wrap into his long, jade green locks, and you pull him closer to you, eager to feel his lips leaving soft kisses across your skin.

“i can’t stop thinking about you…” he grumbles into your jawline, hungry and impatient. his fingers wrap into the thin fabric of your gown, nails digging into your flesh as he pulls you closer, pressing his hard cock into your ass as if he wants it to disappear between it. “fuck, what are you doing to me?”

you can’t help the soft moan that escapes your lips, though you know there’d be no sense trying to. coyly, you reach for one of his hands and bring it down to your pussy, pressing his palm flat against it and pushing yourself further against his length. “nothing, darling.” the words that leave you are teasing, almost to test him — accentuated by your sugary laugh when his fingers begin to peel your dress against your skin without you needing to tell him. “it’s you who keeps coming back here on your own accord.”

his fingers dip between your thighs and your knees buckle a bit when they brush against your pussy. you’re wet, wakatoshi discovers your slick already pooling into his hands despite him hardly even touching you. tauntingly, he caresses you, pools your slick along his fingers as he so barely slides them between your swollen cunt to hear the hiss that slips out of your mouth.

“look at you,” he chuckles, condescending. “so needy already, hm? do you want a god’s cock to defile you that badly?”

he’s baiting you, drawing on your words like a puppeteer, you know it. only touching you ever so slightly, giving you the smallest taste of what he knows you want, yet he wants you to beg for it. he wants you to throw yourself unto desperate abandon and give yourself up to him. and it’s working too damn well. greedily, you try to sink yourself down on his fingers, but he quickly stops you with a hand around your throat. frustrated, you whimper. “wakatoshi…” you keen. “for god’s sake, stop toying with me already!”

his teeth sink into your neck suddenly, the sensation of his lips sucking on your flesh causing your pussy to flutter. “nngh…” overcome with weakness, your head falls back against his chest, and your eyes are forced to behold the behemoth of a man behind you; the glistening droplets that slide down olive skin and the furrowed lines atop his expression. his lips part on breaths heavy and weighted as he squeezes his fingers tighter around your throat, and your own breath catches beneath his grip. you’re left wanting, needing the very air he robs you of, needing him inside your core, needing him and everything he’d give to you.

ah, you think bitterly, i’ll lose this war again today.

“you know what i want to hear from you, little one.” wakatoshi’s words ghost against the shell of your ear, causing you to shiver, heat coursing through each pulse despite the chill of the water. he takes his hand from your soiled thighs and brings his fingers to his mouth, and you watch with eyes glazed by lust as he sucks your juices from them and groans. “hurry…” he huffs. his cock twitches against your ass impatiently, his balls almost ready to burst and bury themselves inside your tight little cunt. “you know i don’t like waiting…”

those words so heavy and fogged over by hunger, you know he’s teetering on the very edge of snapping, letting you know that you’re not the only one who wants the other. he makes slow, intentional work of licking his fingers clean and he sees the way your inhibitions snap behind your eyes, revels in the whimper that leaves your lips as your hands fly to remove your dress all on your own. your breasts fall freely for him to see them glistening under filtered sunlight and of sight of your pursed nipples causes his length to twitch hungrily against your ass.

“please…!” inhibitions abandon you, your pride lost on the incessant pulsing between your legs. you need him to fill you, to ravish and demolish you — you’re aching now, impatient, craving him, “please, toshi, i need you inside me… now!”

you see the very moment wakatoshi reaches his limits and he snaps.

a yelp escapes you as he hoists you up, spinning you around to lock your legs around his hip. his lips crash into yours, mercilessly pushing his tongue into your wet cavern like a beast as he drinks you in. he feels your moans rumbling through his chest and he responds in kind, the space between you non-existent and your body flushed against him.

“that’s a good girl.” whimpering, you claw your fingers into his back as if holding on for dear life. “that wasn’t so hard, was it?” you want to curse him for toying with you, want to shut that filthy, irreverent mouth of his but your mind is too cloudy to give anything but sweet pleas of his name. drool pools from between your lips as he draws his tongue along your neck, suckling and biting every inch of skin. you’ll bruise blue and purple, you know it, but you can’t bring yourself to care. you want him to mark you, want him to possess your body and soul.

your fingers tangle into his tresses of green hair and you pull, causing him to hiss against your neck. “enough already, wakatoshi..!” despite your harsh words, you know they sound like nothing but muddled pleas to him. he’s so much bigger than you, it’s hard to forget he still has control over you — the way his large palms squeeze your ass, the way your body has to sit just above his hip, it’s hard to forget that fact.

“just fuck me already! you act like you don’t know the things you do to me, haah, like you don’t know how much you make me want you even— nngh, even when… you’re not here…”

ah, but how unfair of you, isn’t it? how can you accuse him of such things when really, you’re the one who does this to him? how could you not know that your visage haunts him day and night? that he dreams of taking you over and over, of pumping your hole full of his seed until your tummy would swell? that even then, he’d keep filling you up, keening to hear those sweet, filthy cries of his name over and over? you must know what you do to him; he growls against your skin, sinking his teeth into your collar and causing you to cry out and pull against his hair. “then tell me what you want, darling…”

frustration bubbles within you like an erotic poison as you glare down into emerald orbs. have you not been clear enough for him? what prayers would it take to satisfy this insatiable god? for him to finally give himself to you and abandon all else? you’re already powerless here in his hands, your dress reduced to a soaking bundle that wraps around your waist where his hands palm your bare skin. the tip of his cock only barely touching your core, and you can do nothing but wait until he sinks you down unto it. struggle as you might, your need couldn’t be fulfilled until he wills it, until he finally lets in and use you like you want to be used.

“i want you to take responsibility…” pettily, you huff, eyes narrowing further at the coy grin that sits on his mouth. even with his flushed cheeks and your spit coating his skin, he looks up at you, waiting for you to finish. “i want you to destroy me and fuck me senseless. i want you to force me to take every drop of seed and use me until your fat cock empties out everything inside me.”

wakatoshi hums, pleased, it seems, by your words, though he knows he wouldn’t have been able to hold off any longer even if he hadn’t wrung them out of you. oh, the things you do to him without even knowing that turn him into a wild beast. he all but eagerly lines up the head of his throbbing dick to your entrance, and the warmth of it is already so welcoming as he parts your pussy lips, teasingly rubbing your clit.

“take responsibility, hm?” he purrs against your skin as you whimper, soon forcing out the loveliest scream of his name as he brings you down in one swift motion. he watched your eyes roll into the back of your head, drinks in the way your lips fly open as his length spreads you apart. his own eyes narrow and he clenches his teeth — your tight walls squeeze around him so deliciously, so small and delicate as they clamp around the intrusion. “such a pretty, fragile little doll, aren’t you? fuck…!”

god, he hadn’t even fully sunken into you yet, and already he felt himself hitting the tip of your cervix, pressing deeper and deeper and causing your entire body to convulse as drool pours from your lips, fat tears pooling on your waterline. your orgasm wrecks your body in waves and you tremble, already fucked too weak to even support yourself. helplessly, you fall limp into wakatoshi’s arms, neck lulling back so that you’re forced to look up at the god above you, forced to watch his face contort in mortal pleasure as your hole continues to needily suck him in.

“aww…” he coos at your pathetic form. he brings one hand to cup your messy cheek while the other continues to support your weight, pushing a thumb into your open lips. almost mindlessly, you latch unto it and begin sucking. “already? kitten, i’ve hardly done anything to you yet.” even then, wakatoshi wants more from you. he wants to fuck you senseless, break you to nothingness until you couldn’t think of anything but him inside you. so he pushes, deep past your walls until he fully buries himself inside you, his tip so deliciously hitting your womb. you squeal and tighten your legs at the sensation of him bottoming out of you, dig your nails deep into his arms as if to ground yourself from slipping further.

“w-wait…! please, toshi—!” you cry, though your words are lost on him, drowned by his heavy breaths as he presses his lips against yours, pleas swallowed up while your body shakes. “i only just came, i’m— nngaah! ‘m too sensitive, slow down— fuck! ahh!”

despite your begging, wakatoshi doesn’t give you a moment to recover. he sets a relentless pace of pounding into you, pushing deeper and deeper, the sound of his balls clapping so filthily against your slick not yet enough to hide each honey-coated wail he forces out of you. “you said to… hnngn— take responsibility, didn’t you?” roughly, he wraps his hand around your throat and forces you to look up at him, all so he can take in that beautifully fucked expression you wear, teardrops lining your lashes and your mouth wantonly gasping for air. “that’s exactly what i’m doing, darling. isn’t this what you wanted?”

“yes..!” you can’t deny it. lying to him would be no use, it’s too late to try. your body’s already betrayed you for the pleasure he gives you, your battered hole pulsing around him with each thrust as he stretched you impossibly wide. “yes, wakatoshi..! fuck! i wanted you to fuck me n use me just like this!”

he chuckles, sinful and ungodly, as he releases his hold on your throat to place it around your waist and pulls you down, over and over, repeatedly until your body can do naught but fall to his mercy. “haah..! nngh….! fuck, fuck, fuuuck!”

“that’s it, kitten, just like that.” oh, heavens help him, he already feels himself beginning to waver, his hips staggering as he drives into you. he’s so close, his cock twitching viciously inside your beaten pussy, so close to exploding and filling you up. “take everything, you hear me? i’m gonna cum deep inside your filthy little cunt, and you better take all of it. gonna breed you again and again.”

“mhn! mhn! mhhn!” you’re far too gone to even understand the words he growls at you, far too gone to care for much else other than the sensation of him breaking you apart, or for the prayer you let escape your corrupted heart. “do it..! do it, waka…! let everything out and cum inside me, please, please, please!”

oh, how good did it feel to be at his mercy, to let him ruin you time and time again, at his beck and call. beneath his hold, you release all senseless moral and surrender to the wicked hunger of a being far greater than you. without warning, your body convulses beneath your pleasure as your second orgasm crashes over you. it rips through every vein in your body and releases itself from your core and you scream, your mind gone blank as you cream and squirt all over him. the very coil wound so tightly within your gut breaks like a tidal wave and pushes you off the edge, and after a few more harsh thrusts, you’re granted your reward.

wakatoshi grunts and gasps as his cock bursts his cum inside you, near panting as he pulls you flush against his hip and forces every drop into your delicate womb. his fingers dig deep into your doughy flesh, moans falling from him like a man needing air. he’d spent every last drop inside of you, his chest heaves on the aftershocks of pleasure, but gods be damned, he isn’t through with you yet. you, crumbled against his chest and fucked positively dumb, he hadn’t yet had his fill of you.

“h-hey, wakatoshi, what’re you—!” your startled shout goes unheard by the god as he forces you off his cock, only to bend you over rear up against the edge of the pool. shivers involuntary wreck your body, your whole clenching and your form already weakened by him. “please, i can’t take anymore, lemme rest a little— gaah!”

he silences you quickly by pushing his fingers into your stretched hole, pushing his cum back inside you as your walls object, already far too sensitive. “didn’t you hear me?” he grins, though you can’t see his expression from behind you. so, he pulls you up by your neck, grinning as he towers over your small frame. oh, how feeble and defenseless you stood before him, your legs couldn’t even support your frame, and it was all because of him.

“i said i’d make sure to fill up this tight little cunt. i’m not just done with you yet.”

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sostonegreen · 2 months

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Ushijima Wakatoshi

Hi people on tumblr!

Iv'e been wanting to write a oneshot about ushijima for a while now. I would really love it you send me some of your ideas (i'll tag you) )

I always try to keep my characters as realistycally as possible because i hate it when he's suddenly some kind of flirty fuckboy. But I'm open for new, creative ideas or cute scenario's whatever seems fun! Everyone is welcome to help :)

#ushijima wakatoshi #ushijima x reader #haikyuu wakatoshi #wakatoshi x reader #wakatoshi fluff #haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #hq #hq x reader #hq smut #hq fluff #hq fanfic #ushijima fluff

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leahrintarou · 7 months

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☠︎︎ DAY SEVENTEEN: CORRUPTION FT. USHIJIMA

☠︎︎ WARNINGS: riding him for the first time, he's sick, no protection, he finishes inside lol, fluff?

☠︎︎ WORD COUNT: 1k

"I'll be fine, n/n"

y/n nodded at his figure, slowly allowing the concerned expression to leave her features. it were the two's third year anniversary but their plans were canceled due to the fact that ushijima had fallen bedridden from a cold. they decided to spend the day in bed together, which explains their current situation.

his back rested against the headboard as he would take small glances from his phones screen to the book that y/n was currently reading. the pages were in his field of vision due to the fact that y/n leaned over to him to rest her head on his chest. despite feeling so weakened down from his headache and sore throat, he couldn't help but be in the mood for something other than their current yet innocent moment.

he and y/n had never done something that only focused on his pleasure and his only. there were time's when y/n insisted but in all honesty, he just wasn't used to having someone other than himself, have control. "n/n?" he called, voice a bit rough due to not speaking for a while and of course, from the wretched state of his throat. she closed the pages of her book before tilting her head up to give ushijima her attention.

"can I talk to you about something?"

this time, y/n placed her book on an empty space of the bedding before motioning for him to continue, with a nod. "can we try out something new?" he asked, waiting patiently for y/n's answer but was met with a confused expression instead. "with what?"

"since I'm kind of, in the mood but I barely have energy, I want you to try riding me. if you're up to it?"

"....right now?" he was straightforward with his words, catching y/n of guard at the topic. he nodded and she contemplated the situation for a while before hesitantly reflecting his action. leaning back into the firmness of the headboard, ushijima carefully guided y/n to straddle his lap before pulling her figure closer to his chest. "I might get you sick...are you sure about this?"

y/n nodded before leaning into his touch and allowing their lips to meet. ushijima felt relief at the long awaited contact that he'd been wanting ever since their day started. he let out a hoarse groan when y/n adjusted her seating on his lap to be directly on top of his aroused member. placing his hands on her hips, he gently gripped her figure before guiding her to grind against himself.

her moan fanned the corner of his lips when she couldn't help but part from the kiss due to the sudden friction. "can you do that again?" he said through an impatient tone. y/n followed out with his requested, repeating the action in a more controlled and smoother manner, feeling satisfied when ushijima's groans were muffled into her neck.

y/n reached for his hand that loosely clasped onto her hip before guiding him to palm her chest. his grip gently tightened around the area making y/n let out a small whine when his thumb gently grazed her sensitive buds in a repetitive motion. she felt how ushijima slowly began to become more aroused from the friction of her motioning hips, making her decide to take the situation a step further.

she lifted her hips for a moment to removed her bottoms before slightly pulling down then hem of both ushijima briefs and sweatpants. his unoccupied hand made it's way to her sex before he applied small and pleasure feeling, circular movements with his thumb against her bud. y/n reached for his aroused erection, firmly holding him in a fist before continuing to use a pumping motion.

their soft moans filled the once quiet room before both sets of lust filled gazes finally met. "can I?" she managed to asked through a shudder, finally building up enough courage to correctly and fully pleasure her lover. ushijima nodded, removing his hand from her bud and allowing y/n to clasp onto his hand, interlocking their digits. y/n used her free hand, simultaneously lifting her hips to align his erection with her own sex.

ushijima let out a grunt after feeling y/n's prominent arousal graze the head of his member. she slightly relaxed her hips to allow him to finally enter her sex, a sensual moan falling past her lips at the sudden stretch. she whined out his name, tightening the hold of her fingers in their shared and interlocked grip. "it's okay, n/n" he mumbled through a heavy breath, noticing how her knees were on the verge of faltering from the pleasure.

an audible blurt of a swear, unexpectedly left y/n's lips when she finally and completely slid herself down ushijima. he moaned at the warm engulfment, his grip on her breast suddenly loosening to play with it's bud's instead. the pleasure from just that alone only made y/n feel desperate for relief in other places too. she let a whine at the discomfort of this newly introduced position, feeling thankful when ushijima placed a hand on the lower area of her back to help keep a steady tempo in benefit of both their satisfactions.

y/n did eventually get the hang of it and ushijima noticed. she were less tense, her movements and moans were more controlled, and her pace was slowly picking up due to need. he felt a feeling of euphoria when y/n clenched down around him due to a sudden movement of his playful fingers, against the buds of her breast. their pant's and pleasure filled moans continued to grow as seconds passed.

y/n's bud made slight friction with ushijima's lower abdomen due to her grinding movements, causing her peak to arrive with a minimum of one more controlled movement. she gripped ushijima's hand, managing to ground her self to reality as she heard him groan, followed by his warm arousal being released inside of her sex.

"again but, I want you to be louder this time"

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houseoftulips · 2 years

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Living With… ~ Ushijima Wakatoshi

Fem reader and ushijima in a relationship (age over 21)

Synopsis ~ here are just things it would be like living with our stoic Miracle Boy. God, I love him so much just look at this picture of him!!

Content warning ~ just a smole bit of booby and thigh loving but that’s it, just fluff, fluff, fluff

First of all, waking up next to him seeing his bed head will immediately be the highlight of your day and him seeing you will be his highlight as well. He’ll pull you in closer with giggles falling from your smile just to snuggle for a bit. Sometimes on weekends you guys fall back asleep in each other’s arms.

He actually likes being the small spoon with his arms wrapped around your waist and his face buried between your boobs. Every once in a while he’ll add an occasional love bite as you run your fingers through his olive green hair. He’d even force you on your back so he could lay on your stomach or between your thighs.

“Babe?” you softly call to him.

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“You’re not uncomfortable?” you asked as you run your fingers through his scalp.

“No,” he mumbles as he kissed your inner thigh, “These are my favorite pillows.”

You guys would actually spend your rare free time in bed with him laying between your things as you both binge watch your favorite anime shows.

You love Ushijima with all your being but this man can be a little blunt with you when it comes to cleaning. He’s not necessarily a clean freak but there are ways to keep things tidy and up to his standards that aren’t hard to keep up with. (his words)

Cleaning is something he’s always kept up with since high school so he doesn’t get overwhelmed with trash, laundry, or anything of the sort when he comes home from practice or away games. Especially since he’s lived mostly alone when he wasn’t at the dorms of Shiratorizawa.

He put you on his cute little cleaning schedule he has for the week with him. Sundays mornings are for laundry and groceries, Tuesdays are for cleaning the bed sheets and towels, and Fridays are for cleaning the bathroom and kitchen. At first you were a little baffled by such a schedule because you didn’t put yourself on one.

“Honey… You don’t think it’s too much to go by that all the time?” you asked as you watched him dig under the kitchen sink to find his cleaning supplies for the bathroom.

“No? Why would I?” he asks out of curiosity as tall ass rises from the floor and hovers over you like a god damn cyclopes.

“We’ll because I’ve never done a schedule like this before. It’s so much work,” you laughed as you wrapped your arms around his waist. “We could be cuddling right now…”

A deep chuckle slips from his lips as he kissed your forehead. “I may have caught onto that a while ago but if feels strenuous to you I’ll give you a massage for completing such a task,” he smiled softly with a small hint of sarcasm.

Kisses on your forehead was something you learned that he loves doing. Yes, he can’t ever get enough of your sweet kisses on your lips but with the height gap between you two, it feels more sensual on his side, but you’re obviously not complaining. It’s also his way of comforting you and himself. He wraps his arms around your shoulders as he drowns your forehead in soft kisses and mumbles sentences consisting of “how was your day?” or “What do you need from me, baby?” or a simple, “I love you.”

He’s not too much of a cook, that’s more your thing. But that doesn’t stop him from learning or helping you out because he hates not doing something for you. He’s actually really good at cutting veggies to whatever desired size you’re looking for along with accurately measuring the ingredients. It’s also a perfect way for him to spend time with you since he’s not always home.

He has a thing for sweets but since he can’t eat too much of it because of volleyball, you make enough to last more than a week between the both of you. It’s one of his favorite reasons for coming home all happy is smelling the sweetness of whatever baked goodies you’ve made. It really makes him feel at home with you especially after coming home from away games.

Away games was something you guys fought over in the beginning when you moved in together. Before it was different because…well you weren’t living together so you were used to not being around him as it was. But as soon as you found your apartment and moved in, you guys were together all the time.

He knew that you were just missing him when you guys fought so he never let it get to him and always made sure to let you know that he’s listening to you. He was able to read you like a book most of the time and he knew how to put two and two together rather fast. So after those fights, he promised to be even more communicative than he already was to help ease the hurt you felt when he was gone. He also went out of his way to get you to come with him and his team to games out of the country. He genuinely thought it was absurd to leave you for months at a time so he took you much to your dismay.

“‘Tosh, I understand that you have to leave so don’t feel obligated to take me with you,” you said to him as you cooked dinner together.

He then looked at you like you shot him in the heart with a shotgun and a rifle at the same time. He was completely baffled at the fact you would say something like that because everything he’s done for you and will continue doing so is never out of obligation. “Why would you say such a thing,” he asked, “Its not out of obligation, you’re my girlfriend. You’re practically my wife at this point so don’t think I see you as any less than that,” he huffs as he continues to mince the mushrooms.

You smiled softly and didn’t bother to continue the conversation because deep down inside you were happy that he took you with him to those games but you wouldn’t have survived months of being apart. “You’re more than the best… I hope you know that,” you said to him.

He turns toward you to cup your cheeks as he kisses your forehead with his stoic smile. “I’ll always know that, baby,” he says as he wraps his arms around you.

And it’s true, living with him has taught you that he knows that you love him and he loves you. There were days where the both of you would sit down for a cup of coffee in the morning and just talk.

In high school, he wasn’t much of a talker but when he met you, he changed that. While he’s a bit straightforward, he makes sure he does it in a way where he doesn’t come off as an ass or as a way to start a fight. He’s obviously a lot more open to you than he is to his teammates so he actually likes to come home and rant to you about how stupid his team can be.

Baths with you are also something that’s comforting for him. It’s provided a quiet place for him as he just leans back and watches you read your book as you sit against his chest. Every once in a while, he’ll kiss your bare shoulder go let you he’s thanking you for the quality time you’re providing for him. There are even days where he’s beat to a pulp so you wash his body for him as you sit on his lap. His forehead leans against your chest as you wash his back and shoulders with his arms wrapped around your waist. You give him sweet and soft praises for making it through the long and grueling day to which he’s thankful for.

He’s so thankful for you…

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kaslovestsuki · 9 months

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Headcannons of Toshi, Tsuiki, and akaashi of randomly peppering there face with kisses :0

Sorry I didn't get to this sooner I've been preparing to move to NJ since I got a new house But here we go

Peppering their faces with kisses<3

Characters: Toshi, Tsuki, and, Akaashi

Warnings: none

• Toshi: He was definitely surprised at first, though he ended up getting super flustered by the gesture and ended up kissing you back. He thought something was wrong at first but you assured him that you just wanted to show him some love.

• Tsuki: He pulled back at first not realizing what you were doing, but he eventually stayed still til you were done. He was a little flustered but ended up just giving you a small smile and giving you a long kiss in return.

• Akaashi: He was blushing a lot, he loves when you kiss his face and you kissing all over his face was a dream. He definitely kisses you a bunch afterwards to give you the same treatment. He asked you if you would do it again.

TY Y'ALL SM FOR THE SUPPORT I DIDN'T THINK ANYONE WOULD LIKE MY WORK.

Also I apologize for not posting as much I'm balancing out work and some family stuff going on. I'm inheriting a house from my grandfather so I'm just trying to figure everything out. Love y'all sm <3

#fandom #fanfic #hq!!#haikyuu!!#fluff #hq x reader #haikyuu akaashi #akaashi fluff #akaashi x reader #akaashi keiji #tsukkishima kei #tsukki x reader #tsukishima x reader #ushijima fluff #hq ushijima #ushijima x reader #ushijima wakatoshi #please #send help

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wakatshi · 2 years

Text

❛ THROUGH THE LATE NIGHT ❜ USHIJIMA WAKATOSHI

⩇⩇:⩇⩇ PLOT — getting your hookup’s phone number — an easy task, although being high gets you the wrong number and a stranger’s confusing answer.

ushijima wakatoshi — billionaire. how’d you end up texting him from all people? he’s a man of a few words. a man who’s too busy to reciprocate your useless flirting attempts, too busy to concern himself with relationships. you can’t see through him. he’s stern and harsh. too stuck up for you.

curiosity killed the cat. it didn’t kill you, but it sure got you caught up in the middle of something far more dangerous than you could’ve ever expected. the streets of tokyo hide dark secrets and the city you once knew turns into a long forgotten memory.

⩇⩇:⩇⩇ ABOUT — billionaire/ceo ushijima au, female reader, humor, multiple plot twists, fake relationship, night life, alcohol and drug use, blood, dark & sensitive topics such as death, murder, abuse, torture, kidnap, violence, alcoholism, smut.

⩇⩇:⩇⩇ TAGLIST — CURRENTLY CLOSED.

PLAYLIST & BOARD | MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

i. — that’s not atsumu’s number!

ii. — turns out he’s not a liar.

iii. — favorite torture method?

iv. — wasabi peanuts fan.

v. — where’s my lawyer?

vi. —

vii. —

viii. —

#ushijima wakatoshi #ushijima x reader #ushijima x you #ushijima fic #ushijima fanfic #ushijima smau #haikyuu x you #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fic #haikyuu smau #hq fic #hq smau #ushijima wakatoshi smut #ushijima smut #miya atsumu #miya atsumu x reader #miya atsumu fic #haikyuu smut

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revasserium · 1 year

Note

Hello sweets

How are you? I really hope you are doing well!

Can you please if I'm not bothering you have number 8 with Wakatoshi?

reqs are open :)

8. larger than fiction

ushijima; 1,283 words; fluff, one-sided love, but it's literally not angst. just trust me on this one lol.

when you think of superheroes, you do not think of him.

you do not think of the way his raw strength and power might be a blessing from the gods. you do not think of how his absolute trust and knowledge in his own abilities might be thrust upon him by some careless divinity. you do not think he was chosen or birthed into this world with his one purpose already pressed into the curves of his body, the lines of his hands.

“uwah… wakatoshi-kun is really blessed, isn’t he?”

you blink, looking up from your sideways phone, propped up on your desk, playing the newest mv of the latest boyband debut.

“he is?”

this time, its your friend who blinks back at you, stuttering.

“you… you don’t think so?”

you quirk your lips, eyes sliding back to the mv, where a boy with cherry lips and fire-engine hair is winking at the camera.

“no. not really,” you say, taking a long sip of your half-finished strawberry milk, thinking back to the events of the past summer.

b-bam! thump-thump-thump. b-bam!

“out,” you say, squinting at the place where the ball had landed, just a hair’s-breath beyond the line. by the time you look back up, he is already standing back, another ball in his hands.

“one more,” he says, as he tosses, his heels rocking back for a second before he takes his first step, and then another. you watch as he jumps, his entire body a defiance, a motion against the pull of the earth, the laws of gravity — he reaches up with a hand drawn behind his head and when he swings it forward to meet the falling arc of the ball, you swear the earth beneath you shudders.

b-bam!

ushijima lets out a breath, looking up at you from the other side of the fluttering net, and you wonder briefly if you were to map out all the different parts of him onto a gridded scale, parse him out into perfect squares, which bits might be the ones that contain all that strength, all that perseverance. and then, you laugh to yourself, nodding as you shoot him a thumbs up to signal — good, this last one was good.

he smiles, nods, and walks back to the baseline.

what a stupid question, you think, because the answer is, and has always been, obvious —

all of him.

in the hallway, the bell rings.

“ah… isn’t it a little sad?”

“what, that that volleyball-idiot ushiwaka doesn’t even realize that the prettiest girl in our year is in love with him?”

“yeah… i mean, really — how thick can he be? poor girl.”

you finish your strawberry milk and click off your phone.

“nee — you wanna come watch a movie with us tonight?”

you flash your well-meaning friend a smile, but you shake your head.

“sorry. i’ve got plans.”

b-bam! thump-thump-thump. b-bam!

“again,” he says, already picking up another ball.

outside, the sun has long since set, and the moon and stars have shed their cloaks of silver-kissed clouds. the night is deep and dark and laden with the sweet promises of youth — out there, teenagers just like you are laughing, eating popsicles, trading texts, watching movies, chatting about the latest manga updates, but here, it’s just you and him and one more ball.

briefly, you think of the walk home later, of how he’ll diligently walk on the outside of the sidewalk, of how he’ll watch to make sure you close the door before he’ll turn and leave. you think of how the following morning, he’ll be there at 7:45am right on the dot, and how he’ll bow to your mom as she thanks him for taking care of you.

b-bam! thump-thump-thump. b-bam!

“and… that’s one hundred!” you say, smiling wide as you reach out to pick up the scattered volleyballs around you, tossing them at him one at a time, watching as he diligently returns each to the large blue ball-bin with a dig. the ones he misses, he picks up to toss back to you, so he can try again.

“thanks,” he says, when the two of you have finished locking up the gymnasium, turning towards the main road where the bus stop is. out here, girls giggle in pastel pleated skirts, lips glittering with strawberry-flavored gloss. out here, boys gather in clusters to hype each other up before shoving one of them towards a group of giggling girls. out here, the summer ebbs and flows, crests and crashes against the jagged reefs of oncoming adulthood, and ushijima walks beside you, one hand on his sports bag, the other tucked into his jersey pocket.

“no problem,” you say, as you get to your front door and he stills to wait for you to walk away. you grin, waving a hand over your shoulder, “same time tomorrow?”

“un.”

you do not turn to check if he’s still watching.

months later, when they lose to karasuno, you don’t tell him you’re sorry, or that he did the best he could.

because both of you know that his strength and power comes not from the gods, but from uncountable hours of condition-training, and that his absolute trust and knowledge of his own abilities comes not from divinity, but from an entire lifetime of trying and failing, and trying again until failure is no longer a word in his dictionary.

because neither of you think that he was chosen for this, because you know that this is the choice, and that he is the maker. and that every morning, he wakes up to make it, again, and again, and again.

because he is not a superhero, so this losing is not a tragedy.

because he is not a superhero, and this is just one more tally on the calluses and tick-marks that mar his hands from the number of times he’s fallen and gotten back up again to find that you were right there by his side.

“tonight,” he says on the bus-ride back to school, where goshiki is sniffling next to a perplexed tendou, where shirabu is methodically un-taping each of his fingers, he turns to you with a steady, hard-lined look in his eyes.

“we practice a hundred more spikes.”

you nod, leaning against the back of your seat with a soft smile.

“alright,” you say, you don’t need to look to know that he’s smiling too.

“thank you,” he says, when, after some unnamable hours of spike-practice, you’re finally locking up for the day.

“yeah, of course,” you say.

“you… you’re my best friend,” he says. on your usual walk home, the main street is quiet for once, because it’s so damn late. you wonder if your parents will be worried, but then again, they know who you’re with, so they’ve no reason to be anyway.

“yeah,” you say, “i know.”

you turn to find him looking at you, and you wonder if you were to parse yourself into perfect squares, which bits of you ushijima would be most afraid of losing. and the answer comes, obvious, as the stars that shine bright in the night —

all of you.

because he is not a superhero, and you have never needed anyone’s saving.

because he is just a boy, who’s first and only love is the sport he plays. and you’re just a girl, who wouldn’t have him any other way.

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natriae · 5 months

Note

Ushi gushi who u dated thru highschool and 2nd year college and he is getting hornier but all u guys have done so far is make out and hand job/fingering till u ask if he wants to go further and BOY does he and u see a side of him u never imagine 😍

HEHEH KICKING MY FEET AND GIGGLING RN

Ushijima Wakatoshi is no doubt the best boyfriend ever. He spoils you and always makes time for you. He would drop everything to go see you, but he's still wakatoshi. He has a hard time with social cues and displaying his emotions. You like to call yourself the 'Toshi master. Usually able to understand his affection and thoughts without him showing it.

He's remained the same since highschool. He stuck to the same routine with little differences in the past years. He'd wake up do his morning run, then go to class, practice, then shower and do his homework, and finally cuddle you to sleep in his dorm. Saturdays were specifically reserved for you. He tried to leave his comfort zone by taking you on dates, but you knew he perfered to stay in. You did too, so it was no issue for you to spend every Saturday with Wakatoshi at your house back in highschool. He found comfort getting groceries with you and helping you clean. He found comfort in really anything that took his mind off his family.

There was a lot of feelings that Wakatoshi missed out, but with therapy and you supporting him along the way he got better at understand what he was feeling. Being away from his mother definitely helped as well.

Even with all his amazing qualities there were sometimes you felt insecure in your relationship. Going to college was a much different territory for both of you. Students from all around Japan went to school with you guys. At Shiratorizawa no one really talked to 'Jima because they were scared of him but here you can't remember a game where some girl wasn't flirting with him. Or even listening to how far your friends have gotten with their boyfriends. It's not that you want to force 'toshi out of his comfort zone, but sometimes you think he doesn't like you..like that. Almost like it's out of obligation.

After date night he asks if you want it instead of getting in the mood. Almost like it's apart of his routine. You guys eat, come home, he kisses you a bit and fingers you till you cum, and then he washes his hands and kisses you goodnight. You want him to do it for his own pleasure.

"everything okay?" He asks once he finishes washing the dishes. He walks over to the small couch you sat on while in deep thought.

Looking up at him you smile at his cute face. Bring your arms up signaling you want a hug. Lifting you up he places you on his lap as he sits down. You legs draped over his as your wrap your arms around his neck, resting your head on his chest. "I guess, I've just been thinking...'Jima you find me attractive, right?" Looking up you watch as he nods his head. His eyes srunching a little in thought. Your hand resting on his chest feels his heart begin to beat a little bit faster. " um, remember when Tendou had-um- remember in highschool when tendou was quite aroused and everyone made fun of him?"

"his boner?" Ushijima states unbothered.

Your face reddens at his outburst and you nod your head. "well why don't- you dont seem to get that when your with me, and I was worried that you dont feel that way about me, and I don't want you to be doing anything you find uncomfortable if you dont feel that way about me." While you ramble you start to feel a small poking at the side of your right butt cheek. "'Jima?"

His faces flushes a bit and his heart beats after as he brings his lips into his mouth. "I do feel that way about you." He says, not looking into your eyes.

Bringing your hand up to his cheek you move his head so the two of you can look at each other. "why don't you ever show it?" you pout.

"i don't want to make you uncomfortable." He tells you, face remaining unmoving. You watch as his pupils expand looking into your eyes. "Meditating usually helps it go away." He tells you like it was a serious issue. You giggle and move into kiss his lips.

"Do you still have those condoms Tendou gave you?"

His single nod is all you need to tell you that tonight you won't have to worry about Wakatoshi's attraction towards you.

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kisses4bei · 11 months

Text

Haikyuu Boys As Taylor Swift Lyrics

Warnings: slight angst??

Authors Note: IM BACK FROM THE DEAD LOLOLOL ANYWAYS IM TRYING SUM DIFFERENT SO PLS DONT MAKE FUN OF ME I WILL CRY

“I guess you didnt care, and i guess i liked that”

- Kageyama, Tsukishima, Suna, Ushijima, Kenma,

It’s not like he means to ignore you or be so dry towards you. His mind is just always focusing on something else. You were never his first priority. It was always either volleyball or school first. Or maybe he just didnt think you were worth putting the time and effort into. You still followed him though. Everywhere he went. He was like a magnet with a strong force always pulling you back into him.

“Hes so tall and handsome as hell”

- Tsukishima, Oikawa, Kuroo, Lev, Atsumu, Osamu, Bokuto

Man when your mom told said that you were gonna be blessed with the best in the future, this was not what you expected. This was way beyond the best. He was perfect. He was everything you could ever ask for. His handsome face to the perfect height difference between the two of you. How did you end up with someone so out of your league? You ask yourself this at least a million times a day.

“I cant say anything to your face, cause look at your face, you’re gorgeous”

- Akaashi, Sugawara, Oikawa, Kita, Suna,

You had the largest crush on him. You couldnt tell him though. No matter how hard you tried to tell him, make slight conversation, or even ask for a simple favor, your words just came out as a jamble. His eyes would pierce through you. How could you talk to him when he looks at you like that? All of his facial features just made you melt, they were so perfect, HE was so perfect.

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creative-crybaby · 2 years

Text

Desperate Times

PAIRING: Iwaizumi Hajime x fem!reader x Ushijima Wakatoshi

GENRE: college!au (post graduation, I suppose) | wee bit of angst/comfort | smut (18+)

Minors DNI

TAGS + WARNINGS: threesome, double penetration, anal, oral (m and f receiving), overstimulation, fingering, light manhandling, mentions of voyeurism, mentions of cyber sex, tit-fucking, facials, mentions of masturbation (m), squirting, cum eating, size kink, creampie

Let me know if I missed anything.

WORD COUNT: 6.2k

SUMMARY: The rare chance arises where you have both boyfriends to yourself, and you make sure to take advantage of your limited time together. All characters are 18+

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Here ya go, ya filthy animals <3 Final. Part.

Part 1: Desperate Times Calls for Desperate Pleasures

Part 2: Desperate Times Call

You made it work.

You tried to, at the very least. Not much was different between you and Iwaizumi; you’ve only grown closer with the change in your relationship status. School is out of the way, so now he can prioritize working under Utsui (and being with you, of course). Plus, you two already see each other every day—living together tends to do that to you. From his side, everything is simple: he wakes up to your sleeping form hugging his waist and goes to sleep with you by his side after a long day.

Ushijima doesn’t appear too bothered by the arrangement. When it comes to intimacy, you’d stick to how it all started: fucking your roommate while the volleyball player watches behind a lens, stroking his cock at the sight of your fucked out expression. You’d try to video call him whenever you could, and he has agreed with you when you’d whine about wanting to see him in person. Though, he still has volleyball as his top priority.

Truth be told, you may be the only one blowing the situation out of proportion. Iwaizumi’s plenty content waking up next to you every morning; Ushijima, while he misses you, has volleyball occupying him. Not that you don’t have a life outside of your boyfriends, but the possibility of neglecting them lingers in your head. You sometimes worry about the Schweiden Adlers member as you spend time with your roommate, then that stress shifts to the lack of attention you're giving him when he points out your distant stare.

You’ve gotten all sentimental, and you find it difficult to remember your carefree attitude from before. You don’t regret being with the athletes at all, of course, and while you haven’t changed completely, the difference between the current you and you from sophomore year wracks your brain. A couple of years is enough for one to grow, but you wish you didn’t care so much. Wished you had the same mindset as the men you love so much.

Your boyfriends are aware of your anxieties. They can’t say they blame you, though it’s not an easy problem to solve. You’re at your happiest when Ushijima visits, quick to pull both men along with you wherever you go to make up for the lost time. The last time the volleyball player was in your area, he had a game against an opposing group in that state. You couldn’t afford to go, though you rapidly pushed the spiky-haired male into your car and drove to the stadium as soon as you knew the game was over. You picked up your other boyfriend and brought him to your home, and that evening was spent with you riding him while stuffing your mouth with Iwaizumi’s cock.

So when Ushijima informed you of his plan to stay in California for a bit after your graduation, you were quick to offer to pick him up.

“My father is already going to do that.” The Schweiden Adlers player doesn’t miss how you falter at his words. “I’ll be staying with him, too, but I still plan on spending as much time as I can with you.”

As glad as you were to hear one of your boyfriends try to rebuild a relationship with their father, you can’t help but think about how much you’d like him all to yourself. The guilt from your selfish wishes soon follows, and you resume talking with him before eventually ending the call. Since then, you’ve repeatedly checked the date as if it would bring the volleyball player to you sooner. Even Iwaizumi had to threaten to take the calendar away should you let it continue to distract you.

Your roommate’s necessary threat didn’t stop you from bouncing your leg in anticipation as you waited for the desired date to arrive for you to drag your other handsome partner along.

So when you find said boyfriend standing at your door a couple of days earlier, your brain needs several seconds to process. With the initial confusion pushed aside (but not forgotten), you pounce on him. As tired as he may have been from his flight, Ushijima doesn’t mind the affectionate attack.

“You’re here,” you exclaim, words slightly muffled with your face buried in his neck. The volleyball player wraps his arms around you, the familiar warmth and musk tickling your senses. He hums in affirmation (not that it was necessary), and the sound of footsteps makes way to your ears.

“Hey, welcome back.” It’s your other (other?) boyfriend. Still holding onto Ushijima, you whip your head around.

“Did you know he’d be here sooner?” you ask somewhat accusingly. Iwaizumi’s wolfy grin–one that supposedly means “Surprise!”–makes you pout, but you’re quick to return your attention to the taller athlete. With a light peck on his cheek, your voice grows softer, sweeter. “How was your flight?”

Oh, you’ve changed, all right.

“It was fine,” he answers, gently placing you back down. Your arms remain secure around him. “My father picked me up, and my things are at his place. I’ll be having dinner with him tonight, so I won’t be able to stay here for long, but I still wanted to visit.”

You hide your disappointment by burying your face in his chest. Iwaizumi notices this and motions for Ushijima to enter.

“You must be tired still,” the spiky-haired male says, closing the door behind the other athlete. “How about some tea?”

The volleyball player nods. “Thanks.”

The visit was shorter than you would’ve liked. You’d try to get Ushijima to talk for as long as you could, not just out of interest, but in hopes he’d lose track of time as he’d recall one of his matches. Unfortunately, he’s the least talkative of you three. He noticed the time on the clock and announced it was time for him to leave. You masked your dismay with a chipper offer to make dinner for the three of you tomorrow, and his acceptance made you feel somewhat better.

The rest is routine whenever the volleyball player comes to visit: you’d follow him back to the entrance like a lost puppy, hug him for a little too long and pepper a little too many kisses on his face, and he remains quiet as you do so before giving you his rare but gentle smile. Then, he’s out the door.

A pair of bulky arms find their way around your waist from behind, and you lean back into the touch.

“You know you’ll see him tomorrow,” Iwaizumi murmurs against your neck, planting a light kiss there for good measure. You close your eyes, exhaling through your nose.

“Don’t worry, Hajime.” A teasing grin spreads on your face as you turn to face him. “I haven’t forgotten about you.”

Your roommate scoffs lightly, settling his chin on top of your head. “Not what I’m talking about.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Silence trails behind your dismissive mumble, and you rethink your actions during Ushijima’s visit. Even with his appearance not being as frequent as you’d like, would all the attention you give him to make up for the lost time make Iwaizumi feel neglected? You’ve voiced your concerns before, and even with his reassurance, you can’t help but wonder if you’ll ever cross a line neither of you knew was there.

Another kiss melts into your skin; this time, your temple.

“Hey.” Iwaizumi’s voice is soft as he gently pulls away from the embrace. With one of his hands cradling your cheek, he looks down at you with adoration. “It’s been a long day, even before Ushiwaka showed up. How about I run you a bath before dinner? You can use one of those bath bombs, too.”

You hum, leaning into his touch. “Will you join me?”

The spiky-haired male chuckles. “That was the plan, yeah.”

You smile coyly at him as your arms snake around his neck, pulling him into a kiss. He returns the affection, drawing you closer before signalling for you to jump by tapping your hip.

He’s carrying you to the bathroom like you weigh nothing. Your fingers tangle themselves in his messy locks as lust and need gradually replace the innocence in your kiss. Whatever paranoia consumed your thoughts has now disintegrated as Iwaizumi kicks the bathroom door closed behind him. You catch his expression as he pulls away and gently settles you down: with hooded lids and blown-out pupils, he has his appetite on full display as his hands glide down to the hem of your–his–shirt.

“Let me take care of you, pretty girl.”

Ushijima isn’t nearly as tired the next time you leap into his arms. Dare you say he was prepared for the impact, arms opening to hold your frame while you nuzzle your cheek against his. He greets Iwaizumi upon entering, walking to the couch like he’s back home with you gripping onto him like a koala.

“Let him breathe, (Y/N),” your roommate scolds.

“I don’t mind,” replies the Schweiden Adlers player, the baritone of his voice adding heat to your cheeks as you turn to grin mischievously at the spiky-haired male. He rolls his eyes at your childish response.

“So,” Iwaizumi starts, “I heard your team played against a team in Italy a few weeks back.”

Your other boyfriend nods. “We won.”

“Wish we could’ve watched it,” you slump against him. “I had exams at the time, and Haji was talking things out with your dad.” At the mention of his father, Ushijima turns to the other athlete in the room.

A proud grin itches onto Iwaizumi’s face. “I start working under him next week.”

You mask your snort by burying your face in the crook of Ushijima’s neck. “He’s totally in love with your dad, Toshi.”

The aforementioned boyfriend’s eyes trail down to your snickering form, then the glaring athlete sitting across from them. “A little strange, given our arrangement.”

“I’m not into your dad, Ushiwaka,” Iwaizumi grumbles, ears growing red as your giggling increases in volume. “She’s just messing with me. Nothing new here.”

You pull back from your hiding spot as your laughter dies down, looking up at the volleyball player. He returns your gaze with furrowed brows, though you know he’s not upset.

“Don’t worry,” you wink. “Your father remains safe for another day.”

“(Y/N), I swear to God—”

You squeal as you barely dodge the pillow your roommate threw at you (not with too much force, obviously). It slaps against Ushijima, pathetically bouncing off his chest and onto your lap. He watches you burst into another fit of giggles while the other athlete curses under his breath (something about “Shittykawa”).

“You should bring him over sometime,” you muse after calming down. “It’d be even cooler if we could see him in Argentina, but my wallet won’t let that happen.”

“Having you two in the same room in-person sounds like a terrible idea,” Iwaizumi immediately interjects, crossing his arms. You stick your tongue at him before facing Ushijima.

“I met Oikawa via video call a while back,” you clarify, then grin cheekily. “Is everyone in Miyagi as attractive as you guys, or am I just really lucky?”

“We’re not adding him to the mix,” the spiky-haired male grumbles.

“Don’t worry,” you shake your head at him before returning your attention to the volleyball player, eyelids drooping. “I’m plenty happy with you two.” You kiss him deeply, moaning into his mouth as he reciprocates the action. Your arms find themselves around his neck while your fingers toy with the hairs on the nape of his neck, and Ushijima pulls you closer in his embrace. Drawing back, you lock your eyes with his. “You’re happy, aren’t you, Toshi?”

“Of course,” he breathes out, and it’s beautiful coming from such a stoic yet majestic being. You stamp a trail of kisses down his jaw to his neck, finding a vulnerable spot to sink your teeth in. A choked groan makes way to your ears, though it doesn’t come from the partner who currently has your attention.

“You’re a real tease, you know that?” Iwaizumi grunts as he watches the display before him.

You pull back, not bothering to hide your smirk. “Obviously.”

You catch Ushijima’s Adam’s apple bob as you leech back onto his neck. His breathing pattern, while slow, is shallow, and soon enough, you feel something poke your thigh.

Oh.

“Someone’s needy,” you drawl, separating from him once more to glimpse down at the bulge in his pants. The volleyball player presses his lips into a thin line as his brows crease.

“It’s been a while,” seems to be his reasoning. This is the closest you’ll ever get to a flustered Ushijima; what you wouldn’t do to have a camera right now.

You turn to Iwaizumi, also sporting an erection, and smile. “Guess we’re going straight to it, huh?”

He scoffs, palming himself as he mocks you. “Obviously.”

That seems enough for the volleyball player, who gently grabs hold of your jaw to pull you into another kiss. Having him tear your dress off suddenly makes you gasp, and he takes the opportunity to slide his tongue in, his movements hasty and juxtaposing his personhood.

You like it.

He’s carrying you to another room—you’re not sure which one, too busy focusing on the heated kiss melting your tongue and watching your other boyfriend strip from the corner of your eye.

It’s Iwaizumi’s room; the mattress Ushijima gently plops you on isn’t as cushiony as yours. The loss of warmth from your partner puts a frown on your face, though a dreamy smile soon replaces it as your roommate enters in nothing but his boxers. You make grabbing motions towards him, and he joins you on his bed, kissing down your neck as you watch the volleyball player remove his shirt. Then his belt. Then his pants. Then—

Then a rough hand pulls your face to look away from the display. Your eyes meet blown-out pupils outlined in dark green; your lips, harshly with another pair.

Iwaizumi’s quick to hold you in his lap, needing you as close to him as possible while his hands map out every dip and curve and roll your body has to offer. You eventually feel your bra slide off your chest, the cool air making contact with your breasts and travelling down your spine. It only adds discomfort as your panties grow damper, and you grind your hips against your partner’s erection to soothe yourself. His response is a low groan, fuelling the lustful flames that dance in your lower stomach.

The bed dips behind you, and another pair of lips attach themselves to you: just as feverish, yet still as meaningful. More hands are on you, with these ones focusing on your mounds. Not a centimetre of skin on your chest was left untouched, from squeezing the soft flesh to rolling the buds between calloused fingertips.

It’s all too much. You pull away for air, gasping as Iwaizumi joins Ushijima in worshipping your body.

“Wait!” you pant out. The spiky-haired male stops suckling at your neck’s junction, but doesn’t release his hold. The volleyball player halts his movements, his lips barely ghosting over your skin.

“Do you want to stop?” You can feel his baritone against your nape, spiralling down to your core. Your panties cling against you like a second skin, and you’re certain you’re leaving a stain on Iwaizumi’s boxers.

“No,” you rasp, embarrassed by your sudden hesitation. “I want you both now.”

The slight crack of your voice shouldn’t have been as attractive as it was, but here the men were, attached to every one of your commands by a leash.

The athletes look up at each other, communicating through sharp gazes and a curt nod before they bring you to lie on your back. You watch with hooded lids as they reposition; Ushijima between your legs and Iwaizumi, now completely nude, on your chest with his thighs on either side of your body.

“How’s this?” Your roommate’s tone holds a sliver of playfulness as he peers down at you, teasingly stroking himself. You can’t see your other partner behind him–mainly because your focus is on the precum pearling at the tip of the cock only inches away from your face–though you find yourself absentmindedly nodding to the question. The spiky-haired male turns to your other boyfriend with a smirk and gives him a curt motion of confirmation.

Ushijima silently gets to work, lowering himself to face your covered core. You feel his fingers tugging at the waistband, and you try to lift your hips to help him remove the last article of clothing. His eyes remain glued to the string of slick connected to the cotton as he slides it down your legs, watching as it eventually separates and throwing the fabric somewhere in the room.

You’re clenching: empty. The volleyball player leans closer to your entrance, taking in your scent before burying his face between your thighs and wrapping his strong arms around your hips. His tongue barely teases you, if at all; it glides along your cunt with its tip flicking your clit. Just a drop of your taste is enough to bring him closer, plunging into your hole while nudging at the sensitive nub with his nose. For such a silent man, he was the loudest in this environment; him feasting on your pretty pussy can’t go unnoticed as it echoes throughout the room and rings in your ears. Had it not been for your current position, you’d be digging your nails into his scalp as encouragement.

For now, your eyes remain on the thick cock standing tall before you.

“Open up, pretty.” It comes out as a mix between a coo and a command. Iwaizumi grips onto the base to lead his shaft to your mouth. Peering up at him, you decide to grab hold of your tits, separating them. He gets the message, placing his dick between the soft mounds before you squish them together. His tip barely pokes out from in between, and you loll your tongue out to tease the sensitive head as he begins thrusting. Saltiness lingers on your tastebuds with every stroke, and your roommate’s pants add to the symphony started by your other partner’s vigorous smacking and slurping.

You feel Ushijima lift your legs, hooking them over his shoulders as he quickens his pace. You hum around Iwaizumi’s tip from the gluttonous dance performed by the volleyball player’s tongue. Your arms hug the spiky-haired male’s thighs, nails marking crescents on his skin as your orgasm approaches.

With your breasts no longer suffocating his cock, Iwaizumi takes the opportunity to shove more of him down your throat. The sound of you gagging almost overpowers Ushijima’s melody, and your roommate has to refrain from turning this detail into a competition. He instead relishes your warm mouth and how perfect your glossy lips look wrapped around him. The tears forming at the corners of your eyes don’t go unnoticed, either, and they only cascade down your cheeks once his strokes go deeper.

A familiar warmth fills your mouth as Iwaizumi’s hips still. You hollow your cheeks, swallowing every thick drop he can offer you with a hazy enthusiasm. Your gaze doesn’t leave your partner’s stiff form above you, his struggle to keep his eyes open almost entertaining. He can be stubborn when he wants to, and if you could see yourself from his perspective, see how ethereally lewd you look, you’d understand his persistence.

Your roommate empties his cum down your throat and pops his dick out with a shaky breath. With your eyes never leaving him, you give his tip a final peck before he rolls off of you.

All your attention goes to Ushijima, your fingers planting themselves in his hair as he continues his endeavours. You feel his lips wrap around your clit, sucking harshly at the tiny nub as his hold on your lower half tightens. And for good reason, too, as your hips buck erratically from the heavy engagement. With every suction, the string thins.

Until it snaps.

You hold the volleyball player in place as he does the same with you, his mouth continuing its actions as the orgasmic tsunami forces you underwater. It’s too much; you hardly notice the clear liquid staining the sheets and your partner’s chin. Not that he minds, of course.

Ushijima gently places your legs down as you release your tight hold on his hair, your body limp against the mattress as you try to catch your breath. A hand –Iwaizumi’s–swipes stray tears away from your cheeks, and the spiky-haired male plants a soft kiss on your forehead.

“Ready for more?” he asks, his voice nearly faint, as if speaking any louder may hurt you. Noticing the volleyball player moving to sit next to your frame, you try to sit up with your partners’ help. With a meek nod, you manage to shift to sit in between Iwaizumi’s legs before motioning for your other boyfriend to sit on his knees. With the two athletes getting the memo, the former holds your legs open with his own while the latter pumps his cock inches away from your swollen lips. The angry burgundy tip stares at you as you invitingly open your mouth.

With barely half of the shaft in, you’re full. The head tickles the back of your throat, though you avoid gagging with little to no struggle. Having plenty of time with your roommate, you’ve gotten to practice swallowing his dick whole. And when the volleyball player occasionally manages to come over, you can take more of him every time with more ease.

Your focus is so heavily on pleasing Ushijima that you don’t notice Iwaizumi sliding a hand between your thighs until it’s too late. A finger swipes across your cunt, earning a muffled gasp out of you as it collects your slick. More silence sounds escape you as that same digit enters your hole, stretching you out with each pump. The vibrations from your noises attack the volleyball player’s cock, making him grunt as you bob your head up and down his shaft, your tongue poking out to massage the underside. It’s a sort of pipeline: Iwaizumi’s finger–sorry, two fingers now–stroke your sweet spot while his thumb plays with your clit, causing you to moan along to the orchestra that is the lewd squelching between your legs, all the while adding to Ushijima’s pleasure as his cock stuffs your mouth full.

Three fingers: that’s what tips you over the edge once more. It usually does the trick, though, and with the effects of your previous orgasm lingering on your body, you finish quicker than you normally would. You freeze as euphoria travels through your veins, your eyes crossing as more tears spill. Another puddle finds itself on the sheets as you squirt once more, drenching the hand that caused the mess. Iwaizumi holds you closer while Ushijima caresses your cheek. It does little to soothe the ache in your jaw or swat away the exhaustion that follows the orgasmic high, but both are appreciated nonetheless.

When your senses return, you aren’t given the chance to finish the job; Ushijima pops his dick out of your mouth, rapidly stroking it until he reaches cloud nine. With your tongue lolling out, you catch some of the ropes of cum spurting out of his slit, though most of it either ends up on your face or chest. The heavy pants that follow the mess are a sign for you to open your eyes, and the godly sight that is one of your boyfriends greets you: a softening monstrous cock, flexing muscles with every heaving breath, vermillion flush staining his chest, neck and face, swollen parting lips, and furrowing brows.

Reality trickles back once you feel fingers sliding out of you, that same hand wetly tapping your thigh. Slowly turning your head, you’re met with lips slamming against yours that you would’ve lost balance had it not been for the muscular arm around your waist.

“Still got it in you, pretty?” Iwaizumi breaks from the mini makeout session to ask. You’re left in a daze as he nibbles on your shoulder, your other partner lowering himself to mark the opposite side of your neck.

“You still got the lube, right?” you breathe out. The spiky-haired male pauses his actions, Ushijima only slowing down his own at your question. “Want both of you at once.”

Your roommate’s touch immediately abandons you as he dismounts the bed to retrieve the bottle. The Schweiden Adlers member takes this short moment to grab some tissues from the nightstand to clean your face and chest, holding you as you try to regain some energy, knowing damn well you’ll need every bit of it.

“Are you sure you want this?” Ushijima hasn’t spoken since before everything started, his baritone snapping some sobriety back in you. You give him a droopy smile, planting a delicate kiss on his cheek.

“I’m sure, Toshi,” you whisper, and he feels his heart flutter at the nickname. “I know what I’m getting into, don’t worry.”

“You can stop whenever you want.” His voice remained monotonous, and maybe it’s the sex haze, but you swear you can hear panic there.

Still, you giggle. “I know. The rules haven’t changed since the arrangement started.”

Iwaizumi returns with a mostly-full bottle of lube. You two have dipped your toes in anal play, though this is the first time you’re going any further.

“You sure about this?” he asks, his voice and expression soft (or as soft as it can get with such sharp features and arched brows). You let out a half-sigh, half-snort at his question.

“I’m not made of glass, you know,” you tiredly quip, “and your dicks aren’t weapons of mass destruction. I won’t be doing much of the work, but what else is new?”

The athletes share a look as if they were reminding each other to be careful with you.

“All right,” Iwaizumi climbs onto the bed, “how do you want us, then?”

You lean into Ushijima’s chest with a hum, your cheek squishing against one of his pecs. “You take the back. Toshi, up front.”

With both partners nodding, they hoist you to sit on the volleyball player’s lap. His cock is hard again, poking at your stomach before you lift yourself by your knees to aim the tip at your entrance.

He could’ve sunken into you a thousand times, and you’re certain you still wouldn’t have been able to take him without at least a little bit of pain. Thanks to your previous orgasms, he can slide in much more easily, though that isn’t to say the burn is nonexistent.

Ushijima takes his time, examining your reaction as he adds another inch. His grip on your waist is tight, but not bruising, knowing you’ve got enough on your plate. Iwaizumi, meanwhile, tries to distract you by peppering kisses on your shoulder blade. You hope your focus on his lips against your skin will pass the time, but the clock’s arms seem to slow down the more you’re stretched open.

He’s in, though. You’re certain he’s made room for himself in your guts, feeling him there with every breath. Your nails dig into his shoulders as you hiss, but he doesn’t say anything as you try to adjust.

“(Y/N),” Iwaizumi starts, his words somewhat muffled your back against his lips, “are you sure you want to keep going?”

“Yeah,” you gasp. Despite your roommate’s concern, you can feel his cock poking your back.

He hesitates. “We can go one at a ti—”

“I wanna feel both of you.” You didn’t realize you were crying until you felt Ushijima’s thumb swipe away a few tears. You give his palm a loving peck, your glossy eyes peering up at him. “I don’t know when will be the next time I’ll have you two together. I can handle it.”

You’ve grown soft, Iwaizumi thinks. Then again, maybe you were always like this. He doesn’t know much about your previous relationships, and even if he did, you could’ve matured since then. You’re still outgoing, and your teasing hasn’t stopped since you started dating both athletes. Your promiscuity hasn’t died down at all, not that the spiky-haired male is complaining. The difference now is the lovestruck looks you’d give them; whether you think they don’t notice (even though you aren’t slick and they totally catch you) or you’re afraid they’d forget how dear they are to you (they couldn’t even if they tried), it’s one of the main acts dedicated only for them.

Iwaizumi can see that same look when you turn to face him, even with a layer of tears fogging your vision.

He presses his lips against your warm and damp cheek. “Okay.”

You sigh shakily, adjusting your position for him to better prep you.

He’s using more lube than the previous times you’ve experimented, you can tell. With each careful finger he’d only slide in on your command, you could feel him take his time stretching you out, pumping and scissoring until he’s convinced you’re ready.

Of course, his dick isn’t the same as his fingers. Iwaizumi’s made it very clear that he’s going at your pace, and you appreciate it when he’d add more lube whenever you’d ask. It hurt less over time, though it’s still a strange and foreign feeling. The spiky-haired male sprinkles feather-light kisses on the nape of your neck while Ushijima cradles your cheek, and their soft touches almost lull you to serenity.

You have to remind yourself of the current situation. “You two can move now.”

“We’ll be gentle,” Iwaizumi assures, adjusting his hold on your waist as your other partner lowers his grip to your hips.

The first few thrusts are hesitant, unsure of a rhythm. The stretch of both holes has you hissing, though you don’t want to stop. This is the closest you’ve felt to the athletes, albeit physically speaking: sandwiched between them, stuffed to the brim. Soft lips and calloused hands guarantee your safety. Promise of delicacy.

And eventually, the pain lessens. Your boyfriends find a tempo, still gentle, and whimpers and broken moans replace your hisses. Iwaizumi whispers in your ear, praising you for taking both of them so well and being so good. Ushijima’s forehead finds yours, his eyes fluttering to stay open and watch your every reaction. When one cock slides out, the other moulds your hole to its shape; you’re desperate to savour everything happening, even if it drives your senses into overdrive. With your thighs too weak to hold your body up, you’re grateful for them doing the work, the muscle trembling every time you flex it.

“More,” you choke out. “I can take it. Please.”

Ushijima grunts, a bead of sweat rolling down his forehead. “Are you sure—”

You stop his lips with your own, halting his breath in his throat as your hands slide up his heck to hold his face. And when you pull away with hooded lids, you give Iwaizumi the same attention, turning his head to face you as you take his breath away.

“I’d tell you to stop if I needed you to,” you promise after pulling away. “It feels good, and I want more.”

Again, your boyfriends share a look: brows furrowed and lips pressed into a thin line. The several seconds of silence make you antsy, though that feeling soon evaporates when both men adjust their hold on you.

Ushijima’s the first to thrust back in, and your body jolts at the sudden impact. Iwaizumi’s quick to follow, drilling his hips upwards as the volleyball player slides out. Back and forth, back and forth: you’re never fully empty.

“S-Shit!” you shriek, squeezing your eyes shut as your nails find Ushijima’s shoulders once again. You can’t contain your cries, not when there’s a swordfight happening in your guts. Could they feel the other’s cock inside you? “More, more! Just like that!”

Both men have their torsos pressed against you as they fuck up into you. You can feel Iwaizumi’s heartbeat hammer at your back, same with your other boyfriend’s against your chest. Or maybe that’s your heart causing the racket? Could the volleyball player even truly get nervous? You’ve seen him uncertain, sure, but nervous? Or maybe that’s adrenaline you’re feeling against you?

So many questions for someone whose brain is literal mush. You can no longer form a coherent sentence; what makes you think you can create a single thought now?

Oh, wait. Nothing.

“Cumming,” you manage to slur out, legs shaking. “Gonna cum again.”

“Shit,” Iwaizumi mutters against your neck. “Go ahead, pretty. Make a mess for us, yeah?”

You can’t see well with the tears fogging your vision, but with Ushijima so close to you, it’s not hard to tell that his eyes are silently urging you to finish. And when a hand–whose, you aren’t sure–slides down to give your poor clit some much-needed attention, you can’t go against their encouragements even if you wanted to.

With little to no space between you three, you hardly move when your body hurdles forward from the impact of your orgasm. You’re squirting again, and it almost hurts as you gush onto the athletes’ muscular thighs. Your choked wail is muffled by Ushijima’s shoulder, your grip on them gone and now on his biceps. If your markings hurt him, he doesn’t show it. Or rather, it can be mistaken for the pleasure that comes from his own orgasm, flushed face twisting to bliss as he grits his teeth behind sealed lips. Iwaizumi’s not far off, either, sloppily thrusting into you a few more times before biting down on your shoulder to quiet his groan.

Even as your body burns from adrenaline, you still feel both boyfriends spill their load inside you. It has you quivering even more, toes curling against the messy sheets as you try your hardest to sit up longer.

You’re still warm once your high evaporates, the bulky frames of your boyfriends giving you little room to breathe. The thin layers of sweat blanketing your bodies don’t help, either. At the very least, the two athletes continue to hold you up. You can’t even do that by yourself.

“I’m going to get her a towel and some water,” Iwaizumi quietly tells Ushijima. “Hold onto her while I’m gone.”

The volleyball player wordlessly follows your other partner’s order, wiping away stray tears as you weakly cling onto his build. He’s grown more comfortable holding you like this over time: still cautious to avoid hurting you, though doesn’t shy away from physically showing you the affection you deserve.

“Are you hurt?” he asks, carefully examining your frame in his hold.

You tiredly shake your head, rasping out a small chuckle. “I don’t think I’ll be able to walk for a bit, but I’m fine otherwise.”

His eyes glimpse upwards, as if pondering. “I can carry you around.”

“I know, dear.”

Iwaizumi returns not long after, and you groan as Ushijima shifts you to sit up.

“Careful,” you quip with a wince. “I’m sensitive.”

“That’s usually the case, yeah,” your roommate replies monotonously, watching cum ooze out of your holes before gently wiping the towel across your cunt. He rubs a soothing hand on your thigh when you flinch. “Thank God for birth control.”

“Oh, hush.” you scoff, eyebrows creasing as he continues to clean you. The water bottle he brought sits next to him, leaning against his thigh almost tauntingly. A large hand from behind you takes it, unscrewing the lid.

“You need to rehydrate.” The baritone rumbles against your back as the Schweiden Adlers player speaks. He brings the bottle to your lips. “Drink up.”

The bottle shakes slightly once in your hold, and you take light sips in between intervals. “I don’t think I’ll be able to make dinner for us tonight.”

“No worries,” Iwaizumi responds curtly, placing the towel to the side. “We can order takeout for tonight.”

Your eyes light up, though you don’t make an effort to move. “Can we order from that new place down the block?”

“Whatever you want.”

You turn your head to peer up at Ushijima excitedly, a smile stretching wide across your face it almost hurts your cheeks. “You gotta try their food, Toshi. I think we have their menu around here somewhere. We can help you pick something out.”

“Hey,” your roommate tuts, tone sharp as he heads to his closet. “Don’t tire yourself out even more. Relax.”

“Yes, mother.” He glares at your response, walking back with a large t-shirt and some shorts. You eye the clothes with a groan. “I think I need a bath first.”

You yelp when you suddenly feel yourself being hoisted up.

“We’ll help clean you up,” Ushijima offers as he dismounts the bed with you in his arms. It sounded more like a statement, actually, and it seems that he meant it as he walks out of Iwaizumi’s room with him in tow.

Your eyes flutter closed, half-listening to the spiky-haired male scolding the volleyball player to be careful with you.

What do you have to worry about? It’s not this simple: those anxieties may continue to poison your thoughts. They should leave eventually, no doubt, but until that happens, you’ll remind yourself as many times as necessary that the support that follows you on your journey.

You made it work.

You’re making it work.

And you’ll continue to make it work.

#hq #haikyu #haikyuu #fanfic #fanfiction #haikyu!!#haikyuu x reader #smut #ushijima wakatoshi #iwaizumi hajime #shiratorizawa #aoba johsai #seijoh #ushijima smut #iwaizumi smut #ushijima x reader #iwaizumi x reader #college!au

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mambalae-s · 10 months

Text

wc: 7.8k words

cw: milf! reader; reader is described as a plus sized black woman; masturbation (m); public masturbation (m); no penetrative sex; fantasizing — throat fucking; one (1) mention of a daddy kink; one sided sexual tension; wakatoshi is a simp; he’s down bad; let me know if i’m forgetting anything!

notes from author: so, i’d wound myself up for an entire month working on this and i still had so much i wanted to write for it despite it already being nearly 8,000 words long…! i’ll certainly try my best to make a second part for this, one i’ll want to write from our reader’s experience too! this, truthfully, wasn’t the first idea for my milf reader idea, but i think it’s so much better, and i’m happy with the plot i settled with! i hope that, at least even a little bit, it’ll be satisfying for you to read, too!

it’s amidst a blistering summer’s day when you move into the house next to his.

there’s blood pumping beneath ushijima wakatoshi’s skin and boiling beneath each heavy breath that wafts from his swollen lips. his feet pound against the paved roads as he jogs at a steady pace, and he feels his fibers tinge with a static as they blaze beneath the sweltering noon’s heat, a familiar ache ebbing deep within his muscles and crawling through his veins. the sweat clinging to his brow burns like a toxin that pours out through every cell, his heart beating with the drums that pound through his airpods and teach him a dance he’d learned many times before. iwaizumi had told him once that running could be as addictive as any drug, and here, beneath clear blue skies and through heavy draws of air, wakatoshi considers that maybe he was right.

he takes a deep breath as he mounds the slight hill that leads to his house, and abruptly, his pace halts, chest heaving still as his eyes take to the moving truck parked out in front of the house next to his; a house that had, for a while, remained empty, certainly gathering dust and stale air after the elderly couple had moved away nearly a month long past. it had been easy for him to forget all about the vacant space, what with him dedicating his days to training and months of traveling for practice and tournaments, and it seems that, within that time, someone’s finally purchased it and were moving in today.

he’d been gone long enough for the hard working men to have finished their work, wakatoshi muses, as he watches them pack away their trollies and begin making to either door of their truck. though, as he stands there, he feels puzzled, confused and seeking reason to something he can’t find. there’s nothing spectacular about seeing these two men readying to go about their day, nothing that should keep wakatoshi’s feet planted and his laboured breaths stilling beneath the wind, yet he finds himself waiting, lulled into a curiosity that he can’t explain as he watches the break lights glow red and listens to the engine roaring to life.

and then, he sees you.

you, who wears a gorgeous sundress, deep purple fabric woven like a tapestry of flowers that blossom over a body of voluptuous curves. he finds himself enraptured by your brown skin that shines beneath the scorching sun like smoky quartz, by the sweat that lines your brow as he likens the glistening sight of it to beautiful jewels that shine around your smile and set you alight with the luster of ten thousand diamonds. the strands of your black hair, they sheen on the painting of the midnight sky; dark and elegantly falling around your round face and pouring like a river of obsidian and black tourmaline across your busty chest.

“thank you so much once again,” your voice comes through with fluency in his mother tongue, the japanese you speak perhaps a little regional… osaka, he considers, or kyoto? your voice sings on the breathlessness of intense labour, and wakatoshi deludes himself into thinking that the exhaustion on your sultry voice mirrors the intensely beating heart that stirs in his chest with a restlessness that he doesn’t attribute to his run. “seriously, you two… i can’t tell you how much i appreciate coming all this way!”

the older men you speak to are friendly in their departure, cheering with bright smiles that resemble yours in their warmth and openness as they drive down the deep slope, passing him by the side and far from his mind as he loses his focus on you. suddenly, the fog that clouds his mind doesn’t come from a sweltering summer’s day, but instead from the picture of you, hot and bothered and eyes squeezed shut as you try to wave cool air over your wet skin. the daze that locks around his tongue is the one of your sheen-covered lips as they part and let pass the heavy breaths that sit on your chest, of the rise and fall of your large breasts and the bit of tummy that he can see atop your curves. that daze that consumes wakatoshi, he tells it to lust — a venom that crawls through his bloodstream and tinges his tongue with desire unchecked, so that he becomes consumed by you and the deceptively innocent visage that burns itself into his skin. and suddenly, wakatoshi feels too damn hot, his heart beats so hard he fears it’ll leap right from his throat, and his pants are too damn tight.

oh. fuck… how embarrassing could it be to get a hard on in front of your new neighbour? he didn’t think he’d ever have to ponder such a specific scenario, and he certainly isn’t happy to have a taste of it first hand. even worse, what is he supposed to do when the very same neighbour turns her eyes to him and catches him staring like some demented creep? wakatoshi’s face burns with a heat that far precedes the blazing sun and he wishes the earth would open up and swallow him whole as his mouth starts to taste of sand and parchment paper. really, he shames himself, how appallingly embarrassing!

just like a guilty child, he averts his eyes as his blood boils across his neck. his feet act on their own, guided by the desire to disappear as quickly as he can with hurried steps and trembling hands that are more than eager to open his front door and seal him behind their sanctuary, and he feels even more guilt for awkwardly avoiding the kind yet confused smile you’d sent his way as you watched the large man scurry up his front steps. the protruding bulge that pokes out from his trousers is so painfully obvious, almost aching behind its confines as he prays that you hadn’t had enough time to notice it. and even then, behind his barrier of safety, he’s left with a problem — a very big one that powders his nose red and takes his breath on laboured climbs.

huffing, wakatoshi trudges to the kitchen, desperately searching his refrigerator for the coldest bottle of water he can find and starts chugging right away. arctic drops spill between his lips and down his throat, though the chill does nothing to dissipate the heat coursing beneath his skin and inside his pants. he doesn’t intend to slam the now half empty bottle down on his counter the way he does, but he loses control and water spills over, and his olive eyes only glare at the puddle that drips over on his marbled floor with something of disdain and increasing frustration.

for all that was holy, he can’t stop thinking of you. even now, with cold water sticking to his skin and poured over his bare feet, wakatoshi cannot get this image of you out of his mind and is rendered powerless to the aching boner that refuses to go away. within just one moment, you’ve seeped into his mind like a parasite that morphs and festers on sin and fornication, plaguing him with your large breasts and plump thighs that sheened with sweat and poured out from beneath your sundress. it’s a hard battle he faces with himself, feeling morally disgusted by the thoughts he finds himself with, and all about a stranger, no less. there’s no way he could be acting so depraved, right? is he a man so starved that the mere sight of an admittedly attractive woman could send him reeling like a damn teenage boy?

once more, wakatoshi heaves a heavy sigh, slouching for a moment with hands clenching the edge of his black stone counter before he rises to his full height. it’ll do him good to at least clean up this spill, and perhaps, he thinks, he aught to keep himself busy — surely then, he’ll forget all about you, and this glaring problem beneath his trousers will forget you too.

thankfully, it’s easier than he’d had hoped to fill the hours of his day. after taking care of his spill, wakatoshi takes to his home gym and continues working out till the late evening, when he showers and prepares himself to settle in with a cup of white wine and a book that he’d bought himself a while back, though only just recently had the time to begin. it’s only so rare for him to be able to enjoy slow days like this between training and volleyball tournaments, and he finds himself at peace with this lull in his schedule. finally, he feels relaxed and at ease, and his stressful situation from the afternoon earlier is far from his mind, until there’s a knock at his front door, and his heart lurches in his chest.

apprehensive, he turns his jade coloured eyes to the smoky glass panels by his entrance, and he feels his tongue turn heavy when he sees you waiting. for a moment, he hopes that you’ll give up if he doesn’t answer, though he immediately feels a bit guilty for thinking that. you’re only wanting to greet your new neighbour and make a good first impression, he considers, and it certainly isn’t any fault of yours the situation he’d found himself in earlier that day. you’re entirely blameless, and it’s really him who apparently needs to mature and grow a bit more than he’d thought. taking a long sip from his glass of chardonnay, wakatoshi builds himself on liquid courage and meets you by his doorway — though there’s no amount of wine that could’ve possibly prepared him for the sight that greets him once he opens the door.

you’re here, but you hadn’t come alone. hiding behind each leg are a young boy and girl who look about the same age and share striking resemblance to your own soft features. heads topped by black, wavy curls, with her tied in pigtails and his cut to his shoulders, there’s curiosity in their dark brown eyes as they appraise him, and he feels almost as if they’re judging him with something that he can’t identify. and you, you smile sweetly at him, your lips painted with a clear gloss that shines golden beneath the lights of his entryway’s chandelier.

“i’m sorry for disturbing you so late in the night, mister,” you offer your apology, and wakatoshi can hear more clearly the distinction in your accent that he’d only briefly heard before. now, as he listens attentively, unconsciously taking in the sultriness of your voice as your words flow from your two-toned lips, he’s certain that it really is a kansai dialect. “i’d just wanted to introduce ourselves since we’d just moved into the neighbourhood.” you lift your hands, that he now notices are not empty, to present a beautifully packaged basket with a little pink bow tying it closed. “and we also brought you these as a gift — a thank you gift, kind of! for having us here with you!”

wakatoshi accepts the gift basket from your hands, trying his best not to focus on the way you tuck your hair behind your ears and beam brightly up at him. standing so close, he’s able to notice new things about you that he wishes he didn’t feel so curious about; like the way you style yourself elegantly, your straight black hair parted to the side, curling the smaller hairs surrounding your forehead so that they lay neatly and perfectly brushed to frame your round face, or the fact that you stand several inches shorter than him, perhaps only barely reaching his chest. he wishes he doesn’t take in the clothes you wear and how they fit your beautiful figure, how your white cardigan hangs elegantly over a beige tank top and khaki coloured pants that accentuate your mature body. he tries, not to notice these many things about you, and so hopelessly fails, as he clears his throat and tries to offer you a polite smile that he hopes doesn’t come off as a grimace.

“thank you for being so thoughtful,” he says, and your smile widens, your eyes creasing around your expression as you respectfully bow.

“it’s my pleasure! i really should be thanking you for welcoming us this late!” theres a timidness to your grin as you lift yourself to full standing once more and you bashfully laugh. “it took us a little longer than we thought to prepare all our gift baskets — oh, right!” your eyes widen on a realization, “my name’s (l/n) (f/n), and these two here,” gesturing to the two children behind you, you bend down a bit to rest a hand on either of their backs. “this here is asahi, and this is makoto.”

the two young children, with your encouragement, bow their heads in greeting to him, with the boy — asahi — quickly returning to hide behind your leg, while makoto continues to stare at him, now with her curiosity unbridled and what looks like an eagerness that roars beneath her brown eyes.

he looks back up at you and offers a bow of his own, ducking his head with the basket clutched to his chest. “my name’s ushijima wakatoshi,” he says his name, and immediately, he hears two simultaneous gasps from the children by your feet. though, at least in this moment, he decides not to ponder too much on the expression. “thank you for introducing yourselves and for bringing a gift.”

you wave your hand in a ‘shoo shoo’ motion and shake your head. “no need for thanks, ushijima-san,” you hum, “really, it’s nothing much, but i hope you’ll be able to find good use for them— ”

“are you a volleyball player?”

suddenly, the little girl, makoto, blurts out a question that causes your eyes to widen and catches him off guard as you both turn your attention to her. she continues to stare up at him, as if awaiting his answer despite you reaching for her hand to gently pull her back. “makoto!” you exhale, a bit surprised, it seemed, as if you hadn’t expected her to ask something like that. though wakatoshi, he doesn’t take any issue at all with her question, and he simply nods his head, once more offering the most polite of smiles he can muster.

“that’s right. i play volleyball.”

you seem to recognize something within the awe-filled gazes of the two children that he doesn’t, because before either of them can get a word out, you’re hurriedly reaching for their hands and making your way down the stairs. “thanks so much again, mr. ushijima!” you call back to him with one free hand, leaving the man standing stunned inside his doorway as you walk away from him. “let’s get along well from now on!” when you think you’re far enough, he thinks he hears your voice taking to astonishment as the little girl whines a complaint — “but mom, we saw him on tv! it’s really him!” and your response heavily pouring with your dialect as you lightly scold her for blurting out so suddenly.

he’s left here, basket in his hand as he hears several gears creaking to their abrupt stops and clanking as they fall apart in his mind. mom? she’d said mom, hadn’t she? with ghostly steps that are far too quiet for a man of his stature, wakatoshi shuffles to his expansive living room where he sets your gift atop his clear glass coffee table, right next to his glass of wine and his book, and collapses into the black suede sofa behind him. you’re a mother? the guilt that consumes him tastes bitter and threatens to crawl up his throat. he sits, hands folded above his lips as his elbows dig into his thighs, and he stays this way for one minute, then two, constantly replaying the sound of your daughter calling you mom. your daughter, your daughter and son, you have a daughter and a son who both call you mom—

wearily, wakatoshi’s eyes glaze over your cutely packaged gift and straight to the glass of wine that sits like a pretty temptation, and cruelly, he thinks of how you are just the same. a beautiful and painfully enticing temptation that will surely render him helpless if he gets any more involved with you. he groans, hissing under his breath as he reaches for the glass and stands up. it’ll serve him better to retire for the night, he concedes, a hand nursing the growing migraine that sits on either side of his head. he’ll finish his glass and read his book peacefully in bed, and for the second time this day, wakatoshi will forget all about you.

except, he doesn’t.

amidst his waking dreams and long night, forgetting you is impossible. how can he, when you come to him here in his bed, the straps of your purple dress falling from your brown shoulders and your breasts pouring out from the thin material? how is wakatoshi supposed to forget you when in his dreams, you tease him with the likeness of a vixen, when you lift the edges of your skirt to show him just how plump and fleshy your thighs and ass are, whispering “do you wish to touch me, mr. ushijima?” in that sultry, silk-like voice of yours. he dreams of the way your eyes would roll back into your skull if he brushes his fingers over that sweet spot between your legs, if his tongue traces lines over your panties until your knees buck and you fall right on top of him. in his dreams, he wants you so much that it’s an ache he needs to fill, until he’s unconsciously fucking his mattress and squeezing his pillows with a vice. his breathing is laboured and tasting of honey as he begs you yes, yes, please, i need you… need you so bad, please i need to touch you—

his climax rocks his body like an earthquake and tears him away from sleep with a jolt, his chest heaving as sweat clings to his skin and his eyes, disoriented, search his dark room for your image before they fall to the soiled mess leaking through his boxers and between his thighs. his damn cock is twitching, still painfully sensitive, and wakatoshi stutters through a gasp as his hips buck uncontrollably, as if chasing some phantom feeling, cum still continuing to spurt from the angry red tip. he reels from pure shock and a bit of morbid amazement as he reflects on his dream, and as he recalls those dirty visuals his mind managed to conjure, he lets out a loud, frustrated cry and falls flat against his mattress. really, is this the man he is? a perverted fool who has inappropriate thoughts and dreams about another man’s wife?

he curses himself, and curses his mind too, as he begrudgingly swings his legs over the edge of his california king and. sleep evades him now, he certainly fears reliving that dream that felt far too realistic, your touches, the taste of you — all far too real that it leaves him shaken. one hand lifts to brush his sweat-matted hair away from his forehead as his eyes disdainfully behold the mess he’s left all over his dark sheets, where his semen sits in a large puddle while there are still drops running down his thighs, and he unwillingly thinks about you once more. those sounds that your voice made in his dream, all those dirty songs and cries of his name that you’d uttered, the way your skin felt so supple and soft beneath his hands as he felt you up and spread your legs apart—

a surprised moan causes wakatoshi to slap a hand around his mouth as his cock twitches in his soiled boxers, still very hard and leaking through the now cold material. no, he decides, he really won’t be able to fall asleep again — not like this, at least. but wakatoshi has practice in the morning, and within all his years of playing volleyball, he’d never gone a night without proper sleep. for the umpteenth time, he groans helplessly, flopping back down on the edge of his bed. he glares at his boner, wishing it would just peacefully deflate and that, really this time, he could forget you and just go back to bed; and again, once again, he sighs, and submits himself to a decision he’s certain that he’ll immediately curse himself for as he pulls out his cock and wraps his fist around it.

he hates himself for it, but it’s so easy for him to build a perfect fantasy of you. one where you’re sitting prettily on your knees and batting those doe-brown eyes up at him through your lashes. his hand squeezes softly around his erection and at first, he moves slowly, choking back each heavy breath of air that threatens to burst through tightly pursed lips. but god, he thinks of the way you’d tease him, slowly tracing your mouth over the tip and leaving a trail of saliva and strawberry flavoured lip-gloss while your manicured nails would trace tantalizingly lines down his thighs. his hips buck impatiently into his own fist and his chest heaves with soft grunts that become more uninhibited as he imagines you finally slipping him into your warm mouth and his very spirit crumbles on the lust that consumes him.

“does that feel good, mr. ushijima?” you’d beseech him, so eager to please as you’d trace your tongue across his leaking slit, collecting the drops of precum that poured out and smear it around your lips. and he’d be just as breathless as he feels in his fantasy, trying and failing to conceal each gasp that evades him as he nods, “yes.. yes, your mouth feels so fucking good.” he’d force you to swallow him whole, pushing your head down to the base until you’d choke and your eyes would water as he’d throw his head back — without his will, his hand moves faster around his cock and fills his dark bedroom with filthy, sloppy noises. “take every inch, don’t you fucking dare spit it out. that’s it, shit…just like that. swallow it all the way down.”

he thinks of how fleshy and warm the back of your throat would feel as you’d gag around him and dig your nails into his thigh, struggling to take even a single breath through your nostrils as he’d mercilessly fuck your face. he’d drag you off him suddenly and slap his cock against those messy lips, and he’d get to admire the way you’d fall apart as your mouth lolls open as if begging him to put it back in. “ohh, such a greedy little slut, aren’t you?” he’d taunt, and a particularly loud, wanton moan rises from his chest as he imagines the way you’d use your hands all while staring up at him. you’d be the very picture of salaciousnes as your hands wrap around his smeared length, teasing the underside of him with your tongue and groaning through your own arousal. he imagines how he’d wrap his hand around your throat as he’d tower over you; he’d have your face pressed right up to his stomach while he’d reach down and grab a handful of your breasts, reeling at how soft and squishy they’d feel pouring between his already large hands before he’d twist your nipples, and you’d whine like a helpless nymph from how sensitive your body would become. “go on, then.” he’d hum, and he wouldn’t give you even a second to prepare before he’d have you choking around his length, groaning as spit would bubble around his erection and pour from your nostrils. “use those pretty little lips of yours. mhm, let daddy feel your tongue on his dick while he fucks your throat.”

and its as he pictures the way your eyes would roll into the back of your head, cheeks puffed and stuffed full as you whine around him that, for the second time that night, wakatoshi cums into his fist. pleasure sears through his teeth and down his spine as spurts of semen explode from his slit and he forgets himself on the suddenness of his orgasm. “shit… ahh— aahhhh, shit!” the spots in his vision and the heat that consumes him from his bone and to his skin, it all coalescences on a pleasure he’d never once felt in his thirty-three years of living. his entire body trembles and his cock twitches against his abs, cum splashing against his sweat-sheened skin and dripping over his skin like hot, molten lava. the afterglow of pleasure is forsaken for the adrenaline that courses through his blood and turns the taste of his tongue to metals untold.

through his bliss, wakatoshi reaches clarity, and is overwhelmed by an intense wave of disgust and repulsion as he glares at his cock so feebly slapping against his stomach; it’s still hard, the damn thing, and every cell in his body craves ravenously for more, more, more…but he refuses. absolutely refuses to repeat what he’d just done. for christ’s sake, you are a mother — a wife to someone who you return to each night, who gets to hold you and touch you, to whom you may give your heart and gentle affections to. tonight had been a mistake, he tells himself; an irrational lapse in judgement, and come morning — he means it this time, really! truthfully! — he’ll forget all about this sin, and forget about you. you’ll be nothing more than a new neighbour who moved in with your family, and your interactions will be few and far between, enough that he’ll be forgiven for the immorality that he’d let himself fall to.

but the devil, oh, the devil, bless his soul, he has his tricks, and he loves to play.

wakatoshi hasn’t at all forgotten about the previous night, but he pretends that he has. on the cusp of dawn, when the rising sun sinks her warm fingers through his tousled hair, he focuses on his beating heart and his laboured breath as he jogs through the park and back through his gated community. he pretends that he didn’t jerk off to his new neighbour and envision her doing the dirtiest things to him, and he almost succeeds.

almost.

he nearly swears when he walks out of his front door the next morning and bumps into you at the earliest hours of dawn. there you are, where you shouldn’t be — not this early in the morning before the sun had risen, when he’d made sure to leave early enough that he would’ve avoided this situation exactly. it’s summer, isn’t it? why, wakatoshi wonders, had you woken up so early? could he really be do unlucky? he sees you and your two children, and he’s now certain that they must be twins, and you’re too busy fixing their backpacks on their backs and fussing over their hair and faces to even notice him awkwardly frozen by his doorstep.

“you both have everything you need, right?” your voice reaches him on tones of faint worry and anxiousness as you lean down over your children, unwittingly showing off your rack for him to see between the button up blouse you wear. even from where he stands, it’s such a clear picture that he feels his head spin as his eyes remain glued there. “you’ve got your toothbrushes and toothpaste? lotion? shampoo and conditioner?”

your son, asahi, tries to escape your busy hands, though it doesn’t dissuade you very much it seems. “mama, we already have everything!” he grumbles with a slight pout, “we’ll be alright.”

a quiet sigh falls from your lips as, finally, you relent, kneeling down to hug your two children. “i know you will be, asahi,” you whisper softly before pressing a kiss to each of their foreheads. “promise me you’ll both be good and have lots of fun, alright? can you send me a text when you get there safely?” both the twins nod their head yes before placing a kiss on either of your cheeks, and wakatoshi finds the sight endearing as he sees your smile brighten on tenderness and motherly affection. a part of him feels as if he’s intruding on what should be a family’s private and treasured moment, something precious that should only be seen by your husband and not the creepy neighbour next door. his stomach turns in on itself and, like a demon he can’t escape, guilt and shame crawl over his neck.

“bye mama!” makoto is the first one to hop on to her bike, waving her hand excitedly and full of energy despite the early morning, while her twin follows in a far less eager manner as he waves at you too. “i love you!”

“i love you mama..!”

“i love you both, you two!” now standing at full height, you wave both your hands as both asahi and makoto start to pedal away. “make sure to have lots of fun!”

before long, both your children have gone down the hill and you’re left alone with a wistful smile, and wakatoshi finds himself desperate to go before you have the chance to notice him standing. his normally sure feet fail him on a moment as he stumbles in his hurriedness, and in his attempt to steady himself, his hands fall slack and drop the very large, very metal he’d bottle been carrying with a loud clang! that causes your head to whip around. he meets your gaze, shame bubbling in his gut and he wishes that lightning would just fall from the sky and take him from his misery. what happened to avoiding you as best as he could? he wonders, what happened to leaving at the crack of dawn and being on his way before he’d need to lay eyes on you again so soon after last night?

wakatoshi is so embarrassed that he could die.

“ah! good morning, mr. ushijima.” you, oblivious to his plight, greet him politely, bowing your head. he notices the way you absentmindedly pull your cardigan over your sheer night dress, the chill from the morning mist having caused you to shiver a little. your nipples have turned hard and poke through the thin white material, and are very, very visible without him needing to try and see them. he purses his lips, sighs through his nostrils and averts his gaze, focusing instead on retrieving his traitorous waterbottle and praying that his grey slacks do well to hide the problem that now begins to grow beneath them.

“good morning, mrs. (l/n.)”

he tries to focus on his feet as he descends down his front steps, ensuring that he doesn’t lose his footing once more rather than looking at you. and yet, he can’t help the awkwardness that he feels as every muscle in his body seems to have tensed up despite him having gone jogging to warm himself up. you remain none the wiser, something he’s thankful for, as he hopes and prays that he can get past you and on his way before you notice his strange demeanour.

“do you normally get up this early?” you ask in a polite attempt at making small talk, to which wakatoshi offers you a slight nod as he gives you just enough of his attention.

“yes,” and, admittedly, he’s also curious, and he returns a question against his better judgement. “do you?”

laughter bubbles up from your lips as you shake your head. “goodness, no!” you chime playfully, lifting your watch to see the hour; 5:39. “it’s too early for me, but asahi and makoto are about to start summer camp for their club — i’d only been seeing them off today.”

he offers an understanding nod, similarly recalling the days of his youth where he’d also attended summer camps during elementary through high school. right now, he considers would be a perfect time to end this conversation and see himself away now that he’s heard what he wanted from you, but something in him urges him to stay, to talk to you more and spend some time with you. he knows he’s not the best at small talk, is all too aware that his social skills are terrible, at their worst, incredibly abysmal, but he wants to try — against his better moment, and he’s reminding himself all the while that you’re a mother and a married woman, but despite that, he wants to talk more with you. perhaps, and it’s a delusion that he forces himself to believe, he’d want to be friendly with you. it’ll certainly be easier than perpetually avoiding you when you’d done nothing wrong to him, after all.

“are you—” fuck, his voice sounds scratchy as he clears his throat, blush creeping over his cheeks. “are you um… headed back to bed then?”

as you ponder his question, he gets to take in your morning appearance. your hair’s been brushed and tied back with a little white bow, and your lips look air brushed and as soft as rose petals. hugging your sides beneath your cardigan, you shiver, and wakatoshi notices the way you slightly lean back and forth on your heels. “i guess it’d be a waste to try and sleep again now,” you hum with your gaze turned towards the horizon, where the sun begins to peak over the far off mountain on soft blue touched by golden hues. “i’ll need to be ready for work in a few hours.” you turn your gaze to him with a cheekish grin, and his heart skips a beat. “why not start my morning now, right?”

oh. oh, this is bad. for the second time, waktoshi tries to clear his throat with a hand covering his mouth and averts his eyes from your beaming face. “i’ll let you get to it then,” he says, his voice sounding so small and timid to him that he feels his mind reeling and his tongue turning heavy. “enjoy the rest of your morning, ms. (l/n).”

“thank you, ushijima-san! you do the same, okay?” for a second, he lets his eyes find yours, and they dazzle him within just that moment that he has to look away. he leaves as you re-enter your home, and it’s the only thing he can do to squeeze the straps of his bag to rid himself of the jittery feeling racking through his spine. his heart beats too loudly and he feels dazed, as if he walks on clouds and forgets how to even breathe.

he doesn’t— no, he can’t be; his feet break from the slow pace as he breaks into a jog, each muscle within him burning cold and begging for release from the thoughts in his mind. there’s no way… he doesn’t like you, does he? why else would he have dreamt of you the way he had? why else would he feel so nervous and timid when you stand face to face? the morning dew tastes like liquid mercury and sets through his veins on a violent rush as he runs, as far away from you as he can get, hoping to immediately expel you from his thoughts, to escape this hold that you seem to have locked around him.

he laughs at himself, helpless and bewildered; is he really nothing more than a foolish boy? at thirty-something years old, ushijima wakatoshi is developing a crush on his married neighbour — even the mere notion to him is so adamantly ridiculous that he could throw himself off a bridge. he feels embarrassed, utterly and completely mortified, and it’s for his sake that he tries to push the notion far, far away, so that, at least for the day, he wouldn’t have to think about it. he suppresses these budding epiphanies in the face of his teammates, who tease him for being seven minutes later than he usually is and tries to ignore the fact that it’s all because he’d stayed and talked with you. he tries to forget about you through the drills and practice rounds, lets the heavy beating of his heart turn its turmoil into adrenaline and sweat that seeps through his thin shirt. wakatoshi falls into routine and this time, certainly, this time, he’s moved on. the feelings that soaked through his core on the early morning’s dawn have disappeared and melted away on summer’s blistering heat, and he thinks that finally, he can let go of that ghost that’s haunted him from the night until morn.

but noon, as it always does, succeeds the dawn, and there you are.

the burn in his muscles turns to a seething fire that he fears will consume him right where he stands, amidst the people around him going about their days while he remains glued in place. his heart, oh the poor thing, it beats on the fallings of a thousand horses and threatens to rip right from between his rips and spill itself out on the pavement. wakatoshi wants to run, he wants to take flight and escape into the burning sun, but his feet fail him on the jolts that run through his aching muscles when your eyes, oh, he imagines he sees the world in them, find his amidst the sea that threatens to swallow him whole.

“ah? mr. ushjimima!” your voice calls out to him a surprise he thinks he feels on tenfold as you approach the man. god, how many hours has it been, even? he’d only just seen you this morning, isn’t it too soon for him to be put through this never-ending crisis? he doesn’t feel as if he’s ready, as if he can look you in the eyes while trying to force away the memories of last night, or the turbulent mess that dances and ties red knots around his throbbing heart. “i didn’t expect to see you here too.”

neither did i, he thinks helplessly, though he offers a single words that sounds choked up in his throat, “practice.”

“oh!” you chime, your eyes gazing behind him to where the large sports gym stays only so many paces behind — if he really wants, wakatoshi could easily pretend that he has to return if only to escape from you, but he doesn’t — for some incomprehensible reason, his tongue betrays him with the phantom taste of you.

“well,” you smile, and laughter spills from your lips as you tuck your hair behind your ear and meet his eyes from behind your lashes. “i didn’t think i’d see you again so soon — and at my place of work, no less.”

i didn’t think i would, either, wakatoshi thinks to himself, and then your words rewind in his mind and everything halts. your place of work? the question spills from his lips before he can even think to stop it. “you work here?”

you nod with a hum, gesturing with your palm to the academic buildings that span the expansive lot. “i teach vocal composition and contemporary piano courses here.”

“ah.” of course. wakatoshi is bewildered; how unlucky could he be? for the married woman he fantasized about to be working at the very same university that his team frequents for volleyball practice? he takes a moment to curse the heavens and the cruel gods within them because certainly, they must find humour in his agony.

like lasers, wakatoshi’s eyes become too hyperfocused on you all at once. there’s sweat gleaming down your neck and dipping between your breasts and trailing wet marks down your v-line as you, absentmindedly, fan at yourself. he takes in the way your eyes scrunch together and your lips part with a heavy breath, a sigh that, to his ears, sounds lewd and filthy, and on that single breath, his world runs like a viscous furnace. he’s like a moth drawn to each and every detail about you that swells on the summer’s heat and as he stands here, everything consumes him — the slight pout of your full, puffy lips, the display of your breasts that look so big that they could pop out of your low button up dress at any second, those big, doe-like eyes of yours that are so close to rolling back beneath the agonizing heat — every bit of you accords into a vision of immeasurable pleasure and lust, and then you look at him, head tilted back and panting ever so slightly, and it’s enough and too much all at the same time.

“it’s awfully hot today, isn’t it, mr. ushijima?”

wakatoshi thinks he’ll lose his mind.

something breaks like a faucet and pours scalding water all over himself as he feels his grey sweats becoming too tight, too confining, just like the situation he finds himself in and he decides that now would be the perfect time to leave. “i have to head back.” he nearly stutters over his abrupt sentence, and he sees the slightly startled look that comes over your sun kissed face. again, he feels guilty for fooling you, for lying straight to those innocently pure eyes that are none the wiser of the effects you have on him. in a pathetic attempt that he doubts you’ll even believe, he tries to dissuade you with a simple, yet suffocated, “practice is gonna start soon.”

“oh, of course!” his lie seems to work, and wakatoshi hopes that the relief that locks inside his throat isn’t too obvious as you turn your feet to the opposite direction. “i didn’t mean to hold you up, i’m so sorry!”

“no, it’s alright.” it’s not, but what is he supposed to say? “i’m sure you’ll need to prepare for your next class soon.”

you giggle, hiding your smile behind your hand, and your eyes crinkle at the corners. “you’re right. it was a very nice surprise to see you again, mr. ushijima!”

as he makes his pathetic escape, wakatoshi prays that you don’t find him weird after this, but perhaps if you’d have any inclination of what he’d done, what he’s about to do, would you look at him in disgust? of course you would — he asks himself, how could you not? his feet can’t take him to the secluded gym fast enough as he forsakes everything about himself, purely fueled now by this burning desire that’s carnal in its awakening. the bathroom door locks and the bolt slams with a loud click, the ac languidly blowing through this confined area not nearly enough to quell the fire blazing across his skin. it’s immoral and utterly deprived what he considers doing, and the shame he feels is bound to be an eternal scar. yet in this moment, with his cock so painfully hard and pressing uncomfortably against his thigh, leaking so much precum that it stains through the thick material of his shorts, wakatoshi doesn’t care — not for the ungodliness of the act he’ll commit, nor for the consequences that could follow him. not now, at least. as he releases his throbbing member from its binds and wraps his fists around it, it’s the farthest thing from his mind as he thinks about you. again, it’s you.

the wind in his lungs is knocked out from his mouth as he rapidly pumps his dick. in an instant, the empty bathroom is filled with the squelching noises that bounce and echo off the tiled walls, only contested by his laboured breaths and groans. his knees threaten to lose their ground, and he desperately clutches the cold edge of the sink, the chill consuming his palm almost jarring to the aggressive heat that pours all through him. the image of you with your head tilted towards the sky, of your lips hanging open on salacious cries of his name as he envisions you on top of him, it all drives him to the brink of insanity.

wakatoshi thinks of your body in that tight button up dress blue dress. he thinks of how elegant and put together you looked, the picture perfect woman, and how he wants to tear apart only the top pins open and let your breasts fall out so that he could take them between his lips. how would you sound, he wondered, if he rolled your nipples between his teeth, sucked on them with his tongue until they’d turn hard and perky? would you cry out his name just like you always do? would that sweet voice of yours sing out on torrential pleasure as you’d call out to him, your thighs squeezing around his waist while your hips buck and wriggle over his cock? that innocent façade you wear, how quickly could he make you abandon all reason for desire, until you begged him with your words of honey for him to destroy you?

his fantasy falls apart and rips through him like a comet as cum explodes from his throbbing member and spills through his fingers, ever so narrowly missing his pants and spurting out on the tiled floors. it’s non-stop, this horrible, horrible mess that keeps on growing, his body jolting and knees feeling weak and he struggles to hold himself up because he can’t stop coming, so consumed in his fantasy that the moans he fought so hard to contain now ring freely inside the empty bathroom as his hand continues to milk every drop that jolts out of him. you’re the only thing in his mind, consuming him with hellfire as pleasure winds him up and tears him apart over and over again, and he knows he needs to stop, he’s being too loud, too careless, he could get caught, but god, does this taboo feel so good that he loses control. his depraved mind wonders on you catching him, cumming all over his hands like a depraved beast, all because of you?

there’s a daze that overcomes wakatoshi, heat fading to a warmth that fights for some kind of structure to hold on to as he, breathlessly, leans over the sink. his eyes look down between his legs, the length of his cock still twitching in his palm and cum smeared around it and webbing along his fingers. it doesn’t yet come to him, the reality of what he’s done, and its awakening is slow and steady, until it crashes all around him with the last wisps of adrenaline trickling out of his system. for a long time, he stares at his hands, at the mess smeared in his palm and all over his pants, and he meets his stare in his reflection. he stares, but doesn’t comprehend as a minute becomes two, and then five, and when it’s been far beyond ten, his body flushes over with red-hot embarrassment as he clenches his teeth and drops his head.

wakatoshi, filled with shame, wishes he could throw himself into the sun.

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