(Wakatoshi Ushijima Smut)
[Artwork is not mine! Credit to ari]
Warnings and/or Pre-Notes:
Nick Names: Baby, Darling, Good Boy
Ushi being a Hip Dip King
Techniqual Titty Shot (?)
The soft sound and the vibration of my phone on my leg pull my eyes away from the movie playing on the flat screen. The yellow Snapchat icon stands out against the image of my siblings, my nephew, and me. My eyes flicker up for a moment, checking the time. Ten twenty-one. Maybe Iwaizumi finally sent his streaks.
Once my phone is unlocked, it's proven to me that my brother's best friend isn't the one to snap me. "You know," Tooru starts, warming up the tantrum he's about to throw. "I'm watching this chick flick because you asked me to."
"You're watching the movie to have sallow heart-to-hearts with your fan girls over it," I grumble, hovering for a moment before clicking open the snap-text.
Waka| Are you currently awake?
I roll my eyes at the guy's properness. Would it kill him to try getting into text culture? Probably.
I can't even click out of the chat before he texts back.
Waka| Will you still be awake in sixty
Me| That's a specific time limit
Waka| I need time to get home and shower.
Me| It's late, traffic won't be bad
Me| Where are you this late anyway?
His bitmoji pops up a few times as he carefully crafts his text. Whatever he was writing gets thrown out and replaced by a picture being sent instead. I shrink further into the couch, turning away from my brother before opening Wakatoshi's snap.
I swear I can feel my pupils widen as I happily drink in his photo. He's sat straight on a bench, his legs on either side of it and clenched tight like he's trying to choke the seat out with his thighs. Wakatoshi's shirt is off, showing off the physique he works so hard to maintain. His right arm is shown off too, stretched out as he runs a towel through his soaked hair. My mouth waters with the want to lick the sweat off every one of his perfectly maintained muscles.
His face is as set in boredom as the words typed across the picture.
Waka| I'm at the gym. Can I come over
Me| Come over and do what?
Waka| Preferably I would like to have sex,
| but if you don't wish for that I
| would be happy just sleeping too.
Me| You do know sleepovers don't fall
| under the Sneaky Link agreement
Waka| I thought we were Friends With
| Benefits. A good night of sleep is
| the greatest benefit in life.
Me| You have sixty before I lock the door
When I finally look up from my phone, Tooru's eyes are bearing into me, a cocky smile on his face. "Who sent you a 'you up?' text?"
"It wasn't a 'you up' text," I murmur, making sure to face my phone down in my lap. My brother hates Ushijima. Literally loathes the man. The only person he hates more is some kid named Kageyama. When the two of them landed at the same college, I was convinced Tooru was going to forgo his top-pick college for second-best just because of the guy.
"So, if I told you my plans at eleven fell through, you wouldn't be mad?" He baits, carefully watching for my reaction.
"I should probably head home."
Luckily for the two of us, our mother agreed to pay for off-campus housing as long as we managed to get at least one scholarship. So, we both have small off-campus apartments about three blocks from campus. Also lucky for us, Mom agreed to rent out an apartment for each of us instead of sticking us into the same renter. Tooru's place is only a floor up from mine. Close enough to be comfortable but far enough away that we can live our lives separately.
"I can't believe you're letting a dude named Waka pipe you," Toru pokes, standing up from the couch to stretch out his limps.
My cheeks warm for a second, replaying the conversation between Ushijima and me. My brother couldn't have seen anything too bad, seeing how I turned before opening the photo and talking about sex. However, the thought of Tooru finding out who exactly Waka is scares me and brings more embarrassment than the thought of him reading my texts. "Says the guy that hooked up with a known coke user last night," I finally manage to stab back.
I wait a few moments after the knock to open the door, not wanting to seem too eager for Wakatoshi's arrival. It's not like it'll make a difference since I never know what he's thinking, especially about me.
My breath hicks when I get the door open. There he stands, looking down his nose at me, as intense and as bored as ever. My hormones instantly jerk, sending sparks through my veins at the sight of his sweatpants and a loose graphic tee. It has to be illegal or at least immoral for a man to look like Wakatoshi. "Hi," I greet, slowly tugging my eyes back up to meet his.
"Hello." Father Winter slides his nails down my spine at the sound of his voice. Deep, rich, always so certain. "There are two plates on the table," Wakatoshi points out, his eyes wandering around the house as his hands focus on clinging to the strap of his bag.
"My brother was over. We had dinner and watched a movie."
"Is he still over?" The question is light, almost cautious as it's asked.
Wakatoshi hums, the sound just as deep as his voice and just as quick to tease the lust brewing between my legs. "I'm spending the night."
"Are you asking or telling me?"
His eyes jump back to me, abruptly ending their trail. "I'm telling you."
"Okay," I murmur, widening the door so he can make his way in. He breezes past me, sliding his arm between my stomach and the door. My breath hicks again from the small touch, getting me a quick glance from Wakatoshi before he closes the door. The soft clicks of the locks don't help me any.
A million scenarios race through my head as he turns around and looks down at me again, head tipped and eyes sharp. Sharp enough to slice straight into my core. "Are we having sex tonight or just sleeping?"
"We're having sex," I mutter, trying my best not to let my eyes trail down to his sweatpants again. I swear the imprint of his dick is as set in my head as it is in his pants. This man is going to be the death of me.
"Alright." Wakatoshi moves forward, his hands sliding under my arms to pick me off my feet. "Is this alright?" He asks, settling me on his waist. "I saw it in a movie Tendo took me too. The woman seemed to enjoy it. Are you enjoying it?"
"Ah... ya," I answer, wrapping my legs around his sides before settling my arms around his neck. He nods in understanding, his hands slow and uncertain as they slide down to hold my hips, his thumbs pressed into the dips marking the center of my hips. No matter how many times we hook up, I don't think he'll ever get completely comfortable touching me.
"I had a bad day," Wakatoshi tells me, his steps slow and steady as he makes our way through the house.
"I'm sorry," I breathe out, nudging his jawline with my nose. He gives in, tipping his head to the side so I can start brushing kisses against his throat. They start out light, little butterfly kisses against the warmth of his skin, letting my senses drown in his scent. Cinder and a hint of leather, the same scent that coats the interior of his car and his dorm room.
By the time my bedroom door is creaking open, my mouth is sucking on the delicateness of his neck with my teeth gently teasing his skin. Despite my eagerness to litter him in hickeys, I know how much shit he'd get and how upset Wakatoshi would be about it.
Before I can pull myself off of him, I'm let go and dropped from his arms. Fear of slamming into the ground flickers through me, chased away by the softness of my bed enveloping my fall. "What the hell?!" I yelp, adjusting my placement on the mattress.
Wakatoshi blinks at me for a moment before going back to unslinging his bag from his shoulder and resting it on my dresser. "There is no need to shout. If you wish to be picked up again, simply ask. I don't mind."
"You can't just drop me like that! What the hell gave you that bright idea?"
Again, he stops moving, slowly blinking as he stares at me. "I could not have taken my bag off while holding you. I assumed your bed would be the most comfortable place to rest as I settled in. Why are you still yelling?"
My anger settles down at his explanation, finding reasoning in it. "Next time let me know you're going to drop me. Don't just do it."
"As you wish," he murmurs, turning away from me to dig through his bag. I let myself relax, my back pressed against the headboard, my legs stretched out on top of my sheets, and my head hanging to press against the wood I'm using to support myself. "Take your clothes off," Wakatoshi softly orders, his hands already busy pulling his shirt over his head.
I think over his request for a moment, toying with the hem of my pajama shirt. "Or you could take my clothes off."
"Alright," he agrees, carefully folding his shirt before placing it on his back. Little things like that are what had me convinced he was a robot the first time we met.
Once his t-shirt is squared away, Wakatoshi makes his way over to the bed, the mattress dipping under his wake as he sits on the edge of it. His hands find their way to my hips, his thumbs finding their way to my hip dips like they always do. It pushes into the spots harder for a second, his eyes glued to his fingers, before sliding them across again, this time toying with the end of my shirt.
"What are they called?" He softly asks, letting the silk material slip over his fingers. Wakatoshi's fingertips move gently but the calluses on them rub roughly against my skin.
"What is what called?" I murmur, letting my eyes flutter closed. I soak in the feeling of his hands, drowning in the comparison between the feel of them and the gentle actions they gift me. They inch their path, almost teasingly pushing my shirt further and further up.
"The spot that I squeezed. What is it called? I was trying to talk to Tendo about it but he couldn't understand what I was saying."
"Hip dips," I answer, the words coming out airy because of my lungs' lack of job fulfillment. The feeling of his fingers against my sides, his hands big enough to tease my breasts as they slide path, being responsible for the oxygen boycott.
"I enjoy your hip dips. They're pleasuring," he tells me, his hands staying light as he pulls my shirt over my head, careful not to pull my hair or catch the material on my earrings.
Wakatoshi's eyes bounce across my bareness, leaving a trail of warmth over every inch they cross. His fingertips slide down, trailing between my breasts before settling on the hickey left in the middle of where my underwire rests. Without a bra on, the full size of the bruise is left exposed. "I would like to leave more," he whispers, the words seeming more for himself to hear than me.
As he keeps busy tracing the yellowing bruise, I let my eyes outline every muscle of his torso. They're still sexy, but not as hot as they are covered in sweat. Wakatoshi always looks best drenched in sweat after the gym or one of our hookups. "Are you going to stare at me the whole time?" I ask, drawing figure eights against his pec. "Or are you going to do something? If you just want to stare, take a picture and leave so I can handle stuff myself."
"I would like to see that."
"You touch yourself." Embarrassment quickly drowns out my lust, making my fingertips freeze against his chest and my eyes lock on his Adam's Apple. "I have been doing research about sexual scenarios recently."
"Like actual research or asking Tendo questions?"
"Both," he answers, his fingertips finally sliding off the leftover hickey from last week. They change focus to my breast, twirling around my nipple as his other hand slides its way to my thigh, his thumb buried in the hip dip he likes so much. "I worry our routine has left you unsatisfied. Women with inadequate fathers such as yourself tend to be more creative in the bedroom than we have been."
"You just told me I had daddy issues."
"No," Wakatoshi slowly says, pinching my nipple between his finger and thumb as his other hand grips my hip tighter. "I said women with inadequate fathers tend to be more sexually creative. Tendo recommended I stop being so gentle with you and see how you react. He also recommended some activities to try together, such as mutual masturbation."
"Ushi, Baby," I call, tapping his chin so he'll look up from my boobs. He gives me what I want, his eyes on mine as he pinches my nipple harder. It takes me a second to hush down my lust and to lock away the moan clawing at my throat. "Your friend is weird."
"I suppose," he murmurs, his eyes scanning my face for a reaction as he slowly twists my nipple. "But more times than not he is correct. If you do not wish to try mutual masturbation we can try something else. Or, perhaps you don't wish for me to handle you rougher."
"We can... try both," I stumble out around my hissy breaths, the attention to the same tit balancing on the thin line between pain and pleasure. "I just... uh... don't talk to... Tendo about... about our sex life."
"As you wish, as long as you stop referring to me by my last name. My teammates, people at school, people like your brother refer to me as Ushijima. You refer to me as Wakatoshi. Or perhaps Daddy. Is that something you wish to call me?" He asks, dropping his touch away from my boobs to cup both of my hips. "I've been told women with inadequate fathers also like referring to their sexual partners in such a way."
"No, I'm good," I answer, fluttering my eyes open. Wakatoshi's attention is back on my breasts, watching the way they rise and fall with every breath I take.
"Alright," he whispers, his fingers dipping under the waistband of my pajama bottoms and panties. His eyes swirl over the newly exposed skin as he pushes the clothing off of me, carefully folding them and placing them on my nightstand before turning his attention back to me. "We are going to masturbate now."
"Uh, okay." I stay still, watching Wakatoshi stand up from the bed and wander over to my desk. He takes hold of the chair waiting to be used, dragging it across the room before settling it next to the bed. He's never going to get used to touching me and I'm never going to get used to his matter-of-fact and straight-to-the-point habits of speech.
The bear of a man settles into the blue fluffy chair, looking a bit over-packed against it. "That won't do," he husks out, gripping my ankle before pulling me down the bed. I'm slid onto my back, my head on my pillows for a beat before his big hands are squeezing my hips again. I'm jerked around again, turned ninety degrees so I'm exposed toward the chair and my head threatens to dangle off the bed.
"Much better," Wakatoshi's voice sounds almost cheery as he leans over me, his nose trailing down my stomach. He hovers by my hip, quickly peaking the dip of it before jumping over to do the same to the other side. I guess he wasn't kidding when he said they were 'pleasuring' him. "Was that too rough? The way I moved you?"
"How so?" He asks, his hands leaving me. They're not gone for long, quickly returning to shimmy pillows behind me, effectively propping me up so I can look at him stuffed into my desk chair.
"I find it sexy how much bigger and stronger you are than me. It makes me horny when I man can and does treat me like a rag doll."
Wakatoshi stays silent, staring at me with his arm propped on the chair and his chin settled on his fist. "Alright, I'll keep that in mind," he mutters, finally unfrozen.
His hand shoves down his sweatpants and boxers, just enough for his half-hardened dick to breathe freely. "Begin touching yourself," he orders, wrapping his hand around his dick and slowly pumping it. Embarrassment coats my veins again, egged on by his intense stare. "Darling, please," he asks, lust already edged in his tone. "I feel ridiculous touching myself while you simply watch. Touch yourself as well."
I let my fingertips slide down my stomach, the self-given teasing touch dripping straight to my core. Wakatoshi's eyes widen just a smidge from the simple brush of my fingers, his hold on himself tightening as I finally get to my destination. "Thank you," he murmurs, his hand moving faster as I drawl circles against my clit.
When my hips start to tighten, getting ready to spring a thrust, I draw my fingers lower, teasing my entrance. Wakatoshi's soft huffs and intense focus on me slowly melt from embarrassment to fuel for my hormones. Seeing how focused he is and how eager his hand slides up and down his dick because of my 'self-care' is quite the ego stroke. This big, bad volleyball player fighting so hard to keep his composure.
A stringed moan parts from me as I tip two of my fingers inside my pussy, curling them against my vaginal walls. "Wakatoshi," I whine, slowly dragging my fingers out before thrusting them back in.
His eyes flicker as fast as his hand flicks, his fingers tightening at my call for him. "Darling, we should have sex now."
"No," I whisper, picking up the thrust of my fingers. "You wanted this, now you get to just watch."
His mouth quivers, words stuck on his tongue as his eyes jump between my face and watching my fingers disperse inside myself. "Darling," he carefully calls, chest pumping faster with his increased heart rate. "I wish to be inside you."
"Why?" I ask, my voice pitching and back arching with the rapid approach of my orgasm. "Are you worried I please myself better than you can?"
"Of... of course, not," he grunts, the tip of cock an angry red and his knuckles coated with the spurt of his pre-cum. "I just wish..." He's cut off by a groan, the sound deep and rattles straight to my pussy. "To be... in you."
His slight begging is the blade that snaps the rope holding back my orgasm. I spit out an embarrassing squeal, my pussy clenching around my fingers as cum drips down my thighs, landing on my bedding.
By the time I settle down, my back already aching from arching and slowly resting against the bed again, Wakatoshi looks ready to pop. His cheeks are dusted red, wrinkles decorating his forehead as his eyes focus on the mess of my thighs, and his hand moving fast enough that I'm a bit worried so going to give himself a rag burn. "Darling," he grumbles, the nickname coming out hissy.
"Waka-Chan," I coo, sliding my fingertips through my wet folds, drenching them with my slick cum. I let my fingers wander upward before settling on the dips of my hips, slowly trailing across them and coating my skin in the glistening of myself. He watches me for a beat before screwing his eyes shut.
A grumble, almost jagged rough enough to be a growl, lunges for Wakatoshi, his hand stalling as it gets coated in the saltiness of cum. Slowly, his face melts back to calmness, his dick still twitching and his hand still wrapped around himself. I let my hand slide back between my legs, circling my sensitive clit because of the scene in front of me. This is definitely hotter than his gym pick.
Wakatoshi takes a few moments, evening out his breathing and coming down from his high. After he settles, his eyes snap open and he finally lets go of his dick, full focus back on me toying with myself. "Can I do it too?"
"Put my cum on your dips."
"Sure," I giggle, rolling my bottom lip between my teeth. I can't help the giddiness Wakatoshi's appreciation for my hip dips brings. It's such a small but cute thing for him to like.
He wastes no time, crawling onto the bed and on top of me, careful not to waste any of the sperm coating his hand. Once his thighs are secured on either side of me, squeezing me between them, his fingertips draw designs against my hip dips, our cum mixing together to leave a sticky and quickly cooling mixture on me.
I take the time to look over Wakatoshi, admiring his long lashes and the slow way he blinks them. Admiring the softness but determination in his muddy olive eyes. The smoothness of his skin tugged so tight over his muscles that it reminds me of cloth over stone.
"I want to have sex now," he asks, his eyes flickering up to peer at mine before falling back to his finger painting.
He nods the agreement as sure as everything he does. Wakatoshi slowly leans down, quickly peaking my lips before climbing off of me. That's another weird thing he does, so open to having sex but so awkward about kissing me. He's gone for less than a minute, walking away long enough to dig through his bag before he's back by the bed.
One of his hands fumbles with the rubber, tearing two of them apart, as the other dips into my pussy, feeling my wetness and teasingly poking at my opening. "Do you need more foreplay or do you believe you'll be alright?"
He hums, pulling his touch away to focus on the condoms. One is placed on my nightstand, the gold wrapper standing out against my folded clothes, as the other one is carefully opened and rolled onto his cock. "Maybe I should kiss you again," he whispers, crawling his way on top of me.
Another hum as his hands take hold of my hips, flipping us so he's sat upright with me in his lap. His thumbs find their home, rubbing against my skin and smearing our cum even more. His eyes rapidly blink as he inches his lips closer to mine, uncertainty in his movements. I take the rain for him, closing the gap between us with a soft kiss, one that manages to pull a groan from Wakatoshi.
"Thank you," he whispers when we pull apart, his nose tracing a path down my cheek and along my jaw before settling on my neck. He pulls me closer, the tip of his dick stumbling for a second before finding my pussy. "I am going to give you more bruises while we have sex, alright? You shall give me some in return, preferably on my shoulders."
"As you wish," I tease, slowly lowering myself on his dick. My hands grip his biceps, my lips latching onto his shoulder. My pussy flutters around him, the flutter quickly melting into the pain of taking his girth, both measurements of his dick being a lot to take.
My whimpers melt into the bruise I'm leaving on his shoulder, the sounds only getting louder the lower I sink. "Good job," Wakatoshi whispers against my skin when I finally manage to suck in every last inch of him. "Do you wish to move yourself or do you want me to move you?"
I think about it for a moment, unlatching from the spot I was working on. My tongue rolls over the purple melted into his skin, deciding to make the next one darker. "You," I finally answer, shifting a few centimeters down his shoulder before starting my work all over again.
Wakatoshi's hands tighten on my hips, slowly lifting me until just his tip is poked inside me. I suck in a deep breath, starting the exhale of it when he loosens his hold and lets gravity shove me back down. "Wakatoshi," I whimper, my nails digging into his skin.
My plea is only acknowledged by a harder suck on my neck and the gentle slide of his teeth against my skin. His fingers tighten against me again, matching bruises on my neck sure to be there in the morning. Wakatoshi starts the pace off slow, inching me up before sliding back down. The pace doesn't stay like that for long, my hips quickly being slammed against his.
Aches settle into my bones because of the pace. Aches that he's never given me before. Wakatoshi wasn't kidding about being rough with me, but I couldn't love it any more than I do right now. My skin burns, notably more on the three little bruises he's left on my neck than anywhere else. The mix of pain and pleasure is intoxicating, making it hard to focus on placing hickeys on him in return.
Whines and whimpers spill from me like air, my legs tightening around his torso. "Darling," he husks in my ear, his lips attaching themselves and sucking right below it. I know what the call for me is, it's the mark of the being of his unraveling.
The room feels with a pop because of me dragging my mouth off of his shoulder. One of my hands slides up, cupping his cheek as I tilt my head to rest my nose against him. "Are you going to cum again, Waka-Chan?" I tease, letting my lips brush against his. "I thought you had more stamina than that."
His reaction is fried, mouth quivering like before as he rushes to piece together an answer, eyebrows pressed together in concentration, and pupils blown out in arousal. "I... I have stamina," he huffs out, his minty breath filling my senses. "You're... you are just... gripping me a lot more than... than usual."
"Am I?" I hum, making myself clench around him. A groan bubbles out of Wakatoshi, hands hard as they shove my hips down against his as rough as he can manage. "Aw, is my Baby already coming?" I softly degrade, finally inching close enough to give him a proper kiss. He melts into it, jerking me closer so my belly is pressed against his.
When we part, Wakatoshi flips us over, keeping himself buried in me as I'm pressed into the mattress. "You are rather taunting today."
"Do you not like it?" I ask, tracing the five hickeys littered on his shoulder. I'll have to place some on the other one during our next round.
Wakatoshi stays silent as he slowly pulls out of me, carefully rolling the condom off to not spill any on the bed. "I believe I enjoyed it. It made me finish quicker than I do without it," he finally answers, his eyes flickering between the rubber dangling above me and my boobs.
"That's good." The second word comes out pitched, surprise melting into my tone. Confusion mixes with the surprise, the warm, almost hot feeling of Wakatoshi's cum being dropped onto my chest. "What are you doing?" I ask, carefully watching as he dumps the condom out and onto me.
He gently shakes the rubber, encouraging the last few droplets to leak out and join the puddle on my tits. The puddle that's melting all over my chest and leaving my boobs coated in semen. "I wanted to see what your breasts looked like covered in my sperm. It's an enjoyable sight," Wakatoshi answers, disregarding the used condom on my nightstand before cupping my chest.
His hands squeeze my boobs, repeatedly pushing them in circles and encouraging his cum to spill over more of my skin. His thumbs find my nipples, sliding back and forth as he watches every reaction I have. "I should have asked before doing that," Wakatoshi mutters, uncertainty back in his movements as he leans down to gift me another kiss. "Is this alright? Did you enjoy it? Should I grab a towel to clean your chest before our next round?"
"It was shocking, but not in a bad way."
"Are you enjoying it though?"
He thinks over my answer for a moment, still kneading my breasts. "Do you want me to clean you yet?"
Wakatoshi's eyes jerk up, a blush flickering across his cheeks before he gets his rushed reaction under control. "As... as you wish," he mutters, sliding down a bit so his mouth can comfortably reach my tits.
My back arches at the feel of his tongue sliding across my boob, slowly lapping up the mess he made. Wakatoshi takes his time, swirling around my nipple and licking up every last drop before doing the same to the other side. "Look at you," I begin my teasing, running my fingers through his hair. "So eager to clean up the mess you made. What a good boy."
His hips jerk against my thigh, teeth gliding against my nipple as he groans. Wakatoshi's tongue goes flat, sliding over my nipple once more before he pulls away from my chest. "Aww, how cute, someone likes being called a good boy, doesn't he?"
His hands dig into my hip bones, pulling me down as he thrusts into my thigh harder this time. "Can we have sex again?"
(Wakatoshi Ushijima Smut)
[Artwork is not mine! Credit to ari]
Requested by: Still Not Jesus
Word Count: 3,685
Warnings and/or Pre
