#ushijima smut

[nagislvr]

I just read the most nastiest ushijima smut known to mankind help omgh

[lostgirlinthewoodss]

I need a scientist to explain to me how ive been watching haikyuu since i was 12/13 and never once did i find ushijima ATTRACTIVE ATTRACTIVE

but ive been re watching now mostly for the nostalgia since i graduated highschool. oh ma fucking gawd. good lord. i need that cookie bad

[sugarwarachan]

ushijima gets a reputation for not reciprocating oral because he's too afraid to ask how to do it and he refuses to learn from porn. he thinks he's being obvious that he'd like to know, he just simply doesn't know how, but he's a hard guy to read.

you notice though. you don't mind teaching him how to eat pussy if the price is this gigantic man's shoulders holding your thighs open, one thumb resting on the hood of your clit.

"here?" his tongue darts out. his hands tighten around your hips when you roll up to meet him. his voice is gruff when he speaks next. "you must like that, then."

he's awkward sometimes, too messy in others. he barely talks to you, stops just often enough to get instructions, but you never once doubt how much he likes eating you out.

"add a finger, 'toshi." you've never gotten over how thick his fingers are, how one of them will make you clench. it's nice how immediately he obeys, watching the digit sink into you with something akin to awe.

he looks up at you, chin shining. "this doesn't mean i have to stop tasting you, does it?"

how he got this reputation, you'll never know. he nuzzles into your palm when you card through his hair.

"keep going until you tire yourself out, big guy."

famous last words. he's gentle the first time, teasing out an orgasm like he's afraid to hurt you. the second and third time—because he likes to be thorough in his learning—he learns how to make you squirt, a somewhat evil glint in his eyes when he sees how intensely he can make you cum.

[toorunoia]

18+ MDNI | omegaverse au | ushijima wakatoshi x reader

; alpha!ushijima helps you through your heat but he knows he’s big so he’s trying so hard to be careful :(

cw: whore (me), p in v, knotting, reader’s in heat, no gender/name mentioned, mating press aha, alpha!ushijima, huge size difference, oral f!receiving, slight degradation, praise, RAAWWW, breeding, aftercare

the heavy, sweet scent of your heat had been thick in the bedroom for two days, but tonight it turned into something sharp and frantic. your slick was soaking through the sheets, and every time you shifted, a low, needy whine tore from your throat.

ushijima stood by the edge of the bed, his broad shoulders casting a massive shadow over you. his own scent—deep cedarwood and rain—was flaring, heavy with the protective, dominant edge of an alpha responding to his mate. his pupils were blown wide, tracking the way your body shivered, completely undone by the fever in your blood.

“please,” you gasped, your fingers clawing at the mattress. “wakatoshi, please. i need you inside. now.”

he swallowed hard, the muscles in his jaw tight. he wanted nothing more than to rip his clothes off and bury himself in you, but he stayed his hand. ushijima was acutely, painfully aware of his own size. he was built like a wall of solid muscle, and his cock was thick enough to stretch you to your absolute limit. the last thing he wanted to do was hurt you when you were this vulnerable.

“i’m going to help you,” his deep voice rumbled, vibrating right through your chest. “but you have to let me go slow. you’re too tight right now.”

“i don’t care,” you cried out, your hips jerking up in silent plea. “just fuck me.”

“no,” he said softly but firmly, stripping out of his shirt to reveal his massive, scarred chest. he crawled onto the mattress, the bed dipping heavily under his weight. he hovered over you, a mountain of heat and muscle, before pinning your wrists above your head with just one of his massive hands.

with his free hand, he reached down between your thighs. your thighs parted instantly, desperate for the touch. when his thick fingers swiped over your entrance, they came away drenched.

“look how wet you are,” he murmured, his thumb rubbing over your swollen bundle of nerves. you bucked against his hand, a loud sob escaping your lips as the friction hit the spot perfectly. “so much slick. you’re dripping for me, sweetheart.”

he slid his index finger inside you. you gasped, your walls clamping down hard on the intrusion. he grunted, his own alpha instincts roaring at the tight, burning heat of your channel. he slowly, oh so carefully, added a second finger, then a third, stretching you open, stretching you wide until you were panting, your head lolling back against the pillows. he pumped his fingers inside you, intentionally roughing up the sensitive walls, making you soak his hand in your juices until you were thoroughly worked over.

but it wasn’t enough. your heat demanded the real thing. your hips rolled against his hand, begging for the heavy, thick meat you knew was waiting.

ushijima pulled his fingers out with a wet slap. he reached down, unbuckling his pants and freeing himself. his cock sprang free, already fully erect, almost dark red and leaking pre-cum from the tip. it was thick as a brick, veins pulsing along the shaft, and the knot at the base was already starting to swell slightly from the sheer proximity of your pheromones.

he looked down at you, his eyes dark with a mix of primal lust and intense restraint. “open your legs wider for me, sweetheart. i need to see you.”

you complied instantly, pulling your knees back toward your chest, exposing your dripping, twitching hole to him.

he lined the heavy, blunt head of his cock against your opening. the sheer size of him made you whimper with a mix of anticipation and slight fear. he pressed forward just an inch, testing the wet give of your body.

“ah! god, wakatoshi—” you choked out, your eyes flying open. it felt like you were being split open, the thick head of his dick stretching your entrance to its absolute limit.

“i know,” he growled, sweat dripping from his forehead onto your chest. his arms were shaking from the effort of holding his immense weight back, refusing to just plunge in and breed you. “you’re way smaller than me. breathe through it. let me stretch you out first, hm?”

he pushed a little deeper, the thick shaft forcing its way into your tight, burning heat. he took his time, inch by excruciating inch, giving you time to accommodate to stretch around his massive girth. you gripped his shoulders, your nails digging into his skin as he buried himself halfway into you.

“f—fuck, you’re so tight,” ushijima groaned, a rare, filthy curse leaving his lips. his hips twitched, desperately wanting to slam into you, to plow into you like the animal that he is, but he kept his rhythm agonizingly slow. “tell me if it’s too much. tell me.”

“more,” you sobbed, tilting your pelvis up to take the rest of him. “give me all of it. fuck me, wakatoshi.”

with a low, guttural growl, he gave in to your plea. he bucked his hips forward, burying his enormous cock all the way to the hilt. the impact hit your cervix, a white-hot jolt of pure pleasure jolting through your spine. you let out a wrecked scream, your walls clamping down on him like a vice.

ushijima froze, his eyes going completely wild as your tight, hot interior squeezed him. he let out a ragged gasp, his chest heaving. “god… you’re trying to milk me dry already.”

he began to move. because he was trying to be careful, each stroke was deliberate, heavy, and devastatingly deep. he would pull almost all the way out, letting your entrance almost adjust to the emptiness, before plunging all the way back in with a wet, heavy plap. the sound of his thighs slapping against your ass filled the room, a dirty, rhythmic cadence that matched the heavy scent of sex clogging the air.

“you like how big i am, don’t you? you love getting folded in half like a slut, huh? needy little thing.” he rasped, his voice dropping to a gravelly whisper as he leaned down to bite at the skin of your shoulder, marking you without breaking the skin ..yet. “look at how you’re taking me. you’re stretched so wide.”

you couldn’t even answer. you were completely overwhelmed, your mind turning to pure mush under the onslaught of his massive dick hitting your sweet spot over and over. you could feel every vein, the massive stretch of him filling every empty crevice of your body.

as the pace naturally began to quicken, ushijima’s control started to slip. the heat pheromones were driving his brain insane. his strokes became harder, meaner, pounding into you with a raw, primal force. he hooked your legs over his thick shoulders, tilting your hips at a brutal angle that let him get even deeper.

“wakatoshi! i’m gonna—ngh—i’m cumming!” you screamed, your body tightening as the climax washed over you. your walls pulsed violently around him, squeezing his shaft in frantic waves.

that was the breaking point. the intense suction of your orgasm triggered his own. ushijima let out a loud, roaring growl, his hips slamming home one last time as his knot suddenly fired, swelling rapidly inside you.

“ah, shit—hold still for me,” he choked out, his hands gripping your hips so hard they would leave bruises.

the knot ballooned to twice its size, completely locking him inside your twitching, over-stimulated hole. you gasped at the sudden, intense fullness, feeling like you were going to burst. before you could even process the sensation, his dicking began to pulse, and a thick, endless torrent of hot alpha seed blasted deep into your womb. he came in violent, heavy spurts, filling you to the brim until the excess slick and semen started to ooze out around the tight seal of his knot.

ushijima collapsed over you, careful not to crush you with his weight, his face buried in the crook of your neck. he was panting heavily, his massive body still twitching as he held you pinned beneath him, completely knotted and bound together in the aftermath of your heat.

later on. the violent pulsing of his knot slowly began to ease, though he remained locked deeply within you, a heavy, throbbing plug that kept every drop of his thick seed securely trapped inside your womb. ushijima’s breathing was ragged against your neck, his massive chest rising and falling in heavy, exhausting thuds against your own. the manic, predatory edge of his scent began to slowly soften, shifting from the sharp, territorial musk of a mate in rut back into the warm, comforting embrace of rich cedarwood and fresh rain.

he shifted his weight slightly, propping himself up on his forearms so he wasn’t crushing you, though he kept his lower body pressed firmly against yours. his eyes, usually so stoic and piercing, were soft, dark, and heavy with a profound devotion as he looked down at you.

“are you alright?” he rumbled, his voice a low, gravelly vibration that resonated right through your bones. he reached up with a heavy hand, his thumb gently wiping away a stray tear that had leaked from the corner of your eye during the intensity of your climax. “did i hurt you?”

you shook your head weakly against the pillow, too exhausted and thoroughly spent to speak. a soft, contented hum vibrated in your throat, a direct response to his soothing pheromones.

“good,” he murmured, kissing your forehead tenderly.

with immense care, ushijima began the slow process of pulling out. the knot had deflated enough to allow movement, but he still went agonizingly slow, aware of how sensitive and raw your stretched walls were. he gripped your hips gently, anchoring you as he slid his thick shaft out of your body.

the sudden absence of his heat made you whimper, a cool draft hitting your overly sensitive skin. almost immediately, a warm, creamy mixture of his semen and your slick began to ooze from your open, twitching entrance, dripping onto the ruined sheets.

“shh, i’ve got you,” he coaxed, his tone uncharacteristically tender.

he didn’t leave you to wallow in the mess. even in his own state of post-coital exhaustion, his first instinct was to take care of you. ushijima carefully swung his long legs out of bed, his naked, muscular form moving with a quiet purpose across the dim room. he returned a moment later carrying a basin of warm water and a soft, clean washcloth.

he knelt at the edge of the mattress, gently parting your thighs. you instinctively tensed, your muscles aching, but his large hand came down on your knee, a grounding, reassuring weight.

“just relax for me. let me clean you up, my love.”

he squeezed the excess water from the cloth and began to gently wipe away the sticky fluids coating your inner thighs and the lower curve of your stomach. his touch was incredibly light, a stark contrast to the heavy, bruising grip he’d held on you just minutes prior. he was meticulous, dabbing away the cream-colored mess with slow, deliberate strokes, ensuring he didn’t chaff your sensitive skin.

when he pressed the warm cloth gently against your swollen opening, you let out a soft gasp, your hips hitching.

“i know, it’s sensitive,” he whispered, holding the warm cloth there for a moment to soothe the ache. “you took all of me so well. you were perfect, so, so, perfect.”

once you were clean, he gently carried you to a bean bag, walked over to the bed and tossed the soiled cloth aside and stripped the damp sheets off the bed with a single, efficient tug, tossing them to the floor and pulling the clean, dry comforter up over the mattress. he again carried your spent body carefully and climbed back into bed, pulling your limp, exhausted body tightly against his chest.

he wrapped his massive arms around you, burying his face in your hair, letting his scent wash over you in thick, comforting waves to keep the lingering tremors of your heat at bay. you rested your head against his chest, listening to the slow, steady beat of his heart, completely safe and protected in the arms of the love of your life.

n: this took 1hr and 30mins. i have no plans to tell my discord that i’ve uploaded it because i

© toorunoia — don’t copy, repost, or translate without my permission. do not use/feed my works to AI.

ilustyou

[octobermarigold]

Heyy I was wondering if u take requests?

If yes, read ahead, if no, just ignore this!!

So, can I request Tendou x fem!reader (established relationship) where reader is VERY insecure about her body and always tells Tendou to look away when she changes (even tho they already slept w each other and stuff like that) and he tries to tell her that she's beautiful but she blocks and idk I was thinking suuupper angsty and maybe Comfort?

Just ignore this if you dont take requests or simply dont wanna write this!!

Your writing is sooo good btw

Love, Nori

YESSSS I love the idea of this, I will totally get to working on it right after I'm done with my Ushijima fic (which will be out soon)!!!

I haven't written angst before but i'm excited to try (I know that sounds odd). I think Tendou would be a fantastic character for this, as he would know from experience the type of insecurity and how to manage it (aka a 10/10 comfort character).

I do however just want to say that everyone is absolutely beautiful and gorgeous in their own way! EVERY BODY IS BEAUTIFUL. remember that no matter who you are or what you look like you are a human being who deserves love, kindness and compassion even from yourself. It's important to practice self compassion and REMEMBER YOUR WORTH. you're fantastic babes.

ALSO please feel free to fill my inbox up with asks, I love inspo and I love asks. i'm here if anyone wants to request a fic or just to vent!!!

[nanamisfae]

Hiiii!!!! How do you think wakatoshi reacts when reader wears his favorite lace set, and sends pics to him because he had complained that he missed her and his teammates were kinda annoying , (they’re married, also is it possible to have reader be a black fem, no biggie if not!!).

AGAJSVDKSKKKK WAKATASOSHI YESS YES YESSSS.

USHIJIMA X BLACK READER

18+|| MDNI

CW: it's mainly suggestive no explicit sex

It had been a day since you spoke to ushijima due to his flight and busy practice schedule you've only had the time to text on and off but finally he had some free time to talk even though it was super late in his time zone.

"Missed you" he says his voice relaxed with that strong baritone you know him for.

"Aww 'toshi, but you're there with your teammates having fun"

"They're so annoying especially Kageyama, they could never compare to you"

Wakatoshi has always been very straight forward with everything no matter what, if he misses you it's nothing else besides that and he means it plainly, and you absolutely love him for that.

"Tell me what you've been doing, I don't want to talk about them anymore than I have to"

"Hahaha, nothing much really I just went shopping picked up a few things here and there"

"Hmm like what? " his voice has a curious but teasing tone to it

"Just clothes, perfumes, skin care and hair care you know and maybe I stopped by Victoria secret who knows"

You hear the sheets shuffle like he's moving from a laid down position to a seated on

"Really busy whilst I'm gone, don't you want to do a haul unboxing for me wifey"

"Okay switching to face time" you pan the camera to a stack of shopping bags and boxes. Going full influencer mode.

"─and I love this new body glow oil I found like it's so shimmer and moisturizing, doesn't it look so good on my skin 'Toshi?"

"Mhm it's so pretty and glowy"

The entire conversation was filled with you excitedly explaining all the new products and restocks you got like how the new Shea butter cream you got is so amazing for your curls and just makes it shine so well, and how you got this new vanilla scented perfume oil, and the new pair of heels you got and the entire time he was listening giving you attentive nods and hmms and ohhs with a side of that's so good, so pretty, amazing love and it looks perfect on you.

After that you were left with one final bag the Victoria secret one.

"Last but not the least HER"

"Finally."

"You know what cause of that you don't get to see anything, good night sir"

You end the call abruptly, he immediately starts apologizing in your dms you feign disinterest just to rile him up already plotting a perfect present for him.

The next day you plan everything right, putting on the shea butter cream to add and extra sheen to your hair, using the body glow oils to really make you chocolate skin glow just right in the sun, putting on his favorite lip combo shade and finally the perfect olive green lingerie that matched his eyes perfectly, you got them to replace the previous set he ripped when eating you out.

The color looked so good on your skin the shade standing out against your darker complexion. You were posed on the bed getting perfect angles just for him knowing damn well the hell about to break loose when you were done.

*sent*

"The last bag btw do you like it? "

[image]

Ushijima was in the middle of a water break when his phone dinged and he noticed it was text from you, he felt so relieved you reached to him, when he clicked on the text that relaxation turned to a hot flush running down his entire body, his hand gripping his water bottle was white from how much he was gripping it.

In the picture you were standing with the camera tilted upwards, his eyes trailed from your shapely legs wrapped in a gather belt, to the lace panties wrapped around your hips, then along your stomach, and the lacey bra gripping your tits perfectly and lastly on you face that had an expression of want and need "fuck it's green" it's like finally registered to him what color- no who's color you were covered in.

Just recovering from that one picture and you kept spamming him for the rest of the day with angles from in between your legs, to down your cleavage and you with his pillow between your legs.

Just to say maybe he got way more than he bargained for and was hard the entire practice game

Why can't I stfu when given a simple prompt.

Hope you like it and thank you so much for the ask especially cos it's ushijima 😭😭😭

[lavielite]

lovetrap - ushijima wakatoshi x fem!reader

he asks you to sit on his face because it's the only way he knows how to express his devotion and soothe your scattered mind.

notes: face-sitting. direct and clear communication, despite their different temperaments. v sweet actually. reader has a pussy. his genitals not mentioned at all. ushijima lifts and carries reader easily, other physical features not mentioned.

reader is adhd coded, ushijima is coded to be on the spectrum. this is like 1.5k maybe i dont know

–୨୧–

it's a late weekend morning, you've only woken up and ushijima is already back from an early morning gym session; all fresh and showered when he finds your sleepy form. he joins you in bed, which you arent ready to leave yet.

you're perched on his lap, your twinkling eyes and lilting voice teasing him about how he's now been trapped in bed by you, despite both of you knowing just how easy it'd be for him to move you aside.

"can't leave now," you smirk at him, giggling. "what do you say about that?"

wakatoshi watches your mostly bare form, just a thin little cropped top and white cotton underwear, your socks rolled at the ankles. you look so casual and vulnerable like this, so at ease, so trusting.

he doesn't know how to tell you that he never wants to leave the bed either, when you're in it.

instead of answering your teasing in words, he easily hoists you up and plants you onto his chest. you let out a girlish laugh and admonish him for the sudden movement, clearly not at all upset.

'"hah- toshi!"

his tank top shifts under your ass as he grips your hips, steadying you as you sit on him now. his hands are supportive and firm, never harsh.

"i don't mind being trapped by you," he says, tone even and low. you have to look at his face to try to read his intentions.

his thumbs brush against the waistband of your panties. you feel your face heat up.

"toshi, what is this?" you whine a bit, flustered at his steady eye-contact. it never fails to make you feel exposed, especially now, as you're barely dressed, feeling the solid muscles of his chest underneath you.

you squirm but don't move away as his grip loosens to let you out. pouting, you poke at his cheek, frustrated at his silence.

"come on, tell me, what do you want," you urge.

ushijima just looks up at you for a moment, eyes trailing over your body, a slightly heated look. he pauses before he speaks. you wait as always, though nothing could prepare for his following words.

"i want you to sit on my face," he deadpans.

"wha- huh?"

you nearly squeak, hand coming to your mouth. in hindsight, you should very well be used to his bluntness by now. ushijima doesn't mind, he just watches your reaction. he doesn't apologise, doesn't move you, just waits for you to recover from your bout of embarrassed gawking and huffing.

it's sort of cute, he thinks.

the way your hips shift isn't exactly subtle, but he either doesn't notice the clear signs of your arousal, or pretends not to. you don't know which you'd prefer.

"umm- you wanna-?" you start, suddenly too aware of his big hands on your hips, the way he methodically traces the edge of your panties, the way his chest feels warm and solid, how you could just grind a bit more-

"-to perform cunnilingus, while you sit on my face," he finishes your abandoned thought. he watches you like he's trying to read your expression, a bit confused, but always earnest. you save him the guessing.

"you mean right now?" you ask, then immediately continue, "of course you do, i mean-" you gesture at your positioning. "yeah, okay, sure- as long as you don't mind-"

your scattered answer gets interrupted by another squeak as he tugs you forward, hands supporting your weight, holding you at your hips and thighs. you're hovering over his mouth now, your thighs bracketing his head.

your core throbs at the intense focus in ushijimas eyes. your thin underwear is the only thing separating you two. you feel aroused so fast that it's dizzying.

"yes, now. with your consent," he confirms, eyes caught on the damp spot on your panties.

you smile at his choice of words, nodding.

"yeah, okay." your voice comes out more heady and dazed than you mean to. ushijima smiles slightly at that, and promptly pulls your hips down, his nose touching your pussy through your panties.

you think he inhales before he starts mouthing at your clothed pussy, but then again, your mind is racing too fast to process every sensation.

ushijimas arms wrap around you, pulling you to him. your position is no longer in your own control at all with the way he basically holds you still over him as he mouths at your wet pussy through your underwear.

"toshi-" you whine, worried about the strain on his arms as he spreads you open, but all he does is groan into you, sending vibrations against your skin, tearing away your worries with the sensation.

when your panties are soaked through, he hooks two fingers into the fabric and pulls them aside, exposing your slick cunt to him properly. he doesn't hesitate before licking a generous stripe over your whole pussy, making you huff and whimper above him.

ushijimas grip tightens at your sounds, pulling you down more, and soon you realise that your weight is actually sitting on his face.

his tongue works you intently, like he's hungry for your arousal, and you do your best to brace yourself, to keep your balance as he sends waves of intense pleasure through your system.

"hah- toshi," you whine, hips jolting against his mouth, as if of their own accord. he hums against your cunt dismissively, eyes closed as he mouths at you greedily.

you insist, fighting to find words through his relentless motions.

"you- you need to watch out, your neck- wait-" you try, whines escaping between words, and he pulls back, briefly.

then, those intense eyes are back on you, with all of his desire and passion evident to see. it makes you shiver.

"is that your concern?" he asks. his tone gives you nothing again, his voice a little gruff, a little out of breath. he doesn't seem to mind at all.

you meet his eyes, your bewildered and panting form much less composed than him. his tongue idly collects your dripping arousal as you try to answer. you don't stop him despite the way it makes your mind thrum — maybe because of it, you think absently.

"just don't want you to overexert yourself, or something-" you explain, "would be a weird one to explain to your P.T, wouldnt it?" you suggest humorously, a tinge of pleasure audible in your voice as he kisses your pussy gently.

"i wouldn't tell her about our intimate life," he pulls back and answers, gaze still drawn to your slick cunt, mere inches from his face. he looks distracted, licking his lips.

you huff; he doesn't seem to get what you mean.

"do you want me to stop?" he asks directly, eyes searching your face, trying to decipher the intensity in your eyes contrasted with the concern in your words. his hands shift, going to move you away, but you react faster.

"no!" you yelp, "no, i don't want you to stop," you explain, tone expressive, eyes flitting to the side, finding it hard to stay cool with his warm breaths so close to where you need him most.

"just.. promise me you won't get injured or anything," you say, sighing.

your mind is just so expert at trailing off-course, finding scenarios to catastrophize about. ushijima is usually your opposite, bringing you back to realistic probability with an even tone, a tight hug or a steady presence. he grounds you, protects you from the world, but sometimes also your overactive, fearmongering mind.

ushijima furrows his brow a bit, then shifts your weight in his arms. his eyes are intense as he looks at you through his lashes.

"i lifted much more than your weight just this morning, there is nothing to worry about," he says, and then his mouth is on you again.

oh, okay. a tight hug, calming words, or this, apparently, you think.

you groan, a bit at his directness, mostly at the way he sucks on your clit so well, humming lowly against your pussy as he enjoys your taste on his tongue. you're forced down onto his face again.

"-you can't lift with your face," you still argue, focus draining. ushijimas nose presses into the hair at your mound, giving your clit something to grind on as he licks at your pussy with conviction. his hands shift your hips for you, moving you over his face.

it's like he's forcing the worries out of you by making you fuck his face until you can't think anymore.

you think it's working.

"toshi-" you don't know if you're prompting him to reply, or just moaning his name.

the only response you get is a hum against your clit that makes your eyes roll back.

–୨୧–

[glimmerfics]

'Wear a stupid t-shirt' party, they said. It would be fun, they said. So how the hell did you end up on your knees for Ushijima Wakatoshi in this NSFW Choose Your Own Adventure?

🔗READ/PLAY HERE to make your own choices! [Playthrough by Anonymous]

You don't answer with words. Instead, you press your lips to his jaw, feeling the slight roughness there, the way his breath hitches almost imperceptibly.

You trail kisses down the column of his throat, slow and deliberate. His hand tightens against the back of your neck, not guiding, just there — grounding. You feel his pulse against your lips, steady but quickened.

He says your name. Quiet. Rough.

The sound of it sends heat pooling low in your stomach. You press closer, your hands sliding from his chest up to his shoulders, then around his neck, fingers threading into the short hair at the nape. He exhales sharply, and you feel it against your temple.

His other hand finds your hip, palm flat, thumb pressing in just slightly. Not pulling you closer — just holding you there, like he's steadying himself.

"Y/N." His voice is lower now, restrained. "If you keep doing that, I won't last much longer as a gentleman."

You pull back just enough to meet his eyes. They're dark, hooded, fixed on you with an intensity that makes your stomach flip.

"Who said I wanted a gentleman?"

The words hang between you, charged and bold. Something flickers in his gaze — heat, restraint, and the slow burn of a decision being made.

His hand slides from your hip to the hem of your shirt, fingers brushing against bare skin.

"Then stop being one."

The words leave your lips like a dare, low and steady despite the hammering in your chest.

Ushijima's eyes hold yours for a heartbeat. Two. Then his hand at your hip tightens, and he moves.

He guides you backward until your knees hit the edge of his bed. You sit — more collapse than sit, really — and look up at him. He follows, one knee pressing into the mattress beside your thigh, caging you in without quite touching you.

His hand slides from beneath your shirt, trailing up your arm, your shoulder, until his fingers brush the curve of your throat. Light. Barely there.

"Tell me if you want to stop." His voice is low, direct. "Tap my leg, my arm — anywhere. Twice."

A pause. His thumb brushes your pulse point.

"Do you understand?"

You nod, throat tight.

"Words, Y/N."

"I understand."

His mouth finds yours again, but this time there's nothing gentle about it. His lips are firm, insistent, and his hand settles properly against your throat — not squeezing, just resting there, warm and deliberate. A promise.

Your hands find his shirt, fisting the fabric at his chest as you kiss him back. The words Warning: Choking Hazard press against your palms like braille.

You pull back just enough to speak.

"I want to see what's under this."

"Show me what that warning means."

His eyes darken. The hand resting at your throat shifts — fingers spreading, palm pressing flat against your pulse. He doesn't squeeze. Just holds you there, a quiet claim.

"You're sure."

It's not a question. But you answer anyway.

"I'm sure."

A beat. Then his grip tightens — just enough. The pressure is warm, firm, deliberate. Not enough to cut off air, but enough to make you feel it. To make you aware of exactly where his hand is and what it could do.

Your breath catches. Your eyes stay locked on his.

"Breathe through your nose," he says quietly. "Slowly."

You do. The air comes in measured, controlled. His thumb presses against the side of your throat, feeling your pulse flutter beneath his touch.

"Good."

He leans in, lips brushing your ear. His voice drops lower, rougher.

"When I told you the warning was real, I meant it." A pause. "But I also meant that I would not hurt you. Do you understand the difference?"

You swallow against his palm. "Yes."

His hand loosens slightly, a reward, and he pulls back to look at you. His gaze is focused, sharp — but there's something softer beneath it. Care, maybe. Attention.

"The first time I tighten," he says, "I want you to tap my arm. Just once. So I know you remember the signal."

"Why the first time?"

"Because I want to know you trust me to stop before you need to tap twice."

The words land somewhere deep in your chest, warm and heavy. You nod.

"Good." His thumb traces your jawline. "Now. About that warning."

"I trust you."

The words come out quiet, but steady. You hold his gaze, letting him see that you mean it.

Ushijima watches you for a long moment. Something shifts in his expression — not softening, exactly, but settling. Like he's decided something.

"Good."

His hand is still at your throat, warm and present. He squeezes once, gently — a test, a reminder. You remember the signal and tap his arm once, light, just to show him you haven't forgotten.

His eyes flicker with something like approval.

Then he leans in, lips brushing the shell of your ear. His voice drops to a low murmur.

"I'm going to take your shirt off now. Lift your arms."

The instruction is calm, direct. Your body responds before your brain catches up — arms raising, fabric bunching at your ribs as his fingers find the hem. He pulls it up and over your head in one smooth motion, tossing it somewhere behind him without looking.

His gaze travels down, unhurried. Takes in the plain bralette you'd worn under it — practical, unassuming. But the way he looks at you makes it feel like luxury lingerie.

"Beautiful," he says simply.

The word catches you off guard. You feel heat rush to your cheeks.

His thumb traces your collarbone, featherlight. "I want to hear you say my name."

It's not a request. But it's not a demand either — just a statement of fact, delivered in that low, steady voice.

"Wakatoshi."

His name leaves your lips like a secret, quiet and deliberate. You watch his reaction — the barely perceptible shift in his expression, the way his hand at your throat relaxes a fraction.

He kisses you again. Slower this time, deeper. His hand slides from your throat down your chest, palm flat against your sternum, before trailing lower. His fingers hook into the waistband of your jeans, but he doesn't pull yet.

"You have a pretty voice when you say my name." His lips brush yours as he speaks, low and rough. "I want to hear it again."

He tugs at your jeans, a silent question. You lift your hips, and he works them down your legs, tossing them aside with the same casual efficiency as your shirt. You're left in your bralette and underwear, suddenly aware of how bare you are under his gaze.

He doesn't rush. His eyes trace over you, unhurried, like he's committing the image to memory.

"You're beautiful, Y/N."

The sincerity in his voice makes your chest tighten. He says it like a fact, like he's stating something as indisputable as gravity.

You reach for the hem of his shirt — that shirt, with its warning still pressed across the fabric.

"I want this off."

He lets you pull it up. You reveal his chest inch by inch — broad, defined, warm in the lamplight. When the fabric clears his head and falls to the floor, you let yourself look.

He's built exactly how you'd expect from a player of his caliber. Strong shoulders, solid chest, the kind of defined muscle that comes from years of disciplined training. A thin line of hair trails down his stomach, disappearing beneath his jeans.

You realize you're staring. You don't care.

"Fair," he says quietly, a hint of something almost playful in his voice. "You've seen mine. Now let me see the rest of you."

"I want to feel your hands on me."

The words hang in the air, a plea wrapped in certainty.

Ushijima's response is immediate. His hands find your waist, palms flat against bare skin, sliding up slowly. The pads of his fingers catch against your ribs, your sides — mapping you. His touch is warm, deliberate, like he's learning the shape of you through his palms.

He leans down, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. Then your collarbone. His lips trail across your chest as his hands continue their exploration — down your sides, over your hips, thumbs pressing into the dip of your waist.

"Like this?" His voice is muffled against your skin.

You nod, but he pulls back just enough to meet your eyes.

"Words."

"Yes," you breathe. "Like that."

His mouth curves — the smallest hint of satisfaction — before his hands find the clasp of your bralette. He pauses, waiting for your permission.

You give it with a single nod.

He unclasps it with practiced ease, sliding the straps down your shoulders, letting it fall away. His eyes travel over you again, slow and appreciative. His thumb traces the curve of your breast, featherlight, before his palm settles flat against your chest, feeling your heartbeat.

"Fast," he observes quietly. "Is that for me?"

"Who else would it be for?"

His eyes lift to yours. Something warm flickers in them — heat, yes, but also something softer. A recognition.

He leans in, lips brushing yours as his hand slides from your chest to your throat again. Gentle pressure. A reminder.

"Good answer."

You reach for him, hands finding his shoulders, and pull.

He follows without resistance, his weight settling over you as he braces on his forearms, caging you beneath him. The heat of his body presses against yours — chest to chest, hips slotting together in a way that makes you gasp softly. His skin is warm, solid, real.

He kisses you again, deeper this time. His tongue meets yours, slow and exploring, while his hand finds your bare waist, fingers splaying across your ribs. His thumb brushes the underside of your breast, teasing, before his palm slides lower.

He breaks the kiss to look at you. His hair has fallen slightly forward, and his breathing has roughened. Those olive eyes roam your face like he's memorizing it.

"You're very direct," he says, but there's no criticism in it. A faint curve touches his lips. "I like that."

His hand slides further down, palm flat against your stomach, then lower. His fingers hook into the waistband of your underwear, and he pauses, meeting your eyes.

"May I?"

You nod, not trusting your voice. But he waits.

"Yes," you manage.

His fingers slip beneath the fabric, slow and deliberate. When they find you, you inhale sharply, your hips pressing into his hand. He watches your face, reading every reaction as his fingers move with careful, measured precision.

"You're wet already," he observes, the words low, almost thoughtful. "Is that from the kissing? Or from knowing what's coming?"

"Both," you admit, voice barely above a whisper.

Something flickers in his eyes — heat, approval, a hunger that's been carefully leashed until now.

His fingers move against you, slow and deliberate, watching your face as he finds a rhythm. Your breath hitches, hips pressing into his hand. He watches you like he's studying a play — every reaction, every sharp inhale, every flutter of your eyelids.

"Good answer."

His palm presses down, the heel of his hand applying pressure as his fingers work you closer to the edge. Your hands find his shoulders, gripping as your back arches slightly.

"Wakatoshi—"

He cuts you off with a kiss, swallowing the sound, his fingers never slowing. The world narrows to the heat of his mouth, the weight of his body, the rhythm of his hand. Your toes curl, tension coiling low and tight in your belly.

He pulls back from the kiss just enough to speak against your lips.

"I want to taste you." The words are low, rough, direct. "Is that something you want?"

Your brain short-circuits for a moment, but you manage a nod.

"Words, Y/N."

"Yes." The word comes out breathless. "Yes, I want that."

He doesn't smile. But his hand slows, then stills — a deliberate withdrawal that leaves you aching. He shifts back, his mouth trailing down your body — collarbone, sternum, stomach — pressing slow kisses along the way. His hands hook into your underwear and pull them down your legs.

He settles between your thighs, looking up at you from beneath heavy lids.

"Tell me if you need to stop."

Your fingers find his hair, threading through the short strands at the nape of his neck. The texture is softer than you expected, and you feel the slight vibration of a sound he doesn't quite make — a hum, low in his throat, approval or appreciation.

He lowers his head.

His mouth is warm when it meets you — not rushed, not tentative. Deliberate. The first press of his lips draws a sharp inhale from your chest. Your fingers tighten in his hair as his tongue traces a slow, exploratory path.

He learns you quickly. What makes your breath hitch. What makes your hips press up. What makes your thighs tense around his head. He adapts, adjusts, finds a rhythm that has you gripping the sheets with your free hand.

"Wakatoshi—" His name falls from your lips like a plea, broken at the edges.

He hums against you in response, and the sensation sends a shockwave through your body. Your back arches, a sound escaping you that you barely recognize as your own.

His hands find your thighs, palms flat, spreading you wider. He doesn't rush. He takes his time, bringing you to the edge with a patience that borders on torturous, then easing back before you can tip over.

"Wakatoshi, please—"

He pulls back just enough to speak, lips brushing against your sensitive skin. His voice is low, rough.

"Please what?"

"I want to taste you too."

The words come out breathless, but sure. Your fingers tighten in his hair, tugging gently.

Ushijima stills. Lifts his head. His chin is damp, his lips flush, his eyes dark and fixed on you with an intensity that makes your stomach flip.

"You want to reciprocate."

It's not a question, but you nod anyway.

"Yes."

He holds your gaze for a long moment. Then he moves, shifting off you, rising to his knees on the mattress. He looks down at you — bare beneath him, hair spread across his pillow — and something in his expression softens, just barely.

"Then sit up."

You push yourself up, meeting him on your knees. The lamp casts warm shadows across his chest, catching the lines of his shoulders, the column of his throat. He's beautiful in a way that feels unfair — all that power, all that presence, and he's looking at you like you're the one worth watching.

His hand finds yours, guiding it to the waistband of his jeans.

"Your turn."

He doesn't rush you. He watches as you work the button open, as you pull the zipper down slow. His breath hitches when your fingers brush against him through the fabric of his boxers.

"You're sure."

It's not a question, but you answer anyway.

"I'm sure."

He guides your hand away to finish undressing himself. His jeans come off, then his boxers, and he's fully bare before you — broad, warm, already hard. Your mouth goes dry.

He settles onto his back, pulling you gently to follow, guiding you between his thighs. His hand finds your hair, brushing it back from your face.

"Tap my leg twice if you need to stop. Once if you need a breath." His voice is low, steady. "Do you understand?"

You meet his eyes. Nod.

"Words."

"Yes. I understand."

"Tell me what you like."

Your voice is low, your fingers tracing a slow path down his chest as you wait for his answer.

Ushijima watches you from where he lies, propped on his elbows. His chest rises and falls in a steady rhythm. Those olive eyes hold yours without flinching.

"I like when you take what you want." His voice is rougher now, frayed at the edges. "Be direct with me."

Your hand trails lower, across his stomach, fingers brushing the trail of hair that leads down. His muscles tense beneath your touch.

"And physically?"

A pause. His jaw works.

"Use your mouth. I like the pressure. Gauge my reaction—I'll tell you what works." He meets your gaze, steady. "I won't be silent."

Your breath catches at the admission. There's something vulnerable in it, even as he says it like a game plan.

You lean down, pressing a kiss to his chest, then another, trailing lower. His hand finds your hair, fingers threading through gently.

"Take your time," he says quietly. "I'm not going anywhere."

You lean down, pressing a kiss to his stomach first. His muscles tense beneath your lips. Another kiss, lower, trailing across his hipbone. His skin is warm, salt-brushed, and you feel his hand tremble slightly against your scalp.

When you finally take him into your mouth, he exhales — a low, rough sound that sends a thrill through you. He's heavy on your tongue, warm, and you adjust slowly, finding your rhythm.

His hand guides gently, not pushing, just present. You hear his breathing change — deeper, more measured, like he's controlling himself.

"Good," he murmurs. "Like that."

You find a pace, your hand joining where your mouth can't reach. His thigh tenses beneath your palm. His breathing grows rougher, less controlled.

"You can take more."

It's not a demand. An observation. A quiet challenge.

You relax your throat, take him deeper. His hand tightens in your hair — not pulling, just holding. You feel him hit the back of your throat and pause, letting you adjust.

His voice comes lower now, rougher.

"Tap once if you need air."

You do. He eases back immediately, giving you room to breathe before you lower your mouth again, taking him deeper this time. His breath stutters above you.

"I want you to finish in my mouth."

The words are muffled slightly, but clear. You hold his gaze from where you're positioned, lips brushing against him as you speak.

Ushijima's hand tightens in your hair. His chest rises and falls with a breath that's slower than it should be — controlled, deliberate. Those olive eyes bore into yours, dark and hot.

"Bold," he says, voice rough. "I like that."

His thumb traces along your jaw, then presses lightly against the hinge, guiding your mouth open wider. He's careful — always that careful undercurrent — but his hips shift, a small, controlled roll that pushes him deeper against your tongue.

"Take your time. I'll tell you when I'm close."

You do. You find a rhythm that works — lips, tongue, hand working in tandem. His breathing grows unsteady above you, those controlled exhales breaking into something rawer. His hand in your hair trembles, just barely.

"Good," he murmurs. "Just like that."

You feel him twitch against your tongue, hear his breath catch. His hips press forward slightly — testing, asking.

"More."

You take him deeper.

Your throat relaxes around him as you push past the resistance, feeling the stretch, the weight of him pressing against the back of your throat. You hold there for a moment, letting yourself adjust.

Ushijima's breath punches out of him — a sound you haven't heard from him yet, rough and unguarded. His hand in your hair tightens, but he doesn't push. Lets you set the pace. Lets you decide.

You pull back slowly, then take him deeper again, finding a rhythm that has his hips twitching beneath you. His other hand grips the sheets, knuckles white.

"Y/N." Your name, strained. "I'm close."

His voice is frayed, stripped of its usual composure. You feel the way his body tenses beneath you, the way his breath comes shorter, the fine tremor running through his thighs.

You look up at him through your lashes. His head is tipped back, jaw tight, eyes closed. He looks undone — that star athlete, that untouchable presence, falling apart under your mouth.

You double your efforts. Take him deeper, hollow your cheeks, let your tongue work against him. His hips buck once, involuntary, and he catches himself.

"Y/N.—" A warning. A plea.

You don't stop.

His hand cinches in your hair as he comes undone, a low, guttural sound tearing from his throat. You take it, staying with him through every pulse, every tremor, until he stills above you, breathing hard.

Wanna make your own choices and see what happens next? READ/PLAY HERE! (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶)

🎮interactive fanfic "Warning: Choking Hazard" by winphoria