#ushijima fluff

ʚ♡ɞฺ　　main m.list　ྀིᨯ — cw. fluff, established relationship, post timeskip duh kids ages range in 1-6 at max, characters included: iwaizumi, oikawa, kuroo, atsumu, osamu, sakusa, kageyama, hinata, ushijima, bokuto

iwaizumi subconsciously rubs his thumb on your son's back when he taps his chest, asking for his lion plushie that your husband had forgotten, stuck in the bag you had brought whenever it was a day you'd go out with your son.

"and i would like to thank my-" - "papa!" the smaller version of himself basically pulling at his tie while he tries to answer properly. he'd stay perfectly in control though, just to set the scene.

he just tickles the little guy until he stops fussing, at least until he finishes the question. "god, the little man is incredibly eager today, aren't you?" the athlete walks over to your on the sides, escorted by a few bodyguards as you take the hazelnut-headed baby from his arms.

oikawa happily introduces both him and his little girl before answering a few questions. whether those questions are about his gameplay or hi personal life, he answers whatever he can. what people find most adorable is how identical the grin on his daughter face was to his own.

"ah, my spouse? they're actually sitting over there- no i'm not going to point so no one crowds them." the same enthusiasm you fell in love with made you sigh while a few of his teammates stand nearby to bodyguard you in a way.

"dada! wanna say hi to mama/papa!" - "go wave, sweetie, they're right there!"

kuroo has his carbon copy sat on his lap, the little boy having hidden his face for a while in his father's vest, you questioned if it was really a good time to show the world he had a child- well, that's before you knew that crow jr. was just fast asleep.

"ah you know kids, they sleep easy, a luxury i wish i could still have." - "da... i wan' mama/papa..." tugging at the hem of his clothes, you could feel your heart warm when the microphone picked up your son's words.

"we can go to 'em later, okay?" - "huuungry..."

atsumu was getting interviewed right after a game, getting caught offguard, he didn't have time to put his girls down. the older girl being two years more than the smaller girl, one stood and one sat respectively. at least that's the stance he took after tossing them both into the air at least thrice.

"ha? oh! ohohohoh- yeah, these are my kids! just the prettiest in the whole world, aren't they?" placing a kiss on both of their heads, "clearly they take after their mother/father, yeah?"

you could only feel your face heat up hours later when you're rewatching the interview for yourself. "what're ya blushin' 'bout?? was tellin' them the truth!"

osamu gladly introduced the twins you had blessed him with, the two boys that were finally revealed at onigiri miya; helping their father out with work and serving customers with the smile osamu only offered to the love of his life, you.

"mmhhmm, yeah, my boys are amazin' at everythin', aren't they? learned from the best, and look like the best. me and their mother/father respectively."

"'samu, you were so sweet up there but you know damn well they learned how to help you because i pushed them to?" - "yeah yeah. don't take all the credit, beautiful."

sakusa keeps his distance by himself, and it only worsens when his little girl is in the vicinity of cameras, and lights when he finally gets out the locker room post-game. despite the eyerolls and such, he really isn't gonna be a man above flexing about how pretty his little girl is.

"of course she is my daughter, beautiful and much more bearable than you all." is all he really gets out before leaving the limelight to go back to where the two of you were.

"wow, really wouldn't give them a chance?" you smoothly slid a smoothie into his freehand for him and the young lady to share; said little lady already reaching out for the shaved flavored ice. "god, you really want people to know about our life or what?" - "was just joking, 'omi!"

kageyama is... well both him and his barely one year old toddler didn't like the amount of questions being asked, and yearned only for one thing left; to go back to the arms of mama/papa...

"i- yes, she is my daught- no she hasn't been enrol... i..." the little girl looks up at him and blinks anticipatedly, as if telepathically communicatin with her father, she starts to fake a loud cry that successfully gets him out of the spotlight.

"aw is my baby- oh, she's already okay? i thought she was crying?" - "oh you know things babe, i'm just a great dad." he places a kiss onto the little girl's head that makes her babble happily.

hinata, one moment was tossing her up into the air, next thing five journalists and three cameramen are already in his face, asking whose child is it... well, they had the same orange hair... who else's kid would this be?

"uh, yeah, she's my kid. she, and my beautiful partner are my inspiration during matches yes." - "dada! i want hooome!!"

he reluctantly answered only the questions that concerned the games for the next five minutes before coming back to you. "jeez, so many interviewers, huh?" - "okay, mr. popular, our daughter seems hungry."

ushijima is on stage, mic and everything as per usual, but this time the cameras weren't really focused too much on him, rather on the little girl that grasped his jacket's collar with amazement. whispering little words that the mic would pick up, people couldn't help but 'aww' at her!

"yes, the match was very beneficial for the growth of our team." - "ba... pa... papa..." would echo silently right behind the athelete's firm words, he probably couldn't see it, but you could easily spot how easily the crowd faltered at the hands of your daughter.

holding your son's hand, you walk over to your husband as he comes back, "seems like someone's talkative tonight." - "i believe so, our daughter likes the press."

bokuto was pulled onto a stage to talk about his most recent match and how his fake spike came up as an option in his mind. be surprised but i believe he'd be the kind to answer while catering to his daughter. sitting on his lap while he had a large hand around her small body.

"yes! that spike- god it just, you should know... sweetheart, don't eat that; the adrenaline an athlete experiences during a match makes your brain work overtime! and- baby, you know your mother/father is gonna kill me for this-"

long story short he's kinda got it under his control until he realizes 'yooo im a good dad while answering questions professionally'.

cw: suggestive content, reader is depicted to be shorter than him (non-specified height)

;; boyfriend!ushijima has a ‘hand-on-hip’ or ‘hand-on-nape’ policy. because of the sheer height difference, he’s constantly finding ways to tether you to him. whether you’re standing in line for coffee or walking through somewhere, his large, calloused hand is either resting firmly on the small of your back or his fingers are hooked into your back pocket, pulling you flush against his side. He likes the physical reminder that you’re right there.

;; boyfriend!ushijima uses his wealth in the most understated, attractive way possible. he doesn’t brag, but you’ll mention your favorite snacks are running low, and the next day, a box of twelve arrives at your door. he thinks it’s only logical to provide the best for you. If you’re tired and he can’t take you home, he’s already booked a car to pick you up so you don’t have to walk. he’ll look you dead in the eye and say, “you deserved the upgrade,” as if spending a small fortune on your comfort is as natural as breathing.

;; boyfriend!ushijima is a fan of you wearing his oversized clothes. he knows he’s massive, and he likes the way you look drowned in his clothing. he’ll purposefully leave his heaviest, most expensive cashmere sweaters at your place just so he can come over and find you wearing nothing but the knit and a pair of wool socks. he won’t say anything at first; he’ll just walk up behind you, bury his face in the crook of your neck, and inhale deeply, his large hands bracketing your waist.

;; boyfriend!ushijima is incredibly observant during quiet moments. while you’re reading or working, you’ll feel his gaze on you—heavy and intense. when you look up, he doesn’t look away. he just watches the way your lips move when you think or the way your shirt slips off your shoulder. “you’re very beautiful,” he’ll state plainly, his voice dropping an octave, “i find it difficult to focus on anything else when you're in the room.”

;; boyfriend!ushijima has a very specific ‘gym recovery’ routine that involves you. after a long training session, he’s needy in a way only you see. he’ll sit on the floor between your legs while you’re on the couch, letting you massage his shoulders. the heat radiating off his skin is intense, and he’ll tilt his head back to look at you, his eyes dark and hooded, silently demanding a kiss—or something more—as thanks for his hard work.

;; boyfriend!ushijima handles you like you’re the most precious thing he owns, yet he’s remarkably firm. he likes to pick you up—to reach things on high shelves, or just because he wants to feel your legs wrapped around his waist. there’s something about the way he can support your entire weight with just one arm while the other holds your face that makes your heart absolutely race.

;; boyfriend!ushijima is a literal furnace in bed. sleep with him means being tucked securely under his arm, his chest acting as your pillow. he’s a heavy sleeper, but the second you try to wiggle away in the morning, his grip tightens instinctively. he’ll mumble your name into your hair, his morning voice rasping and deep, pulling you back down until you’re pinned beneath his sheer mass. “stay,” he commands, and with the way he’s looking at you, you wouldn’t dream of leaving.

;; boyfriend!ushijima views your body with the same disciplined intensity he applies to volleyball—he studies you until he knows every curve, every sensitive patch of skin, and exactly which touch draws a specific sound from your throat. he isn’t loud about his desire, but it’s constant. you’ll be at a dinner party, surrounded by his wealthy associates, and he’ll keep his expression perfectly stoic while his hand slides under the table, his thumb tracing slow, deliberate circles on your inner thigh, inching upward just enough to make your breath hitch while he continues a conversation about athletics as if he isn’t undoing you.

;; boyfriend!ushijima has a thing for your neck. he’s a ‘marker.’ he’ll be behind you, his large hands sliding under your top to grip your hips, and he’ll pepper heavy, wet bites along the sensitive skin of your shoulder. he likes the visual proof that you belong to him, and he’ll linger on a spot until he’s satisfied with the color, his thumb tracing the bruise he just left while he watches your reaction in the mirror.

;; ​boyfriend!ushijima is obviously a fan of so-called claiming behaviors that border on obsessive. he finds it logical that because you are his, you should carry his scent and his marks. if you’re wearing a dress with an open back, you can expect him to spend the morning leaving a trail of biting kisses along your shoulder blades and the nape of your neck. he also likes the visual of his handprints lingering on your hips the next day; it’s a silent, physical receipt of how thoroughly he looked after you the night before.

;; boyfriend!ushijima has a side to him that only comes out when you’re alone in his penthouse. after a shower, he’ll walk out with nothing but a low-slung towel, the water still dripping down the deep V of his abdomen. he knows exactly what he’s doing when he corners you against the kitchen counter, leaning in so the heat from his damp skin rolls off him in waves. he’ll take your chin between his fingers, tilting your head back to expose your throat, and whisper, “i’ve been thinking about this since you arrived a while ago on the third set,” before his mouth finds yours with a hunger that is anything but ‘polite.’

;; boyfriend!ushijima finds your reactions to his wealth almost as endearing as your reactions to his touch. he’ll buy you silk lingerie that costs more than a car just because he ‘wondered how the fabric would feel against your skin’ under his hands. he’ll help you dress, his large fingers fumbling slightly with delicate clasps, but he’ll inevitably end up unzipping it halfway through because the sight of you in something he bought specifically to take off you is too much for even his legendary self-control to handle.

;; boyfriend!ushijima gets incredibly possessive when you wear his dress shirts. because he’s so broad, the fabric hangs off you, barely covering what it needs to. he’ll watch you walk across the room, his eyes tracking the way the hem rides up, and he’ll suddenly lose all interest in whatever he was doing. he’ll catch you by the wrist as you pass, pulling you onto his lap, his hands sliding underneath the fabric to find bare skin. “i think,” he’ll murmur against your neck, “that you look better without this.”

;; boyfriend!ushijima has zero stamina issues. he treats intimacy like a marathon, not a sprint. he’s methodical, patient, and incredibly thorough. he’ll keep you awake until the early hours of the morning, his body moving with a powerful, rhythmic precision that reminds you he’s a professional athlete. just when you think you’re finished, he’ll flip you over, his weight pressing you deep into the mattress, and whisper, “done? i’m nowhere near done with you yet, my love.”

;; boyfriend!ushijima aftercare is a masterclass in silent devotion. once he’s thoroughly exhausted you, he becomes a gentle giant. he’ll carry you to the bath, his arms never wavering despite the late hour, and wash you with a tenderness that feels almost sacred. he’ll wrap you in one of his oversized robes, tuck you into the high-thread-count sheets, and pull you flush against his chest. he likes it when you fall asleep while he’s still inside you, his hand resting heavy and protective over your heart, marking the rhythm of the only person who can make the great ushijima wakatoshi weak in the knees.

n: oh i’m FREAKED out 🙉🙉 just something to feed my babies while i rest for a bit.

© showhay — don’t copy or translate without my permission. don’t feed my works to ai.

⤷summary: totally innocent things you do that makes them lose their minds a little

⤷content: fluff, light crack, suggestive undertones??, established relationship

⤷characters: miya osamu, sakusa kiyoomi, ushijima wakatoshi, miya atsumu, kita shinsuke, and tsukishima kei

‎ . ݁⋆ ۶ৎ ݁ OSAMU MIYA

it’s the sauce again.

you’re perched on the counter in one of his shirts, eating fried chicken with your fingers, and you don’t even notice him watching.

“you’re starin’,” you say, voice muffled with food.

“am not.” he’s absolutely lying.

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

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

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

Still, he always went.

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

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

Tonight was one of those nights.

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

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

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

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

“He gets wistful the moment he sits down.”

ft. ushijima x y/n ◞♡ cw ! slightly suggestive

͏͏boyfriend!ushijima whose large hands splay over your side when he wants to pass by, always finding your waist even when there’s enough space for him to slip through.

“Toshi, can you grab the tomato sauce from the cabinet?”

“Of course.”

You don’t even have time to prepare before his cold fingers slide across your stomach, thumbs brushing over your hip bones as he reaches past you. The pot in your hands wobbles, nearly tipping into the sink, as heat rushes to your face.

He tilts his head down at you, voice low, “You okay, baby?”

(You’re not.)

boyfriend!ushijima whose large fingers find your face when he doesn't have your full attention.

You’re scrolling through your TikTok feed when he calls your name. “Did you hear me?”

“Mhm,” you hum, still not looking up.

Moments , his hand is on your face, fingers spanning your cheek, thumb pressing lightly against your jaw. He turns your head toward him with a careful grip until your eyes meet his.

“Now you're listening,” he says simply. (hell yea I am)

You swallow hard, phone forgotten as you meet his olive eyed stare.

boyfriend!ushijima whose hands hook beneath your thighs when he picks you up like it’s effortless.

You sharply gasp in surprise when your feet suddenly leave the ground, his hands firm and steady on the backs of your thighs. He lifts you with no effort, your arms instinctively looping around his shoulders.

“Toshi! what are you doing?”

His gaze doesn’t waver, calm as ever. “Carrying you.”

Your breath stutters as his fingers flex against your skin, thumbs brushing dangerously close to the curve beneath you.

He draws his eyebrows together in confusion. “Is this uncomfortable?”

It’s not. (at least not in the way he's thinking)

boyfriend!ushijima whose hand closes around your wrist when you try to walk out after an argument.

Your voice is still sharp in the air when you turn toward the door, anger burning a hole though your chest. But before you can reach the handle, his fingers wrap firmly around your wrist, halting you mid-step.

His hand is so large it nearly swallows yours whole, grip unyielding but never hurtful. You tug once, twice, but he doesn’t let go.

"Toshi let go of me, I cant do this right now."

“Don’t leave.” His voice is steady, but there’s something raw beneath it. His thumb brushes once against your pulse, the faintest tremor in the gesture.

You don’t look back, not wanting to give in without a proper apology.

the way you both brush your teeth at the same tiny bathroom sink even though he knows both of you can't fit in there. or the way he silently replaces your favorite shampoo before it runs out and how he pushes the grocery cart while you lean over the handlebar and toss things in, his hand finding the small of your back as you debate between pasta sauces in aisle four, and how he has to duck his head to kiss you good morning because he forgot to duck through the bedroom doorway again. he definately lets you steal the warm spot in bed when he gets up at dawn and then crawls back in just to press his cold feet against your calves and listen to you yelp.

characters: shōyō hinata, kenma kozume, kentarō kyōtani, oikawa tōru, hajime iwaizumi, ushijima wakatoshi

warnings: implied female reader in one ss but otherwise gender neutral, message screenshots, random character mix, use of pet names, quick post (not really this was over the span of a few days,) ooc?

notes: thank you for the likes on my last 2 posts (tokyo revengers and yakuza) :) im making a introductory / pinned post soon, let me know any feedback in inbox .✦ ݁˖

“Wakatoshi, let’s do drill runs. - Oi, Wakatoshi. - Oi! Ushijima!”

Hoshiumi had gotten increasingly impatient and at last yelled his name, making the ace look up - or… well, down - at this teammate.

“What are you glaring at?”

With a tense jaw, Wakatoshi only nodded curtly towards the guy who didn’t seem to get the hint.

What? Was the Ushijima jersey not enough for that guy to back off? Or the kiss that you had blown to him, your husband, earlier? Or your wedding ring? He felt his hand ball into a fist as he saw you politely nodding along while the guy openly ogled your pudgy curves with a hungry grin. Wakatoshi knew you could handle yourself. But he really really really wished you’d let him step in for you.

“What are we talking about?” Hinata joined his teammates at the net, turning readily in the direction the other two were already facing.

“I dunno.”, Hoshiumi shrugged, following the line of sight of his fellow ace to land on the rival setter who did not seem to No for an answer. When he put two and two together he let out a quiet “Ew.”

“Come on, Shoyo, let’s warm up. - Huh?” Atsumu halted next to Hinata, then crossed his arms and joined the staring at the other side of the court when no one reacted, quietly trying to figure out if they were collectively having a stroke or were posing for a picture. Just in case of the latter, he popped his hip.

Bokuto bounded over, Sakusa in tow. “Hey! Coach says we should be moving!”, Bokuto called while Sakusa took one look at Wakatoshi, another across the net, and understood why his friend seemed so tense. Utilizing his years of experience in judging people he began to scowl at the setter’s back.

One after the other, the national team joined the wall of players at the net, some more for the vibes than for solidarity, and before long the power of their stares prompted the setter to turn around, finally taking his attention off you.

Confused at their intensity he looked left and then right, subtly checking who they were zeroing in on so hard, but with a cold shudder he had to realize the team was staring at him.

Hoshiumi took it upon himself to fix this very solvable problem, as the other guy apparently didn’t understand what was happening.

“That’s his wife!”, he yelled, voice twice as big as his body, as he pointed a thumb over his shoulder at Wakatoshi.

As if touching a hot plate the setter sprang back, bowed several times in apology to both you and the other team and scrammed.

Hoshiumi looked up at Wakatoshi. “Can we warm up now?”

a/n: Kageyama would take it as the greatest personal offense that it was the setter of all people.