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Ushijima Wakatoshi was the taciturn type. Obviously. He didn’t really speak unless spoken to. When he did talk, he was the blunt, forward type of guy. Genuine, even if it shouldn’t really be said at all. Outside of volleyball, he was a calm person, agreeable and polite. You loved his gentle presence at home, the one he only showed to you on rainy Sunday mornings. You also admired his gigantic aura on courts, seeing as he was a celebrity that you had to share with the rest of Japan.
Ushijima Wakatoshi on a vegan diet, however… was a complete monster.
“Are you kidding me?” you sighed, exasperated. Whipping him in the back with a pillow did nothing; he lay motionless on the couch, letting you smack him without budging. “I asked you to do the laundry while I was at work. Did you seriously just sleep all day?”
“I am tired,” he snapped, voice muffled as his face was turned into the cushions. “Leave me alone.”
Grumpy. Bad-tempered. Crabby. Surly. Quick to lash out. Whiny. Bitchy. You had never thought Wakatoshi even knew how to be petulant, but here he was, moping around instead of doing the goddamn chores. You really weren’t sure why he was still sticking to this vegan diet plan—apparently, the Schweiden’s coach was trying something with his athletes for conditioning. You had half a mind to submit a formal plea to let Wakatoshi eat whatever he wanted again, because as of right now, he was unbearable.
“Okay, well. Can I help you at all?” You sat in the crook the bend of his knees created, laying a hand on his waist. His body temperature was warm. He shifted in response to your touch, raising his head. His hair in the back was sticking up weirdly, not at all well-kept like usual. Blearily, he blinked at you with those honey-lemon eyes you loved.
“Does it matter?” he lamented, pathetically dropping his head back onto his arm. So much for being supportive.
“If you’re going to be emo, at least be useful while you’re at it.” Scoffing, you made to get up and leave him be, but he stopped you by grabbing your wrist. His hand slackened when you looked back at him.
“…hug.”
“What’s the magic word?”
(Yeah, you probably shouldn’t be kicking the poor guy while he was down, but when else could you do this?)
“Please,” he muttered, his gaze dropping. The smile on your face softened your heart.
“As you wish.” Sidling up, you lay down beside him, and hooked your arm around his massive torso. The other wormed under his neck. You weren’t anywhere near as tall as him and struggled to find purchase as the big spoon. Bending your arm so that it was more comfortable, you lay your right hand on his firm deltoid. Closing your eyes, you pressed your face into the back of his sweater, burying yourself in a familiar scent. It was funny… on this plant-based diet that he very obviously hated with his entire being, he’d never been more vocal about his affections.
“I’ll do the laundry later,” he mumbled, a light tone of guilt painted over the syllables. The vibrations of his voice rumbled gently against your cheek. With a small laugh you squeezed his arm.
“Thanks, Toshi. Don’t worry about it. I know this diet thing’s tough for you.”
It was a tight fit with the two of you on a regular sized couch, so when he rotated to face you, you had to fight to keep yourself from slipping off the edge. He put his large hand on your waist and pulled you tight towards him, easily, your weight meaning little to him. Your palm landed on his chest to steady yourself. Wakatoshi crushed you into himself, embracing you tightly.
“I missed you,” he mumbled over the top of your head. The cheeky grin on your face couldn’t be contained and you patted his back with your one free hand.
“I know, love,” you hummed in response.
“I wish you didn’t have to go to work.”
“I know, love.”
“I love you.”
“Yeah. I know.” You pulled back and looked up at him, knowing full well you were wearing the smug smirk he never admitted to liking, but caught his interest every time anyways. “Even though you’re always cranky now.”
“I’m hungry,” he retorted childishly, using the same card he kept pulling ever since his diet begun. You rolled your eyes and leant back, sitting up and stretching your arms.
“I know, dear. Trust me… I know.”
The seat dipped when he followed, but then you noticed his leg swinging around your waist. With an easy fluid motion, he pulled you up into his lap, toppling you backwards. His arms encircled you at your hips, locked at the hands. Totally trapped, you could only freeze when you felt the breath tickle the contour of your neck.
“Who said you were done?” he whispered, the words crawling down your spine.
“Oh, you are being so needy.” You turned your face to him to reprimand him, but he kissed you without warning, having been waiting for you. His hands rose upwards, palms against your bare stomach, disrupting your work attire. The left, stronger, slipped higher and higher than the right. His tongue was hot and dominant in your mouth. Starving such an instinctual-based creature leads it to desperate temptations. You can’t cage a wolf.
“Mm. Nope.” Harshly, you jutted your elbow back into him so that he’d back off. The disappointment was shadowy in his eyes, and you didn’t exactly need the stiff lump under your seat to tell you what he wanted. He disgruntledly watched you fix your top back into place.
“Why.”
“Isn’t it obvious?” You stood up when his arms relaxed around you, brushing off your pants. Looking back down at him, you reached out, tipping his chin up with a finger. He stared at you helplessly. It wasn’t very often that you had this view of him. Ushijima’s vulnerability lay with you, and you adored him endlessly, but that didn’t mean you’d take good care of it always. After all, in the drearily long days of adulthood, playtime comes and goes. You’ve got to seize your opportunities while you can. Besides, you’ve always let him have his way. Who knows what kind of tasty results this frustration would lead to?
“A diet’s a diet.” Your fingers trailed lightly up his jaw, the smooth backs of your nails caressing his skin. You saw him flinch. “It makes the reward that much sweeter. Doesn’t it?”
“Is this because I didn’t do the laundry?” he asked frantically when you abruptly pulled away. You laughed over your shoulder, heading towards the washroom to shower.
“Maybe.”
And, apparently, Ushijima was just as insufferable on the court as he was at home. Some of the teammates the two of you shared as friends texted you desperately, hoping that you might be able to offer advice on how to placate the Beast. Unfortunately, you were still trying to figure that out yourself. Maybe you should take him out to a vegan restaurant for dinner tonight… you were running out of ideas for good dishes to make at home, and he was very obviously missing his favourite beef stew, so leaving it to the pros to make something palatable might be a good idea. You unlocked the door to yours and his apartment, exhausted after a long day of work.
“I’m home,” you called. He emerged from the bedroom, cocking his head at you.
“How was your day?”
“Ugh. Tiring. D’you remember that thing I told you about last t—”
He was in front of you suddenly, and you felt the gossamer touch under your chin before he forced you to look up at him, the way sinners on their knees crane up to look at crosses. Your words died in your throat. He didn’t actually care about how your day was, did he?
“Toshi?” you asked, stunned by the sudden forwardness. His eyes were dusky, canine; gold, the way wolf eyes glow under moonlight in the snow-buried taiga.
“Just because I can’t eat what I want doesn’t mean I can’t have you when I want.”
“Is that what this is about?” you asked wryly. But you couldn’t deny the lightning strike in your gut; the electric tingle that radiated, making your legs wobbly and your fingers tremble at your sides.
You didn’t know what it was about him. Does soy make you incredibly horny or something? Though you figured he just wasn’t used to not getting what you want, and that was playing a big part. The tip of your tongue darted out to your top lip thoughtfully as you gauged his expression.
“I think you lack self-control.” Contrary to his quiet demeanour, he was the rash impulsive type, the one to stupidly dive headfirst into things without considering the consequences. “Consider this part of your training.”
You thought that he’d begrudgingly listen to you if you brought up the trigger word of ‘training’. Everything has to do with volleyball with this man. But instead, he put a hand on your back and wrenched you towards him. Your chest pressed to the front of his, the non-existent space between bodies growing intolerably hot. Staring up at him, you saw just how dark his face had gotten.
“I don’t care,” he breathed lowly. “This isn’t part of the diet.”
“Well, no, but—”
“I swear to God, [Name], if you don’t let me have my way I am going to lose it.” The warning was surprising, tumbling out of his mouth as if he’d meant to hold it back but couldn’t. He wasn’t really the type of guy to complain or even raise his voice at you—it was pretty clear what his vexations had been building up to. You were the vent; the prey. Your body burnt coldly. Gravity vanished. Your gasp felt hot as it left your mouth, lips parted wetly. He was going to devour you. Were you going to let him?
Yeah, of course. This was what you’d been waiting for all along. Maybe this vegan diet wasn’t so bad after all… though keto Ushi might be a little less irritating.