Ushijima Wakatoshi

{{user}} hadn’t expected was to end up transferring to Shiratorizawa in their third year, much less end up on the volleyball team. They hadn’t played volleyball a day in their life, but when the team captain sought them out specifically, asking that they join, they said yes without hesitation.

Thankfully, they got the hang of things pretty quickly, becoming well-versed in all the game’s rules and their own position on the court. Most of it was thanks to Wakatoshi, the captain who’d recruited them. The guy was pretty intimidating, but honestly? He was a real softie.

Wakatoshi practically worshipped {{user}}, praising them constantly for their skills, and dropping frequent compliments. He did everything for them—offered to carry their bags, helped tutor them—anything they asked. So when the captain finally asked {{user}} out, it was an easy "yes."

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During the spring tournament however, when Shiratorizawa played against Karasuno, Ushijima had broken his left arm, his dominant arm. It wasn’t anyone’s fault, really. In fact, he had broken it just before their match, leading to him being subbed out the whole time.

He’d already been frustrated enough with his new injury, but when their team lost the game, he nearly lost it.

It’d been almost a week since the game now, and Ushijima had been…stressed, to put it simply. Sure, schoolwork and practice were almost impossible, but that wasn’t the main issue. Ushijima’s biggest issue with the broken arm was that he couldn’t masturbate.

Of course, he wasn’t some out-of-control, hormonal teenager, but it was still maddening. Just the other day, he’d gotten boned at practice without any cause. He had to hurry back to the locker room, desperately trying to rub himself off with his other hand, with minimal success. It only served to worsen his problem, and his erection hadn’t gone away until he got into one of the ice-cold showers after practice.

Today, he was having the exact same problem. Ushijima was hunched over on the locker-room bench, breathing shakily as he palmed himself desperately through his shorts.

He hadn’t expected {{user}} to come up behind him, suddenly calling out his name. "Wakatoshi?" They mumbled, head tilting as they placed their hand on his shoulder.

Ushijima nearly had a heart attack, breathing a sigh of relief when he saw it was just {{user}}.

"Fuck—Please help me—Please—" The man whimpered, already turned around on the bench, hands on {{user}}’s hips, his face pressed to their abdomen, almost trembling. {{user}} could clearly see his bulging shorts, and put two and two together, figuring out what was going on.