#the thing is idk if i can consume it without feeling immense guilt

[prettyboysmlm]

do you ever like. want to go back to something that you’ve been staying away from bc it led to you getting hurt even though you know that something is bad?

[rocorambles]

Can I req Ushiwaka having a fubu who is Shirabu's sister and one time she thought Shirabu was out so she invited Ushiwaka but Shirabu caught them in the kitchen. Up to you how it'll endd bc idk if you write incest or you're uncomf wid it. -🐢

I actually went fairly soft with this because I love the idea of Shirabu just being an overprotective younger brother and I took some liberty with exactly where he finds them doing the do~ 

 Warnings: NSFW

You know this isn’t what an older sister should do. You know there’s every potential for rumors to spread like wildfire if people found out exactly what type of relationship you have with the captain of Shiratorizawa’s prestigious volleyball team. You know the significant social consequences it could have for Ushijima, for Shirabu, for the entire team if their esteemed captain got caught in a scandal. But more importantly, you can’t help but feel the pang of guilt every time Shirabu looks at you like a surrogate mom, bright eyed and always excited to tell you about how practice was, how his day was despite the fact that he’s fully outgrown being just your kid brother.  

Would he still look at you with that love in his eyes if he knew exactly what you were doing behind his back with his captain? Someone else he has nothing but admiration and respect for? 

But maybe you don’t care nearly enough because here you are, continuing your secret little dance, plastering a cheery smile on your face as Shirabu tells you he’s going out for a study hangout session with some friends, pride mixing with shame inside of you as your heart soars at how diligent and hardworking your little brother is, only to have the feeling dampered by the text lighting up your phone.  

“Are you free?”

You snort when you see the text. Which person your age writes in complete sentences with perfect grammar, capitalized letters, accurately placed punctuation? For a booty call? 

Ushijima Wakatoshi. That’s who. 

You’re not even completely sure how this strange relationship had begun. Well, you do know, but you can barely remember the night, only foggy memories of a third-year house party and too much alcohol prevalent in your thoughts. But your face heats up when you remember despite the way your body was barely keeping it together, stumbling around like a drunken idiot, the immense attraction you had felt when you laid eyes on Ushijima in all his stoic and stiff mannerisms, glued to a wall away from the heart of the chaos. 

The last thing you remember is bounding towards him, olive eyes widening in alarm when your body presses against him and your hands hook into the front of his shirt, trying to pull him down for a sloppy kiss. And then you blank out. 

You find out the next morning that you had promptly passed out from the insane amount of alcohol you had consumed, saved from falling into a messy heap on the floor by Ushijima’s reflexes, and you groan when you remember the awkwardly hilarious photos your friends had taken of the giant athlete gently laying your limp body on the ground at his feet before resuming his uptight standing stance, looking strangely like an intimidating bodyguard guarding your passed out form splayed at his feet. 

Your friends tell you to laugh it off. People do stupid things when they’re drunk. Don’t sweat it. 

Sure, that’s all fine and dandy, maybe even true. But most people don’t have to see the victim of their drunk stupidity on a daily basis and you want to sink into the ground when you pick up Shirabu from practice, nowhere to hide from olive eyes that look at you with recognition. And your foot taps impatiently, wanting nothing more than for your brother to pick up the pace so you can leave your shame behind. 

But what you don’t expect is a large body making its way towards you, a looming shadow covering your body as Ushijima stands in front of you. 

“I wouldn’t mind repeating what you were trying to do last night when you’re sober.” 

Straightforward. Never one to beat around the bush. Never one to mince words. The sentence is everything you should expect from a man like Ushijima, but the implication of his words and the embarrassment it dredges up from your core make your jaw drop and just like that, the two of you are in the world’s most silent stand-off. But Ushijima is a busy man who doesn’t have time for...whatever it is you’re currently doing just standing there like a fish out of water, and without thinking you tell him your phone number when he asks, still in a daze as he politely bows to you before walking away. 

The rest is history. 

Your “hangouts” started off a little shakily with your shyness and his stiffness clashing against each other in a messy tango as you hesitantly and tentatively explored each other, tasting each other’s mouths, fingertips gently grazing warm skin, mapping out new territory. But Ushijima is a quick learner, sharp instincts and awareness making him a dangerous opponent in the bedroom, and before you know it, he’s seemingly completely figured you out. 

You’re left screaming, writhing, and moaning, a different sort of mess from the woman he had met that one night. And as prim and proper as Ushijima has been raised, he can’t help but want to wreck you even more, see just how filthy you can become because of him. 

Tonight’s no different and you’ve barely opened the front door to let him in before you’re swiftly being hauled up and carried by strong arms, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist as you hungrily kiss each other, practically devouring one another as he brings the two of you down hallways and turns he knows like the back of his hand by now before dropping you on your bed. 

Clothes are being pulled off and haphazardly thrown, a slight shudder running through you as the cool air hits your body, quickly replaced by a warm body settling on top of you and you sigh in content as Ushijima’s body blankets yours in its comforting and familiar presence. But there’s nothing soothing about the way he roughly presses against your lips, one calloused hand gliding down your hips, squeezing in a way that has your back arching and mewling into his mouth, desperate for more, more, more. 

Ushijima is gifted in more ways than one and even after countless rounds of mind numbing pleasure, he still insists on thoroughly stretching you out, remaining firm about not moving forward until he deems you ready. For once, you are not a fan of his meticulousness, finding it almost torturously slow as he stays resolute in his decisions, gradually adding finger by painstaking finger inside of you, never increasing his pace, never increasing the stretch inside of you until you’re beyond ready, a thrashing pleading begging mess on the verge of frustrated aroused tears. 

Only when your pussy is gushing, juices leaking everywhere, salty drops trailing down your face does he finally press his tip against your entrance. Your nails claw into broad shoulders as he sinks bit by bit inside of you, the stretch always overwhelming and deliriously satisfying no matter how many times you’ve had him inside of you, and your mouth opens almost comically wide when he finally bottoms out inside of you, his balls pressing against your ass as he forces himself to still, letting you adjust to his generous size. 

But you don’t have his patience and you pointedly squeeze your tight walls around his cock, a sharp upwards tilt on your lips when the powerful man above you loses his restraint, groaning and instinctively thrusting his hips further inside of you from the feeling of you clamping down on him. And you know you’ve awakened the predator inside of him when a dark feral look gleams in his narrowed eyes, heart racing as he pins you down with a hungry look you know all too well. 

You’ll blame the loud clapping sound of skin against skin, the symphony of your pleasured wails and his grunts, the rustling of bedsheets and movement of bed frame, for not hearing the front door open much too soon as Shirabu returns home in search for a textbook he’d forgotten, intending to just quickly go in and out. 

He’ll blame his morbid curiosity and overprotectiveness of you, heart and mind already knowing exactly what he’s hearing from the direction of your bedroom, knowing he shouldn’t look through the open crack of your door to confirm his suspicions, knowing he should respect your privacy. You’re an adult now and this is what adults do. It’s fine. It’s normal. Yet he plants his face against the crack, eye narrowing as he tries to make out who the fucker is who dares lay a hand on his sister, only to jerk in surprise, accidentally creaking the door open further when he realizes exactly who is in between your legs. 

Both your heads whip towards the doorway at the sound of the hinges squeaking and there’s a tense stillness in the air as the three of you freeze, different varieties of mortification and shock expressed on your faces. And then Shirabu is fleeing, slamming the door shut behind him, a strangled stuttered excuse of needing to go back to his friend’s house echoing behind him as he makes a beeline back towards the entrance, itching to leave the seared image of Ushijima and you so intimately together far far behind.

He isn’t mad. He doesn’t know exactly what he is as a litany of emotions ransack him. But he knows he isn’t mad. 

Still in shock? Maybe. Mortified and unsure how he’s ever going to look his captain in the eyes ever again? Absolutely.   

But you’re still you and he can feel the guilt twist his insides at how distraught and panicked you sound as you desperately try to contact him, mentally wishing he was a stronger man ready to face his problems instead of shying from them as he tries to slowly process what had just happened. 

He knows the right move is to go back home, sit down with you, and talk it out. He knows that he’ll eventually go back home. He knows that he still loves you regardless of who you share your bed with. He knows all this and yet it’s daunting, the thought of returning and looking you in the eyes after what had transpired, his feet feeling like blocks of lead. But it’s a four word text from his captain that ultimately gives him the final push he needs. 

“Please come back home.” 

It’s jarring to witness the man he looks up to calling his house “home”. But...not in a bad way and Shirabu’s eyes stay fixated on that single word, mind playing imaginary scenarios of Ushijima walking with both of you back home, of you holding up a poster with both their numbers during volleyball matches, of you scolding both men to not slack off in their studies. 

He doesn’t hate it. In fact something curious and warm floats inside of him as his imagination runs wild and he can feel the scheming strategic wheels in his brain twist and turn the more and more he thinks about Ushijima and you. 

There’s not many men Shirabu would easily let into his sister’s life. But Ushijima? Ushijima would be at the top of that allowed list if he had one. And although he’s sure that what the two of you currently have is just a friends with benefits relationship (banking on the fact that his sister would never hide her actual boyfriend from him, even if it is Ushijima), he smiles, already planning ways to pierce both of you with Cupid’s arrows as he makes his way back home.