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iwaasfairy · 11 months

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┌─ “ ! „ STEP ONE

tw. noncon, explicit descriptions of violence and murder, body horror, decapitation, dacryphilia, fear kink, objectification, threats, humiliation, blood, brief throw up scene, weapon play, choking, overstimulation, manipulation, physical harm, mask kink wordcount. 6.4k

a/n. ♡ commissioned by a lovely friend whomst i cherish dearly ♡ thank you so so much for commissioning meeee!! i t was very fun to have a reason to write some grimy gross shit again and your big brain is the best mwUah this was so fun i hooopppee you enjoy it !!! kiSs kISS kiss and thankies to rhi for beta-ing <33

oikawa tooru x fem!reader x iwaizumi hajime

Crack, it pops. And squelch, squelch, crack.

The blurred spats of red-tinted light that fill the night sky blur until they seem to vanish, and the ache in your head becomes pressing enough to numb. Numb to the coldness of the dirt, the uncomfortable stickiness to your back and thighs, tingling down your feet. The stars - you know them to be stars though they don’t look it, bleeding out like lambs across a pitch black voidness - get blocked out when the movement comes back to your view.

And a dirty, wet hand lands against your cheek hard enough to knock your face to the side, stinging up and down your skin. You get another taste of the copper coating your tongue— and a deep, pinched wheeze has you spluttering on the floor as your lungs come back to life.

It’s so cold.

But the pressure building between your ears rings before it pops, and the deep, rough string of wordy promises comes back to you. You almost think the quiet behind them hurts more. There’s caked blood that clots your nose, as your body is ragdolled onto a lap. Better view of the sky. Better view of the off-human face that forces back into sight. It cracks, it pops. You barely breathe.

And wonder how you got here.

There’s something unpleasant about the way he words it. “Okay, don’t be a baby. How old are you? Didn’t we all agree to this?” You’re not prone to telling your friends no, but there’s a difference between gentle encouragement, and being an abstemious dick. “We just got here.” With a gentler smile, the blond’s girlfriend shoots you a little encouragement.

“If you really don’t like it, you can always step out, you know. These things are made more for silly jumpscares than actual panic.”

Your shoulders square a little higher to your ears when you hop off the bar of the fenced line. “I know,” you say, be it a little mumbled. The other couple in front of you, classmates, look back to give you the kind of look that would amuse. If shot at anyone else. Your hands bury into your jacket pockets as the last pinkish light of the day starts to dim, and you pick at the loose thread in there. You aren’t the biggest baby you have ever been, but you’re first to admit you’re no brave soldier. You’re jumpish, cowardly when it comes down to the wire, and when presented with a choice, you’d rather go. Given enough incentive, you’ll run through in a dash and waste twenty dollars.

But your ride currently is nuzzled into the shirt of her brand-new boyfriend. It won’t be so bad. These things are usually too quick to get your money’s worth anyway. The corn reaches high though, enough to hide everything from view as the end of the line comes closer and closer, and distant screams prompt eager giggles and glances. Yeah, these kinds of things have never been your strongest suit. A group of teens behind you engages in happy chatter as you softly tap a rhythm into the half-muddy loam, glancing between your friends very briefly. Both couples glomp into one another in the wait, happy to walk the entire way in little pairs. Happy to hurry on without you too if push comes to shove, probably.

Prey instinct.

Maybe someone other than you will get scared enough to run, and maybe that will be distraction enough to forget about you and your inevitable anxiety. You take a deep breath, and let the fresh countryside air fill up your lungs- lovely, mixed with wisps of smoke machine and lingering scent of manure. Instead of psyching yourself out too much, listening to yet another trail of screams that grow further and further away, you turn to watch one of the two barely legal workers as the walky scratches obnoxiously.

“Tchhhk-we ca -end in —ther group.” The mousey looking kid has straggly hair that is tied in a low pony under an obnoxious red and yellow theme park cap, and looks about as pumped as you feel waving in the first two of your party down the correct path into the maze.

He gives an unenthusiastic spiel, and then swings open the gate before pressing a few buttons. “Two incoming.”

“Yup— tchh- also have so- lag on our—ne. Are y- changi— t- channel?”

Almost instantly as the couple disappears around a corner, you hear a few high pitched screams and giggles join the ones in the distance, and you cross your arms over your chest. Even though you try, your heart rate automatically rises when another scream rings out. The teen talks into his device for a moment again, and you brace yourself as you friends line up at the crooked little gate. After a second or so, a slight pinch moves between the teen’s brows, and he eyes leave his co-worker to stare into the field.

“-Saw s-eone… w-kin- around… premise. Pl—e advise.” The crackle of the device is loud enough to reach you, before another couple of screams cuts it off.

The screams are loud, high pitched and uncomfortable. They set hairs on the back of your neck up on end. “Huh.” As the dyed blond gives a wave, he aims himself at your group and says, “sorry, but you have to wait a few more minutes.” His little mousy walk from behind the stand annoys you more than it probably should. But you can’t help it. You want to be done with this, sooner rather than later. “Gimme five.” The kid gives his co-worker a quick mumble, before he disappears down into the one neat path between the corn, and you wait again.

Thump. Thump. Thump. Your heart beats steadily, but hard. Enough to have you wanting to nervously pace the small area of path, but choosing against it after all. The screams are fainter now, further away. Fuck this shit. As the sky lowers into an off-red sort of color, you finally speak up. Your roommate’s pretty eyes find yours. “Hey, can I walk along with you guys actually? I really… really don’t like this sort of stuff.” The noirette barely gives the accompanying blond a look, before letting out a little sigh.

“Yeah, it’s getting pretty late anyway. We can head home quicker that way.” Her boyfriend doesn’t bother to conceal the way he rolls his eyes at you, but doesn’t say anything. You don’t say anything either. Just wrap your arms around yourself and pull your sweater closer to your body. Only a few minutes pass where you all stand in silence, and the people behind joke among each other.

The other teen perched on the entrance eventually gives your group a little nod, and opens the shabby gate with the most monotone greeting. “Welcome to the Night Shift, Miyagi’s scariest paranormal experience. Please stay on the path and refrain from touching our ghosts.” His half-lidded expression and dead-tired wave of the arm almost make you want to smile, if only in understanding. But instead you shuffle along the damp path. “Enjoy.”

The two in front of you start off a liberal, bouncy pace, as your roomie prattles on, and your eyes scan the long path of corn before you. It sways softly in the wind, and the shade it casts is awfully cold. The rattling sound of leaves is the least of your worries though, trying to keep up with your friends. Your heart pounds in your chest, because above anything, it’s the quiet anticipation before the scare that gets to you. The steps get closer and closer to the first corner, and you know. You know how this stuff goes. But Mina gives a little glance back as her long hair sways along her back, ready to encourage you.

A jerk has you all skittering back. Mina and your screams sound in harmony in the cooling night. The pale white face that jumps out at the three of you is a gaunt, gross version of some kind of thready zombie— and makes an awful scratchy sound. “Give your souls. Give your souls.”

Its closeness to your face is enough to make you stumble, ignoring the laughs. But the ghost doesn’t immediately leave, instead crowding you for long enough to have you covering your ears. Thump. Thump. Thump. The rapid pounding of your blood reaches your cheeks. You hate this stuff, from the ache of your chest to the uncomfortable closeness, and you try to calm down.

The ghost has you almost slinking into the corn to escape, before you can finally walk on.

Your friends are almost at the next turn already, and it feels to get darker by the second. Mina has her arm clamped in her boyfriend’s arm, whose smug grin flashes when you hurry on. “Ty, wait! Guys! This isn’t funny-” your voice fails you almost as soon as they reach the next corner way before you do, and disappear from view, “come on, please?” The scream that follows only has you hesitating more, feet slowing as you stand in the now-almost completely dark field. “Guys, this isn’t funny! Wait for me!” you try again, and come to a halt before even the next turn.

All of this is so fucking stupid. If you weren’t such a baby, maybe you’d be unbothered by this turn of events. You even predicted it, didn’t you? Your eyes sting, both from the adjustment of light, and the adrenaline pumps through you— before you set another few steps.

It can’t be that far. It can’t be that scary. It’s just stupid employees in masks. A scream that must be Mina’s rings out further along than you hoped they’d be- and has you balling your fists. If only you can get past, maybe you can catch up to them.

Either way, you’ll have to face more ghouls before the night is over.

And—

Crack.

A scream, behind you.

Your feet fail to start, and goosebumps raise all the way up your legs and back. There’s a whole myriad of noise, a loud bubble of screams that sounds much too close for comfort. They squeal and cry out for a painfully long few seconds. Long enough to push past rational thought before it goes near-quiet again.

And your heart patters on in your throat.

There’s a range of sounds you prepare yourself to hear when you go to any sort of horror experience. The dull, repeated thump, and the long sort of moan— that sounds out above the wind, isn’t really one of them. The cold climbs up your arms and chest before you can gather yourself. The moan isn’t like anything you associate with a ghost. It’s low and groany and continues for a long time, like a wounded animal— and lasts only until a heavy noise snuffs out the plea.

And - the instinctual part of your mind tells you to hide.

It’s gone dark. It’s gone quiet.

If Mina hasn’t made it to the end yet, you can’t hear her.

Ever so slowly, your thoughts start up again, as you keep your ears wide open for any sound at all. There’s only the soft fluttering of the wind playing through the leaves. Before, as if under the breath of something larger, the sound of scraping leaves against clothes and the nervous rustling of someone moving through the field to your left makes you hold your breath. Your hands move over your mouth to clamp down the stuttered sound of your breathing.

You don’t know why, but it’s something in the air. The irregular noise, the lack of any other sound, and you staring into the darkness… screams at you. An animalistic feeling of threat, whispers that something is wrong. Your hands shake too hard to control. After a little bit of a pause, the noise returns. It’s a second of struggle, before another dying murmur sounds out, louder, closer, and then more shoving. More hacking. Your lungs feel like they’re squeezed too narrow, and your anxiety doesn’t allow for any other thoughts than a prey’s panic.

The nervous rustling gets louder and louder by the second.

Can’t you just step out of the experience? You don’t want to do this anymore— the childish part of your brain begs, and though you want to, you can’t make yourself move. Your lips stay tightly shut. The rustle to your left takes a more rapid pace, before it finally, finally grows a bit quieter again, and you manage to take a breath- pinched and wheezy.

Wrong.

Run.

Your ribcage aches under the pressure of your heart.

Only seconds before the noise would turn the corner, you find yourself stepping back and squeezing yourself between the stalks of corn, shaky hands grabbing and pushing yourself to hide.

Far enough to blot out the last bit of light of the evening, and have you squeezing yourself back until you’re a few feet from the path. You can’t see much, but the darkness adjusts quickly. Then, it’s quiet. The fine hair on your arms stands upright as soft taps get closer, and closer, and closer. And the corn doesn’t feel like enough of a shield.

Another scream comes from the way your friends ran off— girly, shrill and true— it lasts barely a second, but echoes for longer.

… Mina. It’s quiet.

Whatever stupid game is being played, you suddenly decide you want no part in it, and the cold wind ruffling the blades above your head feels like the only disguise for you and your anxious breaths. The footsteps reach, and slowly move past as the air gets stuck in your throat. You’re no fighting champion, and yet, your first instinct is to squeeze your fists tighter.

Only a dark figure can be made out from where you’re hidden, but the head is white, some kind of ghoulish looking mask. Ghost like, if not for the black stitches and blood. The presence is more pressing— it grates with each step. For a tiny moment, the figure stops in his tracks to scan around, and it gives you the flash you need to see that the thumping is caused by the heavy metal tool he periodically swings out and taps onto the floor.

It’s like an elongated butcher’s knife, wide and coated with glittering, royal red that drips down the pristine edge of the blade. Carrying the thick smell of copper behind him. And you’re freaked out enough to conclude it looks real. It can’t— can’t possibly be.

As soon as he passes you for enough time for you to steady your heartbeat, you sneak out of your hiding spot— before you hurry back down the way you came. Your every step feels too loud, and though you try to make sense of what you’re feeling, it comes out in a wobbly line of wetness along your eyeline. With another few step you make it around the corner and—

falter in your step.

There’s blood everywhere. Hands, throat, the huge gash in between the neck and shoulder that reveals flesh and tissue and bone, and oozes a vile smell of blood unlike anything you’ve ever experienced. It’s all encompassing. The previously scary ghost is reduced to nothing more than a sad heap of fleshy canvas for the layer of blood that pools around them.

You can’t think. Can’t breathe.

Blood, blood, there’s so much blood everywhere.

On your shoes, on their ghouly face, on your hands as you kneel down and find it disturbingly warm and sticky and real. The feeling of dry heaving takes over you, and you stand with trembling- everything.

Your heart pounds. Eyes are blurry and make everything a little hard to navigate. You want out of this stupid fucking game. It wasn’t fun to begin with, and it definitely isn’t now. Out, out, all you want is out. This is a nightmare, or the worst practical joke ever. You wipe your involuntary tears with a shaky hand as you walk, only to find yourself letting out a squeak when the red gets onto your face. You rub your cheek onto your shoulder, speeding up— and barely allows for wheezy, heavy breaths of air.

By the time you get back to the gate, you’re almost blinded by your tears. But even your tears can’t hide the growing terror that remains. The group of teens never made it into the path. They lay clumped in a mess of bodies and blood, one of them hanging over the posts with blank, dead eyes- and a horrifying wound that nearly severs his head from his neck. Everything is covered in blood, from the ground, to the clothes, faces, the neat red-yellow uniform- it all has soaked and turned a dirty, off-maroon color that seems to fit the smell emanating from the scene.

You can’t help it, you heave over onto your knees and nothing but some pure acid comes out as you try to look around. This is real. Real. It can’t be, but it is.

Your choked noises of panic ring through your ears wiping your mouth on your sleeve, along with a loud buzzing that goes back and forth, back and forth, back and forth when-

The footsteps suddenly have you turning around, and screaming. The man’s here. You scramble up and jump onto the wooden fence to swing your leg over, but a heavy hand grabs a fistful of hair and yanks you back as you yelp out loud, and grab at his wrists.

“Let me go! Let go!” Your scalp feels like it’s tearing apart with the force when you land onto the cold floor, and the ghoul’s face comes to hover over yours— your tears don’t allow for proper breaths as you cling onto his arm and dig your nails in. “I wanna go home~” your cried, pathetic whimper is all that comes out as you stare, and in the pits of the blacked out eyes, olive irises stare back.

The man raises his other hand, and everything goes black.

When you come to, there’s an awful stench that you taste more than smell. You’re so dizzy, and your eyes blot with black clouds everywhere you look— for much too long. Your nose clogged with thick coats of blood hurts, as you roll onto your belly with a groan and cough against the strained pressure.

Fuck, everything hurts.

There’s a bubble of noise around your head that pops in and out of focus each time you blink, and breathe. Crack, it pops. And squelch, squelch, crack. You try to raise yourself off from the cold, damp floor, but a heavy shove to your side has you landing on your sore shoulder, and staring up at the sky with shallow gasps. A hand slaps your face sideways hard, you’re heaved up, and suddenly everything floods back to you. The blood. You try again to right yourself, and your head spins as you try to shake off the cotton that’s filling your head and pushing on your brain.

You’re aching, and your mouth is full of blood.

It’s only when you try to focus on your environment that you manage to make out the muffled crying of a woman — and your head snaps up. Mina’s bound, gagged, and she’s got mascara tracks all down her face and cheeks, and her hands lay uselessly on her lap. Dripping with blood. It’s only after much too long that you notice that the figure that’s moving in your periphery is landing a huge axe over and over again into what’s left … of a human skull.

Blond hair is matted together with clots of blood, and it looks more like a soup than a head. The soft crack and squelch as the axe is pulled out of the floor has you crying out.

Oh god. You wish you were dead.

The figure has a black mask covering most of his face, and yet, you feel like you can see the smile between the narrow slits as he turns to you. The man leans into the handle of his blood soaked axe with all the weight of his tall but solid body. “Two little doves, one gets caught. One tries to fly, the other gets got.” Besides the ring of black around his eyes, you can’t see anything. Your lip wobbles as you breathe, and stare.

“It’s a nursery rhyme. Fits, don’t you think?” His mouth is just barely visible under the forked plate that covers it, and pink lips curl up at the ends. “I know movies teach you to expect a lot of dramatics, but that’s all the drama you’re going to get from me, don’t worry.” He noisily pulls up his nose, before crouching down before you. “I’m Tooru, that’s Iwa. What’s your name?”

At the mention of a second name, you turn over your shoulder to see the figure of the man that caught you— white mask splattered with drying blood, crouched much too close behind you. Your voice dies in your throat, but a soft whimper still comes out. You can’t help it. Cold shivers run up your spine and make your entire body feel wooden.

“Tch.” Tooru gets up to lift the axe high above your head, and then brings it down towards you a few times. “Come on, don’t be like that.” He leans down to grab your roommate’s face, and shakes her with a glance towards you. “I already know this is Mina. Now you tell me yours.” Your nod is quick, and you breathe out your answer just as quickly as he comes back over to you, now scraping the sharp blade along your jaw. “Good girl.”

“Now you’ll be happy to know that you two were the finalists of our little game. Con-gra-tula-tions.” His sing-songy chant sets your skin on end. He stares at you with thinly veiled expectation, and you take a shuddered breath through your bloody nose.

“Thank you,” your voice is barely a mousy squeak.

And Tooru’s laugh comes out almost instantly, cheerfully rocking onto the back of his heels. Just a second, before he stands up again, long legs towering his shape above you. “Sadly enough there can be only one winner. So,” he pauses, eyes glittering with too much mirth, “Iwa, if you would.” The man who’s been sat basically glued to your backside for the whole time gets up to pet his hand over your hair a few times, before stepping over to Mina in silence.

“Wait, wait…” His butcher’s knife comes to rest on her shoulder as she cries the same pinched, pathetic patterns as you do. Tears and spit drenching into the gag in her mouth. “Don’t hurt her.”

“Shhh shh shh,” the dark masked one chants again, and his axe comes to pinch into your neck too, nicking the soft side of your throat with a sharp sting. “Here’s the question. Who is… the one that has to die?” He pushes the blade harder into your skin. “And you better answer, because Iwa likes killing pretty girls. I can’t guarantee what will happen if you think too long.”

“Wait…” you ask, looking into the panic filled eyes of the girl before you. You can see every thought, every regret in her face. “Wait, wait, please. I…”

“Three-”

“Wait!” you squeak now, eyes shifting between both men. “I can’t-”

“Two-” He mockingly moves the axe along your shoulder like a golfer, and your panic blossoms onto your tongue. “One.”

“Me,” you cry out instinctively, vocal chords aching. “Me, kill me.”

It stays quiet for what feels like an eternity, before Tooru lets out a soft chuckle. “Iwa’s right. You are cute. A sweet, little thing, aren’t you.” Then the other guy moves too quick for someone his size, and his weapon glides with one heavy swing right under her jawline in slow motion. The glittering edge of the knife in the moonlight arcs almost beautifully. Slicing through your former friend’s neck with a clean thwop, not enough resistance, before blood splatters on you, on him, on everything.

Her head falls before her body does, with a dull thump that sears into your brain.

And you-

Everything blanks.

You think you scream, but the buzzing and shaking is too loud to make out anything. All you know is that your crying gets worse, and you bury your face into your knees with a sob. Your thoughts are a wiry, tangled ball of terror that comes out in faint pants only, and shaky fingers that curl around your knees. The axe drops to your side before two hands land on your head and slide down to yank you back up to face him, and Tooru’s lips get close enough to you to feel the puff of air on your face. “Shhh, doll. It’s alright now. You did so well.”

“You talk too much,” the more gravelly tone of the other man hits your psyche like a shovel, and has you sobbing into the soft touches along your cheeks.

“I’m setting the mood, Iwa-chan.”

The white masked man steps over the body to your side much too casually, before kneeling down beside you. “Set it in silence for once.” To your horror, his eye contact doesn't wane when you cry harder. In fact, he seems to think for a second, before grabbing your arm in his heavy, warm palm and pulling you closer. “C’mere. You’re gonna be good. Okay?”

“I- I,” you stutter, and pull up your snotty, wet nose again, before he leans in to slide his head into the crook of your neck, and moves the mask up a few inches. Only to press a few kisses along the bare skin, and up to your jaw. If you weren’t so mortified, maybe you’d fight. If you weren’t so shell-shocked, you’d take the weapon to your side and swing it around until it stops.

But his low, impatient grunt against your pulse has you going quieter. “You’re going to be good.” It isn’t a question. “Understood?”

“Yes…” It tastes wrong in your mouth, like the bloody taste that slides from your nose to your mouth, and everything that’s gotten onto your shirt, shorts, on every extremity now. After another second of raising your heartbeat so much you’re halfway to passing out, he finally moves— to press his lips against yours for a second, and slots the mask back in place. If you were any more lucid, maybe you’d be able to comprehend what will follow next. “Take off your top,” the quieter one mumbles, as he starts unbuckling his own belt.

“Here, I’ve got it,” Tooru then chants, too playfully, taking your hands and moving them above your head. As they rise, you feel the sudden feeling of terror flood over you again, shuddering as the fabric is pulled up and wipes past the mix of fluids on your face. You stay like that though, letting him maneuver you like a toy until your shirt lands beside you, and he then starts work on your bra. “Aren’t you a pretty one, hm? Cutie.”

The way he drags his fingers along your shoulder to push each strap aside one at a time is infuriating, but aside from lowering your arms to the side, you don’t— can’t stop them from unhooking and letting the bra join the clothes. Iwa’s quick to perk up at the sight of you, halfway to shouldering Tooru aside to take a good look. And though he doesn’t speak, the soft grunt and way he goes to cup himself over his pants says plenty. Your soft hiccups start back up at that. You don’t want to. You don’t want to one bit- and yet there’s nothing you can tell your body that would make you move. Not fast enough, at least. Tooru simply shakes his head. “You’re a real romantic.”

“Don’t need to be-” His fingers slide up your side before grabbing a handful of your tits and squeezing, as he gets closer on his knees. “Nothing about this is meant to be romantic, Shittykawa. Start taking off your fucking clothes.” His hands roam along your cold skin, brushing playfully against your peaked nipples a few times before he looks back at your face. “You’re gonna take that pretty little mouth and place it on my cock. And if you bite me, I’ll pull each of your teeth out of your skull before you die.” His thumb swipes along your bottom lip, before pushing in and dragging the pad along your tongue. “Understood?”

Your voice loses all volume when he slides the digit deep enough to choke you up, before he pulls back briefly. “Mhm.” Tooru to your side doesn’t make haste in taking anything off, and seems to glitter at the brief attention you give him as he unbuttons the black dress shirt, revealing a toned chest and arms. He’s littered with scars, and somehow, that only makes everything more real. Before you’re able to think it through, you start crying again, squeezing your eyes shut and rubbing the backs of your hands along your lashes like a child. “I…” You’re unable to stop. “I - I don’t- I wan- wanna go home— I-”

“Agh, fuck.” Someone speaks, but unlike the anger you expect to be met with, he groans it, delighted more than anything. Your eyes open when hands cup your face and you’re laid down onto the cold ground with a swift motion, and Tooru’s inhuman mask stares back at you— only revealing a wide grin. “Stupid girl. You can’t go home. You’re going to be our play thing until we get bored of you, or you stop being useful-” He dips down to an uncomfortable few inches from your face, and pinches your cheek until it hurts. “And then, you’re going to end up chopped into little pieces and buried in a shallow grave. Heh, how dumb are you? You wanna go home?” His mocking tone hurts almost as much as the sharp glare.

You can’t help it, you cry harder, and try to get from under his heavy body to hide your face— but that only faces you with the horrifying reality of your friends’ fate. “Wanna cry to mommy and daddy about it?” As he gets close enough to almost brush his lips over your ear, a soft chuckle comes out. “You better not tell Iwa-chan that. He’s really mean when he gets jealous.” He moves to pry open your mouth and slides two long fingers in without warning, having you choking again and spluttering around. “Now be a good girl. Or don’t be. Doesn’t matter to me.” Your tongue squirms uncomfortably as the fingers invade your throat and make it feel like you’re drowning in your own spit- with desperate puffs of air through your nose as you cry.

“Move that way,” Iwa grunts after a few seconds, before staring at the wobbly line along your eyes again. “Guess I get to go first.” There’s a distinct lilt of amusement that hangs over everything he says as he grabs your leg and yanks you up to start pulling your shorts down. Finally Tooru pulls back as you cough, spit leaking out of the sides of your mouth— before he too starts taking off the last of his clothing and hums softly to himself.

“Isn’t she really sexy when she’s pouting like this?” His gleaming praise is paired with a sharp tap to your cheek, as he peeks out a sliver of his tongue. “Crying like a desperate, little slut.” He doesn’t give you the chance to say anything in between your sobs before he grabs himself at the base and leans over you to press his cock head to your mouth. “You’re just a hole for us to abuse, you know that?” Something in the back of your mind begs for you to bite him, but almost as if he can smell your intent, his hand wraps around your throat and pushes, hard. “Try something and you’ll wish I was just being mean all over, cutie.”

“Gotta fit us, baby,” the other voice speaks, and makes you want to sink through the floor. Your body can’t stop crying, and the anger you feel is almost equal to your fear. It’s not enough to let you ignore them. They have to demand your attention too. “Pretty little cunt.” He starts rubbing your pussy up and down with rough fingertips, then spits and spreads around the wetness before he almost immediately pushes two fingers in dry— and it makes you jerk at the uncomfortable feeling of your body being invaded.

“I think she likes it when it hurts, Iwa-chan,” Tooru’s playful tone makes you want to scratch and bite and tear his head off. It just has you crying your eyes shut though, and lay there shaking. What other choice do you have? His tone doesn’t change as he demands attention by rubbing your tits and squeezing until you squeak. “That’s a good toy.” The rubbing and prodding does start to allow your wound-up muscles to loosen up a bit, but when the hand between your legs pulls back, you’re still not nearly wet enough. Iwa’s strong thighs under yours cause your hips to be aligned with his, as he grunts, as he looks, as he all but eats you up with his eyes.

But that’s all you get before Tooru’s patience wanes and he prods open your mouth, and starts feeding you his cock. “Ah, there you go, little crybaby. Open wide.” The taste of his precum on your tongue along with the bucking into your cheek makes you open your eyes to look up, and to your surprise, his mask has been discarded too. There’s a healthy flush on his cheeks, and in any other situation, you’d be taken aback by how pretty he is. Instead he grabs a hand of your hair and forces his flushed cock down your throat, as you try not to panic further. The feeling hurts. It hits the back of your mouth as your tongue squirms around him and he makes you heave—

and the hot, heavy cock that was pressed against your mound is now also pushed in you with a low, gravelly moan. There’s an ache inside you that is impossible to ignore as he fills you up inch by inch and the stretch really hurts, going into pleasure too quickly. You shouldn’t- you know you shouldn’t, don’t want to- you swear, you swear. Everything is too much. The cock in your throat makes you gag as Iwa bottoms out, grabbing your hips and anchoring himself inside you. The warm cloud of pleasure that spreads through you is painfully overwhelming. “Tight fucking pussy- god-”

The one closest groans out your name, as you feel his cock pound on your tongue. “Ain’t she just- so- gh-good?” Tooru’s flash to yours and the big, brown irises that look back at you make you shiver. He pulls back to beam down at you with what you could almost call a serene smile, as his cock jerks against your cheek and his hand runs down your body. Your pussy clenches as the rhythm of Iwa’s cock pistoning in and out of you starts feeling more than just painful— and wetness starts allowing him to slide in with a wet squelch. When a tiny moan comes out of your mouth, Tooru giggles, and leans in. “Don’t you like it a little too much? Having two bad men fucking you? After what happened-”

“Leave her be Oikawa- ugh,” Iwa groans from behind his mask, hiking you up to speed up the rhythm inside you, “don’t bully our new pet… Ah, fu~ck.” The loud paps of skin meeting skin is all you can hear, as your back lifts off the cold ground and his cock rocks into the best part of your walls. Your body is strung tight enough for every touch to feel better than the last, even the twitching of the drooling cock head as it’s smeared on your lips. “She feels so good.”

“I’m just teasing. Right, little one?” You don’t fight the urge to stick your tongue out and lick along the glossy slit of his cock, and Tooru grabs your head to keep you there. “Oh sh-, see? She likes it. She likes getting fucked like she’s nothing. Just a greedy little cunt and throat, huh?” He moans as you wrap your lips around him again, and narrows his eyes at your face. “‘S all you’re good for.” The thumping vein on your tongue is thrust back into your mouth, and you cry as he fucks all the precum down your throat before pulling back.

“Ah, ah, ah~” Your whimpering is beyond you, as you cling to the arm of the one closest to you. You’re completely gone. The tingling all over your body is all you can feel, the heat of them over you and inside you as you cry and moan and whine, and the hands roam on your body. Each time Iwa bottoms out in you, your body jerks from the pleasure and impact, and Tooru’s eyes seem to darken as you blubber around the base of his cock for air. He doesn’t falter when he turns to stare at the other man instead, and keeps you down there. “She’s close, hurry it up.”

“I want to cum inside,” Iwa immediately says back, and though you can’t see the frown you hear it’s there. He’s still fucking right into that spot that’s making you almost crosseyed, so they’re not even wrong. His deep voice rumbles as he thinks, and his strong, muscular shoulders square. All the while you’re trying to cum up for air, and Tooru threads his fingers through your hair. “You’ll have to wait a little for your turn.”

Your lungs ache and your vision goes spotty from being choked so long, before the brunet finally lets you jerk back off his drooling, spit-coated cock to take a deep breath, and let out a cry. Still each pump of Iwa’s body against yours taps your puffy clit, and winds that coil even tighter in your belly. Your dripping cunt clenches all the same, even as tears dry on your face. “Well, you heard the guy, cutie. He needs to breed that pretty pussy. So you’ll have to put up with me for a little while longer.” He slides his cock along the back of your tongue, before rolling his hips into you with a long moan.

You're going to cum. Oh no, you're actually going to fucking cum from this.

Tooru must know, because his eyes glitter as he meets yours, and licks his lips. “But you don’t mind that, right, pet?”

#oikawa x reader #iwaizumi x reader #hq smut #haikyuu smut #oikawa smut #iwa smut #iwaizumi smut #hq x reader #tw.noncon #tw.decapitation #tw.murder #tw.dark content #🍯honey.pot #💫ch.oikawa #💫ch.iwaizumi

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iwaasfairy · 2 years

Text

┌─ “ ! „ AMBUSH TACTICS

tw. non/dubcon, stepcest, restraints/gags, praise, jealousy, threats of exhibitionism, age difference, arranged marriage, voyeurism, some manipulation wordcount. 7.8k

a/n. ♡ commissioned by the amazing @tink2kagome ♡ thank you thank youuuu a million for commissioning me!!! i said it but i just loved writing my guys again so much, it was so fuuunnnnn and i'm so happy you asked for this plot!! i really hope you like the story and that you love it! ♡♡♡ and ty so much lydz for beta-ing!

iwaizumi x fem!reader x oikawa

It’s a rainy day in August when your old house is pulled down. First the roof, slumped and tiles slid off, or broken, littered in your yard as the crane hooks into the back of it and yanks half of it to the side with the cloud of dust and wood splinters. It doesn’t fly very far because of the rain, instead making a gross, dirty looking sludge at the doorstep. Next are the walls, who pull apart rather easily for a house that stood upright for about 50 years before this. Ripped from the foundation and topped atop the daisies you played in when you were smaller. It doesn’t exactly paint a pretty picture.

But when you look up at your father for support, grabbing his arm with a slow, wobbly lip; he smiles down at you. Brushes a hand along your cheek and runs a comforting hand along your hair. The rain drums down hard around you both, as you look to your other side. To the soft face of the woman who put your father back together with gentle hands. You suppose you like her, and the way she seems to be crafted with finer lines than anything else around you. Flowery and spring like, she seems to stand out against the dim, gray sky and the noise of destruction surrounding you. She glances from her own umbrella to watch you— and flutters from under her own cover to come sit crouched down before you, looking from your father to you with a kind smile.

“Don’t cry, sweetheart. It’ll be okay.” Your -mom now, you suppose- gently runs her thumbs under your eyes and then finds a tissue to press to your nose, giving you the same soft treatment as your father did. “It’s only going to feel strange for a while, but you’ll love your new room! And you’ll love the new garden.” When she nods, you find yourself nodding back, putting on a brave face as you squeeze your dad’s hand a little tighter. As the old house is ripped from its foundations entirely and leaves behind a crumpled mess of building materials that will be cleared out sooner rather than later, you will yourself to agree.

The loud noises of the machine are silenced a bit by the ruckus the hard droplets are making on the taut fabric above your head; as both your parents do their very best to let your child’s tantrum pass by with a good ending. Then your step-mother stands up to let your father wrap his arm around her waist, both of them keeping you close. The dry circle under your feet is crowded, and though the air is chilly, you’re still warm. You look aside to follow the second dry circle up to feet, long legs, a straight posture and all the way to the face of your new brother; whose normally harsh brows are set slightly softer as he takes in the way your eyes and cheeks are a ruddy, shiny mess.

Hajime even does his very best to paint on an encouraging, if barely visible, smile for you, and barely raises his arm to offer you a little wave, like most older siblings placate a fussy child. But for some reason, he doesn’t look nearly as fed up with you as you’ve learned he looks with most things. It’s a sure attempt at being kind to his new kid sister, if nothing else. And you let the visual of that burn into the back of your head, before hiding your face into your father’s pant leg— all the novelties are a bit too much to process in the stickiness of a drowsy summer day.

Your room is the one across Hajime’s room, all the way around the corner at the end of the hall. As it happens, you happen to have similar hours of sleeping and waking— which often leads you to stumble into each other upon first opening your eyes. When you were still little, you’d skitter out of reach before he could so much as apologize, unused to him and the situation. Unused to sharing a house with anyone but your father. And Hajime would creep into the kitchen with the kind of slowness of someone trying not to spook a scared animal— careful to open the cupboards, careful to offer you breakfast.

He couldn’t do much, wasn’t actually that much older than you anyway. But even a couple years seemed like a lifetime of difference when you were small, and teenage Hajime, with all his stubborn but well-meaning attitude, sure as hell could’ve convinced you. Oikawa Tooru on the other hand, not so much. He was better with words than your brother was, but never seemed to use them to bring out anything constructive. You’d find him sprawled out over your couch on the days where their practice ran long, chowing down your mom’s freshly baked goods before anyone else. And you’d glare and stomp your feet from the corner of the room, but never get close enough to say much back.

Oikawa Tooru, for all you knew about it, couldn’t care less what you thought about him in the first place, and you were perfectly fine keeping it that way. It’s one of those evenings when you’re about ready to go to bed that you search for Hajime, and find him walking back from the garden with a familiar red-green-white ball in his practiced hands. That, and then a long whine from your living room. “Iwa-chan~” The lithe, melodic voice of your brother’s best friend fills the hall and you can’t help the pout that slips on.

“Ugh,” Hajime lets out, similarly disgruntled as you are, “I gotta go put the bikes in the garage first.” It’s not really said to you, but you feel the responsibility anyway, and puff your chest out a bit while balling your hands to fists.

“I can go see what he needs,” you’re saying before Hajime nii can ask, and it brings a slight smile to his pretty features, that he tries and miserably fails to school back into neutrality.

The grin that creeps onto his lips under his chuckled breath is automatic. “You do that. And if he gives you a hard time, you just tell him that your big brother will rip him to shreds.” The brunet gives you a little squeeze of encouragement, before walking past you to slip out the screen door and head to the driveway. Your steps are loud when you parade into your own living room and put your hands to your hips. Oikawa’s laying on the couch, long legs peeking over the one end as he’s propped up on one elbow, other hand in the cookie jar without so much as asking.

You’ve always known your mom to have a soft spot for the guy, inviting him in any time of the day for ‘putting up with Hajime’— but you once again have to argue it’s the other way around as he obnoxiously stuffs one of the perfectly-made, crumbling treats into his maw and barely stops chewing to acknowledge you. “‘Sup? You want one?” the honeyed brunet asks, voice easy and fluid as he picks up another and holds it out to you with a raised brow. Your pout grows more pronounced. You made those together with your mom, for your dad and Hajime only. Niichan’s only allowed to have certain amounts of sugar to go with his volleyball career— and here he is eating them all up before you’ve even had the chance to boast to your brother.

You hate him. You cross your arms over your chest as you keep glaring, and Oikawa doesn’t miss a beat when he notices you won’t respond. “Y’know —hm, these are good— I know you’re not technically blood related, but you sure act like your big brother. Same glare when I’m talking. Anyone ever -hm- tell y’that?” He doesn’t stop chewing as he sticks his long fingers into your flower-decorated container again and pulls out one of the almond cookies. You know your expression must sour even further, because finally Oikawa takes the hint and pushes himself up a little on the couch. “What?”

“You’re getting crumbs all over our house,” you settle on saying, frustrated even more at the fact he really isn’t. He’s put down a napkin, with a perfectly neat collection of cookie crumbs in the middle; you can’t help but say it despite that.

“Am not.”

“Are too,” you snap back, and grab your pajama top to fist your hands into the bottom of it.

Oikawa folds one of his long legs to stretch it to his chest, then lays it back over the end of the couch. “You’re mad.” He clicks his tongue, before finally shifting his attention from you to his phone. But even as he picks it up and starts scrolling something or the other, his voice is a soft melody that irks you. “You’re always so mad at me for no reason, imouto.”

“I’m not your imouto.”

“You’re Iwa-chan’s imouto.” He puts the face of his phone down on his chest to give you a dramatic stare, then pulls up his lip. “So it’s basically the same thing. I’ve known you since you were as big as my little toe.” Then he hides his gaze back in his phone to scroll some more, with that annoying ‘pat, pat, pat’ sound that his finger landing on the screen makes. “It’s a shame, because I really like you.” He does that annoying thing where he gives you a guilt-trippy sort of pout that you give little kids when you’re trying to get your way— and you sure are old enough to know you don’t want to even think about letting up now. “I always wanted a little sister. I only have a little nephew though.”

“If you’d have a little sister you’d probably scare her away because you’re so weird,” you end up biting back, walking over to grab the container from his lap and closing it nice and tight as he stares at you with a blank sort of expression. “Made these for my dad and niichan, not you.” If he wants to ask, he keeps quiet, going back to tapping on his phone like it’s something important, and you can’t help but think he’s most likely just annoying Hajime nii’s other friends or the team. You take a seat on the coffee table, guarding the cookies from him, and take a minute to watch the side of his face as he fiddles with the device, like you’re long forgotten.

Hajime nii told you before that Oikawa’s the star setter of the team, a trusted center and main captain. You’ve seen them play here and there, and have heard the whispers that go around. And as much as you’re unwilling to admit it out loud, there’s something -pretty- in his features. How the skin of his cheeks is a little rosy and rounder, how his long lashes angle out to make his eyes look so bright and defined and irises glittering gold under the right light, the set of his lips and jaw making him look always at ease. Even the way his brown hair is a little bouncier and has cute tufts that stick out like little sprouts growing from fresh soil.

You guess older girls than you would know better than you do when they whisper about how cute he is.

You guess your mom is right when she talks about how kind Oikawa Tooru looks, and your father sends you two a little glance with a certain glimmer in his eyes. But you sure as hell won’t admit it to him— and definitely not when niichan’s around.

Eventually your eyes fall to where his white jacket covers his throat, or not anymore, to the blood-speckled purple blotch that sits right on the side of his neck. You frown, and lift your top lip in mock disgust, then you reach a finger out to jab it a little accusatory into the discolored skin. “What’s that?”

“Aw,” Tooru jerks, dropping his phone to the side to scamper away from your touch. Then he looks at you, and lays his cheek to his shoulder to hide the touched area even further, suddenly looking a bit flustered. You’ve never seen him look that way before, so it even surprises you enough to back off for a moment, as Oikawa eyes you down. “Why are you all up in my face all of a sudden? Don’t you know that’s rude?”

You huff, and go to sit cross legged in protest. “I just asked what the hell you did to get hurt on your neck.”

Oikawa is slow to straighten up, and pulls his jacket collar up higher as he rolls his shoulder, then scratches his ear, then looks away entirely. He looks embarrassed, you note with some shock to your status quo. This isn’t how it usually goes. Oikawa, mister better-than-you, doesn’t hesitate or get shy. “It’s a secret. Besides, you don’t need to know because you’re -like, what- ten? ‘S none of your business.” You’re not ten.

“Pff, I already know what it is,” you lie through your teeth, “I’m not stupid.” You toss your hair over your shoulder, and look away too. There’s only so many things that interest Oikawa. One’s volleyball. Another is school. It’s highly unlikely either of those would cause him to throw a fuss. And the last is girls. You’ve only ever seen Hajime react in any similar way when your mom suggests any girl in his vicinity might like him. You take a shot in the dark as you put on a testy grin, and lean in. “It’s because of your girlfriend,” you drag out the word as you watch Oikawa’s cheeks and ears go a little red, his brows angling into a frown.

Hajime chooses that time to come back in, and you look over your shoulder to watch him toss his jacket off onto the back of a chair. “Don’t bully shitty-kawa too much, he’s still sensitive.” He wipes his still-red hands, most likely from practicing, on his pants before ruffling your hair. “The breakup ripped out his poor little heart.” There’s some sympathy on his face, but barely half a second passes before the corners of his lips twitch up, as he looks at his friend and then back at you. Oikawa doesn’t say anything, but goes more red in the face, and you can’t help but stare transfixed as he zips his training jacket up all the way and glares back at your big brother.

“It did not,” he says back in exasperation, before checking a phone notification and this time rolling his eyes.

Hajime crashes down on the other couch, and you grab the box of cookies to take a seat next to him. You’re a little quieter after that, can’t help but watch the infallible Oikawa Tooru actually showing a sign of real emotions. You choose to focus on Hajime instead, and place the remaining box on his lap with a smile. The brunet’s quick to thank you, squeezing your cheek and giving you a soft poke in the side, before sighing. “You should head to bed, or mom and dad will be mad at me.” You try to disagree, but he just grabs your face and angles it towards the kitchen. “Go brush your teeth, go on.”

You don’t like hanging out with them or anything… but you still stomp your feet as you make your way to wash your face as told.

When you come out of your door nowadays though, you’re always expecting to collide with a solid chest at your first step beyond your room. Of course, he doesn’t live here anymore. Moved out when he went to uni, and lived in some far away, hole-in-the-wall flat with two guys who smelled like sweat and weed for most of what you saw from them, for all four years he was getting his degree and leaving you the longing sibling still stuck at home. But you never really grew out of it. When he visits, it’s what you always remember the most.

You’re always expecting to see your big brother first thing when morning comes. Expecting Hajime to wrap an arm around your waist to catch you when you cling to him in full bedhead, no pants fashion; let him guide the both of you down the length of the hall as you take the walk from your rooms to the kitchen as the full minute of extra shut-eye that might get you through the day. And niichan no longer bothers to apologize when he steps on your feet or you both almost trip and fall over anything in your way— him taking the lead, always.

He’s always been more of a morning person, and you sadly can’t resent him for that. His mom chuckles any time he deposits you on the chair by the kitchen island and plops down beside you on his own. “Alright, sunshines, what'd you need?”

“Water.”

“Coffee,” you whine, as your dad enters the room and presses a quick kiss to the top of your head.

The morning’s barely started, or your intuition is on high alert when Hajime clears his voice and casts the man a cursory glance. “Did you guys get to talk to her about what you told me over the weekend?” It’s vague and entirely useless, so it’s instantly suspicious when both parents react with a similarly tight-lipped recollection. Your dad only gives your big brother a little shake of the head, picks up an apple from the fruits on the counter, and walks towards the door.

“Not yet. I figure this is the type of conversation the girls will have on their own time, Haji. And I don’t want to be in the firing line when she freaks out.” He doesn’t react much when you give him a squeaked ‘dad?!’ and gives you three a blown kiss. “Love you guys, I’m off to work!” It doesn’t take you a second after the door closes to glance incredulously at Hajime nii, then at your mom as she keeps her eyes on the pancakes in the pan.

“Mom?” you try, only to get a quick smile over her shoulder. She has the decency to look a little sheepish at least, placing a stack of pancakes on Hajime’s plate and then on yours too. Meanwhile, the spiky haired brunet to your side barely catches your eyes, before starting to eat. And you glare at the side of his face until he gets a little uncomfortable and turns your chair the other way. You don’t like being talked about behind your back. Not even if it’s in good faith, not even if you trust the three of them with your life.

Your mother doesn’t usually gossip like this, so you can’t help but think… Hajime’s still refusing to look at you, choosing to focus all his attention on a spare blueberry. And your mom seems to notice, because as she places your cup of coffee before you, she gives her son a look that you can only describe as —suspicious. He doesn’t speak though, and glaring doesn’t work. You poke and prod at the food in silence for a few minutes before your mom clears her voice.

“Did you hear that the girl who used to babysit you got married?”

You don’t look up, only shake your head in a slow, stubborn acknowledgement of her words. You really didn’t. Yachi was only a few years your senior, but she’d lived close enough to pop by a lot when Hajime couldn’t watch you. You don’t remember the last time you saw her though, so it’s no wonder you didn’t hear about it.

“I was talking about it with Tooru-chan’s mom.” There’s a little pause there, where both people seem to hold their breath, before she continues. “And how she hopes Tooru gets married soon. You know, she even said Tooru has shown interest in getting married sooner rather than later, but because he’s so busy with his career he doesn’t have a lot of time to date. Said something about having his mom arrange a marriage for him,” there’s a soft chuckle from Hajime to your side, but you can’t see the humor in it. Not when your stomach is sinking a little more with each word. “And well, I suggested-”

“Absolutely not,” you pipe up in a quiet voice, now suddenly renewed in your focus to slice your pancake into the most even slices possible. You don’t want either of them to see how flustered the mere idea of the implication has you, stomach rolling around like it’s flung off it’s imaginary hinges.

“Oh, come on, darling. You’ve always gotten along with Tooru since you were little, and your dad and I know you had a little crush—”

“I did not have a crush on Oikawa Tooru,” you stand up from your seat with a loud, scraping sound, mouth dropping open. “I could only stand him because he was Hajime nii’s friend, and- no offense -but I’m pretty fucking sure the guy would sooner marry his own reflection than consider getting married to his best friend’s little sister.” You can’t help but feel a little prideful when that pulls a snort out of Hajime, who’s now slowly taking sips of his glass of water and pretending not to be involved.

He runs a hand along his neck, and gives his mom a long look. “Told you she probably wouldn’t even think about it.” He doesn’t sound nearly as smug as he could, but you still fight the urge to give him a punch in the arm as you walk past him to go breathe some much needed fresh air.

You can hear him follow a few steps behind while you walk out the back door and drop down into a squat onto the grass to start stress-picking at little blue flowers that pop up among the greenery. Hajime has enough common sense to let you be though, sitting down far enough away not to be a bother, until you choose to turn to him. “And what about you?!” Your voice lilts up so much it ends in a pinched whisper more than the angry tone you start with. “You even so much as entertained the idea of me marrying your best friend? That’s weird—”

“You’re being dramatic,” your niichan says, and picks one of the flowers from your fingers, “Tooru really likes you. And I don’t care about that possessive bullshit, if anything it’s good.” It’s stupid- and your stupid brain is a traitor for even popping the image in your head for a second. But you can’t help but think it’s totally weird that he’s so on board with it. You want to shake him for selling you out, want to — ask him to keep you close and not let go a little longer. You know it’s selfish, but somewhere within you, you had hoped that you and Hajime nii had more time together. Knowing Tooru is of marrying age, means thinking about the prospect of the brunet before you being of marrying age too, and…

You decide to ignore that thought as it comes to you, eyes flicking away to the house the two of you no longer share. “I want you to be with someone who I know has the best intentions at heart,” Hajime’s low voice really goes in one ear and out the other, “and like it or not, Oikawa does have that much.” Then the softer tone in his voice comes, the one you ever really hear him use when he’s with you; he grabs your hand to demand your attention. “And Tooru’s successful. He’s smart, he’s got the funds to provide for you. You don't want to think about that stuff because you’re young, but I think you’ll appreciate it when you’re our age.” It’s all things you know, and you trust Hajime implicitly.

“It doesn’t matter, because Oikawa’s never going to want to marry me. The guy can barely stand me.”

“You’re an idiot,” your brother chastises out of nowhere, pulling your hand to yank you within his reach and tossle you to the ground. You try and fail to wrestle out of his grip when he uses his weight to pin you down like you used to do when you were much, much younger. It was never a fair fight, but nothing compares to the way your big brother has long since traded his leaner muscle for built tissue, and physical fitness to rival any Olympic athlete. “You’re fucking beautiful, y’know that? He’d be lucky.” And though you send Hajime the nastiest glare you can muster when he crosses his arms over his wide chest and stares you down like he’s watching a glacier melt, you can feel honest to god heat rush to your cheeks.

With more than a decade that passed since you first had to deal with the guy, there’s bound to be changes. But it shocks you a little just how obvious it is now you’re looking out for it. Oikawa was always handsome, much to your dismay for many years of your childhood, but it’s different now he’s… a man. Taller, more toned, with a distinct tan from the Argentinian sun and lighter hair, he looks more like a second Adonis than the guy who used to get under your skin— and when his eyes meet yours with much less of that bravado and much more genuine confidence, you’re lost.

You saw the guy last year for Christmas. Your mom made you chaperone Takeru’s 17th birthday party, and Oikawa popped by in full glory. But it felt different.

You unhook your arms from the bar behind you when Oikawa comes over to wrap an arm around your back and presses a kiss to either cheek, before smiling. Full and perfect and— fuck. “Hey, birthday boy,” you manage to say, ignoring the way the absence of his hands starts feeling cold too soon.

“Birthday man now,” he grins with the words, and props one elbow onto the bar to support his head with his hand. Even this way he towers over you, and you can’t quite bear to look at him. “I think the boy-to-man cutoff is 28.” You can’t help but snort, and look up at him. He’s — so much more than he was. Much more everything. You fluster when he’s already looking at you though, pretty eyes scanning your face. You end up searching the room for Hajime to avoid looking awkward, and fiddle with your smirnoff glass. Your big brother’s talking to Tooru’s mother, and laughing, and only catches your eyes for a split second to spy ever so subtly on you both.

You know he is, because you’ve seen your mom give the same kind of looks. Everyone is smitten with the brunet by your side, and for once you can’t even blame them. He’s electric. You find yourself wound up and spun on your axes, without him even having to do a single thing. After a few moments of silence, he bumps your hip with his, sides basically touching. “So how have you been?” Not a second of pause and he smiles wider, “you still hate me?”

“I never hated you.”

“Did too.”

“Did not.”

“You thought about it,” he chuckles, and even harder when you bite your lip to avoid having to speak. He quiets a little then, and leans close enough for you to feel like you’re drowning in his smell. “You look really good. Been thinking it all night, if I’m being honest.” It sets off fireworks in your veins when his lashes frame his eyes darker, entirely focused on you.

“If I didn’t know any better, Oikawa, I’d have to start believing what I heard.”

A smile tugs at one side of his mouth. “Which is?”

“You’re looking to settle.”

You’re flirting back— you know you are because your body’s curving to get closer to his touch, to the hand that lands on the small of your back; you just can’t believe it yourself. But then he brushes some hair away from your face and lets his eyes flick all over your expression, pulls his lip between his teeth. His mouth moves closer to your ear, and you feel like you’re soaring and dying all at once. “Darling, being with you wouldn’t be settling for anything.” Whatever spell he put on his voice is working, and when he pulls back you’re basically mouth to mouth.

“You’re a tease.”

“You like it,” he pops the ‘t’ before dipping down and laying a kiss onto your lips, so soft and sweet you melt in his hands. He’s pulling away before you even get a chance to savor it, and you let out a whine. Something that makes him laugh. “You gotta wait, we’re in public.” Public. You come back to your body, back to the room with all of your relatives— as you start burning with shame. You give him a punch to his pec, that he mocks hisses at, before grinning. “Desert should be out soon. We’ll have some time to sneak off then.”

It’s entirely inappropriate, you kissing your brother’s best friend, let alone -sneaking out of the room- and yet; you’re nodding at him, resolutely. Your stomach flips, and you have to keep yourself from rubbing your thighs together. And Oikawa basically glows when he notices, because he can’t resist sneaking two hands behind your back to grab your ass and pull you up against his chest, nosing at your jaw. “You’re- so fucking cute.”

You fight to get back to the floor because of where you are and because your dress is riding up, wobble onto your heels with a little pant, but still your heart’s pounding. Fuck, you must be losing it. You want that. You want that? Your skin tingles when he winks and walks away, picking up one of the champagne flutes from the bar to look back at you, and let his tongue peek out the side of his mouth. And you’re trying to catch your breath when you find Hajime between the people, green eyes beaming into you from across the room. You can’t read his expression but whatever he’s feeling, he’s no less obvious when he pulls a finger under his collar like it’s too tight, and runs his eyes down your body just once. In judgment, you can only assume.

So you’re not sure why his face is so pink, ears and cheeks both.

You should be embarrassed at how loud and desperate you’re being clinging to Tooru’s neck, letting him suck marks into the side of your neck for people to gawk at. He’s sweaty, and so hot, and so are you— pressed between his chest and the wall with your legs hooked over his arms. He pants against your collarbones once, twice, and breathes your name so lovingly into your skin. You don’t know what happened, you’re lost. One second you were laughing as you snuck out the room with Tooru giggling into your shoulder, and now you’re here, biting your lip so hard you pull blood.

“Oh, holy— fuck, Tooru. Tooru, Tooru,” you mewl, and he nods before taking a nipple into his mouth. You should think before you act. But you can’t, throwing your head back and moaning out his name as his cock slides in and out of you with a mind-numbing, rhythmic motion that only drives your brain further from the present.

“I’ve got you, baby,” he promises, and fucks like he’s never going to stop. Never going to let you walk on your own legs again, so solid as he drives your walls open and fucks you onto him. You’re bounced like it’s easy, and he straightens up to kiss you hard. “Feels good, huh? This tight, little pussy feels so fucking good too. So warm ‘n wet, all for me, yeah?” He hikes you a little higher, then kisses along your throat as you run your fingers through his hair and tug. He moans, but continues without pause, like fucking you was what he was meant to do all along.

“All mine, good fucking girl. So needy.” It’s kinda scary how fucking good his fat cock feels sliding in and out your clenching cunt. How embarrassingly messy you’ve gotten for him. “Or are you thinking of — someone else, ‘s that why?” You clench around him before shaking your head side to side, and swallow down a moan when he fucks right into that spot that makes you gush. He doesn’t pause to let you think about anything, pulling your head back to suck more marks into your neck, whimpering against his solid body and shoulders; but if you had thought about it for longer, maybe you could’ve figured something out.

Your wedding is more lowkey than you expected Oikawa Tooru to agree with, though you’re more than glad about it. You also realize that day that you should stop calling him by his full name, considering you’re an Oikawa too, now. The entire room is filled with only some family and friends, his old highschool friends and some of his newer team mates; your three closest uni classmates also in attendance. And your rock in the very front, Hajime nii smiling so full and wide it pulls his eyes into little moons. It’s entirely intoxicating, and so is Tooru when he shines so bright the sun in the sky can’t match.

When the night comes to a close, slowly, long hours later— Tooru carries you over the step of the door with all the excess dramatics you did expect from him. Only, you’re happy right now, laughing against his neck at every breathed well wish, every praise, and each time he tells you how fucking pretty his new wife is. You’d be lying if you didn't admit to it feeling damn good. When he swears you’re glowing, you’re inclined to believe it. He closes the door behind you two, and loosens the pretty, silk tie from around his neck as he watches you slowly shuffle back a bit towards the bed. His lips pull into a smile, before he hums, “I’ll come join you in a second, cutie.”

You kick your shoes off, and hum, and choose to start taking off your very expensive dress on your own. You know Tooru wouldn’t care about ripping it open, but you sure do. His steps go around the room, before he disappears into the bathroom, you think. You could use a freshen up too, honestly. The long, laced up back of your dress is barely undone before a soft knock comes from the door, and you look up, bristling at the sound. But Tooru’s nowhere to be seen —did he go out into the hall?— you keep the front of your dress to your chest with one hand while slowly sliding open the lock with the other.

“Why’d you—” You take a step back automatically, and look up with wide eyes. Hajime’s a little flushed when he steps through the door and pushes it closed, like he’s been running. You fluster under the flicking of his green eyes all over you, and down you. “Niichan, what are you doing here? Did you need something?” Hajime’s always been the quieter type. When he wasn’t around Oikawa to drive him to his extremes, he’d only ever speak when it was important. When his words would be an addition to the conversation, it made it feel like it was always important to listen.

But as he reaches out and brushes his fingers along your cheek and under your jaw- letting the silence hang as goosebumps build on your skin, you really wish he’d just talk. “Hajime nii, I’m kinda- in the middle of something.” You motion your eyes down to show your state of undress, barely kept up when he crowd you a little more, and you squeak. “Niichan, you have to leave. It’s- my wedding night.”

“And I’ll let you enjoy it,” Hajime says, though his eyes shine with a determination that doesn’t let you believe it for a second. But his hand doesn’t move when it drops to your shoulder, thumb brushing along the soft of your throat; making your heartbeat race wildly against him. The bathroom door clicks open to show you your husband without a shirt, who only stares for a split second before Hajime glares at him. “You had sex with my sister at your birthday party,” the darker brunet hisses, and Tooru smiles.

“It was my birthday, Iwa-chan, I got excited.”

You’re stuck glancing between the two of them with your hands a little shaky, a mix of the nerves of the day and of this situation collecting. Did Hajime really come in here to chastise you about your personal matters? You can feel the blood rush to your cheeks, before you’re pushing his hand off your shoulder and trying to lead him back out the way he came. “Hajime nii, if that’s how you’re going to be, you need to leave—”

He grabs your one wrist and then your other, and clicks his tongue when you struggle against him. “Shh, calm down,” he looks down at you then, holding your arms wide enough apart for him to fit right up against you, muscular body keeping you right in place. Faces hovering with only a few inches between. If you were hot before, you’re absolutely burning when you feel your dress slowly start to slip down by gravity, and bucking against Hajime only makes it worse. But he’s too busy looking at you to notice, or care. “I’m not gonna cause trouble.”

You feel two large hands land on your shoulders then, Oikawa coming up behind you to lean down closer towards you, and make the jitters even worse. What is happening? “Iwa-chan’s just a little jealous and upset that I fucked you when I did.” His hand wraps around your neck and squeezes a little, only to start stripping you of your dress with slow, deft hands. “He wanted to go first, and I messed that up for him. Isn’t that right, Iwa-chan?”

“You’re an ass.”

Whatever thoughts were building in your head fall completely silent when you stare up at Hajime in complete and utter confusion. But he doesn’t make any attempt to deny it, or tell Tooru how wrong he is, how wrong any of this is— that he doesn’t see you like that, you’re his little sister. Tears start welling up in your wide eyes before you can even open your mouth to make good on the many accusations that roam through your skull, and all that you can manage is a soft, “Haji?”

“Aw, you’re breaking the poor girl’s heart, Iwa. Come on, out with the confession. She’s clearly waiting to hear it.” The happy-go-lucky, lithe voice of your fresh, new husband does absolutely nothing to soothe your nerves, instead spiking them even higher. And you want to understand, you do, but nothing makes sense anymore. Like you’ve been dropped into a free fall with no end. As your big brother clears his throat, Oikawa’s quick to kiss along the column of your neck, letting his hands slowly trail down your sides to push the white fabric down more and more.

Hajime swallows, eyes avoidant. “Listen, I know,” he stops to let his eyes drop down to your new exposed bra, to Tooru’s hands going even lower than that, and locks his jaw with a glare, “stop that, I can’t concentrate.” The little chuckle Tooru lets out against your shoulder washes over you. And your brother takes a long look at you, all of you, before leaning down to - kiss you. Hajime kisses you needy and long, pushing past your lips with his tongue like it’s normal. Like it’s okay. You start struggling against him again, both of them, but go nowhere. When he pulls back there’s an unfair sort of softness mixed in with lust, forced down your throat.

“I don’t look at you as just a sister,” Hajime whispers, “not anymore. I want to be with you- and- and I knew that wouldn’t happen- couldn’t.” He’s panting like you somehow bewitched him, green eyes searching yours for any sign of agreement. “And I know you feel it too.” You want to fight, and scream at him to get the hell out, but— you love him too much to do that. Instead you’re forced to hang off his every word while Tooru keeps himself busy by getting your one leg out from the dress before the other. “And when Oikawa suggested he marry you, I…”

There’s a pounding, white noise in your head that only grows louder when he kisses you again, and claims your lips with a hungry groan. “I want you so fucking bad, so fucking bad.” You can’t do anything but shake your head side to side, and try to pull away from him.

“You’re insane. Both of you!” Though they’ve rendered you in your underwear by now, and you can tell what’s most likely going to go down— you still start struggling as hard as you can against the two of them, and push at Hajime’s hands until he has to wrap his arm around your torso instead. “Let me go! Let me go, I want out of here. Fucking, let me go!” Your voice breaks, and Hajime clings harder to you, keeping your feet from the floor as he walks you two to the bed. You try to kick and buck, but it doesn’t move him.

“If you’re going to keep shouting I’ll stuff something in your mouth to shut you up,” he says as he presses you down on the plush covers, keeping you in place by pinning you under his wait. “You want that?”

“Get off of me, you’re crazy! You’re my brother! My brother!” Then you glance at your husband, and sneer at him too. “How can you go along with this?! You two are— you’re the w-worst, god— niichan, get off of me! Off! Now!”

“I love how fucking fiesty you are,” Oikawa chuckles from the end of the bed, wrapping those long fingers around your ankle to pull. “But we should probably shut her up, Iwa-chan. Can’t have security burst in here.”

“I know,” Hajime sighs, and gives you another look, and then places his palm over your mouth before you can start begging. Your tears well up harder, and run down your temples. ‘Wait, no,’ you’re mumbling against his palm, but it’s too late. As soon as he takes his hand off a piece of fabric is shoved in, and his tie used as a makeshift gag. “It’s going to be okay, just calm down. We’ll take it out when you’re calm,” your brother promises, and gives you a soft kiss to your forehead that you want to hate so much. But you can’t, it still has that same soft feeling as before.

Your pretty brunet husband is quick to secure your ankles to the railing of the bed, a bit too tight to be comfortable. But he smiles, and comes to sit on the bed next to you to wipe the tears from your eyes too. “As for me, I really do like you. A lot. So you don’t have to feel too betrayed. I’m just helping out a friend, you get it. Pay it forward- kind of thing?”

Hajime glances at your feet, before placing a hand on your stomach to rub comforting circles into your skin, then raises a brow. “Her panties?” Tooru is a bit too smug when prodding under the fabric with those long fingers of his, and lets the elastic snap back against your skin with a little smile.

“We can take easy care of that.” He gives you a stare that makes your blood feel hot, picking at the little bow and pulling the lacy fabric. “My little wife. I love that title for you, cutie.”

“Don’t push it,” Hajime grunts, before Tooru pulls so hard the fabric gives and tears apart at the sides, leaving you bare. And both men get clearly more pent up when Tooru runs a finger down your slicking cunt, up and down to drive you crazy. “Me first,” Hajime’s quick to say, and Tooru only laughs at the possessiveness your brother shows at the mere thought. You’re still sniffling around the gag though, spit soaking the fabric as you watch how they exchange places and Oikawa makes quick work of your lacy bra too.

Your brother is transfixed, and you both want to glare at him and look away as he spits on his fingers and rubs two fingers up and down your glistening bottom lips, dipping into your hole only to pull back. “Fuck, you’re wet. You’re really wet,” he chants, first to himself, then looking up at you and the way you’re burning through your own skin from embarrassment. “Knew you wanted it too, I just— you could’ve just asked. We wouldn’t even need shitty-kawa to be here.”

“Don’t be rude,” Oikawa breathes back, and dips his face to your neck and hands to your tits to knead them, play with your nipples, and suck them into his mouth to be abused by his tongue. “Get to it already, before you cum in your pants.” The insult is barely given any notice when you moan around your gag, Tooru’s quick fingers rubbing and pulling at your pebbled nubs just right. Hajime moans lowly, and then grabs himself through his pants. Everything after that happens quickly. His shirt and pants go, and Tooru’s tuxedo is shed to the ground without a second thought, all the while keeping your body busy with greedy touches.

It feels so good, that by the time Hajime’s pulling out his cock and shoving his boxers down his thick thighs, you’re squirming in anticipation, cunt dripping down onto the perfect, white sheets below. Your brother’s cock is very hard, and so is your husband as he shoves his hand inside his own and lets out a long moan when grabbing himself. “Oh, fuck, you’re so cute when you glare at me like that. Makes me want to fuck that attitude out of you,” he gets closer to your face, and pushes the fabric down to push his hard, flushed cock and slap it against your lips. “If I take this out you’ll be good for us, won’t you?”

Hajime’s fisting his cock and wrapping a ring of fingers around the head to fuck in and out of for a few, before throwing his head back. “No, I can’t wait. Fuck her face later. You’ve got all the time.”

The soft, melodic chuckle Tooru lets out fills the room as he watches Hajime line up with your clenching, needy pussy to hum. “Well, so do you. You’re welcome, by the way.” Though the darker brunet makes a face, he grips your hips tighter, and pushes in without thinking twice. The feeling of him spreading you open is too much, you’re tearing up again. You mumble his name around the gag, and choke a little as he pushes in so much deeper than you were expecting. But it feels good. So good.

Tooru pulls out the gag to instead replace it with his fingers, and beams down at you. “Our little wife, look at you. Open wide, baby.”

#iwa x reader #oikawa x reader #haikyuu x reader #iwaizumi hajime #oikawa tooru #iwa smt #oikawa smut #haikyuu smut #hq smut #hq x reader #tw.noncon #tw.stepcest #tw.dark content #🍯honey.pot #💫ch.iwaizumi #💫ch.oikawa

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iwaasfairy · 2 years

Text

┌─ “ ! „ HALFWAY TO THE END

tw. (consensual) noncon, breeding, restraints, predator/prey-ish, dacryphilia, degradation, praise, fear play, spanking, spit, poly iwaoi, crybaby reader wordcount. 6.8k

a/n. ♡ commissioned by the amazing @bisexualturtledove ♡ thank you a million for commissioning me and for being so so lovely!! i really hope you enjoy your fic because i had a lot of fun writing it and just aHHGDUS I really hope it's what you had in mind my love <33

iwaizumi hajime x fem!reader x oikawa tooru

White, hot steam of the hot spring fills the night air with a thick layer of fog that hangs low enough to cover everything. The bamboo around your little alcove, the door back inside; the clearness of the night sky. You can barely see past the furthest edges of the pool. The lamp flickers with a mechanical buzz, soft taps of nighttime insects flying against the glass. It’s not too cold — but it is awfully dark. A tense kind of silence hangs over the outdoors part of the center, and you tuck your knees to your chest as you cup some water to pour it over your back.

The dewy drops of sweat that roll down your neck are already cold by the time they’re washed off, a mindless action you do your best to focus on. Because it’s easy. Peaceful. You’ve been here before, and though it’s usually much busier even late at night; there’s nothing inherently scary about having some time alone. Hell, you should probably be grateful for it. But you can’t help but feel a tightness in your throat each time you swallow, and the urge to look over your shoulder every so often.

Only to find a motionless pool, and the foggy view of swaying bamboo and a frigid night.

You get out of the heat when your time’s just about run out, thoughts a bit loose — lightheaded from the heat no doubt. Despite knowing better you skip the ice bath to wrap your towel around yourself and pat back into the slippery hall of the women’s dressing rooms, quick to tie your damp hair out of your way, rub yourself dry, and put on some fresh clothes. They’re big enough to swallow you up in them, form almost entirely hidden. You pull up your long socks a bit higher, throw on a bomber jacket, and collect the rest of your stuff all in silence.

The dressing room is only half lit up, two lights left on at each far end of the room. You check your phone, pulling your bag’s strap a bit tighter around you. It’s nearing eleven. As you tuck everything back away and walk out of the dressing rooms, face still awfully hot from the bath, a cold shiver makes its way down your spine. You are a scaredy cat— truth be told. Still get scared of the dark, and of loud bangs. Of groups of people you don’t know late at night, and of the idea of someone looking at you. But stood in the shadow of the hall now, that feeling spikes so high you almost choke on it.

When you turn to the men’s room, there’s nothing there. Not even a single noise. The hairs on your neck stay upright though, walking out of the hall into the main room. And your anticipation is proven correct when a figure catches your view from the corner. There’s a man behind the counter. Dark hair and darker eyes, he stands propped with his hip against the bar, and though you don’t take enough time to study his face with care; his side profile clings to you. He doesn’t fully turn when noticing you, only gives you an up and down with narrowed brows, then goes back to his business with the papers. He’s tall. Even leaning over a tad, you can tell he’s much taller than you, and built like a brick house.

His biceps bulge with his motions, showing off the spreads of ink covering every inch of his arm. Arms. Upon further ‘inspection’, though you do your best not to stare, the tattoos crawl from just above the collar of his shirt along both arms— probably continue down the sides of his body too. He doesn’t look up when clearing his voice, tongue swiping out to lick his lower lip. “No one’s ever taught ya’ staring is rude, little girl?”

“I’m not— a little girl,” your first instinct is to say, instantly regretting it when his sharp, green eyes find your face to assess you. Your lip is tucked between your teeth, sucking on it as if that might keep the words in. The man sucks some air through his teeth in disagreement, before straightening out. He’s … big. All of him is, the hand he runs along his jaw, as well as the wide shoulders and chest; all of him is made almost explicitly to tower over you. He doesn’t seem impressed, only tilting his head to stare at you. When the doors of the wellness center open —set off by something outside, a chilly gust of air makes every inch of you feel cold, and your skin go taught.

“Oh, s’that so…” The man rolls his rings on his fingers a few times, before shaking his head. “You sure look like a tiny, frightened bunny to me. Shivering on those little legs.” His deep voice is raspy, bottom lip split down the middle, and his knuckles an awful shade of purplish red. “It’s a little cold out. You going to be alright on your own?” The slightly patronizing tone makes some heat flare up under your skin, sucking your tongue harder to keep from talking back. You shouldn’t.

Instead you adjust the strap of your bag from digging into your shoulder, and give a swift nod. Something that makes his mouth corner pull up in what you know to be poorly hidden amusement. “I’m going home,” you mumble more to yourself than to him, not exactly trying to have any more of his attention on you. The darkness past the reflection of the welcome hall is a solid void. “Goodnight.”

The guy is intimidating as all hell, and gives you the heebie jeebies. So as you make your way past the lockers for your shoes, exchanging the flimsy slippers for your own, you’re much too aware of him in the corner of your eyes. He places the papers down entirely and puts a hand on the bar to hop over it with too much ease, landing with a huf to walk up to you. “Why are you running off so quick?” Up close he’s even more intimidating.

There’s healed scars on his cheeks and ears, and along his arms enough to leave crude marks in the skin, and you press your back against the lockers to stare up at his handsome face. “You don’t want me to help you out? Don’t tell me you’re spooked.” His eyes shine with the same lilt of fun you can hear in his tone, and narrow when you freeze. “You said you could handle it, right? If you want me to treat you like a big girl…”

He reaches out a hand to swipe a few hairs away from your cheeks, the touch tingling through your entire face— and you take a step back with a nervous giggle, still staring at his stupid, attractive face. “I’ll be really nice.”

“N-no thank you. I- I have- have a boyfriend, so…” The slight pull upwards of his mouth corners doesn’t miss you, and only makes you feel more tense. “W-well, it’s really getting,” you pretend to fish your phone out of your pocket, quickly checking the time again, “quite late. So I have to get going.”

You barely set a foot to get from between the two obstacles, before you’re pulled back by your wrist. “Wait, wait, wait… stop running off. You’re making this so much harder than it has to be.” His large palm wrapped tightly around your skin, there’s a sudden cry that threatens to pass your lips. You don’t want to be here all alone at night. You don’t want to be here at all. “It’s warmer here, y’know. Don’t run just yet, just… hang around. I want to keep looking at you. Do you have any idea how fucking cute you look right now?”

“N-no, I— I’m leaving, and… you should let go.” A hitched breath makes your voice a little squeaky, panic welling up. Your heart rushing a hundred miles a second at the closeness of his face to yours, and his sandalwood smell washing over your already hazy senses. “Please?” you breathe out tightly, trying to slip your hand back out of his as softly as you can manage.

“Aw, pet.” His expression falters a little for a split second when a tear rolls down your cheek. But when he brushes it away and you don’t flinch at his touch, the worry is gone again. “Don’t get so upset, baby.” He stares at you with thinly veiled amusement this time, giving you a quick once-over before leaning in a little more. “We barely even got to play.”

“I already told you I have a boyfriend,” you mumble back just as quick, eyebrows slanting in a sad upwards motion. You can’t help it. You manage to worm your hand out of his grip for just long enough to duck under his arm and stumble away a few steps, pulling your own limbs close to your body. There’s a few seconds of silence where the dark haired man watches you, before he crosses his arms over his chest. You can see him in the reflection of the glass door, smiling as you walk. A fact that doesn’t leave you with a whole lot of confidence to slip into the cold night air.

But before you’re fully out the door, his raspy voice sounds out again behind you. “You should know I always finish games when people start them, little one. You wanted to play so bad, so…” The sentence is enough to slow your feet to a halt, looking over at your shoulder with a questioning brow, lips dropping open to watch him. The quietness of the building doesn’t just feel tense anymore. It’s a crushing, stinging kind of fear that makes your every fiber feel statically charged.

Whatever thoughts you had before this are deafened under the weight of the room, his small smirk widening when you fist your hands into your shirt for some support. Warning signs ringing so loud you can barely hear yourself. “You run, I’ll give you ten seconds,” he nods at your shape, pink tongue coming to peek out of the corner of his mouth. “I really, really like chasing.”

His teeth are sharp and gleaming when he smiles wide and wolf-ish, and you set off out the door before you can even think it through. Even if he isn’t serious, you want as much space between you and him as you can possibly get. You take off running down the street despite your better judgment, kicking up gravel and grass, cold air instantly filling your lungs too quickly. The pavement is unsteady as you dart down the street as fast as you can, letting your legs carry you around the corner. Your eyes unfocussed under orange street lights. There’s cars everywhere, but none of them are yours, and you can only swear at yourself for choosing this day to go by foot.

Feet that hurt down to the soles from each impact on your flimsy, thin-soled shoes. You’re running, running, running until your stomach flips and your muscles burn with uncomfortable effort. The cold air bites at your cheeks and nose as you do, unwilling to let any of the space you’ve taken go to waste by slowing down. But your steps feel so loud, like they’re echoing down the entire street. Your blood rushes between your ears loud and hard too, and this much noise is making it hard to focus on any other sound.

Even as you try to listen, your breathing is going in a heaved puff-puff-puff sound that overshadows anything else. You look up ahead as you finally get closer to the end of the street, ignoring the burning in your muscles and lungs to just make it there. You want to. You want to make it there before you slow down. There’s no one in the streets this late, and even if there was— you'd have to find someone to help you. You’re just far enough from the next corner to dare a glance over your shoulder. Your heart shoots right into your throat when you do. The street is empty.

But you can’t help this awful feeling that—

You smack into something hard and fast, knocking you back and onto your butt. A something that tries to grab for you before you make it all the way down, but ultimately fails, leaving you aching and gripping your own butt on the floor. Your breath is heaving as your heart pitters for some relief, the sprint having taken a lot out of you already. And now with the painful ache going through your bottom half from the fall, you can’t help but feel it well up too fast to swallow down. Wobbly tears fall down your lashes as you look up into a handsome face, who looks —to his credit— apologetic at having sent you flying.

Your hands are shaking when taking his reached out one, the pretty brunet giving you a slight smile as he helps you up from the floor. “Shit, sorry. I didn’t notice you in time.”

“N-no,” you shake your head, every part of you still trembling and off-feeling as you try to put on a smile, “it was all my fault. I didn’t see…” You trail your eyes up his hand to see a familiar looking pattern up his hand and the sliver of forearm exposed to you. He brushes a thumb over your knuckles while still holding your hand, and leans in a little.

“You’re looking a bit … off. Are you okay?”

Despite yourself, you’re nodding without thinking it through, letting your free hand wipe off the tears to get yourself presentable again. “‘M fine.”

“Well,” the man glances behind you for a second, before his warm eyes return to you, “how about I walk with you for a while?” His smile is gentle as you stare up at him, sucking your lip into your mouth. He waits until you nod to swing an arm around your shoulders and tuck you close to him, rubbing a hand up your shoulder blade over and over until you can’t help but let yourself lean into his side. “You were heading this way?” Another nod, and another smile from him. “Being chased, are you?”

“Y— I…” Whatever kind of trust you were starting to have in the situation is immediately stripped away from you when he turns to look down at your eyes with barely veiled interest, glittering under the streetlights as you walk. Your steps in time feel creepily rehearsed, and your chest goes tight again as soon as the relief came just a minute ago. “Where are we— going?” you just end up mumbling under your breath, wet lashes sticking to your lower lid.

A comment which seems to amuse him, wrapping your arm a little tighter around you. “Oh, come now, pet. Don’t be so hostile. We’re having fun, aren’t we?” It’s only then that you notice the glint of something in his other hand, metal and catching the light just barely every time it is given a sliver of space between his fingers. Not enough to know what it is, but plenty to assume. Your spine goes rigid, and he tugs around your shoulders to keep you moving along with him. “Keep walking, pretty girl. You know how this goes.” There’s a muffled cry that makes it past your lips, but his glare is enough to have you swallowing it down.

Right when you pass by an alley to your right, a figure catches your eye. Not winded like you are, and with a smile to catch you entirely off guard. The guy from earlier joins on your other side to walk along with you and slaps your ass for good measure, before slipping his hand into your back pocket. It’s subtle, but the extra bit of resistance to keep you from running. To keep him from giving chase. “Cheater,” the darker haired one rumbles into the night air as you three walk, glancing at the other over your head.

“You play fair too much for our good, Iwa-chan. I almost missed her.” He doesn’t remove his arm from around you, but twirls a little strand of your hair around his finger until it is a painful tug, and leans down to place a kiss on your crown. “It’s not fun when she gets away.”

“I would’ve gotten her if you hadn’t stopped me.” Iwa grunts, squeezing the curve of your ass a little more. You’re frozen in total blood-curdling terror between the two of them, unwilling to move a muscle more than they allow you to. So when they lead you into a driveway between houses and open a door into a nondescript room without windows, all you can do is let them. The heavy hand on your shoulder leads you to stumble when one of them pushes down, making your knees buckle and slump onto them with a painful hiss. Then he grabs the top of your hair and pulls your head back to look at him, hanging over you with a smile.

Oikawa runs his knuckles along your cheekbone, making your lashes flutter. “Now’s the time to start crying. Don’t you know what’s going to happen to you?”

“‘Course she does, look at that little face. Bet her heart’s banging like a damn hummingbird.” The other man is somewhere on the other end of the room, though you can’t look away from the man above you as he studies you. He leans down a little to watch as — sure enough, tears are still spilling down your cheeks in thin, wobbly lines— before pressing a kiss to your forehead and then the top of your nose.

“Please, please stop. J-just let me go, I want—”

“Her boyfriend,” Iwa says in mock pity, pitching his voice up a little to give you an awful, girlish tone.

It makes Oikawa bite back a laugh, and your mouth snap closed like you’ve been burned, unable to help it. The lighter brunet squats before you, cheeks flushed with a pretty, pink color that also tints his ears.

“You’re pretty fucking filthy, baby. You know that?” he whispers, hovering his warm lips over your ears and squeezing your cheeks between his free hand. “A pretty, little thing with a fucked up mind. You like this?” Cold shivers run down your skin as you sniffle and whimper, but letting him get so close to put both his upper thighs over yours to lean over you. His hands moving to your shirt to slide his hands under it along your lower back and hiking it up as he goes. Then he gives a quick kiss along your jaw and on your ear. “You like being treated like you’re nothing more than property? A hole for us to fuck?”

You don’t verbally react, but a shuddered breath comes out of you despite yourself when his hands leave your back exposed, then making you lift your arms to slip the shirt off of you. He stares for a second, before biting his lip hard. A soft noise coming from him. You cover your naked upper torso with your arms, but they’re yanked away just as fast when Iwa returns to join you two in a squat and grabs both wrists in one of his hands behind you. He leans down to start laying a path of kisses along your sensitive neck while Oikawa brushes his thumbs over your peaked nipples.

“Isn’t she pretty?” he then whispers much softer, glancing at the man making blotted marks on your neck with his tongue, and lets out a rumbled agreement.

“Prettiest little slut I’ve ever seen.” He pulls the skin between his teeth to bite and make you struggle against them again, which makes him grab your head and push you onto the floor with your face, feeling the cold wood. “Struggle all you want…” He cuts himself off to take in a sharp breath, rubbing his tongue on his gums to hold your arms in place as you wiggle and back against them. The sting in your wrists is easier to ignore than the ache in your ass or your knees. But you can’t go anywhere, and his strong hand is quickly exchanged for a coarser rope that burns on your soft skin. He ties it tight, then grabs you by the thighs to haul you over his shoulder.

“No, no— pl-please, please. I’m begging you,” you squeak out more desperately than before, arms useless behind your back and your entire face wet from the tears, “please! Please don’t! I d- Let me go! Let me gooo~.” He has no problem keeping you squirming on his shoulder as he walks you into another room, a flat palm landing on the swell of your ass so hard it knocks the air out of you.

“Shut up, brat. Take it how we give it to you.”

“No. Please let—” Another hit to the already sore cleft of your ass cheek really has you biting through the sting that heats every part of you, one he only barely soothes by rubbing a few circles over the irritated skin.

“Give her here, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa coos from somewhere in the room. You’re unable to keep up as you’re lifted off the noiret and into the other man’s arms, put onto the bed. With your arms tied behind you all you can really do is lay as the brunet grabs your face to force it into a squished pout and kisses you. Tongue pushed into your mouth and his hum to creep into your head, his hand moves to toy with your nipples, flicking the sensitive bud and the metal rod through them. It has your body curling despite yourself, mewling into the kiss.

The warmth of his mouth leaves yours only to attach himself to your tits instead, and though you try to wiggle away from his touch, the effort’s leaving you terribly exhausted. His tongue flicks over the peaked buds a few times to set your skin on end, before sucking it inside his hot mouth and rolling it between his teeth just hard enough for the pain to make your cunt go wetter. It’s so unfair. “No- n-no, you can’t— stop,” you try to tell him, voice growing softer each word, before you curl your body into his touch. Into his hands where he’s squeezing and groping at you.

Your cheeks are hot to the touch, and your head a little too cloudy to think straight. It leaves you awfully plyable, a weakness that doesn’t go unnoticed. “Turn her this way, I wanna see her pretty cunt,” Iwaizumi cuts the noises of Oikawa marking up your entire chest and neck, only giving a short hum as he disconnects and manhandles you around. Iwa grabs your both thighs to make quick work of pulling your shorts up your legs, then spreading them apart to make room for himself between them. Your hot pussy covered only by drenched, flimsy cotton is stared at for enough time to have you going even hotter in the face.

“Stop— looking at me like that.” Your mouth goes dry under their mean gazes, under all the petting of your skin. It leaves you breathless, going a bit light in the head. You can’t even help it. The sheer anxiety playing under your skin is enough to have you slipping slowly but surely into that familiarly blurry headspace.

“You really like this sort of thing this much? You’re drenching through your fucking panties.” He lets out a little groan, then cups your mound in his palm to make you feel his long fingers through the fabric, rubbing at your lips. “We caught ourselves a little, fucking whore.”

“I want to have a taste, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa hums against your tits, pushing them together to take as much into his mouth as possible, as you dig your nails into his back. And though it’s enough to make him hiss, you don’t have it in you to push him away. Really, you don’t have much energy left to do anything but lay there and take it as Iwa plays with your pussy through the wet fabric, flicking your sensitive clit. It makes your legs spasm in his tight grip, unable to break free.

“Wait your turn,” the other responds though, before pulling the fabric aside to reveal your slick pussy. It’s embarrassing how much wetness you can feel between your legs, a glistening cunny for two men to use and abuse. Your walls twitch though, clenching around nothing when he circles your entrance with his fingers, leaning down to lift your thighs onto his shoulders and place his mouth onto your clit. The heat of his mouth and the slight stubble against your lips already have you bucking against him before you can think it through, but it’s his tongue rubbing on your oversensitive clit that has more slick gushing from your hole.

Oikawa’s ruthless abuse of your tits finally takes a pause for him to go to kiss you again, mouth clashing to yours to taste more of you, swallow up more of your innocence. He greedily licks into your mouth when you open up a little, moaning at it like you’re granting him something holy. “You’re not being loud enough, pet.” He meanly squeezes your nipple between his fingers to make you squeak out, trying to squirm away from the touch to no avail. He doesn’t falter, and mumbles on against your lips. “If I need to make you scream, I will.”

“No,” you stutter back, wildly shaking your head, “no, I— ah, fuck, f-fuck, I’ll be loud- if that’s what you want.”

Your little whine when he doesn't let up makes him smile, and slot a hand between his own legs to toy at his hard cock. “Good. That’s our pretty, little slut. You’re going to do so well.” He undoes his zipper and pushes his pants down thick thighs enough to free himself from the confinement, hissing a few swears under his breath as he wraps his hand around himself. You’re rubbing your cunt all over Iwa’s tongue, letting him swipe up all the wetness with enough noise to make you die of embarrassment. As if it wasn’t enough to be humiliated, tied up over someone’s shoulder.

After a few strokes of his thick, flushed cock, Oikawa goes back to playing with your tits, slapping at the soft skin until it feels tender and sore. He grins until it shows on his cheeks, and coos at your tear-ridden face. “Hope you like a bit of pain, though. Iwa-chan likes to play rough.” His cock twitches and bobs up against his stomach when he lets go to run fingers along the back of your head, positioning you so you’re forced to look at the ceiling. Then he tutts his lips. “And so do I, for that matter.”

The other man groans loud as he fucks his tongue into your hole, before locking his lips around your needy clit and sucking so hard your toes curl, locking yourself around his head as he grunts. He grips your thigh so tight you’re sure it’ll bruise by tomorrow, and makes your hips roll onto his greedy mouth until he’s satisfied. Until your clit is throbbing from the attention— every touch feels too much. You unclamp your legs from around his shoulders to get some relief, or any space at all, but you’re barely given a second of rest when Oikawa forces his fingers between your lips. “Open up, pretty thing. Wanna have something in your mouth too, hm?”

Though you open your mouth to disagree, your words are garbled around his digits that push far back into your mouth. Enough to shut you up, holding your breath against your gag reflex. Iwaizumi licks at your pussy until your body relaxes just a little, but your shoulders still ache from the uncomfortably tied position. “I can fuck her cunt first?”

“Go ahead,” the brunet nods in response, prying your mouth open with a perverse sense of intrigue as he keeps your tongue squirming around his fingers. Your sounds are muffled, but the cries and pathetic whimpering is still loud enough to fill the room. “Now say ‘ahhh’.” You don’t, can’t while his two fingers are pushing back so far into the entrance of your throat; but his eyes still narrow. “Iwa, can you…” You blink back tears that run down your temples, try to swallow the spit down around his fingers— and then your legs are folded up onto your chest to receive a few consecutive hits on your bare pussy and ass.

The numbing pain has you opening your mouth automatically, though no words can come out. The heat of the spanking spreads through every trembling limb, feels painfully good. It’s sickening, honestly. You’re not sure if you’re crying from pain or pleasure anymore at this point, sniffling and moaning all blurring together. Your mind feels painfully blank, every bit focused on the two men claiming your body— taking it from you even though you shouldn’t allow it.

There’s nothing else you do when Oikawa positions himself over you, tilting your head back more for access— rubbing his thumb over your wet, little tongue. Or while Iwa takes off his clothes with a lazy hum, pawing at your sloppy pussy every so often to swipe your slick back up to the hood of your pussy. As Oikawa pats his cock on your tongue, it squirms around the head to lick his heady taste, letting him push in a few inches at a time. He’s big, and you open up further not to bite him. The brunet looks down at you a little wide eyes while you do, letting out a sharp breath through his nose.

“That’s a good girl, there you go. Use that little throat to swallow around me. So- good.” You take a breath as he pushes past your tongue into your throat, spit dropping past your lips until he’s mostly in and rests his hand on your head. “Fuck, baby. Our little cockslut. You take it so well— al-always so tight.” He only pulls back a tiny bit before thrusting back into the hot, wet clutch of your throat. Meanwhile your legs are dangling, still halfway to your chest, and Iwa makes quick work of angling your lower body so that he can spit onto your pussy. There’s no need, only running down an already slicked up mess to your ass.

“Gon’ ruin this little pussy.” He grunts softly as he slides in, thick head kissing your entrance with lewd smacks before spreading open to let his cock in. It’s an awfully tight fit, making your chest feel even tighter— and you squeeze your eyes shut against the sting of the stretch. His cock feels so hot and heavy inside, even as he gives you only a few inches at a time. But you can’t really think of that, because Oikawa picks up the pace to fuck his cock into your mouth, making your throat give way to an uncomfortable stretch, and his round, heavy balls in your face. You can only cry as your tongue wraps around the underside of his cock, feeling the veins on it.

And you do, swallowing around him, and doing your very best not to gag. Iwa, meanwhile, has one hand on your belly, the other a steel grip on your hip to force his cock deep inside you. He grunts when your walls clench around him hard, clinging to the cock invading like a tight grip. Tight enough to make him let out a string of swears, pulling out just far enough to get to thrust back into you and make your body shake. Your legs hang either side of his big body, hips meeting his thighs with a loud, rhythmic pap each time he forces himself to bottom out inside you. Taking too much from both openings, it’s no wonder that only a little bit in you start mewling around the brunet’s cock.

It’s too much. The rude intrusion of your throat feels mind-numbing but so good, sending every bit of pleasure of being mistreated this way to your pussy. And Iwa fucks you like he’s trying to fuck through you, flushed head of his cock bumping against your cervix over and over again. “She’s gonna—” Iwa chokes out through gritted teeth, moving his hand to rub sloppy circles over the top of your cunny. “That’s it, doll. Cum on my cock, cum, cum.” And even the messy pressure is enough to make your clit tingle from how close you are. He rubs your clit as your face is fucked like a personal toy, and everyone groans and whines at how your body clenches up.

Your toes curl and legs spasm before you can prepare yourself, as you sadly try to choke out the second Oikawa gives you a tiny second to breathe. “Cumming, cumm—hngg~ mh—ah, fuck!” You ignore the black dots crossing your vision to take a few sharp breaths in between your moans, letting your thighs clamp around Iwa’s waist like you’re trying to keep him inside. “Agh-holy—pfh-ack.” Your cunt clenches so hard your entire lower half shakes, gushing cum and slick from around the thick cock plugging you up. He doesn’t stop fucking into you either, until you’re a shaky, flimsy shell of a human and stick your tongue back out with a whimper.

Oikawa gladly takes the opportunity to lean down and give you a sloppy kiss, then sits back up to lay his cock back onto your tongue. “Even now you still taste good, baby. That feels good, hm? Cumming around two cocks feels good?”

“Mhm-uhmp,” you’re nodding, letting him push back it to suction your mouth around the head of him as Iwa fucks your clenching pussy again and again. His balls slap against your ass as he picks up the pace even more, rutting himself into your soft, slick walls for his own pleasure now. He still hits your spot just right though, building you up faster than you can handle. And though your legs are locked around his glutes, he’s strong enough to still fuck you anyway, impossible to stop him. Oikawa smiles when leaning down to pet the bulge of your throat, throws his head back with a long groan.

“Oh, fuck. I can feel my cock slide into your little throat, pet.” Something he does greedily, grabbing hold on your face to really give him the leverage to slide in and out of your throat with long, deep thrusts. It leaves you a dumb, useless mess just trying your best to breathe and swallow down every whine that falls from you anyway. “You gonna take our cum? Let me breed that little mouth like you deserve, hm? Gonna take this hot cum all down your throat?”

“Yeah,” Iwa groans tightly, “gonna cum too.” He grabs onto your tits to squeeze the skin and flick at the oversensitive nubs until you physically can’t take anymore, but have no way to stop them. You can only whine out a mangled string of their names around the cock in your mouth, clenching as Iwa bumps against your cervix. “Gonna let me pump you full? Let daddy fuck you full? Know you will, baby. So good for us.”

You can't recall the rest of the night, but judging by your soreness and the amount of cum slipping out of your cunt every time you move, you don’t really need to. Your wrists are sore and tender, but at least you can now wrap them around your Hajime as he asks Oikawa to go get something to clean you up— letting you get pulled up against his warm body with a slight whimper. You can just barely keep your eyes open to listen to his heartbeat.

“There you go, that’s a good girl.” His face shifts into an unfairly soft expression for a split second, all worry slipping off his features in a way you’re not used to— before he bites his bottom lip. “You’re still a little out of it, huh?” A large but soft palm caresses the back of your head gently, threading though the hair at the base of your skull.

“Mhm- ‘t went good, right, daddy?” Your mouth hurts. Your throat hurts even more, already getting raspy. Iwa sighs, then lets a little frown come back to his features. Unable to help it, you presume. He nods though, and allows you to nuzzle against his glowing skin.

“Yeah, it went really well. You’re okay. You did so well, doll.”

You’re pulled up against his chest a little more and rest your lips against his midriff, letting the rhythm of his breathing wash over you. A welcome feeling of safety that hits you like a truck— and you curl your hands over your face for a second before the bathroom door squeaks and Tooru returns to the bed with the promised wash rag. Beady, hot tears come down your face a little longer, streaking on Hajime’s stomach as he continues to pet your head. And then the bed dips, wobbling you to your other boyfriend’s side.

“Here, pet. Let me clean you up a little.” His voice still has the confident, self-assured lilt it had earlier, but his eyes are softer. Blurry edges and long lashes feeling much more familiar now he’s not scowling at you anymore. Your chest caves in a little more when his finger nudges your chin up, letting him run the washcloth along your cheeks and hairline. “That was a lot, huh. We make some fine actors, Iwa-chan.” His little smile is still aimed at you though. “But you took it all so well.”

“You got carried away, Shittykawa,” Hajime’s voice rumbles his chest as he says it, running his hand now down your spine to rest at the small of your back and brush encouraging circles there. Soft, good, kind. The hazy feeling between your ears is not yet fading, but you take comfort in the fact that everything feels less loud now. Even with the static seeming to still blur out every thought, you make a disagreeing noise when Tooru pinches your nose with the wet cloth to clean up your snotty face. Then he puts it away, and leans down to press a few kisses between your brows.

“Can’t help it when she gets so cute like she does. All fucking soft, mewling like that.” He sits down on your other side, tucks his legs into the crook of your knees and rests his head on the other man’s shoulder. “Such a little sub, look at ‘er.”

Hajime hums, wrapping his arm around the both of you to pull you a little closer, then takes a long, deep breath. “She’ll probably be out of things for another half an hour.”

“You’re on night routine duty,” Tooru instantly whispers, slotting one of his arms along your body again to run his fingers down the valley of your breasts. After a few breaths he goes to cupping one instead, lazily brushing the still-sensitive skin. Something that Hajime has to suck his teeth at, telling him to knock it off.

“Don’t wind her up again.”

“I’m just—” he nuzzles into your crown to avoid your shared boyfriend’s eyes, and obnoxiously makes a few kissing noises, “appreciating this pretty body.” You can’t help fight back the urge to mimic the kissing noises back, instead kissing at Hajime’s skin with your eyes drooping closed more by the second. Everything feels less important as they continue to mute out the bad thoughts, and Tooru chuckles when you yawn long and wide. “So fucking cute.”

“Don’t let her fall asleep yet, she’s gotta brush her teeth.”

“You have to brush her teeth, you mean.” The brunet doesn’t flinch when Hajime glares at his smug grin, only rolls his eyes, before laying a soft kiss on his lips too. Then he softly shakes you a little to put his free hand under your butt and lifts you up higher on his body so you’re face to face.

“Shut the hell up. You don’t tell me what to do.” He doesn’t bother looking at Tooru when he laughs at the statement, before kissing your pouty lips too. A few times, until you start returning them, brushing your thigh with his fingers. “Hey, c’mon, doll. Sit up for me.”

“Daddy,” you whisper against his mouth, and pout when he pulls away a bit to look at you.

“I know you’re tired. But I’m on little baby duty so let’s go take off your make-up. I know you can. S’important.” He also doesn’t react when Tooru cackles louder at the awfully mushy way he always saves for moments like these, just motions you to wrap your arms around his neck as he lifts you from the bed. “There’s my princess.” You might be out of it, but the emphasis on the ‘my’ is clear enough to make you smile, watching Tooru’s face go from a cheerful glee to distressed just as quickly.

“Hey!”

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu smut #hq smut #oikawa smut #iwaizumi smut #oikawa x reader #iwaizumi x reader #oikawa tooru #iwaizumi hajime #tw.noncon #🍯honey.pot #💫ch.oikawa #💫ch.iwaizumi

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iwaasfairy · 2 years

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┌─ “ ! „ WINTER ROSES

tw. dubcon/noncon, babytrapping, manipulation, gaslighting, captivity, yandere oikawa, dacryphilia, a lot of praise, Stockholm syndrome, biting, one sided obsession/love, spit, kinda corruption-y wordcount. 10k

a/n. each other scene is the present timeline - just in case mWUAH ♡ commissioned by an amazing amazing follower ♡ it was just such a pleasure to write this piece even though it really pushed my two braincells! thank you so so much for commissioning me!! i really hope you enjoy <33

oikawa tooru x fem!reader

It’s surprisingly easy to catch yourself in a lie; Oikawa discovers this at the wrong time, the wrong place.

It’s plenty easy to have good intentions in words- and words only, but actions always speak louder. And sadly, his actions are not those of an ever forgiving, gracious person. He’s never claimed to be perfect, far from it. No, he’s many things, but never perfect— and that’s how he likes it. Because Oikawa Tooru might not be perfect, but he’s a bit of everything else in between. He’s intelligent, he knows this much. Could read quicker than Iwaizumi could, and his spatial awareness is unparallelled by almost anyone in his circle.

He’s cunning, never sly— an easy combination that keeps him from saying the wrong thing at the wrong time. He’s been told many a time he’s far from bad on the eyes, and well— though he’s not opposed to using it to his advantage here and there, he’s no show-off by nature. He’s perfectly imperfect, the shining jewel of a bustling city where standing out is about your greatest luck in life. After all, all his imperfection is what keeps the human form entertaining.

But lies like this- you’re happy, you’re in love, you would do anything for him; they’re easy to dispute when you are dropping your head off the side of the bed and your tears are dripping onto the floor. His ‘don’t make me see you cry’ order is taken a bit too literal for his liking, but he guesses it’s a stubborn, resilient defiance of yours. It’s surprisingly easy to catch yourself in a lie. You still get this way when you are reminded of home, of your brother and your parents and everything you were forced to leave behind for him. All sniveling and making him feel, quite honestly, really shitty.

And he’s not delusional, he knows it was forced. Forcefully taken. He’s just good at making you doubt it. Doubt it and give into him when he offers you a few tissues and helps you back up onto the covers, opening his arms for you. As hard as he’s tried to make it into a tightly woven truth, there’s nothing about the way you sink into his arms and bury your face into the soft crook of his neck that is authentic. He’s a million lies in with no intention of stopping, and that’s fine. He’ll be fine with the mountain of lies at the end of the day.

If it means running his hands along the back of your head and laying sweet kisses on the top of your crown that you so gladly nuzzle into. Whatever you need to do for love, right? However much you need to lie?

He clears his voice in the darkness of the room, shivering a little at the jangle of the chain around your ankle. He softly nudges up your face to face him, studies the pretty planes of your face and your puffy eyes, the way your bottom lip is more swollen and flushed full of blood. You’re so beautiful to him. More beautiful than he could ever ask for, more beautiful than he deserves. He brushes a stray strand away from your face before smiling into the night, wrapping his strong arms around your body. “You’re so beautiful, angel.”

You don’t say much in return, shyly nuzzling his jaw as you hide away in embarrassment, and the tenderness gives him shivers. “Another nightmare?”

“S’nothing,” you mumble back, kissing along the marks he demanded you lay on him the night before, a promise of your love or his. “I love you, Tooru.” You’re already laying back down between his legs, allowing him to prop himself up against the headboard as you slowly sink back into sleep. The ‘I love you more’ on his tongue remains unspoken, not willing to wake you up again in fear of more memories crawling back up to the surface. He sees the way you look over your shoulder to watch him sometimes, eyes growing a bit too wide with revelations.

Wild, like a prey animal caught in a trap. An appropriate visual that doesn’t clear his head from the countless thoughts that swim in circles and keep him from pushing any further. You might break if he tries, and he loves you way too much to break you. This is a first to him too, you know. Uncharted territory. It’s a dance he’s unpracticed in, a little clumsy as he appraises you with your mouth half open on his chest. Isn’t it enough for him to be trying? Despite all his losses and his flaws.

He taps his foot impatiently against the metal chain crossing half of the bed with a sigh, before wrapping his arms a little tighter around you. Iwaizumi never warned him it would be this hard, but then again, Oikawa’s sure his friend isn’t exactly familiar with the comings and goings of this situation either. He can only assure himself that one day you’ll wake up and have forgotten all about his imperfections. One day you’ll forgive him for his lovestruck problems and his selfishness.

Tooru Oikawa isn’t a bad person, not in his eyes, and not in the eyes of the people who know him. He enjoys his fair share of issues, but at the end of the day— when it comes down to the wire— the brunet is as clever as he is tall and as charming as he can be sweet. He knows it.

Until he catches himself judging yet another fine young lady a bit too harshly in his head, lowering his head in the upteenth courtesy for the night and feeling absolutely nothing. The night is going to waste, and everyone is getting frustrated. He is, his father is, and above all; his mother is. She no longer holds her glass with a raised pinky and a coy smile, instead clamping her fist around the stem of the crystal with all the class and grace of a lumbering woodworker. He’s scared she might hit him over the head with it before the night is over— but alas, he’s far too clever to get fooled by his own lie.

Because though he knows that imperfection is the spice of everything sweet, one can’t help but scrutinize when scrutiny is all you have to go on. He smiles wide and warm when letting the pretty blonde’s hand go to escape the dance, undoing the cotton tie looped around the base of his neck before it chokes him. “Kill me already.” He might be a class act in pretending to enjoy life more than most, but God— are these people dull. All of them raised with golden spoons and delicate praises. Nothing behind the eyes other than a distinct knowledge of the rest of their lives written in glossy ink.

And on paper he is no different. Only son of a familial empire, the heir of a generation. His older sister has long gone and married off to a quiet, kind man and is busy securing the family legacy; so it’s no wonder his mother is getting flushed in the cheeks when no more of the girls invited remain for a first dance. He’s gone through them all, and as always, taken notice of none. It’s not that they’re not pretty, or kind, or -in some cases- have the shape of every girl he’s ever so much as dreamed about.

He just… feels indifferent about spending his life with any of them. And indifference is harder to distinguish between than adoration or disgust. Which just leaves him annoyed at the effort.

It wasn’t this way when his older sibling was of courting age. She had always wanted to get married, even from childhood, the effect of a well meaning mom making her expectations clear. She had accepted her fate with elegance and poise expected of an heir to a great inheritance, and she’d done it all under the guise of love. Tooru on the other hand— he’s many things indeed, and one of them is also indecisive at heart. He wants to think anyone would have a difficult time in choosing the rest of their damn lives. Not that his parents seem to take this into consideration much. Bonds are waiting to be laid and all that.

He stops at the table adjacent to the wall for a clear glass of water to soothe the headache threatening to bloom at his temples, suit too restricting and tight for the night. He’s sick of this theatrical shit. Of pretending to smile genuinely when a young lady flutters her eyelashes in his direction, hoping they’re the one to sweep him off his feet. It’s not exactly custom, but Oikawa can’t help but think that it’ll happen when it happens— and that’s exactly where the problem lies.

A soft huff of acknowledgement is accompanied by the creaky sigh of the table when another body comes to lean against it, and Oikawa doesn’t need to look up from his clasped hands to know that Iwaizumi was basically waiting for an opportunity to have a word. If not the ladies grabbing at his ankles and pulling him around, it’s one of his friends he has to deal with. The thought passes with a quick smirk, but it’s unneeded, and unearned. Of all the people in this room, the one he knows isn’t here to bother him, is Iwa.

He looks up into the crowd first, making eye contact with his mother from across the dim room to watch her sour a little further. People mingle and dance, sure, but there’s no denying. The tension is higher than ever, and only because he’s running out the clock yet again. There will be words after this, that much is clear. He sighs, takes a sip of his cool drink, and waits for his best friend to come with the unasked, sage advice. Unasked, but not unneeded.

“What’re you waiting for?” Iwa asks, dry and to anyone else’s ear, it might come across uncaring. But Tooru knows better.

“Dunno.” He sways the glass in his hand until there’s rings in the water that travel to the edges. “I’m just not feeling it tonight, I think.”

There’s an unconvinced noise, then a silence. “I’m just saying you’d save yourself and everyone in this room a lot of trouble and unearned broken hearts if you went and made a decision. Don’t lead them on, don’t…” Iwa grunts, clearly getting flustered at having to be the voice of reason, but he still pushes through. “Think of anyone other than yourself for once. If you don’t wanna pick, then make that clear to your old woman and get it done with. We’re all tired of this too, you know.”

Iwa doesn’t have to stay. He could walk off like this and leave the words said and sinking, serving a real ‘told ya’ moment in the future. But he doesn’t, and so Oikawa swallows his instinct to snap something back for the sake of it. As per usual… Iwaizumi knows what he’s talking about.

“I’m not trying to, if that’s what you think.”

“You’re not trying to stop her either.” And… correct again. The self-righteous feeling of annoyance that sits under his ribs doesn’t fade as he thinks that over, but it does waver a bit. Definitely when Iwa turns to him, arms crossed tightly over his chest and he mumbles a harsh but needed “get it together”. Then he lands his hand hard onto Oikawa’s shoulder, and the dramatics are out before the brunet can stop them.

“Ow, Iwa-chan.”

He puts the drink down though, slides it over the lacquered table for a few more seconds of break from all the bustle, and hums. “You’re right. Hold down the fort without me for a second.” Iwa’s eyebrows shoot up at the sudden exclamation, but Tooru’s already walking towards the heavy doors for some much needed fresh air.

“Where are you going?!” Iwa hisses after him, but he’s not quite close enough to stop his best friend from making it to the door and slipping out through it with a satisfied grin on his cheeks. Now he’ll definitely have words with the old ones at home. And it’s worth it. The cool, freshness of the air clears out the drowsy feeling of too much wine and dull conversation almost instantly, letting him make it halfway past the courtyard before the door is pulled open after him and what he knows to be Iwa to slip out after. “Shitty-kawa!” the man calls after him, and Tooru gives him a smiley salute before hopping over the stone wall into the alley below.

He lands with a soft ‘uph’, undoes the buttons of his pants and arms, before stretching out to the night sky and beginning to walk. If he knows anything about Iwa, and he knows almost a sad amount too much, it’s that the guy won’t chase. He could, but he doesn’t— a quite ample metaphor for the guy’s stale love life. It makes him smile, but he doesn’t linger on the thought for long. If he’s going to disgrace his parents right in front of their noses with his actions, he might as well enjoy the night out.

The streets here are still clean, quiet save for the stray cat passing through. He doesn’t allow himself to remain within these childhood streets though, or else he might go crawling back with his tail tucked between his legs. Even the one and only Oikawa Tooru is a slave to habit. So he walks, past the cramped alleyways and familiar houses under the same sky he always has. Walks until the birds scare at his presence and he gets to an area he no longer recognizes at the outskirts of the sprawling city. There’s no cleanly spaced lanterns on the walls, no polished stone and aquamarine banners hung above the houses anymore to celebrate name days or inheritances.

There is a growing sound though, people laughing and cheering somewhere in the distance. He can hear it, practically taste the excitement in the air. It’s in that second he also realizes that he’s never come here before for longer than a few brief appearances; and for good reason. But the curiosity is too pressing, taking over his feet before he can really think it over.

Two children push him to the side as he walks down the torch lit alley as they laugh, and he follows the giggles even into the dark. Now this— Iwa would call a bad idea. It probably is, and if anyone were to recognize him this far out of his family’s territory, it could spell some serious issues back home. But as he presses a hand to the cold, gritty plaster of the house and ascends a few stairs, he’s much too far into the den to turn back now. He doesn’t bother covering his face as he comes into the round marketplace, avoiding the people walking past him left and right to find a spot out of the direct eye.

It doesn’t escape him that the flag hanging limply from the central post isn’t his own. It’s exciting enough being out without anyone at his side for the first time in… what must be a couple years, but the possibility of getting to see his sworn family enemy walking about is even greater a jitter. He stuffs his hands into his pockets and lingers at the edge of the alley, tall enough to look over most people towards the little group that are allowed a bit more space. It’s not hard to spot them, by the fancier dress than just a simple shirt and moccasins.

But what really gives it away is the purple stones that glint so bright under the flicker of the candle lit square that the shine of them reflects on the walls, stitched onto clothes and woven into metal necklaces, hairpins, sword handles. One taller guy with silver-ish, tan hair, and a shorter girl hiding behind him. You. The older pair of people next to you mingle with others, wide smiles as they engage in frivolous conversation— but you; you’re nosing into the bicep of the man you’re standing next to, long lashes framing bright eyes where they flit around the square and only linger on people’s faces very briefly, before glancing up at the sky instead. You’re a vision, top to bottom dressed up like a blooming flower, the prettiest star in the night sky.

It’s not the beauty that stays with him though. It’s the pouty lip, the frown that makes it’s way onto your face when you’re dragged around and have to cling to the man’s arm with a tightness he can only describe as inseparable by human hands. You’re high society, there’s no doubt of it, with that hair and those clothes and even the easy steps on pointed heels. But you’re childishly brewing up a storm, and that’s what really takes him aback. You’re nothing like what he’s learned a high society young lady to be, even when you shake off the young man’s hand with a pout and playfully slap it away, only for it to quickly be replaced again.

He’s too far away to hear the conversation, too caught up to really pay attention anyway — so it almost passes him by when you come to a halt again for more conversation, repeat the same dance and motion until your eyes meet his. Oikawa freezes. He wasn’t planning on moving, but he finds he can’t so much as breathe while your eyes are on his, though he can feel his eyebrows raising at being caught. And you blink a few times, before tilting your head in confusion. You’re even prettier head on. Pretty brows and a pretty nose and the curve of your lips like delicate flower petals that take over his heart in an instant.

You look away. He finds himself shuffling to the side a little more as you get dragged back into the masses, if only to catch your eyes again; face your curious judgment again. Maybe this is how those poor girls at his own ball feel. Maybe he sees the appeal. “Sorry, s’cuse me.” Like a spark that catches fire to his flammable insides, he follows behind until he bumps up against an older man who refuses to get out of his way quick enough, and you’re gone. Whisked into the whir of all the people that laugh and cheers, as he is left a burnt pile of rubble.

It’s not a challenge. It’s not. And still he’s already convinced that something about you— he has to have it. He moves back to the alleyway from which he came, down the stairs. His jacket is pulled a bit tighter around himself as he trails back down the streets; excitement of a night out long forgotten. Instead your curious gaze stays with him like you’re just out of reach, and the tingles it sends down his spine are almost too good to be true.

Your wavering comfort is slipping quickly as you watch him pace around the room, eyes flicking over at you every so often. Your one leg feels a lot heavier than the other as you wait for him to settle down, and hopefully— let you be. “You know how much I love you, don’t you?” he asks, brows pulled tight and handsome face more antagonizing than usual. His arms are crossed over his chest as he comes to a halt a few feet away from you, to watch you where you’re propped up against the bed. You hate it when he gets mad. When he gets mad, he gets mean; and when he gets mean, the waterworks and the endless self-doubt are never far off.

“Of course I do—”

“Then why would you ask me that?” He bites his bottom lip hard, so hard you’re worried he might split it right open if it continues. “Why- Your brother is fine- Your family is fine. I’m the one you should be thinking about,” he sends you a look of total defeat, gritting his teeth. “Don’t do this to us, angel.” Tooru is good when he’s kind. When he wants to be, he’s the most loving person you’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting and then some. With all the praise in the world he gives himself to you, a gift offered with open palms that you can only be grateful for. You believe it’s all he could ever give you.

When he’s doing well, he’s your favorite person in the world— as much as you would’ve hated to admit it a few weeks ago. Or months. It’s hard to remember how long it’s really been when you can only look out the window to see the sun crawl through the sky, but never reach.

But when he isn’t… your body is covered in cold goosebumps that have your limbs sore and wooden. You mirror his habit of biting down too hard, and slump into yourself. “I’m sorry, Tooru.” There’s a deep despair where your stomach would normally sit, that seems to needlessly press down on yourself. Your body is tired and cold, and this isn’t helping your anxiety. Before you can really process it, your breathing is short and choppy and there’s tears glazing your eyes as you stare at the expensive floors. “I- I just…” you mumble, shaking a little as you lift a hand to brush under your nose.

Tooru is good to you. Tooru is so good to you when you let him.

“I just wanted to know if Eita was… doing okay.” Your squeezed voice manages to spit the words out, though you don’t really want to. But you know better than to make him wait for an explanation, so when the tears start to wobble along your waterline and blur your vision, you just close your eyes and swallow it down. “I wasn’t trying to be ungrateful.”

You hear the creak of the lacquered planks underneath his feet before his fingers come to your cheek, smoothing along the soft skin to let out a deep sigh. “I know you weren’t, sweet girl. You’re my little angel, hm?” However unfair it feels to lean into his touch, you feel all warm when he steps close enough to let you bury yourself back into his chest, protected from the world. Protected from him— by his own doing. The irony doesn’t escape you; but the chain around your ankle is so heavy. It’s much easier to just melt into his touch.

Tooru’s gentle when he motions to pick you up into his arms, large body not faltering to lift you up against him like the floor might swallow you up with too much touch. Instead you’re forced to hang onto him, cling to his body for support— as you always end up doing. “You miss him?” His lips are soft against your collarbone where he places a few kisses, then makes you pull away enough to kiss your lips. You hum, at least you think you do, before he kisses you harder to shut you up. He’s not really listening anyway; or if he is, it wouldn’t change anything.

You know this just as well as Tooru makes you cling tightly onto his body to crawl onto the mattress and set you down under him, hands roaming along your ass, your thighs, up your sides to slip under your flowy dress. He chuckles when you squeak at his chilly fingers on your skin, but doesn’t apologize. He won’t. You’re used to it by now— and even if he did it wouldn’t make anything easier.

You’re not comfortable. And you have no problem showing it as you pace around the entrance and knock at the door again, hissing little curses under your breath. Until the door is pulled open, and a very unimpressed Eita stares you down with narrowed eyes. You don’t wait for your big brother’s permission to step around him into the room as you tie your hair up away from your neck, before plopping down into his extremely luxurious bed. “Oh, come inside, please,” Eita grimaces sarcastically at the place where you stood, waving his hand about with an unenthused motion, closing the door again.

“Don’t leave me alone with these people, niisan,” is the first thing out of your mouth, before he even has a chance to ask. “Don’t leave me alone with these people, please. I don’t want to do it.” You’re knowingly childish and dramatic and you roll onto your back, because it works a little too well on him. You stare at him with the best teary puppy eyes you have -not that they’re really an act- and suck your bottom lip into your mouth. “And besides, mom and dad are giving me no choice in the matter, and you know how I feel about crowded parties.”

Your older brother sighs as he regards you, eyebrows already tilting up in a sort of angled motion that shows his concern clearly on his face, before gripping one of the bed posts and leaning his shoulder into it. “It’s your name day.” The soft draw of his voice and his little smile go back to quiet too fast, and you can’t help but mirror the gesture.

“Don’t wanna have a ball. Just wanna stay in here with you.” You’re splayed out onto his covers when he sits down and hums, brushes a gentle hand along your head that falls still after a few pets. He can’t say anything about it, even if he did have a good solution— and by the expression, you’re guessing he doesn’t. After a few more seconds of extended silence, you shuffle a bit closer to put your head on his thigh as his hand follows. “If I hide myself under your bed before tonight, you can just pretend like you never even saw me- and I’ll be really quiet. The guards won’t check here. Please, niichan?”

Eita chuckles when you pull his soft shirt, amusement at your actions never far off, but eventually the smile wears off for a tighter lipped expression. “I’m sorry, I can’t stay tonight. We have a patrol around the bridge; and dad isn’t going to let me off the hook for just any old reason.” He looks worried, something that upsets you more than you’d like it to. But his doubts always soon turn into your doubts too, and Eita isn’t one to make a big deal out of nothing.

“Problems?” He nods yes.

“Oikawa-san related problems?” He doesn’t nod for that one, but you can read him well enough to know. “Don’t go, niichan, please don’t go. I heard they stabbed one of our guards last time for no reason, who knows what they’ll do if any of them notice you’re there too. What if you get hurt- o-or worse?”

“Relax, okay? Calm. Dad’s not putting me in charge of being on the front lines. I’m there for any possible amiable talks if one of the Oikawa’s does show. The father or the son, either works.” He lets out a deep sigh, rolls his eyes at the mere thought. Eita’s good at being a voice for your family, charming and kind, but self-aware enough not to get trampled all over by other smooth talkers. He’s good at it, even if he doesn’t like it. His hand moves back over your head from your forehead to your crown. “Which means you’ll be in this alone, ‘m sorry.”

Ugh.

Sorry doesn’t help you.

You get painfully restless when you have to deal with it alone. Not nearly as prickly as you like to posture yourself, because at the end of the night, it’s really all you have. Without Eita here— you’re losing your edge quick.

You want another drink. The allied families have gathered for your name day ball, their sons and daughters and guards sprawling all over the place as you try to make it across the room without being halted. Which you manage, walking with downcast eyes as the chill of the room travels up your spine. You only steal a flute of something strong to nurse on, stomach too tight for anything more, before making your way back towards the dancefloor. Only, you barely make it halfway before you’re tapped on the shoulder passing the back room, and a sigh makes way out of your body before you can think. A strong hand pulls at the edge of your sleeve, stopping you with a soft ‘psst’. You turn to face the sound, only to stumble back a step at the tall man leaning into your space.

“Hello again,” his grin grows wide and wolfish when you don’t respond, before he motions behind him. Into the space hidden from direct view by the mosaic accent wall, not dark enough to cause any worry. “Come out here with me for a second,” he asks, his pretty voice lilting up like a song.

You can’t place his face, but he feels so familiar.

You don’t know why you’re remembering this now. Not when Tooru is over you, pushing your knees up to your chest to let his tongue peek out between his teeth and a loud groan bounces around the room. He’s breathing heavily, lazy circles of his thumbs into the soft flesh of your thighs. Your silky nightgown is shoved up on your belly and digs into your shoulders a little, but he soon decides that’s not enough either. One large hand coming onto your belly to pet and paw at the soft, vulnerable skin and moving your clothing aside further. “Tooru,” you mewl, and he hums.

“So fucking pretty. So pretty for me, that’s a good girl.” His strong, lined thighs flex as he pushes up against you, letting your nails run along to skin with a soft sigh. You love hearing him. It’s funny in a way, because how loud and vocal he was about enjoying you was the thing you hated most just a little while ago. Even when he smacked and groaned into your cunt, or bit marks down your neck, or forced his fingers into you with a gleeful chuckle. Now it gives you shivers down your spine, and you’re fighting to even pull them out of him more. Praises, and the way he says your name like a prayer. “My angel, all mine.”

His body is too wide to comfortably fit, so he urges your legs up either side of his shoulders; his pretty, flushed cock twitching up against his belly and the soft trail of hair running down. “Gonna fill you back up, ‘kay? Wouldn’t you like that?”

“Yes, yes, yes,” you’re whining without help, pussy drooling and keeping everything a wet, sticky mess. How he likes you most, is like this. Giving fully into his depraved way of hauling you around like a doll. His fingertips are a little coarse when rubbing around the top of your slit, just teasing your entrance enough to have you choked up. “Tooru~ give it to me please. Want to feel your hands on my tits and your cock filling me up. ‘M so cold without you. Please— p-please.” He shudders above you as you whine his name so sweetly, so needy.

“Yeah?” He knows it, you can tell by the way his mouth corners quirk up and his free hand wraps around his cock to give himself a few lazy strokes, before lining up with you. It didn’t used to be true, but everything before Tooru seems so long ago now. So long ago it barely feels real anymore. The rubbing of your clit doesn’t let up, and the tingles spread all through your body. Then he leans into you more, using the pushback of your legs as all the encouragement he needs to slide the head into your tight, little cunt— force your wiggling lower half still as he slips the head in with one smooth motion. “Ahgh, fuck. That’s a good girl. So good.”

You’re shaking, one orgasm in from before and now he’s pushing in, it’s an almost unbearable fit. “Uhn- Tooru, T-tooru, you’re so…” Your mouth drops open as he works more of his thick, heavy cock into you, slick squelching of your body accepting him too loud in the silence. You shiver and pant as he places a hand next to your head to hold himself up over you to kiss you. His muscles flex as he pulls you down onto him more, stretching you out inch by inch until you’re only half aware of the reality around you.

“This is what you wanted,” he sighs, filling you up all the way for an almost painfully tight fit, bottomed out with a soft moan. His hand comes to capture your face, forcing another kiss on your lips. “You asked for this, y’know that?” You can’t really listen well as he’s talking and taking you all the same, pulling his hips back to study your face like you’re really a gift from God— something for him to keep and cherish. His eyes are a little unfocussed as they take in every detail of your expression, fucking back into you.

“Holy— f-fuck, ah-huh, Tooru. Tooru!”

“You wanted this, didn’t you? You wanted me to steal you away.” He’s still talking, leaning in as his rhythm slowly is building and the lewd slapping of skin to skin becomes undeniable. All you know is that one second he’s kissing you, the next he’s spewing filt into your ear, brushing the shell with his plush lips. “You wanted to be fucked full of my cum and bred like a little wife. Say it.” His breath along your sensitive throat. Everything is sensitive as he fucking into you deep and hard, bumping your cervix with the angle.

Your legs tighten around his shoulders as you let him force his cock in and out of your messy hole, slick pooling under your body onto the mattress. “Say it for me. Say ‘I wanted to be Oikawa Tooru’s little wife’. C’mon.” He stops thrusting for a few seconds to brush his thumb along the seam of your lips, forcing your mouth open and your tongue jutting out. On instinct, you moan when he pushes the rough pad of his thumb onto it, spit collecting on the pink muscle. “Oh, you’re such a dream, baby. Drive me fucking wild.”

He does look wild leaning down to kiss you even with his thumb still holding your mouth open, making the motion exceedingly messy. His tongue taking over yours into a sloppy, open mouth kiss with his obnoxious sucking noises driving you totally into a daze. He kisses and licks until you’re out of breath and push at his shoulder softly, before pulling away to watch you gasp as he forces his cock back right against your deepest point. To drive the point home he places his back to cup your stomach and pushes a little to make the fit even tighter, if possible. “Tell me what I wanna hear. Don’t make me get upset.”

“W-wanna—” you interrupt yourself with a long while, thighs shaking around his wide stature with how relentlessly he’s fucking into you now. The loud pap, pap, pap makes you distracted, so you squeeze your eyes closed. “Wanted t’ be Oikawa Tooru’s little wife—uhh.” He grunts, fucks into your slick walls hard enough to bounce you up on the bed. You grab your tits to pinch the pebbled buds between your fingers as he kisses you again, then moaning too.

“Yeah?”

“Yea~” you quickly agree, teary eyes cracking open to watch his perfect lips quirk into a knowing smile.

“Mean it?” You nod again, and he grabs your hips with two hands to piston himself out of your sloppy pussy, making even more wetness run down each time he pulls back. His neck and chest is flushed from the effort, forehead a little glossy. But he still keeps going without break, heavy balls slapping against you as he pounds into your cunt. “Say you’re going to be mine forever.”

“Forever.” You’re crying, and Tooru doesn’t stop. In fact, his grin grows a bit wider as he watches you struggle to place all the emotions you’re feeling right now. His hand is impatient as it brushes over the soft roundness of your growing belly, knowing it to be true. You can’t go anywhere even if you tried. Not with the little pouch under his hand growing a little more each day.

The deeply mangled mix between affection and disgust rears it’s head loud and ugly as he pulls out of you for a bit to watch your hole clench around nothing, forcing so much wetness out of you. You’re glistening by no effort of his own, and he beams in glee. When he leans back to your face you can only stare at the way his pupils are wide enough to take up almost the entire ring of chestnut brown, and he tells you to stick out your tongue.

You do, to let Tooru stick out his own and lick up the length of your sensitive tongue, before sucking on the tip of it until your chin and lips are covered in spit. Then he makes you hold open your mouth for him to spit onto, warm and degrading right onto the middle of your squirming, little tongue. “Swallow it.” You shake your head once, tears rolling down your cheeks as you sniffle, holding out your tongue for his display. But he doesn’t take it, and lines himself back up with your cunt for another ruthless pace, deeper and slower. “You belong to me. Don’t fucking drop any of it.” With a sharp thrust right into your sensitive cunt he pushes your mouth closed and places his hand over your mouth until you do as you’re told.

His spit goes down with your cry of his name, letting him rub your clit until you’re spasming around his heavy girth. Your body can’t take any more. He knows it, feels the way you’re clenching around him to circle the over-stimulated nub and fucks you through a brain-numbing high. Your vision blurs into explosions of black and white as you cum so hard your toes curl and your back lifts off the plush mattress, pulling at the soft, wispy hairs at the base of his skull. And Tooru doesn’t stop until you’re trembling from the touch, until he’s shooting his hot, white load into your pussy.

You drop back exhausted, trembling for Tooru to let you off gently. He doesn’t though, fingers sliding between your legs to force his cum back into your hole with a love-struck expression.

“Iwaizumi saaan~” Oikawa whines long and loud, throwing around the food on his plate with all the theatrics of a toddler. It gets on Iwa’s nerves quickly, the dark haired man slamming his fist down hard enough to shock him into silence for a few seconds. Only a few though, before he clicks his tongue. “If I knew you were going to be such a bad sport about it, I wouldn’t have told you.”

“Are you out of your fucking mind?” his friend glares, tenseness in his brows making him look a couple years older than he is. “You’re still not forgiven for your stunt the other night, and now you tell me — this? Of all the mind-numbingly stupid things you could say…”

“What if it’s real love, Iwa-chan?”

“It’s not.”

You don’t know that. Oikawa doesn’t say it out loud, launching one of the green beans into the grass by his feet. The sun is hot and high in the sky, which means he has about 6 hours to convince Iwa to go with him, or at least to figure out a way to get around his best friend stopping him. He really stabbed himself in the foot by telling.

The thought of your eyes meeting his flashes through his mind, and he picks up the napkin from his lap to place it on the table as he stands. He’s already made up his mind, whether or not Iwa comes.

“The Semi family isn’t to be messed with, Shitty-kawa. If your parents knew- Hell, if anyone else knew- they’d sit you on permanent house arrest. You can’t go back there again.” His friend messes with the tie of his sword that secures it to his waist, and rolls his eyes. “Not for some long lashes and a tight-”

“Iwa,” his voice is low and warning, teeth clenched, “watch your mouth.” The anger that fills him at the insult to even your mere existence is irrational, considering he felt this same way days ago, but— all of that is in the past, isn’t it? Family feuds are silly when it comes to new generations. You made him realize that, in the few days it’s been since he’s had to miss you. Truth is, he can’t get you out of his head. The feeling has taken over him, and he’s not interested in putting a downer on it. Not when it feels so goddamn good.

“I have a plan,” he admits after a second, glancing aside to the other man with a wide grin. “We’d be in and out, that’s all. A quick, friendly visit, if you will.”

You know you shouldn’t have asked him. Every time in the past year when Tooru would manage to sneak into your gardens, leaving your own house a few guards weaker all the while, you’re still pretty sure that was mostly the stern guard’s doing. You never asked to confirm, but the way he hovers around the two of you whenever your husband allows you an afternoon in the courtyard or strolling down the street says enough. Iwaizumi isn’t on your side in this, and the roughened knuckles or splatters of blood on his arms are enough to have you keeping quiet on most things.

Unlike the brunet who’s demanding at best, Iwaizumi just seems uninterested. Even when Tooru parades you down the halls of his palace-like home once in a blue moon, there’s no doubt that the quiet footsteps following not too far behind are his. But— you didn’t have any other choice, and as days turn into weeks of not a word spoken about your family; you break the mock peace a little. Just enough to see the light—

Just enough to let Tooru in even deeper, putting his roots firmly into you. It doesn’t surprise you anymore when he takes the entire morning bathing with you, kissing your stomach each chance he gets. The fingers he trails down your spine, the thumb he brushes over your ring. You’re sure that if he could, he’d have made your ring a few sizes too small, so that you could never take it off again. You’re sure he’d make you regret it if you did. But when all of the routine, practiced gestures of love are done; the feeling doesn’t linger.

There’s no more surprise at just how cruel he can be with his ideas— you thought, you said that to him too, one of those nights shattering under painful insecurity and solitude. If only you never asked Iwaizumi about the truth, the traitor wouldn’t have told Oikawa about it. If you hadn’t, you wouldn’t be here right now, skin a few shades lighter than normal and tearing up as he clamps your arm under his like a real couple. You wouldn’t be forced to stare straight into your brother’s disbelieving eyes as he takes you in with pure betrayal under the guise of “peace talks”.

“I’m sure our families will be able to find common ground.” Tooru’s smiling. You haven’t tore your eyes from Eita’s restless stature from the second you spotted him in this mess; but you know he is. That perfectly composed smile that’d be able to make houses crumple under the pressure. The same picture perfect way of saying every right word that made you fall into his hands. And there’s nothing you can do, nothing you can say. You can only stare in shame at your brother’s defeated expression when he makes a face at the ring on your finger.

Tooru’s gloating feels normal now. The warmth of his body on yours is comforting. It makes you sick. “After all, for our future generations,” his voice is a soft, amused lilt when you shiver slightly under the meanly timed rubbing of your belly, “for our children… holding grudges won’t help, will it?”

“R-Right…” Eita blanks when looking between the two of you for a few times. “So you—”

“We did have to rush our wedding a little, so you have my apologies,” your husband stares straight into the other’s eyes, eyes glittering with his words. “We sent letters, but they might have gotten to you late, I presume.”

“No letters. W-We didn’t get any letters. Or any word as to where you’d gone,” your brother angles that last comment at you, and it takes everything in your power not to reach out and grab his hand; beg you to take you back into the family. For his help.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Tooru cuts off your thoughts by petting down your back, soft enough to set your skin on end. “We both really wanted you there.” A little while ago, you would’ve believed his expression genuine. But every part of it is a cruel reminder that if you hadn’t been so damn naïve, maybe things would be different. Maybe you wouldn’t be forced to clamp your fingers a little harder around his just to soothe him. Maybe you wouldn’t have to fight yourself to smile, as your heart is being ripped out by his greedy hands. If you get through this, if you can just make it back home—

The image that flashes through your mind first is your shared bed with Tooru, the heat of his body warming your skin. Your bottom lip wobbles. As you have to face Eita again, his brows angle into a frown, but his eyes are glossy. You didn’t ever get to see your brother cry that much, you suppose. Tooru pulls you closer into him when he notices your drop in mood, softening up just a little. Eita nods, lost for words, his eyes only just settling on yours before he’s turning away. You didn’t get to explain, and you… you probably won’t. It’s been months. There’s nothing more to say that hasn’t been made clear right here.

And Tooru squeezes your hand, before nudging your eyes back to his, laying a sweet kiss on your lips. “You’re the one who wanted us to get along, right? You’re the one who wanted to see how your brother was doing…” He raises an eyebrow, cupping your cheeks to pet the lines of tears away. “Don’t cry, my love. You did so well. Always do so well for me, angel.” Then he kisses you again, a proper one now— and you let him pull you to his body like you’re two lovesick fools. These days… that might not be so far off anymore.

It’s not like you to talk to strangers.

But your curiosity is a bit too much to contain. And you know you’ve seen this man before, you just can’t— place where from. Your hands are laced politely behind your back as you stroll side to side for a few steps, the outer porch at peace this late at night. “Tooru?” you try the name out in your mouth as your feet plant steps from the door, knowing full well you shouldn’t run off.

“Yes,” the brunet lifts his shoulders, before stuffing one hand into his pocket. “Just Tooru, I— live not too far down the street from here. My parents are acquainted with yours.” That must be where you’ve seen him from… The way he speaks is easy, a confident smile on his lips as he rocks onto his heels. “That’s Iwa-chan,” he suddenly says then, pointing over his shoulder at the man poised against the far wall with his arms crossed over a wide chest— looking none too pleased.

Still, he throws up a hand in greeting, mumbling a tight “hi.” You return it, curtoseing a bit lower than your dress really allows you.

“So…” you glance back at the one to your side, eyes going a bit bigger as you have to look up at him. “Won’t you come in? It’s pretty cold out here. Besides, I’m not r-really supposed to… sneak off.”

“Well, that makes sense,” Tooru nods, sitting down onto the edge of the railing with a thoughtful pout, glancing between you and the door, “you’re probably a bit too beautiful to leave unattended. If it were me, I wouldn’t be able to keep my eyes from you either.” He says it so easily that heat instantly flies to your ears and cheeks, mouth cracking open for a retort that doesn’t come. “But… it is a bit cruel to keep you locked away in here, isn’t it?”

He smiles wide enough for his eyes to crinkle into charming little moons, his handsome face getting a pink tinge to his nose and cheeks. “Ah, forget that, I’m sure you don’t mind it. I’m not here to start trouble… I didn’t bring you a proper present, angel,” he straightens up, stepping right up to your body, and goosebumps break out over your arms, “sorry.” His face is lit so nicely by the moon, making his delicate features look even nicer framed by dark hair and long lashes. He knows he’s charming- but damn him, is it working.

“Oh, it- it’s really no problem…” you flush with heat when he hums, pursing his pretty lips into a little frown.

“But can I at least offer the birthday girl a dance?”

He holds his large palm out for you, expression soft and weirdly genuine. You can’t help but wonder how this is the very first time you can recall hearing his voice, or his name— since you used to play with all the kids down the street since you were little. But it’s easy to brush off any doubts when you place your hand in his and he lays a soft kiss on it, squeezing a little. His other hand comes to rest on the small of your back, pulling you in close enough to have you swooning. You’re not normally so weak to a bit of flirtation, that’s common in high society anyway.

But something about the way he looks at you, so full of affection and care— it’s endearing. You let him lead you into a dance and hold onto his shoulder with a giggle. He sways you side to side to the soft melody of the piano somewhere in the building with a grin as he breathes a ‘left, right, left- left, right, left’ on beat, laughing with you as it sends you into a fit of giggles. “Stop laughing, I’m trying to be serious here,” he huffs, though it’s not long before he’s back to smiling down at you like you put the stars in the sky.

“Then don’t make me laugh,” you whisper back, voice lowering in volume as he leans into you so close you can make out his individual eyelashes. It’s too close for comfort, and you jerk back to place a respectable distance between your faces.

He notices, and gives a quick grimace. “Sorry. I just- I’ve never…” The reflection of the moon in his pretty brown eyes is enough to keep you hanging onto his every word, “I’ve just never seen anyone like you before.” It’s a landing hit, striking right into your poor, romantic heart. The softness with which he handles you, pats your dress down from the breeze before running a hand through his full head of hair is a little too practiced, a little too polished— but who cares.

“O— Tooru,” Iwa-chan suddenly calls from his spot away, you’d completely forgotten he was even there. His brows are wound tightly together as he places a hand on the handle of his sword. A… sword? You don’t get to linger on the thought before he steps nearer and your heart sinks to your feet. Did they come to— “We have to get going, more guards will come.”

If Tooru notices the way you’ve been spooked, he doesn’t mind it, too busy being love-struck to think through his actions. He clasps your hands between his and tilts your face back to focus on him, smiling wide. “I’ll come see you again, angel.”

“Tooru!”

“Yeah, yeah-” he hisses back, before leaning into his bow and placing a quick kiss on your cheek, as you freeze in place. “Later, pretty girl,” he nods, leaning in for another kiss to the back of your hand before you can pull it away. “I’ll come back for you!” he says it like he means it, winking as his friend slips back into the darkness of the stretched out flower beds. But despite everything he just said, you force yourself back towards the door. And tell yourself this will be the last of your chance encounters.

You’re wrong.

There’s no real buildup. Just the darkness surrounding you and the panicked wheezing of your breath against the cloth tied over your head. You hear steps, and voices, but nothing to prepare you for the soft, familiar sound of his sing-song voice only steps away from you. “Close the door behind you. Oh and Iwa-chan? I owe you.”

“I don’t wanna hear about this ever again,” the other voice sighs, before the click of a door sounds. And though you have the pressing, terrifying realization that you know those voices, it doesn’t really connect. Not as he squats beside you to take your hand in his like he’s done about a dozen times by this point, or not even when the claustrophobic rag is removed and you’re staring at those sweet, brown eyes. You can’t breathe, can’t so much as blink as Tooru brushes his fingers along your cheeks with that sickening kind of kindness. The kind that demands trust, even when people don’t deserve it.

You shiver under his touch, before he takes a deep breath and sits down fully in front of you. “There you are. No need to look so shaken, angel.” There’s a tense silence as you watch him watch you, every fiber of your being screaming in sync. After a few seconds, he cracks a smile after sighing. “A lot happened, so you’ll have to give me a moment to explain, love.”

Your mouth drops open without thought. “Explain? Wh-What are you— where are we? Why am I here? What are you doing, Tooru?!” Tears spring up behind your eyes, as you try to bite through them. “Were you the- the one who— took me?”

“I saved you,” he breathes out, low enough to make your skin itch. His eyes turn ice cold for only a second, before going back to the cheery nonchalance you’ve come to expect these last few weeks. “I saved you,” he repeats, “though I wouldn’t expect you to know that. That doesn’t matter though. You’re safe now, and look…” He motions around the room then, which you take as the first real opportunity to do.

And—

The banner hung right above the bed is painfully familiar, a pretty teal that shines under the sunlight. “We’ve made it home safe.”

“Oikawa…”

“I know, right?” His chuckle is awfully distracting to your already muffled thoughts, only amplified more when he scoots a bit closer so you’re knees to knees. “The chance of us two falling in love is… some kind of curse, I’m sure. You’re lucky I’m no quitter. It definitely wasn’t easy to get into your room from the balcony. But I always manage.” His pretty brown hair falls messily over his forehead as he reaches for your second hand, pushing your bound legs aside a bit.

Brown, floppy hair, long legs, deadly handsome smile on an equally pretty face— something in the back of your mind slowly clicks into place as you remember one summer years ago. How Eita had told you about the world, about the people wanting you gone; and their son, only a few years older than you. “You’re Oikawa Tooru.” Fear keeps you frozen in place when he laughs again, leaning in so he can rest his forehead against yours.

“Ding ding ding. Knew you’d get it.”

He leans in to place a kiss onto your mouth, when you finally gather yourself enough to break out of the trace to shove at him and scoot back. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?! Have you lost your mind?”

He doesn’t even miss a beat, getting up from the floor to reach for you with a concerned look. “Ah, come now. Don’t be so dramatic, angel.” He stops you from trying to untie the rope by your feet by yanking your arms away with a tight grip, and tilts his head. “Stop it, you’ll hurt yourself.”

Your eyes go wide when he calmly forces your arms behind you without too much effort, so much bigger and stronger now that it’s being used against you. You squeak out a desperate ‘help me’, but even as you do, the shaking of your voice overtakes it. No one here is on your side. You know that.

“Your parents were — stop that— going to marry you off. I helped you!” He’s strong enough to even hold your arms in his one hand as you fight against him, as Tooru slots an arm under your thighs to throw you over his shoulder. Your tears taste salty as you cry at your useless struggle, breath knocked out of you when you’re tossed ungracefully on the bed. “I’m going to protect you, angel.” As he tries to get on too, you kick both your feet hard onto his right thigh and he tumbles. “God— ah, damn! That hurt, baby.”

You can’t get anywhere though, trying to dig your nails into the rope without results. It’s not giving in. “If you’re going to hurt me,” he mumbles while grabbing your face, looking more saddened than annoyed, “who knows what might happen to you? I don’t like getting violent, angel.” He takes a short pause to brush some hair out of your eyes, before placing his knees onto your thighs and painfully pinning you in place. “Don’t struggle so much. I’ll make this so easy for you.”

His scent is sweet as ever, as your sniffles are shut up by a soft kiss, before he shushes you with his hands softly moving up and down your shoulders. “All you have to do,” a kiss on the corner of your mouth, “-it’s simple-”, a kiss under your jaw, “all I need you to do is let it happen.” A kiss on your sensitive throat, as you try to close your eyes against the pools of tears rolling thickly out of your eyes. “It’s so, so easy, angel. Just let me.” Large, warm hands travel along your thighs over your dress, before slipping the silk upwards.

“You don’t want to marry some brat you barely know. I know you don’t.” He shakes his head side to side once against the skin of your neck, his breathing brushing down your cleavage, before clicking his tongue with a decisive word. “No. You’re mine, aren’t you?”

“Tooru,” is the pathetic one word you manage to squeak out, grabbing at his shoulders with shaky hands. You’re tired. You’re awfully cold too. And as he noses down the valley of your tits over your flimsy dress, shivers make their way up your spine. He lets one hand move back to your legs to slip his long fingers in between, petting your sensitive pussy over your panties. “Please, I don’t— c-can’t-”

“I know, angel. I know it’s a little fast; trust me— if it were up to me I’d take it more slowly too.” He pulls the front of the dress until your nipple is exposed, before pressing a kiss to the place where your heart is pounding like a hummingbird in your chest. Then he licks over the pebbled nub, sucking in into his mouth with a soft hum.

“Uhuh, so pretty for me. That’s a good girl.” He pushes your legs apart until he can fit in between them, and yanks the last bit of coverage you have aside, not allowing you to cover yourself with your hands. “Just relax. Just have to- ah- make sure,” he rubs a thumb over your pussy as you throw your head back, burying your tear-ridden face in your arms, “you can’t run. Put up with it for me, angel.”

He’s impatient as he spits onto your pussy, rubbing it over your hole with an entranced look, rubbing his hardening cock against your thigh. His fingers making sure that despite the crying, your body can’t help but accept the pleasure. It feels different when Tooru’s doing it.

“Let me give you a little Oikawa of your own, hm? You’ll get used to it for me. I know you can.”

#oikawa x reader #haikyuu x reader #oikawa tooru #oikawa smut #haikyuu smut #hq smut #hq x reader #tw.dubcon #tw.baby trapping #tw.noncon #🍯honey.pot #💫ch.oikawa

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iwaasfairy · 2 years

Note

OMG IM SO EXCITED THAT YOUR REQUEST ARE OPEN!! i miss my baby atsuko so much so maybe can we get a drabble of him and his pretty mom? maybe with your fav hard kinks? only if you want to of course! <3

┌─ “ ! „ UNFAIR

tw. incest, degradation, jealousy, more atsuko because i can a/n. yes you guys let me indulge too much thANk yOUUUU aHHHH ♡ have some,,, soft tooru and hard atsu. i might come back to add to this but right now brain is pretty blank so it's a bit lacking in actual smut smut but i tried!

Uncle Iwaizumi tells you the kid is spoiled rotten sometimes. You’re going to have to start believing it soon. From as soon as Tooru gives the go-ahead, Atsuko is dragging over enough beers to topple an army, filling your kitchen with ‘summer spirit’, as he so calls it. “Atsuko, I told you we wouldn’t be having any more parties until you clean up the mess you guys made last time.”

“Tooru said I could.” He just shrugs, bending to drag another whole crate of beers next to the already stacked fridge. Your house has become a jungle gym for university kids ever since he’s been home for the summer.

“You shouldn’t even be asking Tooru, because I already told you no,” you try again, slowly shying back when he comes to stand before you with that same knowing grin that had you swooning every time before this one. He runs a hand through his hair, letting the words just float by. You frown. “Ko—”

“I love you, mom,” he softly says instead, long lashes spreading over his cheeks as he smiles even wider. He leans in to give you a kiss so soft it tingles down your spine, before humming into your mouth. “You taste good.”

It has you flustering, balling your hands into your dress and staring at him in exasperation. But your son is already sending you a wink and going back to his business as he had been, contentedly.

Of course, the gentle coo of Tooru still rings in the back of your mind as you go back to just watching Atsu load the fridge with ice and other colorful drinks. “You have to be a little tougher on him, or he’ll walk all over you,” your first brunet had whispered into your hair just a few hours ago, where you could still feel the smile curl onto his pretty lips on cue.

Tooru knows full well you’re not the delegating type. He knows, because he’s the one to give you rubs under your chin like you’re a pet at the first sign of complying behavior, bathing in your pouts and sighs like the mere idea of it brings him joy. You suppose it probably does. Your husband is a menace all on his own. So when you sigh, and he chuckles; you almost wonder if he’s expecting you to try at all. And try you would, if the charming grin on your boy’s face wasn’t sent your way so easily.

Instead you’re walking through the house towards the office, let the pats of bare feet ring behind you to drag yourself through the heavy door. Tooru’s sitting with one leg propped onto his knee, light brown hair swept away from his forehead as he drops his pen at the first sight of you. Whatever paperwork he was working on is slid aside like he was waiting for you. “Hi baby,” his smile is bright, too charming to ignore, “what’s the matter? You look like you’ve just tried to fight a whole war by yourself.” He laughs when you let out a noise of displeasure at that, motioning you over to place you on his lap. “What, little one?”

Your pout is on before you realize it. “You’re laughing but I might as well have.” His hand softly grips your jaw, brings your lips close enough to his to tickle. As he does, he basically reads your mind, sliding his other hand along the small of your back to soothe you. Gentle but present, demanding.

“Ko’s giving you a hard time?”

You sit nose to nose for a second, before placing a few soft kisses on his lips and letting out a noise. The truth is, Atsuko isn’t a difficult person. He wasn’t a difficult kid, and though he had his moments as teens do; he was always more than happy to help you out and even aid in house work. Always with no more than a quick hum and an encouraging squeeze of your shoulder. All he asked was some freedom to do as he pleased in return. Was it really so hard to believe that you’d find it easy to roll over and take most things as they came?

“Not really,” you mouth gently, then let out a sigh. “You know how he is. He’s sweet, -he is- but—”

“Used to getting what he wants,” your husband snickers before placing another kiss onto your lips, shifting your legs aside to sit you down more onto his lap. “Well, can’t do much about it now.” You want to glare at the resignation in his voice, and blame Tooru a little more. He wasn’t much help in that matter either, as far as you remember. You live with two hedonists, who love nothing more than to push and prod at your boundaries all day long. But then Tooru tilts your head back to face him, and starts laying needy kisses under your ear.

“Why don’t you try disciplining him for once? I’ll back you up.”

It’s an order, not a suggestion. You know this. But the way he caresses up your sides and moans hoarsely at the slight shift in your weight is a bit too distracting for your own good. He brushes your hair aside to kiss down your neck until the crook of it, then bites down on the skin and makes you shiver. “Where’s our boy?” The low whisper is an afterthought when he rolls his hips into you, strong thighs flexing as you thread your fingers through the shorter hair on the back of his head.

“Terrace— kitchen.”

Tooru hums, then catches your lips again and lets his tongue meet yours, only pulling back to send you a wolfish grin. “We got some time then. Good. You look so fucking hot right now.”

You should know that when Tooru says ‘back you up’, he really means —witness your suffering. Atsuko’s long since grown too tall for you to seem like any kind of serious rulesetter, all physicality of a line-backer making him seem much the intimidating young man. And for all his gentle consideration towards you, he loves nothing more than fighting you on simple decisions. For absolutely no reason. Because he can. You don’t even get to feel like a mom with how often he’s waltzing all over you like it’s his personal hobby. It’s why you usually left the strict punishment to Tooru. Hell, you can’t even remember the last time you truly disciplined him ever since the kid hit puberty. It’s not your fault you’re a bit of a pushover, and both your boys know how to slither out of your hands.

“Baby.”

“Yes?” Atsuko is currently taking your freshly washed towels to the pool deck with a little whistle, while Tooru’s leaning back against the couch and trying not to watch you too obviously. But you can feel his eyes burning into your skull each time your boy walks past you and you slump in on yourself a little more. You can’t do this.

You physically have to fight the words out of your mouth, moving to stand in Ko’s path before he stops what he’s doing to peer down at you. Almost like him and Tooru both are in on it, and you hate that your cheeks are already hot. “Atsuko.” He doesn’t say anything, but raises an eyebrow, and bends down a little to add insult to injury. “What is your plan with all this crap? You don’t think you-” you glance over your shoulder to look at your husband, before waving your fingers about for emphasis, “-have to consult your parents about this?”

“Aw, come on.” He shrugs, before blinking a few times. “You always like my parties.”

“That’s not the—”

And grabbing your hand to pull it to his chest, making you stumble a few steps closer, he continues. “I even seem to remember you had a great time. Or— Times. Four separate ones I think, until I had to carry you to your own room because your legs gave out.” Whatever you were planning on saying dies on your tongue when he dips to kiss your mouth with an excessive kissy noise, before wrapping his arms around you and squeezing until you’re all warm on the inside. Then he slips past you to open the floor length windows wide with the same song he was whistling before.

You glance at Tooru with an expression you’re not sure is anger or complete mortification, but your husband’s reaction is anything but helpful. Just tilts his head and sends you an unimpressed look. “That went as expected,” he mumbles under his breath, before pulling away from the couch to give you a few pats on your head and a click of his tongue. He lifts his lip in mock confusion, before letting his eyes trail after his younger copycat of a son. “Always with the public stuff,” he mutters though, sending you a look that makes you want to melt into the floor.

By the time Atsuko comes back into the house you’re stirring the vegetables for dinner with a glare. Always with this. You go on muttering to yourself about the two men you’ve gotten stuck with when the tallest peeks his head in the door. You had to remove yourself from Tooru’s presence after the afternoon, because he’d taken the little Atsuko stunt as a personal challenge to make you cum all over his face instead of going on his run, and your stance is still a little wobbly after it all. But as your luck has it, Atsu’s back to melt himself to your back and sway you a little. “Hey, pretty lady.”

You keep glaring at the popping vegetable oil in the pan as he squeezes your hips. “Mom,” he whispers, and you hold the urge to let your eyes flutter shut. Stupid. “Mom.” Warm lips track your pulse along your neck, stopping for a second to ghost over Tooru’s mark. You know it must drive him a bit wild, ever the competitive type, but he ignores it in favor of sliding his hands along your belly into the front of your shorts and drawing shapes much too low on your pelvis. “What was that earlier, hm?” There’s a tone in his voice you recognize, and it immediately sets your hairs on end.

Because the low, rumbly gravel is the exact one he loves to use when he’s bending you over and stretching you on his cock and— and you’re supposed to be mad at him! You are mad at him. “Tell me,” he breathes though, pushing one hand down with a punishingly slow pace, before palming your pussy. A little whimper breaks through your mask when he applies pressure just where you like it, but the brunet doesn’t delight in it like he would. “Come on, pretty thing, use your words. You were trying to tell me something earlier, weren’t you?”

The lazy rubbing of your pussy causes you to quickly turn off the stove in fear of getting burnt, before you try to look over your shoulder at him with narrowed eyes. But at his cocky smile you fall quiet, so quick to be back at his mercy. “But you’re all mine, and you can never say anything, hm?” If anyone saw, they’d see what a truly pathetic figure you are buckling under the slightest push. The prodding of his fingers doesn’t speed up, but he starts to circle your clit with a precision you wish he didn’t have, and raises a brow. “So soft and good for me,” his breath tickles along your neck as you look away from him, grabbing at his wrist.

To push him away or pull him closer, you’re not sure. You want to stand your ground, truly. You do. Atsuko just doesn’t care right now. “Maybe it’s because you’re always thinking with this cunt. Can’t discipline me when you’re trying to get this pussy ate.” He slips two fingers between your lips into your wetness, backing you away from the counters and leaning into him. “Let your son ruin your pussy like this— what a nasty, dumb girl. You’re pretty fucked, y’know?” His coos are whispered almost lovingly against your cheek, if not for the smile and the sharp edge to his voice.

“I should show you what it’s like to punish someone, don’t you think?”

#oikawa x reader #haikyuu x reader #oikawa atsuko #oikawa smut #haikyuu smut #hq smut #hq x reader #tw.incest #tw.degradation #tw.hard dom #🍯honey.pot #💫ch.oikawa #💫oc.atsuko

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iwaasfairy · 2 years

Text

FORGET-ME-NOT TRUE LOVE

“It’s like you were meant for me.”

oikawa x fem!reader

┌─ “ ! „ tw. yandere, dubcon/noncon, threats, obsessive ex-oiks

Something isn’t quite right, but you don’t know what. There’s a vague, discontinued thought, and then another, pressed up against a woman who almost slammed her elbow against your nose and up against a guy who smells like cheap keg beer and Axe body spray.

One bead of sweat rolls down your neck and wets the edge of the blue jersey you’re wearing. A little baggy, and a little inappropriate, but it’s a festivity. You forgave it as soon as the excitement hit your veins, receiving two thumbs up in the process. Wholesome, despite the somewhat-slower line his eyes followed down your body.

Tick. Tick. The clock is a consistent tapping on the other wall, it’s almost eleven, and five long— god-awfully-long sets have darkened the sky over the horizon. The only light now is the stadium, this giant, packed stadium you still can’t quite believe is so quiet now, as if everyone is collectively holding their breath.

They might be, because you catch yourself hanging onto the sharp sound of the whistle. Watch him bounce the ball on the floor two heavy times, before tilting his head. With that cocky, well-earned smirk you once knew so well. It almost puts you at ease. But that would just be too fucking easy, and instead you find your breathing hitching in your throat. It had been such a good night too. You don’t have to count the eight seconds to know he uses the rest of his time drilling his deep, brown eyes into your face.

You’re close enough to see the spitting flare of -something in them, hurt, jealousy, anger. And pure, unadulterated glee at catching you so unguarded for the first time since you broke it off. He takes a deep breath, a bare second of reprieve when he looks away. And then he hits the ball, makes it barrel across the field with such speed and strength that the landing bang shuts everyone up a bit longer, before the deafening roar of the audience is back.

But you don’t hear it, it doesn't truly register. Oikawa had made you believe that the years away had done him good. That Iwa helped him, Mattsun and Makki helped him get back on his feet, that he’d channeled that passion back into his volleyball— where it should have always been in the first place. The ball is back in his hands now, but you don’t need to look. Oikawa Tooru wouldn’t fumble a fucking ball even if to save a life. He ends the deuce with his serves, and the audience loses their mind.

You do too- albeit for different reasons. The sheer force of your anxiety threatens to swallow you up in it.

It doesn’t surprise you when you manage to make it out through the sweltering mess of people that the first thing he does is grab your face and press a sweaty, greedy kiss onto your mouth; strong, glowing fingers wrapped too tight around your wrist. “Tooru, stop,” you mumble into the kiss, but he doesn’t let you go, and sure as hell doesn’t stop. You want to push him off, bite his lip and just disappear into the crowd, but you and him both know how that’ll play out. You’re in a foreign country, soon to be locked in a hotel room with him.

Playing house.

Only when his teammates pass by with praises and some nudging him for his way of celebrating does he let you get a breath, long lashes wet and his neck a little flushed. He leans his forehead against you, nudging his nose along yours with a shaky sigh. For a single breath you want to be happy for him. And then the breath passes, and you’re acutely aware of how dangerous it is to let him do whatever he wants. “Tooru,” you say again, more blubbery this time, and his eyes find yours again. Hard. Impatient.

“Only happy thoughts right now, love.” There’s a little curl in his lips, but it doesn’t reach higher than them. “Let’s play nice, hm? Don’t ruin this for me.” You let him drag you off down the halls right after the champagne, running his hands tediously down every spare inch of skin he can see and then under your shirt too, shoving it up before he’s even pushing you into the unoccupied room. Your ‘please’s are ignored with his wet, needy kisses down your neck, and you bite your cheek. It’s like he can sense it coming, because the hand that isn’t working your jeans down clasps around your throat, tightly. A warning.

“We broke up,” you whisper, trying to ignore the way his fingers flex a bit tighter, before he pushes you up against the wall to shove your jeans and panties down the curve of your ass.

“I didn’t,” his voice sounds, playing along your cheek with his lips, under your jaw, throat, along your shoulder where he bites down too hard. He rubs his hips into your ass, makes little noises crawl out of you despite yourself. “Tell me how you want it,” he mumbles as he pulls his shirt over his head, leaving you indecent and cold for long enough that tears start welling up in your eyes. He drops the shirt, grabs your ass back into his large palms and fingers that slide too easily between your legs. “Tell me how you want it.”

“I don’t-” There’s a hand over your mouth before you can utter the rest.

He crowds right against your back so you can feel his heart hammering like a hummingbird in his chest, before he tilts your chin to the side. Makes sure you really look at him as he bites out the words. “I’m going to fuck you stupid here, and again when we get to the hotel. And again. And again. Maybe I’ll even fuck you in the taxi before be get back. Whether you’ll be crying your pretty eyes out for me or not.” His fingers trail from your slit to your clit, pinching it to make you jerk, before he lets out a deep breath, voice dropping a bit lower. “If you won’t tell me, I’ll decide.”

“You love this.” His long fingers dip into your pussy, the traitorous thing dripping at the memory. “Say it, baby, who makes you feel this good?” His hand, fuck- you know he can feel how you clench at his touches, rubbing his hard, heavy cock against you. You don’t want to give Tooru the satisfaction to know it, but he was the best lay you had when you were together, and he’s only gotten bigger, stronger, more mature— it sends pinpricks down your spine.

He doesn’t care about what you want, this is just his ego talking. But the pinching of his fingers, the easy way he swipes his fingers through your slick pussy to give himself a few impatient tugs- it’s all so good. He pushes closer to drag the head along your slit, has you shaking. And you let him. You let him pull one you legs from the floor as he lines up. Let him nuzzle into your cheek like he isn’t your obsessive ex. “Fuck, baby, it’s like you were meant for me. I was made to stretch you to your max,” he kisses along your cheek as he slides in, pressing his weight up against your back as he slides inside. “You’re mine. You’re mine. You’re mine. Always.”

to the valentines masterlist

#💫ch.oikawa

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iwaasfairy · 2 years

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pls my mind has been plagued w seijoh 4 🤧🤧🤧 i just want to be their lil sweetheart (read: brat) whom they dote on (read: devour) <333 if u are feelin it miss fairy can u give us something indulgent with one or all of them 🥺

tw poly, daddy, brief mention of weed, someone calls you pup, just sub/dom stuff <33

clover i hope you know i really love this so much i'd just write a whole 200 p essay about this idea i hOPE YOU KNOW I HAD TO cUT MYSELF OFF sO HARD

contains iwaizumi, mattsun, oikawa and makki x fem!reader

“What do you think?” Issei’s thumb is pressed right on your bottom lip, refusing to let you suck it into your mouth like you really want to. Instead he’s turned towards Iwaizumi, loosening his tie as he waits for a response.

Though Iwa’s cheeks are a little flushed, they always are when you’re any modicum of naked in front of him, he barely does anything to respond, and stretches his leg out wider to give you some more room on the couch. Mattsun clicks his tongue, you whine, and Iwa ignores you both.

He takes a long drag from the red-glowing dart poised prettily between his lips though, as you study the curve of his neck and the sharp lines of his chin, his nose, the way his long, dark eyelashes make his eyes appear softer. Then he hands it over to the one basically hanging off of the couch, his head dangling off the edge, face almost as pink as the strawberry blond hair that is now drooping every which way.

Makki doesn’t say anything, just uses his free hand to grip the blunt as his other squeezes your interlaced fingers a bit harder. You don’t know if you’ll get much out of him tonight, something that makes you smile, nuzzling your face further into Hajime’s thigh. This he doesn’t ignore, trapping your cheeks between his fingers to make them a bit pudgy, and leaning down to press a long, lazy kiss upside down onto your lips.

It’s gone too quick though, and you are quick enough to keep him near by wrapping your arms around his neck. “Please, daddy,” you whisper against his lips, catching the tail end of his low giggle at your pitiful attitude. They joke about how needy you get, but you’re fully aware there’s not a shred of truth out of place there. You can’t help it. Issei’s fingers trail lazily over the exposed part of your chest, before dragging the flimsy top down to bare your tits.

It’s a little cold, but not for long. A hot mouth descends onto your nipple, giving it a mean bite that has your hand grabbing at his hair. Thick, dark curls tight between your fingers when he doesn’t let go, but instead soothes the pain with his soft tongue. The smacking sound is enough to have Hajime pulling away from you for the show, one of his hands gripping your other tit with a groan. “Fuck.”

“Ah-” there’s the fourth voice, soft and honeyed as he cracks open the door a little further, “I should’ve known you two wouldn’t wait.” The tall brunet stands and waits for any kind of reaction, before clicking his tongue. “Don’t you look awfully comfy, baby? You enjoying that?” Tooru’s soft smile is enough to have your entire body warming, if it wasn’t already for the greedy hands that roam the expanse of your skin.

Easily dragging over every soft curve, ridding you of the obstructing fabric a bit too eagerly. You hum into it when Tooru kneels down to kiss you, a sweet, champagne-y taste slipping from his lips. His tongue melts to yours, making you feel like cotton candy, all light and sugary and floaty.

Until Issei suddenly yanks your legs up over his shoulder to remove your panties, making you giggle into the kiss. When Tooru pulls back, you can’t help but glare a little at Issei’s self-satisfied grin. He doesn’t give you anything to complain about though, shirt already gone as he paws at your now exposed cunt, swiping his thumb through your wetness a few times. “As much as I’m enjoying this,” you sigh, reaching out to worm your fingertips along Hajime’s thigh under his boxers, “I’d enjoy it more if you took this off.”

Hajime lifts an eyebrow. “Please, daddy?” Someone groans, then Makki’s lifting himself up to start shedding his own clothes, face red and eyes blown out.

“Why’dyou always have to say it like that. Gets me hard as fuck.” He nudges Tooru aside to squat and grip your cheeks much like had been before, only this time his hooded eyes focus on the way you let your tongue drop out. “That’s our pretty, little pup.” He collects some spit on his tongue, before letting it drip into your mouth with a grin, gripping himself through his pants. “That’s it, I don’t need this anymore.” He hands the last of the blunt to Tooru, who promptly puts it out, as if seeming to come to the same revelation. “Got a better way to destress.”

Tooru’s the one to make the first new mark, an obnoxious hickey right above your left breast, before kicking off his pool shorts and letting his hardening cock hang between his legs for you to whine for. Not that he cares much, too busy leaving sloppy kisses along your tits and belly.

“Does it involve me getting my pussy filled?” you pout, trying to fight against Iwa’s grip on your wrist where you’re trying so desperately to free his hard, no-doubt glossy flushed cock from his boxers. Issei slowly forces a second finger deep into your slick pussy with the tip of his tongue between his teeth, fucking his thick fingers ever so lazily into your sensitive walls. He makes your thighs clench with a little kiss to your clit, before looking up between your legs and meeting your needy gaze.

“If you get to begging, maybe.”

#tw.daddy #💫ch.oikawa #💫ch.iwaizumi #💫ch.matsukawa #💫ch.hanamaki #🍯honey.pot #uGHHHHH i MISSED THEM I MISS THEmMM STILL #hAIKYUUBLR IM BACKKKKK #thANK YOU FOR THE ASK MY LOVEEEEEE #this made me so soft :(((

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iwaasfairy · 3 years

Text

𝙳𝙰𝚆𝙽𝙸𝙽𝙶

there's loss and victory to be found in people's arms. in your arms too, but definitely in his. for all that you gain, is it right to lose so much by his hands? this was a commission by an amazing, wonderful anon ♡ thank you so so much for this and i hope you like it my love!!

tw stepcest, forced breeding, noncon/dubcon, manipulation, semi-public sex, choking, spanking, daddy kink, hairpulling, toxic relationship, seijoh big four is almost forty in this and makki is a treasure ♡ another win for the dilf fuckers .wordc. 7k+

You think that most will only get the chance to look at fragments of Oikawa Tooru. Gaze at them gently, carefully, cherish them in their palms and kiss at the soft smiles and gentle motions, eat up the smooth words. But they won’t see, not everything of him. And if they did, it wouldn’t be gazing. There would be grimaces and furrowed brows and whispers all around, because once you get past the looking to the knowing part, the entirety of him is not pretty. Not to you, not to anyone.

You used to think he thought of himself as pretty, sure acted like it too, but not anymore. Tooru knows how awful he can be. When his friends tell him how terrible he is, mumbling it under their breaths with rolled eyes and a hint of a smile, he never disagrees. Because he doesn’t care, and you didn’t know better.

Your eyes open suddenly, filtering out the darkness, and you swallow. You feel the harsh burning in your throat, a hoarse huff blowing past your lips. Heartbeat pounding between your ears, cold sweat making your skin an awful kind of sticky. You recognize this room, you recognize the sound of rain tapping on the roof and the sound of cars passing by on the street below, yet still you don’t feel right.

You notice your breathing then, sharp and strained, too heavy for being just awoken from a peaceful rest. Small drops of sweat line your brow. There’s a few moments of dragged out silence, where you steady yourself in bed, fingers digging into the comforter so harshly that your bones peek through your knuckles, before another recognizable sound comes.

His groan, and then a heavy arm wrapping around your waist to pull you back to him. “It’s okay, princess.” It sounds smooth but sleepy, the same voice that always greets you when you wake from a nightmare. The bed creaks a little when you shift back into him, letting him nose at your throat without hesitation. You don’t care much that you’re only in a thin camisole or that you probably cried and screamed him awake, those kinds of boundaries have long seeped out of your interactions.

You turn onto your other side to face him when your heart calms a little. His soft, brown hair a mess and big, round eyes that scan over you while he looks you over in the dark. The gentle coaching of his hands finally allows you to untangle your fingers from the fabric, instead reaching out to him, in need of comfort.

He looks down with familiar eyes of worry. You can’t help but feel overwhelmed, both gratitude and a second wave of stress at the tainted sight of the figure. But he keeps a tight hold on you, and as soon as he opens his mouth to speak again, your arms are wrapped around him and your face is pushed into his shoulder, a small sob breaking out. Tooru’s much warmer than you, something you ache for right now as the chill of the room touches your exposed skin.

“Shhh, shhh,” Tooru mumbles softly, lacing his long, strong arms around the small of your back to swallow you up in his hug, pressing his lips to your temple. It’s overly tender for someone just having been rudely awoken, and you’re ever grateful. “I’ve got you, daddy’s got you.” For a few moments you can only sob into his shirt, letting your tears soak into it, gentle patting of your head slowing to a stop after a few minutes. “How are you feeling?”

There’s a strange care woven in his words these days. Not unexpected, just more— intense. You notice it again when you look up and his eyes flick over your expression, lingering on your lips. Like he’s got more to say, or something left to do. You swallow, and pull away from him to widen the gap between your faces. “I’m okay.” You rub your hands over your face, palms a little sticky against your cheeks, but blow out a breath. His hand rubs over your thigh through the comforter, before he hums.

“Look at me, baby?” Phrased so softly it could be ignored, but you listen anyway. And it should terrify you. It should be grossing you out to be this close to someone meant to parent you, but your tongue swipes out to wet your bottom lip anyway.

His mouth drops open ever so slightly as his eyes follow the motion of your little tongue, and then he lets out a sigh. But those hazel irises meet yours again with purpose, not letting you look away as his hand slides down your side and smooths over your exposed thigh.

“We should probably go back to sleep” Oikawa says softly, finally letting you out of the locked eyes to urge you back onto your back in the bed. “Or I’ll do something you’ll hate me for.”

Maybe it’s because you’re lonely, or lost, or a tad sleep-deprived, but you don’t remember the next few moments. Only that one second you’re trying to convince yourself that sleep is a good idea, and the next his lips are on yours. Daddy’s mouth on yours, kissing and moaning and climbing over you and you lose every sense of right and wrong for the few minutes his tongue dips in your mouth and tastes yours. When he pulls back your breathing is heavy, and he says your name.

And you breathe back a faint ‘daddy’, clinging to his neck like you’ll vanish if you let go. So he lets his hands roam down your arms, then stomach and chest and though all of this is wrong, it feels so good. It feels like a dream, he feels like a dream. “Please,” you beg, sucking a mark under his jaw as he takes your leggings off and strips you of your underwear. It’s as sweet as any new experience can be, you suppose. But you were breaking apart back then, and Tooru was a solid handhold.

He should’ve known much better than to indulge you. Should’ve told you off. Instead he fucked you until you saw stars, and that had been that, months ago now.

There’s the soft tap each time a droplet falls from the tap or shower on the tiled floor below, you can almost envision each of them again as they were running down your body earlier. As you brush your teeth and inspect the last details of yourself, you keep your eyes solely on your own reflection, but it becomes all but impossible to ignore the prying eyes as he once again scoots closer, slapping his hands on his knees. You sigh, and turn your eyes over to him in the mirror. “You do know that it’s pretty strange of you to just stare at me every time I’m in here, right?”

A small smile slips on his lips, and he hums, before following you with his eyes again as you move to grab a towel for your hands. “I’m trying to get ready,” you mumble at his lack of real answer, glancing back at the floor. “You should too.”

“You’re cute when you get shy,” he grins then, swinging his legs from the cabinet he’d been seated on to stand up. He looks massive in the small hotel bathroom, almost too tall to fit through the door and towering over you, always big enough to swallow you up in his shadow. It isn’t a surprise, not really, because even without his big stature he’d always had a personality far too big to leave any person unaware of his presence. But when he walks over to you, languid steps that stop right before your feet, it’s hard not to notice it.

The way you stop at his chest, the perfect height to be held and cherished. Almost like you were made to fit there, though that’s probably a thought too wrong for you to touch with confidence. You’d sooner be caught dead than admit it to him too, because Oikawa doesn’t take these things like you wish he would. He takes the words you offer and twists them into a fine thread to wind around your neck, tightening with each breath. Despite the danger it’s loud and clear when you have to angle your head to look into his eyes. You feel loved. Sucking the breath out of your lungs and obnoxious, but it’s love nevertheless.

He leans down a little, and your hands come up to hold onto the edge of your towel instinctively as he crowds your space. You take a breath, Tooru glances down. Then, like he’s putting on his own little show, his eyes go wide and innocent. “What awful things are you thinking of me in that pretty, little head of yours, love? What do you think I’m going to do to you?” Your heart beats rapidly along with your breathing, but you can’t tear your eyes away. His sharp features, soft curve of his lips, the arch of his nose and cheekbones and the dip between his collarbones.

So familiar, so— untouchable. You’ve had years to learn and relearn them again and again, but when you’re standing so close, all of that fades away. You crack open your lips, struggling for an answer, tongue cemented to the bottom of your mouth. “I— Da—”

“Oikawa,” two loud knocks are at the door, and both your heads turn at the wall as if you can see the door from here. “Hurry up, we’re all taking taxis together.” It’s a wake-up call unlike any other, because you recognize the voice of the man behind that door, a man about Tooru’s age who definitely wouldn’t look kindly on any of this. Iwaizumi is reliable like that. Pulling you back from the edge when it seems tempting to jump over it.

You clear your throat, then avert your eyes to force yourself a few steps back. Your hands cling tighter to the fluffy towel, before Iwa knocks again when he doesn’t get an answer. He calls his name a second time, and you hum. “Please ask uncle Iwa to wait five more minutes. I just have to put on my clothes and some perfume.” And when he doesn’t respond again, you swallow, hoping the tightness in your throat will leave with it. “Daddy?”

The word seems to play in his pupils like molten gold, catching even the lowest of light to make them shine with joy. So unfair, but he’s never been one for concealing the love he has anyway. You’ve always been— like that, whatever that is. Close, you suppose. But lately it seems like everything you do has been different, like some line has suddenly shifted. You could handle the physical, convinced yourself it wasn’t as big a deal as you were making it. Still, it’s wrong. You know it is, because if it wasn’t, he wouldn’t be so careful to hide it from uncle Iwa and uncle Mattsun.

He takes a second to dip down to press a kiss to your forehead, before he nods. “Of course, my doll.” He breathes in deep, gives you another glance, then pivots on his heel. You don’t look up from the beige tiles until his steps retreat from the bathroom and you’re left alone in the warm air. Wrong, wrong, wrong, the feelings swirling in your belly any time he gets close now are wrong.

But the lipgloss you’re putting on is his favorite anyway.

The taxi ride is quiet on your end, but it’s a far cry from uneventful. As soon as you sit down, your hand is tugged into his lap, fingers lacing with yours too comfortably. No one bristles though, they’ve long grown used to the lingering touches, the spared glances your way. Your daddy is caring like that, and Oikawa has always been pretty touchy from the start. You two rely on each other. It’s almost soothing to have his touch so openly when his hands are so warm, thumb stroking gently along the skin and lulling your touch into him, pulling your interlaced limbs up to kiss. Always the fourth finger, as a reminder of his claim.

Squished between Tooru and Mattsun on the back seats, the ride seems longer than it is. Makki is sprawled out over the passenger seat a bit too easily, as he sends you glances through the rearview mirror. Whenever you catch his eyes, he pulls a face towards Oikawa, something that never fails to make you smile even deep in thought. Hiro’s always been the one to treat you most like you were just a friend, instead of the teen daughter Oikawa suddenly gained when he married your divorced, rich mother.

If he found out, maybe he wouldn’t even be disgusted, but you’re not sure if that’s a risk you’re willing to take. Because as much as you trust him as your friend, he too is nearing forty and has experiences you don’t. You met them all a few days before the wedding, tripping over your words as you pretended this wasn’t the least bit weird. Mattsun and Iwa had smiled politely, but you could see it in their eyes. The knowledge that Tooru was working on his retirement fund didn’t sit right with them. Makki wasn’t as forward thinking, and so it was easier to fall into a rhythm with him.

They’ve warmed up to you now you’re older, the news has settled in. Maybe they just don’t care as much anymore. Or maybe they’re more forgiving now that— it’s just you and him. Your black dress rides up a little when you sink deeper into the couch, leaning into Tooru bit by bit. He glances down, letting his lips shoot up a little too quickly. “Careful,” he mumbles against your cheek, using his free hand to tug at the edge of your clothing, “wouldn’t wanna give the old taxi driver a show.” His hand lingers between your legs, dragging his fingertips over the stretch of skin ever so quickly.

Quick enough not to raise suspicion, but enough to have your hairs standing on end, because you know exactly what those hands are capable of, and it was the exact reason you didn’t want to come tonight. Bless Makki and his tender soul for sounding so defeated when you called him, saying you didn’t really belong at a highschool reunion anyway. But he’d been adamant, and you had already used the ‘babysitting Iwa’s toddler’ one too many times that month. When you give him a warning look, he only smiles wider, letting it sit on his face with pride.

But the look churns in your stomach when Mattsun catches your eyes through the mirror, and raises an eyebrow. Glancing at you, then him, then you. And you bite your tongue for the both of you, because you genuinely can’t figure out if Tooru would care if you were found out on the spot.

Somewhere towards the end of the night, or early into the morning, you feel your head getting heavy. A pounding of the expensive drinks mixed with the music and the dancing you’d been doing now leaving you at the bar, protected only by the glass of watered down bubbles still in your palm. Finally escaping the demanding grip on your wrist, clinging tight to your hip and kissing you every time you’d merged into the mass of swaying strangers enough to become anonymous for a few minutes. As scary as it was, is, you can’t deny the rush of adrenaline pounding in your veins.

Every ‘daddy’ being swallowed up by his plush lips, by the hands roaming into your panties and making you dizzy. You snap out of your scrutiny of the sugar on the edge of your glass when a familiar voice comes. “I’m glad you changed your mind,” Iwaizumi sighs, a grin appearing when you turn. He’s a bit softer in his expression than before, easier to talk to. You suppose he’s trying, since it’s clear you’re not leaving Tooru’s life any time soon. “Oikawa said he wasn’t going to come if you didn’t, but it wouldn’t be much of a reunion without our old Captain.”

“I would’ve made him come even if he didn’t want to,” you respond, swinging your legs around the barstool to face him. He casts a reminiscent glance into the crowd, and you follow his eyes to watch your step dad take a shot with Mattsun, his genuine joy lighting up the room. You always love seeing him like this, bright and enthusiastic. “He makes me cling to him like I’m still a little kid though.”

Hajime only waits for a few seconds, nodding. “I used to fault him for being so protective of you, honestly. I thought it was a bit creepy, and Oikawa has always had a tendency to overdo things, even when we were kids.” Though the comment isn’t an accusation, Iwa would make it known if it was, your skin goes cold at the faint knowledge. When the brunet across the room turns over his shoulder, gaze flicking through the people for you, there’s part of you that knows this isn’t healthy. You’re lying to everybody, right to their face, and Iwa isn’t a bad guy. But how the hell do you even begin to explain any of it, and hope that everything doesn’t end up in flames?

Your mouth stays shut. “But I can’t say I wouldn’t react the same now. After your mom—” he hesitates then, placing the bottle to his lips with a frown. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s okay, bad things happen to everybody,” you swallow, looking away from Tooru when his expression shifts from you back to Iwa, then to Makki gripping his shoulder. Unreadable from so far away. “I’m glad to have him, he cares about me. That’s all I can ask for.” Iwa stays quiet again, and this time you can’t blame him. The spiky haired brunet isn’t the best with words. His hand comes to your exposed shoulder and squeezes it softly.

“We’re glad he has you too,” he settles on saying, giving you another smile. Then he helps you up from the stool and places the drink out of your reach. “C’mon, I can feel him getting antsy all the way from over here. I don’t want to have him nagging me for the rest of the night.” His hand is placed a respectful way down your back, leading you through the people with easy steps. But you still have to narrow your eyes at the side of his face.

“Were you just sent to escort me back to him?” you ask, voice still playful. But when you don’t get a response, the teasing tone slowly disappears out of your voice. And Hajime grins, because he absolutely was, but he doesn’t know that he’s voluntarily leading you into the lion’s den again. A lion you’ve long grown tired of fighting off.

Before you make it halfway to the hotel, Tooru drags you into a seedy bar at 3 in the morning and straight to the bathrooms, haphazardly locking it behind him as his lips greedily kiss down your jaw, neck and down the expanse of your cleavage. He doesn’t care about the fabric that rips when he yanks the dress down your tits and quickly unclasps your bra to drop his face to your breasts, squeezing them together and moaning as he licks up the swell of them. “Getting daddy so hard while the team is right there, filthy girl. You’ve got some guts.”

You don’t try to talk back when he harshly backs you into the wall and hauls up your leg, rutting his clothed hard-on against your panties. His hand finding your hair, pulling your head back for him. His eyes are dark and blown out, irises almost entirely black as he ravages your mouth, tongue leading yours and messily humping your pussy. Your breathing is so quick you can barely make out anything other than his touch, his wet mouth and the way he tastes like something sweet, but distinctly alcoholic.

“Take off my pants, now, hurry,” he mumbles into your mouth, wrapping your leg around his thigh and dropping his hand between your bodies to rub sloppy circles over your clit, shoving aside the damp fabric. Your hands are a bit shaky as you unbuckle him and are pushed to your knees, looking up at him. “They all look at you like you’re a poor, little thing,” his face goes blank for a few seconds as he takes in the sight of you on your knees below him, before taking out his cock and pressing it to your lips. “If only they knew what a slutty, little minx you were, hm? So ready to take daddy’s cock between your lips.”

You open your mouth at his urging, letting him fuck into it while tears bead at your lashes. He’s not gentle, but it doesn’t matter when he grabs your face in his big hand and groans. Head thrown back and neck exposed, he is the prettiest. And when he mumbles under a soft ‘I love you’ under his breath, you have to take an early breath just to say it back, with drool and precum leaking out of the corners of your mouth.

You don’t get caught then, but only because the bartender put a sign on the door, and sends you two a deathly glare as you stumble back out with hot cheeks and your clothes all messed up. Makki and Kunimi swing by the hotel room for another hour or so, before daddy manages to shoo them out more quickly than usual. And he fucks you again until your legs shake and you almost fall off the bed from the force. But when you’re curled up to his side and ready to fall asleep, he stares at you for a little while.

You can only give him a tired smile, wrapping your arms a bit tighter to his naked torso, before he coos at you and urges you up onto him to hold better, closer, he always wants you skin to skin. Right before you drift off into sleep, you think you figure out what that look on his face is. Something’s not enough, Tooru wants more. You’re not sure what shape this need will come in, but you’re too tired to ask. And with daddy, it’s only a matter of time before you find out anyway.

“Don’t you ever think we’re a perfect little family,” he asks one morning, pulling you a little closer in the bed he had you for the first time, kissed you until you became a mess for him alone. Quivering around his fingers and crying out for him. It’s been a while since then already. The question catches you off guard a little so early in the day, eyes still laced with sleep. Of course Tooru didn’t have that problem, wide and awake after his run and only sneaking back into bed to cuddle. You groan at the sliver of sun peeking out between the blinds, then turn to face him.

“I think we’re about as far from a perfect family as you can get,” you admit, snuggling a bit closer into him despite the words. Because while they are true, and there’s no doubting it, you’ve never shied away from his touch. Large hands running up and down your back, rubbing soft circles into your skin. You let him pull you on top of him, feeling his warm chest against yours.

“But we could be, right?” he urges softly, pressing a few kisses to your ear. And you’re not the suspecting type, but when you look up to catch his eyes there’s something— more there. Something demanding. You stare at the smile for a few seconds, before you’re lifting yourself from his chest to give yourself a little bit of space. Tooru sits up too, watching you as you play with the edge of your thin top. “You get along so well with Iwa’s little ones, and I know how cute you think they are. And I was thinking,” he grabs your hand over the blankets, rubbing your knuckles.

“How perfect it would be if I gave you a baby.”

You pull out of his touch, eyes widening the longer you look at him. But he looks so sure of himself, so solid in his words, that for a moment you falter. “What— I- no,” you squeak out, frowning. “What are you saying, daddy? I’m still getting my bachelors, and besides, I love Iwa’s kids a ton but I don’t know if I want a baby right now. Or in the future.” That’s not even mentioning if people ask who the father is. His hand wraps around your hand as a mimic of comfort, tight enough to have the pressure aching a little.

“Not yet, but that’ll change if you have one of your own,” he says, gently pulling you back to him. You collapse back onto his chest, listening to the calm beat of his heart, but this time it doesn’t settle yours as it would usually. His roaming hands are the only sound for a minute, before he finally speaks again. Voice so small it gives you goosebumps. “Don’t you love me?” Your eyes shoot up to meet his, and to your horror, there’s wetness collecting at his lashes.

“Oh- d-don’t cry!” you instantly shuffle closer and nose at his cheek. “Of course I love you. I love you so much, I just-”

“I just think that if you loved me, it wouldn’t be such a big deal to you,” he whispers back then, looking up at the ceiling. “I’ve given up everything to be with you, stay with you and now you’re telling me ‘no’?” His voice getting sharper with each sentence, he wraps his arms tighter around your body. “I’m not asking you to leave your life behind, just this one thing.” You freeze in his hold, lips cracking open desperately.

There’s been moments before where Tooru gets painfully unreasonable. Stubborn as ever, angry lines of his brows throwing you off. It’s always been easy to back down then, offering your apologies and hoping he’ll hold you in his arms for a little longer. But how can you be lenient on this, when it would change everything you know? “But then I’d be stuck at home, daddy,” you settle on mouthing, sparing his feelings a little from the harshness of your thoughts.

“Instead of going where?!” The harshness in his voice shocks you, but he doesn’t let go of you still. You shuffle to loosen his grasp, but it doesn’t budge. He’s big enough to hold you on top of him, legs tangling with yours. It makes your throat feel so tight, instead of the usual effect of his soothing, now it just feels suffocating. “You belong here, with me. Not somewhere where I can’t keep an eye on you, stupid girl, what if you got yourself in trouble?”

His eyes narrow when you stay completely silent, but eventually he clicks his tongue. “Your mom wanted to send you abroad too, what a horrible fucking idea. I was so mad at her for trying to take you from me, but she always had these stupid ideas.” Coldness spreads down your veins at the mention of your mom.

You don’t want her to be dragged into an argument like this, not about you, not with him. Her late husband, your stepdad. Fuck. Realization of your crimes slaps you in the face again, and Tooru’s still glaring at you, and you just want it to—

“Stop.” You hate how small your voice sounds, how heartbroken. Tears welling up and spilling over so suddenly it surprises you, breathing halting. “Just stop, please. I don’t want to fight with you, and—” Sobs break through when you bury your head into his shoulder, longing for some safety. “Just p- please, I can’t t-think about that.”

Luckily, a heavy hand comes to rest on your head, before he rolls you over so you’re under his body. “Alright, alright, I’m sorry. No more fighting,” he coos, dipping down to kiss you. You’re still trying to get rid of your tears as he presses his lips to yours, softly at first, then harder. Tongue pressing at the seam of your lips and pushing in. You whine at it, but he doesn’t care much. Just reaching up to grab your face and thumb the tears away, kissing you even deeper.

He doesn’t give you a moment of reprieve until you’re urging him back for breath, fingers tangling into his hair. “I’m sorry, my pretty baby. I won’t fight with you anymore, hm?” he whispers, and then his lips are back on yours. Opening your lips and licking into your mouth like he’s been starved for years, he grunts and moans softly against you, heaving himself up over you a bit more. Then pulling back to suck at the soft skin under your ear, breath gliding over the sensitive skin.

“Daddy, I don’t-”

“Just let me take care of you.” Leaning onto one forearm as the free hand grips your hips, he drags his lips down your neck, collarbones, and back up to your mouth when you try again. He shuts you up with his tongue until you’re dazed from the lack of breath, before he hovers his mouth over yours again. “You’re such a dream, cutie. And all mine. I’m going to make sure you’ll be all mine, promise.”

He gently urges your legs apart as he mouths along your neck, placing rows of kisses and sucking hard until you make a noise. His body is easily able to cover you, he slowly rolls his hips into yours as you shift under him.

Though you’re more than used to his tendency to fuck you to the brink of insanity by now, again and again until your brain feels so heavy it gets hard to even make a coherent sentence, right now isn’t the time, is it? “Daddy,” you mumble into his mouth, but he grabs your cheeks and pushes his tongue in to roam your mouth and force you to taste him.

It’s not pleasant, but when he rubs his half-hard cock between your legs again and grips your waist so tight the feeling lingers, it’s easier to give in. You slump under him, kissing back and grabbing at the soft hairs at the base of his skull, and that’s when he finally picks up the pace. Really aiming his rutting against your sensitive pussy, thick thighs meeting the bottom of yours. He takes a deep breath when pulling back and looks at you, not hesitating for a moment. “Don’t fucking dare tell me to stop.”

His voice, though soft, is pointed and accusatory. His hand slides from your cheeks to your throat now, grabbing it and squeezing hard. You instinctively reach for his wrist, but his grip is stronger than yours is. “Not when I’ve given up everything for you. You wouldn’t tell daddy to stop, right?”

He leans back down to kiss you as you squeeze your eyes shut, choking a little on his lips and tongue now that he fucks his clothed cock against your slicked-up panties and his hand presses harder. Your mind filters through his words slowly, but they don’t really come in.

Don’t process. The hand gripping your waist moves to toy in between your legs, rubbing over your slit and loose circles over your clit, as he breathes. “You want this, you little whore, admit it.” He kisses along your ear, licking down your jaw and rubbing your pussy through the useless fabric, now hard cock standing to attention under his boxers. You’re distracted only a moment, but it’s too long for him, because he bites down hard at the crook of your neck. “I said ‘admit it.’”

“Wh- aw,” you stare at him for a second when he raises an eyebrow, tears welling up at the spreading sting of his teeth. You don’t mean to, you just— why is he being this way? The grip on your neck makes your head pound and it’s hard to think of what just happened or why he’s mad, but you take a hitched breath and try to focus on his fingertips lewdly spreading open your pussy through your panties. “Want it,” you mumble. His eyes search yours, before his mouth corners drop a sliver.

“Not good enough.” He sits up and pulls you along, taking a grip of your hair and hand vice-like around your arm as he hauls you off the bed and stumbling over to the window, now with a tiny smile on his lips. “Hands up, princess,” he says, and you barely have the time to oblige before he pushes you up to the window and nudges your legs apart with his knee.

"I’ll make you feel so good you won’t want to stop, okay?” The words are pressed to your neck, still a bit sensitive from his earlier squeezing, as your heart pounds loud between your ears.

You’ve been treated rough, but it was never this— mean. But then he softens enough to soothe you, kissing along the indents of his fingers and holding you in place by your hair, humming softly when you sniffle. “Daddy, I’m sorry,” you whisper, and he presses a soft kiss between your shoulder blades before slipping the straps of your camisole off your shoulders. You freeze. Pressed palms against the window, tits now out to the world and legs being spread further as he grinds against you. “Wait, w-wait, I don’t wanna—”

“You don’t want everyone to see how daddy fucks you?” Tooru finishes for you, and you don’t need to see his face to recognize the smile on it. “But you look so pretty spread on my cock, baby.” He squeezes your ass a few times, kneading it between strong fingers, before the touch leaves.

Then his palm connects with your soft skin and sends you forward, upper body leaning against the window and heart pattering against your ribcage. You cry out for him, only to have it again and again until the sting spreads with warmth and he rubs it again.

“Sorry, that was for earlier,” he mumbles, then letting out a long breath. “Now I’ll be nice, hm? Wanna make my pretty girl beg for it.” His hands curve around your body to grab your tits then, as you reach behind you to grab at his forearm for support.

Even though you’re probably gushing down your thighs, there’s a distinct fear as you look out over the street, knowing that anyone could look up and watch you get fucked by your stepdad. By the man that was married to your mom, the one you’ve now hooked your nails into.

What a horrible fate. You lean your head back to eye the ceiling instead, feeling the tears welling up and your breathing stutter even as his fingers pinch your nipples and he ruts his thick cock against your ass. Rubbing and squeezing your tits together again and again, as your breathing creates fog on the window. “Tooru,” you whine, and he grunts.

“Not my name, doll.” He pulls back for a second to watch you, and you’re too cowardly to say anything but hick and cry as your mind keeps ringing with the thought to stop. So why can’t you say it?

Long, slim fingers slip between your legs and pick the ruined panties from your slick pussy, sliding under them and pulling them down your legs ever so slowly, down, down, down along with the top until you’re completely bare, and he hums in appreciation. “So fucking pretty. You know daddy loves you the most, right?” You slowly nod, and he taps your shoulder. “Turn around, baby.”

You let him push your back against the window again, now getting even closer to your body and stepping between your thighs. The cold of the window and the hot of his body so distracting, so — hypnotizing. “Look at me,” he mumbles against your forehead, so you dare to open your tear-filled eyes and cast them his way. And Tooru looks positively feral. Pupils swallowing up almost all of the color of the warm brown that you’ve gotten so used to, cheeks a little flushed and lips rosy and swollen.

He looks ethereal. Hair wild and fluffy, smile so soft it makes your head spin. “I love you,” he says, and you believe it. Instantly, because everything Oikawa Tooru is makes you feel it. However unfair, and however stupid. ‘I love you too,’ you mouth back instantly, hands dropping to his pecs, to feel the pounding of his heart. It almost makes you forget about where you are when he crowds you, laying more languid, gentle kisses on your lips than before. Hungry no doubt, but sweet. Your tears dry on your cheeks the longer he melts his tongue to yours, swallowing your worry.

He shoves down his boxers before looping your leg around his glutes, and urges your face to his again, now blank faced and his eyes searching. “You trust me, don’t you?” It’s not a question, he continues right after. “I need you to let me do this.” Whatever this is.

You can’t really focus when your wet pussy is needy and untouched, and his fat, drooling cock is right there, brushing against your thigh. You moan, throwing your head back against the cool window as he nuzzles against your jaw, and you let your begging spill over your lips without thinking.

“Please, daddy. Please fill me up, make me feel good,” you moan when he bends down to take your nipple into his mouth, sucking it and rolling it between his tongue and teeth, doing the same with the other. You reach a hand between you two to grab his hot, thick cock and line it up, before allowing yourself to sink down on it an inch. Your walls clench automatically when he gently ruts the thick length in place a few times, then shoves it in inch by inch and stretches you out.

“F-fuck, holy fuck, daddy.”

“Gonna make you so pretty, baby,” he moans, standing back up to his full height and pushing your tits together again. “Make you so nice and round, hm? My beautiful girl, I know what you need.” Your eyes roll back into your skull by the time he bottoms out, playing your nipples so perfectly, the pressure of his hipbone against yours sending hot flares through your belly.

You let him pick you up under your thighs and loop your arms around his neck, mewling each time he fucks into you and slick runs down his cock and balls. Walking you back to the bed and toppling you both over, he grunts.

“Beg,” is all you hear, mouth at your neck and teeth at your sensitive skin, as he shoves you further onto the bed and crawls back over you. Cock sliding back into the mess between your legs, filling you up faster now. He wraps his hand right under your jaw for leverage, as your mouth drops open and you cling to his strong shoulders.

“Please, daddy, please! F-faster, mhm- need your cock, need you, please.” He folds both your legs to your chest to lay on top of you and drown you in heat, his cock impossibly deep every time he bottoms out. You can’t even keep your eyes open if you tried, hiding your face into the pillow and letting him set a rhythm that has your tits bouncing.

“Feels so fucking good,” you moan. Tooru’s hips smack against the soft skin of your thighs each time he bottoms out, throat aching and brain so fuzzy with the lack of air that you barely hear him. You just keep whining for him again and again like a bitch in heat, as he fucks into you with a brutal pace.

“Gonna fuck my cum deep in you, princess. Fill you up and make you take it all. Tell me you want it.”

“Wan’it,” you parrot mindlessly, and he groans before kissing you hard and needy. “Want you, want you, daddy, love your cock.” Heavy balls slapping against your ass each pump he pushes into your gushing cunt, stretching you to the limit. Everything about him is so big, so perfect, it makes your entire core glow with heat. His grip on your throat doesn’t falter as he manages to snake his other hand between your legs, rubbing at your puffy clit with a sudden mission.

“Cum around me and I’ll make you a mommy,” he hisses into your hair, sweat dripping down his chest. “Split open your tight, little pussy and fill you up, hm?” The rapid pounding makes the headboard slam against the wall, matching the pounding of your blood between your ears. And your hands claw uselessly at his back and shoulders, mewling and whining incoherent sounds into his neck. “Gonna fuck a baby into your pretty cunt, pump it full of my cum deep in that belly.”

“Daddy, daddy, mhm- ahh, daddy, god- fuck, I’m close.” The continued rubbing of your sensitive nub and the lack of oxygen in your brain is enough to shut out anything else, your mouth cracked open and lips swollen, glistening with drool. His cock hits the right spot each time, so deep you’d see double if you could open your eyes. “Close, agh-close.”

“That’s it, cutie. Cream all over daddy’s cock like a good, little cumdump.” His voice growing more growled than said, his fat cock twitching inside your clenching walls and balls tight. His voice drops into a whisper as he grabs your face and kisses you stupid, your blood rushing back to your brain almost painfully quick and urging you over the edge. “You’re gonna be mine forever, whether you like it or not.” Your toes curl and legs shake, walls tightening around the thick, swollen cock and tongue being taken into his mouth.

“Mhm-mhddy,” you mewl into him, a few more flicks of your clit before the white and black flashes before your eyes and your back curls off the bed, tits rubbing against his chest and legs locking around his thighs as Tooru doesn’t stop. He muffles your noises into a kiss long and hard, teeth clashing as he fucks you through your orgasm and sends tingles all through your body, before you collapse.

He grabs at your tits again to heave himself up and pushes back your knees as far as they can go, while you hang onto his forearms with tears and sweat and drool ruining your face. “Pull out,” you can barely voice, Tooru’s grunts and moans and the loud slapping of skin meeting skin.

“Fuck, gonna cum,” he swears under his breath, "gonna fill you up."

“Pull out, daddy,” you say again, pushing at his hip and cracking an eye open. His bottom lip between his teeth, hair matted to his forehead and eyes on the place where his cock keeps sliding in and out of you, squelching ringing loud though your shared bedroom. When you moan from overstimulation, he shifts his grip to your hips and pulls you back onto him again and again until his pace falters and the hardest thrusts smack into your ass. “Tooru!”

By now you’re shaking your head and trying to push him off but it’s no use, his much larger body keeping you right in place and forcing his cock so deep it aches in your belly, grunting your name through his teeth.

He comes with a choked grunt, spurting hot ropes of cum deep inside you. A soft few moans follow, before it becomes deathly silent and your breathing rises and drops wildly. “I told you to pull out!” you hiss, staring at him with tears in your eyes and the afterglow dropping too quickly for your liking.

“Shhh, stop worrying so much, angel,” he mumbles, leaning in to press a few kisses to your hairline. “It’s definitely going to take.” It’s mumbled more to himself than to you, but you can’t help the incredulous look you give him.

He doesn’t move from your body though, keeping his softening cock inside you and your legs next to your head. You don’t have the strength to fight him on it either. When he meets your eyes again, he smiles, angelic as ever. “Now you don’t have any reason to leave me anymore. Besides, I promised the guys I’d take care of you. Aren’t you happy?”

#haikyuu smut #oikawa tooru smut #oikawa tooru x reader #💫ch.oikawa #tw.noncon #tw.stepcest #tw.dubcon #tw.manipulation #tw.breeding #tw.toxic

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iwaasfairy · 3 years

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𝙻𝙾𝙰𝙳𝙴𝙳

big brothers find it hard to draw a line; alternatively, that one day where issei is fed up with tooru’s selfishness this is a rewrite of my very first fic on this blog so if it seems familiar that might be why!

.wordc. 6k+ tw incest, dubcon, breeding, coercion, unprotected sex, very affectionate niichan issei and step brother tooru

Issei turns his head to the side, plush pillows obstructing part of his view when he looks at you. You’re laying on your belly, legs paddling back and forth through the air in a motion that he presumes is soothing, on his couch. You can’t sit- or lay- or be still when you’re thinking about something important.

He recognizes the telltale signs easily, this one a bastardized version of your typical nervous tick. He pushes some of the pillow from in front of his face, and sighs. “You know you can’t hide in here all evening, right? You can stay if you want to, but eventually people will come looking for you.” His voice makes your nervous jitters calm enough to hold you still for a while, as you hum into the pillow you’ve pressed your face into.

You know. But you don’t say anything else, so he rolls onto his side and waits for you to make sense of your thoughts, arm under his head. It’s not that you’re not wanting to tell, if that was the case you wouldn’t have come into his room with your hands laced into the bottom of your shirt in frustration after all. He doesn’t mind anyway, since he gets to look at you without feeling guilty this way.

For once not having to pry his hand in between the tight hold Tooru loves holding you in. You came to him for a reason, the least he can do is help. After a minute or so in silence, Issei speaks up again. “You want to tell me what happened to your neck?”

Your neck, tainted deep purple and dark red that seems to spread out under the soft skin. He’d seen it this morning too, but your turtleneck had covered the main chunk of bruises then. Now that you’re only wearing a shirt to go to bed, it’s much more of an eyesore. And though he feels bad for even thinking it, the sight makes his stomach churn.

“We both know you didn’t burn yourself on your straightener like you told me. Looks like you got mauled by a bear,” he smiles when the sentence makes you giggle, head finally appearing from within the soft couch to look at him. He breathes, before nodding his head toward the colourful splotches again. “A boy did that, huh.”

You swallow. “Yeah. Tooru niichan kissed me there. H-he said- said it would protect me from bad guys when he can’t be around.” He doesn’t know why he even asked, he knew that. He knew it because he was there when Tooru formulated his little plan, saying that it would be the best way to keep you ‘safe’. The guy’s been totally possessive ever since his mom married your dad, making him your second niichan, if not by blood. “It’s not wrong, because he loves me,” you quickly mutter after it, and Issei can basically hear Tooru’s voice when you repeat the line he must’ve drilled into your subconscious.

He knew of it, and fuck, he even agreed to it in his head. Instead of protecting you from bad guys he should protect you from himself, keep you from his thoughts, his needs, his wants. But he can’t, and it’s the guilty feeling of pretending not to know that is eating him alive. He wants to be ignorant, wants to pretend like he doesn’t understand the implications there. Tooru loves you, yes. He loves you loads, but not just like an older brother should love his little sister and though you’re not technically siblings, you’ve been together for long enough not to make a difference.

Issei loves you too, though he’s not as obvious about it as the other is. He loves you too, Hell, he probably loves you even more than anyone else loves you. Though he aches to pretend he’s ignorant, he’s nothing better than Tooru. Because instead of being grossed out, or worried, the sight of those love bites only makes him jealous. And that’s an even worse kind of wrong, because you and him really are siblings before anything else. The way you flush any time they ask you something ‘weird’ seems to imply you know it’s wrong too but you’ve always been too kind to tell your big brothers ‘no’.

Always been easy to sway when they want something. Just let me kiss your cheek, just let me hold your hand, just let me rub your back. Just let me hold you in my bed, or else I can’t sleep. Just let me pull you into my lap because I’m cold. Just kiss me back once, I need to know that my lips are soft. They’ve gotten sickly efficient at the requests, both of them, both Tooru and him.

He likes to think of himself as a good older brother despite it. “Please don’t tell,” you bring out when he stays quiet, eyes going big as you lift your head up from your resting position to support your torso on your underarms. It causes your oversized shirt to ride up on your legs, exposing the pink lace panties that cup your curves perfectly.

As a good older brother, that shouldn’t send blood rushing through his veins. It shouldn’t be a Herculean task to drag his eyes away from your skin. And yet it’s so much fucking harder than he wants it to be. He stutters out a vague agreement at your plea but turns to the ceiling. Those panties are the ones he jerks off into when you’re not home. They are your favourites, so they are his favourites too, and he loves grabbing them from your fresh laundry before you get the chance. Never after you’ve worn them, he hasn’t dared to do that yet. But he’s thought about it enough times for the vivid image of it to flash in front of his eyes.

You don’t get to confine in him a lot, so the thoughts make him feel more than just shameful. Uncomfortably, he shifts his lower body away from you when he notices the strange way his sweatpants pull. The grey fabric seems to defy gravity, wrapping a bit too tight around his muscular thighs and spanning over the bump of his crotch. You’re not looking at him anymore, too preoccupied by the books on his desk to pay him much mind, and he sighs softly.

If you were to look over, this could be explained away. Guys get erections sometimes, it just happens. But he knows better. His little sister makes him hard. His hand slides lower swiftly to rearrange his hardening cock next to his thigh, before he takes a few deep breaths to calm himself. This does catch your attention, a worried frown coming to form between your two brows. “Issei nii, you’re not mad, are you?”

Your soft call of his name makes his heart warm, but his eyes don’t move from the ceiling, can’t- or else he might do something stupid. God, he really doesn’t want to be weird. He truly doesn’t, but what the hell is he supposed to do when you lay there looking like that, with those big, doe eyes just for him? He looks over. Your naked legs are resting together in a way that props up your ass under that shirt- his fucking shirt, and your pretty lips are drawn into a pout. You always steal the shirts of the men in the house, using them as impromptu dresses.

He calls it disgusting in his mind, how his dick twitches in his pants at the sight, but he doesn’t look away. “No, I’m not mad. I could never be mad at you.” This much is true, and relief floods your features at it. He swallows the tightness in his throat, before looking at the mess Tooru’s made of your neck and shoulder again. It’s that same jealousy that makes the next words come. “I won’t tell, but you do have to come over here and explain big bro Issei everything that happened.”

Closer, he just wants you closer. It’s like a spell that refuses to let him breathe properly. And though you think about it for a few seconds, you eventually slip out of the couch to join him on the bed, tucking one of your legs underneath you. You look a bit embarrassed, sitting there on the edge of his dark bed. The brunet sits up too, and scoots back a bit to allow you more space. “He-” you start, picking mindlessly at the cover of his blanket “-he came into my room in his towel and laid down on my bed. And he hugged me a lot, and kissed me.” Your leg twitches up and down with the nervous confession. You probably hadn’t expected to have to tell your other big brother about it in detail, considering the guilty expression that slips on.

Issei doesn’t think you’re guilty. If anything, he is. He even makes peace with the fact that he’s about to be a lot more guilty. He puts his large hands on your thighs when you finish and shuffles you closer to him, which you allow. When you don’t say anything, soft breathing indicative of your doubt, he takes your legs and drapes them either side of his body, so that you’re even closer. You’re so warm, so soft for him.

Fingertips under your chin drag your face back upward, to his soft expression. It’s a gentle smile, filled with love and what must be understanding since he nods at your words and pets your hair. “Kissed you on the lips?” he questions then, one hand rubbing comforting circles on your inner thigh. It’s a bit too close to your center but you choose to ignore that. Kissed me everywhere, you want to say, but the words don’t come out.

Again you pout, but before you can explain more his lips are pressed to yours. A little peck, and another on your nose. “It’s okay, you can tell your big brother anything, right?” He sounds so secure, that you can’t help but nod. You suddenly feel really overwhelmed, from the sweet coaching of your one brother, the greedy hands and lips of the other, the stress of not being able to tell anyone. As tears come up with every blink, you toss yourself into Issei’s chest, sighing in relief as his arms immediately wrap tightly around you. You feel so ashamed of lying to him this morning, when all he wants is to make sure you’re safe and happy. His familiar scent is the most comforting thing in the world.

Your face is pressed tightly against his neck, hands grabbing onto the sides of his shirt as you whimper in defeat. You already knew you’d spill as soon as you walked into his room, but that doesn’t take away how good it feels to be honest. “I’m sorry for lying to you this morning, but I thought you’d be mad.” His fingertips are chilly on your skin, dragging goosebumps out of you automatically as they brush the skin of where your thigh meets your waist, alternating between gentle tracing and more forceful kneading of your tender skin. It’s too close, he’s too close but he’s always been touchy with you, so you allow it without a second thought.

Despite the cracking coolness that always comes off him, his hugs are warm. It’s dizzying. The small of your back is rubbed in gentle, methodical patterns as Issei breathes into your hair, the warmth of his close body lulling you into security. “I’m really sorry, niichan. I won’t lie again. I just didn’t want you to tell daddy.” Your face sinking against his pecs, you can feel his heartbeat, it seems to thump through your own body with violent gratitude. “And Tooru said—”

“I know, little one,” he cuts you off gently, before burying his nose into you in return. As if even this close isn’t close enough. His voice is low in the silence, unwilling to disturb the rest of the house. “Tooru knows what he’s doing. He is smart about that stuff. It’s not your fault.” Once again he shifts to grab hold of your chin and tilts your face toward him, but because you’re so close you almost bump your forehead to his chin.

The dark haired man doesn’t care at all, mouth just about level with yours and his breaths brushing past your cheeks. You attempt to put some space between your two faces but the hand that was on your chin immediately slides to the back of your neck. With that strong hand he keeps you in place as he presses his lips against yours again. Your eyes stay open in surprise at the first kiss, hands opening to push away from him but hovering mid movement at the little noise your brother makes.

“Issei, don’t,” you mumble into his mouth, flushing.

You don’t tell him that he’s too close though. He’s taking care of you because you came here. He’s holding you because you crawled into him. You asked for this, right? The lips on yours are soft and move slowly, as if not to scare you away. He kisses on you, kisses your top lip and then your bottom, and the corners of your mouth while you sit still like a wooden doll in his hold. If you were to pull away you might hurt him and you don’t want that.

After a few more of these kisses he pulls back, a line pulling between his brows at your unmoving state. “It’s okay,” he says softly, brushing some of your hair away, “you want to feel better?” It’s not really a question, since he continues right away. “I’m not going to do anything else, just kiss like that. It’s okay, right?” You swallow, unsure. It feels like you’re guilty of something, just not knowing what. But he looks so sure of himself.

“I’m not gonna do anything else,” he assures again, and so you nod. This leads him to drop his hand away from your neck and back down your body, long fingers settling right above your butt. “Your big brother’s here for you. Kiss me back.” It’s not a question, voice soft but steady and from the way his eyes sharpen onto your lips, you don’t want to disobey. You asked for his help, after all. You can’t remember really, but you must have.

Once again he leans in to kiss you, you press your lips back against his harder and he hums in agreement. You do your best to make him feel the movements of your mouth, not wanting to disappoint. Your soft pecks spurs him on more, body hovering over your much smaller shape eagerly as he moves his lips against yours, and too soon he starts pressing his tongue to the seam of your lips. He pries them open with ease, holding your head in place by your jaw when you move to pull back from him.

He’s soft though, careful still, but doesn’t want to let go of you. Feeling like you’re not allowed to move makes your chest tighten, uncomfortable spikes trembling in your airways. It’s such an uneasy feeling. Tooru does it too though, so it must be normal when kissing. You still don’t really like it. His lips are effortless in their chase of yours, plush and tender. It feels- a bit awkward, but he tastes good. Like honey and camomile tea. And he seems to think you taste good too, because he sucks at your tongue until it’s in his own mouth. It feels funny.

You feel his tongue rub around yours, finishing off with a few open mouth kisses before pulling back to breathe. “Much better. Good girl,” he whispers, flicking your nose playfully. If you were feeling a bit stressed before, this calms you. He’s here for you. This is all for you. The praise is sucked into your frazzled brain, happy to make him so happy. You even dare give him a kiss of your own, which makes Issei smile like he’s the sun.

For a moment you two sit like that, tangled together in each other’s arms. Then your big brother tilts your head to the side a tad, and brushes his fingers over the mess Tooru made of your skin. He wasn’t as gentle. Issei clicks his tongue in disapproval. “Did he hurt you? Do these hurt?” They do when he presses his fingers into them, hard, and you wince at the touch.

“Sensitive, huh?” he nods, before connecting his eyes with yours. “Niisan will make it feel better, okay?” And then, with a warning lift of his eyebrow he commands, “Don’t pull away.” His lips on your jaw. They are a bit cold against the irritated skin, dragging down from your face to your collarbones. Despite the sudden development, you feel grateful that he’s so sweet to you. Your big brother really is the kindest person to you, helping you even when you don’t ask for it.

His breath hitches as he buries his face into your skin, his body leaning a lot of his weight into you. It makes you sink under him more, leaning back in an attempt to keep the same distance. If he gets much closer he’ll be on top of you. You don’t know if you want that. “You shouldn’t let him toy with you so much, little sister. He’s too rough with you,” Issei suddenly brings out, biting at the skin above your collarbone ever so softly.

His lips start planting more open mouth kisses on the abused skin, before he finally just grabs your thighs and drags your waist to his knees so that you’re laying under him. You squeak at the sudden move, before he lays his entire body on top of yours, pinning you to the bed. Your breathing is short when you look at him, eyes big. “Niichan, you can’t,” you mumble, “Tooru said only h-he’s allowed to lay on top of me— like t-this.”

Your flustered stuttering is adorable to him, rosy cheeks making his hands come up to cup them. Not only is his body heavy and able to cover you entirely, it’s too warm. His thick thighs press your own down, and there’s a hardness that presses to the inside of your leg like that. You know what it means, it means he feels good. You don’t want to take that away from him, but you don’t feel good right now. “Issei nii,” you whine from under him again, and he shakes his head.

“I don’t want you two to fight— he’ll be mad,” you breathe again, looking to the couch that you came from earlier. A rough kiss is pushed to your mouth again, but this time you rebuke a bit harder against Issei’s eagerness and pull away. “Stop, oniichan. Daddy said you two can’t play rough with me anymore.” He listens to you but keeps rocking his center to yours gently anyway. The continued movement of his hips creates a friction that pools heat in your lower belly. You want to give in to the touches, since that’s what your big brother wants, and what they say goes. But the conflicting orders leave you in an insecure limbo.

“No, no, it’s okay.” He coos at your expression, before lifting his body from yours a bit and pushing his crotch to yours better. His lips move back to your marked neck, and true to his word, the warming kisses do work to soothe the pain of the hickeys a bit. Your entire neck is left going hot from his wet, greedy mouthing. When you whine at his blatant ignorance of your words, he smushes his face to your throat. “It’s alright. He won’t know, I won’t tell him.”

The brunet groans as he repeats the soft circular movement a few times more. He brings out a tense breath. “Hey, look at me. Look at me.” You listen so well, big eyes flicking back to his in an instant. He loves you so much that he can’t control himself well, pressing a few desperate kisses to your lips again. “It’ll be okay, I’m doing this because I love you. See?” He lifts his hips then, and you both look at the obvious tent in his sweatpants. “You know what this means, right? I promise it’s okay.” He lifts his entire weight on one of his arms for a moment, to lead your hand onto his clothed cock, squeezing your fingers around him. “Ah,” he breathes, eyes fluttering closed for a second.

“Feel okay? You like it?” You let him use your hand to stroke up and down, again and again, as his cheeks color a soft pink. Tooru does this when he lays in your bed often as well, and he always says it’s because you make him feel so good, too. You’re happy to make your big brother feel good, even if you’re not listening well right now. “Oniichan?”

“Yeah, feels perfect,” he breathes back, before taking your hand from him. “Stay like that.” He opens your legs wider, pulling you flush with his waist again, and then lowers himself back onto you. Because he’s so big, he can lean down to kiss you without having to squish you and does so with an eagerness like that of a hungry animal. He bites your lips and parts them with his own, before pressing his tongue back into your mouth, lapping and greedily taking everything he can get. His breath is so hot in your mouth, movements too fast for you to catch up. All the while he moves his hips to yours, rubbing his hard, covered cock against your panties. It feels good, though it makes you feel a bit icky too. When he pulls back a string connects your two mouths.

“You’ve done this before? With Tooru?” If he’s referring to the rubbing, then yes. Tooru doesn’t kiss on your lips as much though, he likes kissing other places instead. You slowly nod at his question, not wanting to elaborate on the whole thing. It makes your brother hum. “With anyone else?” At that you flush, immediately shaking your head. As if Tooru would let anyone outside the family close enough to touch you in the first place. “No? Good. Only your big brothers should get to make you feel good.” His hips don’t still for a moment, rubbing his cock in between your legs up and down, rolling it side to side every so often.

It’s really warm, his body hovering so close to you only keeping the heat smouldering in your chest. And the continued movement too, it’s almost too much for you. Making you delirious. But you can’t say anything, because you don’t want to disappoint your brother. You let him suck at your tongue, bite your throat and shoulders, let him rut his hips into yours until he starts shaking on his arms. The huffs and breaths falling from his lips are soft, meant only for you. “Please,” he faintly whispers, though you’re not sure what he’s asking for.

“You love your big brother?”

“Yes, of course!” you mumble at that, looking at the dark spot of his pants that he ruts into you rhythmically. He goes fast now, desperate like an animal in heat, one hand moving to knead at your tit. It’s a steadying move more than anything, his weight making it hard to take full breaths. You whimper softly, before grabbing at his shoulder in an attempt to lighten his weight on your chest. “Stop now, niichan, down there is sticky. It’s enough.” Your underwear is becoming uncomfortable, warm wetness covering your bottom lips. You don’t know when that happened, but as it cools to the room temperature it grinds your panties to your sensitive skin. “Wanna take it off,” you beg.

Your confession makes the older boy choke, looking down between your two bodies at the way his clothed cock ruts into you. “Ah, fuck,” he grunts, not wanting to move. Issei has thought of you like this for years, sneaking kisses and cuddles for as long as he can remember being close to you. But up until now, he’s always been the responsible one. The realist of the family. Yes, he would jack off to the thought of you bent over the table. And yes, he would glare at boys whenever they looked at you with mischievous eyes. But he never let it show this much.

Just minutes earlier, he had convinced himself that as long as his pants were still on, it wasn’t that bad. That only skin to skin would be wrong, would make him as desperate and volatile as your step brother is, but now that idea is suddenly front and center in his mind. It’s so warm, boiling almost. Precum beads through the fabric, the outline of his member is visible easily. It sticks to every dip and vein. “Fuckfuck fuck, just one second.”

It’s impossible to make himself stop, finally finding the courage to have you this way. No, more than that, losing the will to hold back. The want to take you as his becomes more unbearable the longer he drags on. His fingers pinch at your nipple, rolling it under his thumb until it hardens. Your noises are heaven to him. He pants. “Say that you love your big brother.”

“I love my big brother,” you mirror, sweat pooling under your tits as you wrap your arms around his neck. It’s so confusing. You want him to stop, but your body doesn’t seem to wanna let go. Issei moans loudly, and presses his lips back to yours. Over and over, he’s quivering on top of you, looking both too big for you and incredibly fragile despite it.

“I’m-,” he breathes, before grunting as he lifts his head as far away from you as possible, trying his best to clear his head. But it’s no good. His chest still heaving rapidly, in time with yours. He shakes his head to himself. “Whatever, I’m fucked anyway. Screw it.” He switches his fingers quickly to the other nipple, before shoving the shirt up your body enough to reveal it to him. He latches his lips there, sucking and lapping at the supple skin of your tits. His hot breath cascading over you. “Say it again, say my name,” he says and you oblige.

“Love my big broth-ah- brother Issei.”

He grunts praises into your hair, the arm carrying his weight scooting up a bit so he can lace his fingers in your hair. The other hand moves under your thigh and swings it around his waist, before fumbling with the now drenched cloth being rutted in between your lower lips. He doesn’t stop grinding into you, making it a struggle to pull it to the side to expose you more. But he gets there.

“So fucking pretty,” he moans, looking at his hand as it moves in between the folds of your center like it’s not his own. Your wetness is spread around the sensitive area as he takes a deep breath. “Ah- fucking shit- I’m in love with my little sister. I love my little sister. I love my little sister.” The chant is so faint, you want to pull him close and never let go. You love him too, of course you do. Even in the uncomfortable position, he does his best to slide a finger into you, and a second one.

“Wanna marry you and make you have my babies,” he mumbles out words into you in rapid succession, panting above you with sweat pooling at his hairline. “My bred little slut.” He makes himself grunt with the words, moving his head back to slot in between your neck and shoulder, biting at the skin there. “Mine, mine, mine,” he growls out against you, not letting the skin between his teeth slip until you cry out. That hurt. But the rest really does feel good, like he said it would. He moves his digits in and out in sloppy jerks, too shaky for a controlled movement. Loud squishing sounds fill the room. The rutting is now almost painful in speed and pressure, but in a mind-numbing way. “Say this little sister wants to be fucked by her big brother’s cock,” he begs against your chest, rubbing his face into your tits greedily.

“This little- ah ah ah- this little sister,” you try, his fingers drilling into you too hard to focus on anything, “wants to be fucked by-mhm her- big brother’s cock!” You squeeze out the last words quickly, before pulling the bunched up shirt in between your teeth to keep quiet. It’s a thought far off but the knowledge that your father could come home any second still makes you squirm. You shouldn’t be disobeying. You suckle on the shirt as you let him take advantage of your body, watch your tits being squeezed and your cunt being filled with his fingers with half-lidded eyes. It takes just a split second for Issei to grab at the edge of his sweats and pull it down his thighs enough to expose himself.

He stops his rhythm only to sit back on his heels and push your knees up to your chest, before laying back onto you. His big cock twitches against your leaking cunny as he grabs it at the base, and presses it into you. “God, I’m so fucked,” he brings out with a shivering breath, before pulling at the fabric in your mouth for you to release it. It makes some spit drip from the corner of your lips, covering your chin in wetness. He slowly pushes into your dripping hole, breathing stuttered at the heat of it. “But I only want you, and I want you to only want me.”

You know it to be true even before you can notice the tears welling up in his eyes. He might pass out before he’s in you all the way, he thinks, having just pushed the head in. He’s so fucking shaky. He moves the thick head of his leaking cock in and out a few times. Holding his breath as he slides a bit further each time, until he holds still in you with a loud groan. He takes a moment to breathe, really about to pass out any second. Head spinning.

All his muscles are solid, trembling with the strain. Your glowing heat compared to his skin is heaven. When you cry out softly at the massive stretch, he looks at you and presses one hand to your cheek to rub comforting circles into it. You look so content to be taking him, he feels so loved. So warm, and wanted, you’re so perfect to him. Like you were made just for him. You must sense it, because all of a sudden you smile at him. A soft, accepting sign of happiness that could only happen in this family. “I really love you, Issei,” you say.

Before he knows it, he’s choking up, a few tears rolling down the sides of his face thick and warm, he’s just so happy. “Ngh-ahh, you’re mine, my little girl.” He thrusts in the last half of him into you in one move, not trusting himself to last much longer like this, and immediately pulls out again. Each time he bottoms out in you, you make little noises. His girth drives into your softness slowly at first, filling you out entirely to the brim. It’s a stupidly perfect fit, making your cunt stretch just enough not to be painful, but only just.

“Niichan—”

You let out a stuttering breath when he connects his waist entirely with yours, the snap of his hips stinging pleasurably at your clit. Both already wound up far past your limits. Issei uses the last of his strength to rest all of his weight on his two lower arms where they are next to your head and pumps into you hard, before wiping a bead of sweat from his temple. “I love my little sister,” he admits again, throat tightening. He angles his body to slam into the exact spot to make you numb. “You’re so good to me, so warm.” The bed rattles from the violent movements, and his grunts are in time with every slap of his balls to your ass. “And you’re- ugh- so fucking tight. No one else—” He moans when you dig the nails of your one hand into his back mindlessly. “You’re mine.”

“Yes, yes, yes.” Your hands sliding higher as you mewl at his thrusts, grabbing onto the soft, shorter hairs at the base of his head. His eyes are closed, frown deep as he does his very best to last in your heat. You lift your butt from the bed to slam back into his thrusts, but honestly are going half brain dead with every snap. All you can do is whimper his name like a prayer, definitely when his thick fingers move to your sensitive clit. He rubs two fingers in tiny circles, thumb pressing beneath it in the same motion over and over, as you cling to him for dear life.

He’s at his limit just as much as you are. The greediest words fall out of his mouth before he can think about them. If he was more conscious of his actions, he’d probably be embarrassed. But you’re so tight, warm, clenching around him like your life depends on it. “Wanna fill my little sister- with my cum. Fuck a- mhm- baby into you. Love you so fucking much.” His thick cock curves into your warmth over and over, hitting high in your belly each time. Your knees bump into yourself as Issei pumps into you with his full weight over your tiny shape, not giving the bundle of nerves any rest.

It’s way too much. “Niichan, I need—” you bite your bottom lip so hard you can taste metal and clench your eyes shut, feeling the coil in your belly tighten until it’s ready to snap. “Please, ‘Ssei,” you beg. You must be pulling his hair so hard it’s dizzying, but you’re way too far gone to care. “Ah- pleaseplease please!”

“Cum on your real niichan’s cock, slutty girl,” he breathes, speeding up his rhythm to a punishing degree. You’re a hair away from coming all over him, and he can feel it too. He holds a breath, before quickly bringing out some more words. “Open your eyes,” he begs, “keep your eyes on me. Wanna see you cum.” You open them to look into his dark brown eyes as best as you can, before you grab hold around his arms and grasp at his shoulders as your building orgasm shoots through you, walls clenching around his cock with a vice-like strength.

Your mouth falls open and you bring out a mess of words, chanting his name as your vision goes white and black marks the edges. Your legs are wrapped around him entirely now, squeezing and shaking from the intensity. While you ride on a high Issei comes too, fingers barely moving anymore, a few thrusts bottoming as he spills hot, white ropes into your cunt. He’s surprisingly quiet, looking at your precious face under him as you come undone.

For a few moments after you’re away from the world, sweating and panting as you cling onto him, before you bury your face in his neck and whimper nothings. He topples onto your body, exhausted, before he wipes his hands on his bed and reaches up to cradle your head. Your legs drop down from him as you catch your breath, the soft lotus scent of his shower gel being the most comforting scent in the world.

When you’re finally back to Earth, you let out a little giggle, and press gently at his shoulders to move him. Way too warm now. Issei groans at your pushy move, but removes himself from on top of you. He might just fall asleep if he lays there any longer. Ever so slowly, he pulls out, pausing to watch the mix of your fluids slowly gush out of your swollen pussy to drip down your body.

He sighs deeply, before smiling at your blissed out face and moving from the bed. It bounces slightly when his weight is removed. “I’m going to go get a towel and some water for you.” He brushes some hair from your face which you gratefully hum agreement to, pulls up his boxers and sweats and walks to the door of the room, before quickly slipping his drenched shirt over his head and tossing it into the hamper in the corner. When he slips out of his room quietly, the lights in the hall are already off. He shuts the door with a glance back at you, noting that you’d most likely be in dreamland by the time he returns, and moves quickly.

Just as he makes it to the bathroom, the door swings open. Tooru gives the taller guy a look, stepping to the side to let him pass. When the hell did he get home? He ignores it and grabs a towel, dunking one half of it under the tap, before grabbing a glass. All under his brother’s watchful eyes where he leans into the doorframe still. As the silence drags on, Tooru just sighs, shaking his head and raises an eyebrow. “You’re messed up, you know that?”

“So are you.” Issei glances over at the other, who crosses his arms over his wide chest.

Tooru only sighs deeply, before moving out of the bathroom, voice lithe but stable in the silence of the house. “If I don’t tell on you for being a sister fucker, you owe me.” Before Issei can respond though, Tooru’s lips pull into a little smile, widening mischievously. “If.”

#haikyuu smut #mattsun smut #oikawa smut #💫ch.matsukawa #💫ch.oikawa #tw.breeding #tw.incest

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iwaasfairy · 3 years

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.wordc. 2k tw a/b/o terms, incest, stepcest, breeding, kinda size kink

a/n. you know the drill jfhdgyegrfo just let me run my course please i don't know if this is any good but i tried

It didn’t usually sneak up on you like this. And sure, you’d been feeling a little hot to the touch this morning, but nothing that would’ve set you off out of nowhere. You pace back and forth in the bathroom, glancing at the device placed next to the sink and taking it with trembling fingers. No answer yet.

You read over the quick message you’d sent, then glance at the clock. Your aches have been getting worse for almost half an hour now, and you didn’t want to risk running out of the house in this state. But— you haven’t gone through a full heat ever since Atsu was born, and if Tooru doesn’t show up with the heat suppressors soon, they’ll be of little use.

You take a deep breath, brushing some sticky hair away from your neck and face, and curl your legs up to your body as you wait in the painful silence for any sign that you’ll get to relax soon. But your skin is so tingly and flares cold and hot, it’s hard to think of anything but the clenching of your thigh muscles and your belly.

Somewhere in the house a door opens, and your attention is back on the phone that’s now clenched desperately in your clammy palms. “What the- what smells so sweet— mom?” You hear from the living room. If you weren’t already pressing yourself against the cold stone of the bathtub and hiding into it, your knees would’ve probably buckled. An unfairly hard ache crawls down your spine into your stomach and you bite your bottom lip to hold in the whine that falls from your throat.

There’s a few seconds of silence, before the rushed sound of heavy steps go up the stairs and your chest pulls even tighter. Where the hell is Tooru when you need him? A squeezed breath falls from you when the heavy, musky scent comes under the door, manly and overwhelming. “Holy shit, what the fuck did you do?” he mumbles under his breath, and you can basically see it when he knocks his forehead against the bathroom door, jiggling the doorknob. “Mom, open up.”

“Go away,” you dig your nails into your thighs at the pathetic sound of your voice, taking a deep breath. The scent coming from that damn door seems to get stronger by the second, going from a softly sweet wood to something that feels like it’s pressing on your ribs and begging you to obey in it’s magnetic sweetness. Your belly feels so heavy and warm, and you don’t need to check to know that your underwear is drenched in slick. “My heat snuck up on me, go wait,” you clench your eyes shut and swallow away the tenseness again, “go wait in the living room until Tooru gets here.”

It had been meant as an innocent suggestion, but the posturing, heavy growl it pulls out of your son is vicious and vile in possessiveness. Shoulders squared and baring his teeth, and it only makes your throat catch and pulls out a long whine, as you struggle with the device for a few seconds. “Open the fucking door, before I break it down,” he hisses now, low and whiny and bubbling with aggitation. “Mom, right now. Open the door right now, let me take care of you.”

You jam the buttons too hard and misclick a couple of times, but eventually the familiar ringing sounds out, and you push your thighs together against the painful ache. As it calls you grab your own tits through your shirt, pinching just enough to get the hurting to stop for a second, before it flares back. ‘Hello,’ Tooru finally picks up after what seems like an eternity ringing, and you glance at the door with teary eyes, ‘I’m on the way, baby.’ Your hands are not enough to soothe the pain, whimpered cries falling from your chest as you rub your nipples and push up against your heel, rutting yourself against it.

“Daddy,” you sob now, trying to ignore the frustrated swearing at the door and the low growl of a very unhappy Atsuko on the other side of it, “hurry up, hurry up. Atsu’s here already, ‘n it hurts.”

“I’m gonna help her,” Atsu barks into the conversation, bumping his knee angrily against the door, “stay away. We don’t need your help.” And though Tooru throws out some words in an attempt to soothe you, he’s not here, and the scent currently flooding you is not helping a second. Your clit hurts, painful and untouched by an alpha, your body growing so weak. It feels like a million degrees inside this tiny room, your ears are ringing, and you must’ve ruined every single article you’re wearing with the amount of slick that’s dripping from your cunt and down your sweaty thighs.

You don’t— can’t handle this. A soft sob breaks from you as you cling to the bathtub so hard your bone peeks through the skin, fat tears rolling down your cheeks. “Mhm- Atsu, help me,” you sniffle out, crossing and uncrossing your legs. And though the rational part of you reminds you that you shouldn’t be tempting him like this, you should just bite through and wait, a much bigger part of you is ripping at the seams. And he’s right there. “Need you, please Atsu, need your help.” The wood cracks loudly under his weight as he shoulders through the lock, sending splinters flying all over.

And you don’t even have a second to cower under his big form before he grabs you by your ankles and drags you until you’re laying flat, breathing so heavy. He’s always been huge and much too strong for you to handle, but right now it almost seems comical. He feels to touch every inch of your skin with one breath, soothing the ache and making you feel heavenly. Whatever snuck up on you has clearly set off his rut in turn, because the pretty brown of his irises is now completely blown out and black. He shoves his face into the crook of your neck, rubbing his nose and then his lips up and down until you can’t smell anything else. “Mine,” he grunts, dragging his teeth over the overly sensitive skin, “you’re mine. My omega to fuck and ruin.”

His hands are large and heavy as they tear through the clothing and he climbs over your body, lapping at the most sensitive part of your neck like a possessed man, until you’re naked and quivering. And you can’t even think, let alone form coherent sentences as he shoves his fingers between your legs, rubbing up and down just a few times before he hisses out. “Gonna breed you like a proper bitch in heat, give you all my cum, yeah? Fuck you stupid.” You arch your back to feel more of him as he shoves his pants and boxers down, lining up and rubbing up and down a few times.

“Atsu, please. Please please please fuck me, wan’it, it hurts.” It doesn’t sound like you. It doesn’t feel like you. All you know is the overwhelming sense of pleasure when he slides inside is enough to have your legs clenching and the pressure in your belly to snap, black and white blinking behind your lids as you cum around his cock as it slides deeper inside. The pleasure is paired with a pain that has you mewling and wiggling as something too big for you goes so deep, pushing your walls apart and nudging at your cervix.

“Hmp- f-fuck, you’re so tight. You’re so fucking tight, I’m gonna break you, mom.” He pulls back and pushes in even deeper despite the warning, unable to help it. He’s drooling against your skin as he sucks marks between the words, gripping your upper arms so tight it tingles. “Gonna mate you, make you mine.” You’re drooling too, sobbing pathetically under him and rocking your hips back into his thrusts, the sharp hits of his hips drilling into the plush of your ass. “‘M gonna give you my knot and make you have my pups.” It’s filthy and vile and you’re just nodding like a madwoman despite it, lulling out your tongue as he leans down.

But before you can get anything else out he pulls you tighter by your hips and growls low and angry, sitting up and pulling you along in his lap, clamping his arm around your chest. Your clit throbs harder all of a sudden, if at all possible, leaving you gasping for air like a fish out of water. “Daddy,” you sob, something Atsu bites back quickly with a snarl.

“Go away, I’ll fucking kill you.”

“No you won’t,” the brunet grunts back, eyes zeroing in on you as you mewl and whine for him, reaching out a hand. “Couldn’t help yourself, could you, pretty girl?” Though Atsu bites down on your shoulder hard when Tooru kneels before you, his cock twitching inside you, he’s unable to posture his way out of it. Tooru is older, and even he’s feeling it. Your legs tremble as you wiggle around to get off of the one cock to try and wrap your legs around Tooru’s thighs, only being held back by the arm clamped around you.

But he smiles, sharing a glance with the man still lapping at your shoulder, before he peels his shorts down his thighs and lets his hard, swollen cock up to his stomach. “No use giving you the suppressors now, is there? Want your two alphas to breed that pretty little cunt for the next few days?” You swallow the spit as you nod, leaning towards him as he meets you halfway, kissing you a few times. Atsu doesn’t hold still anymore, and fucks back up into you as Tooru bites down on your tongue, as you wrap your hands around his leaking cock.

“She’s gonna clench my dick off- she’s so tight,” Atsu hisses suddenly, pulling you away from Tooru and laying you onto your side instead, as you whine at the lost touch, “shh, shut up. You’re mine. ‘M gonna cum inside my omega.”

“Want daddy,” you bite back at that, staring at the glint in those pretty browns as they focus on the jiggling of your tits and his cock twitches against his stomach. But Tooru nods, gripping your chin to lay a soft kiss on your lips.

“Let him run out of steam, baby. You and I both know you’re mine.” And the pure lust and possessiveness that drips from his voice with those words is enough to have you keening, nuzzling your head up against his thigh as he shuffles close enough to watch every twist and turn of your face with the thigh cock inside you. “You’ll be so full of cum you can’t even walk without it gushing back out. And we’ll fuck it back into you,” he pushes the pinky cockhead against your lips as you lull out your tongue, “again and again, however long it takes.”

#🍯honey.pot #tw.a/b/o #tw.breeding #tw.incest #tw.stepcest #💫oc.atsuko #💫ch.oikawa

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iwaasfairy · 3 years

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𝙱𝙸𝙶𝙶𝙴𝚁, 𝙱𝙴𝚃𝚃𝙴𝚁

You’re his favorite thing to figure out, and the most fun to mess with. That’s all the motivation Tooru Oikawa needs, princess.

.wordc. 4.5k+ tw stepcest, manipulation, daddy, stepfather oikawa, ddlg-ish, adultery mentions, degradation, oral (giving), age gap (no age given but tooru is ±decade older than reader)

A viper. A dried out viper skin on the side of the hiking path as you walk with laboured breath behind your mother. It still moves in the breeze, like it’s ready to strike at any moment. But the actual thing that will bite you isn’t here anymore, long moved on to better places. You stare at the skin as it rolls down the path, mouth corners instinctively pulling down in pity. The animal isn’t dead yet, as far as you know at least, but it seems equally unfortunate to leave behind something that was once as much part of you as the air filling your lungs.

It’s only when fingers wrap around your forearm and motion you back with a sharp pull that you look up with wide eyes.

“It’s still here,” he points at the bush near your feet, grip only softening a little to smooth the warm pads of his fingers over your skin, “watch out. You have to be careful, sweetheart.” His lithe voice is pointed when he leads you along his side of the path instead, away from the threat of poison. He lets go of you again, but the touch seems burned into your skin anyway, even when he passes by you and happily continues the ascent. Your mom thanks him with a soft smile, and he leans over to give her a sweet kiss. All while your feet seem cemented to the floor, and even more when he looks down at you with a tiny line between his brows.

You don’t know if that is what concern looks like on him, not yet anyway, but the way his smile drops when glancing at you is enough to tip you off to his worry. He mumbles something about keeping up, as you glance back behind you to take another look at the black viper, but clearly you don’t have an eye for snuffing them out, since it seems to have vanished into thin air. You fist your hands back in your pockets and continue up the trail behind the other two, glancing away when he turns back to you again with the same message, a bit more pointed this time. “Don’t stay behind so far.”

That is the first and maybe only time you think you understand the nature of your relationship with him. Tooru, with his tight grip, and you, glancing straight past the poisonous monster.

It’s late when you sneak back in.

Not quite late enough to get you in trouble, but past dark nevertheless. You slip your shoes off and tiptoe through the hall, peeking into the main room of the house with a heavy heart. Bright flicks of light still play on the walls, and sat on the large couch is the brunet, one leg tucked up toward his chest. Some match plays on the screen, you don’t recognize the team colours. Old habits die hard, you suppose. You only know he’s been waiting up when he sits up a bit straighter, blowing out a deep sigh. “Where have you been hanging out?” he throws the words over his shoulder without turning, though he does lower the volume of the tv. Your breathing hitches in the dip of your throat, a handbrake against your words.

Always with Tooru, it feels like he’s asking questions to trip you up. Asking questions he already knows the answer to, and so most of the time it’s not worth the struggle of lying at all. “Come here for a moment, come talk to me,” he mumbles, looking over to catch your eyes for the first time since you left for school this morning. His pretty hazels seem to soften slightly as they take your figure in.

They used to remind you of spring. Used to catch the light of pink sunsets in a way that convinced you to let them into your home and grow there, you wanted to trust him, if only for the sake of your mother. Now, three years in, they don’t remind you of spring anymore. You walk over and sit though, recognizing his tone as nothing less than an order. He’s not asking, and it’s better not to make him tell you a second time. You curl your feet under the couch and hide in on yourself, shoulders tense. The ticking of the clock is so loud.

Your heart skips a beat when you look up to see him watching you already, an eyebrow raised. God, you really don’t feel like being civil tonight, but you know that anything less would just ruin you more. So you tangle your hands in your lap and put on a little smile. “I’m sorry I’m a little late, daddy, I had a lot to talk about and lost track of time. How was your day?” You must sound as meek as you feel around him nowadays, but he still nods in understanding, like nothing is wrong. To him, there probably isn’t. You just hope he’s in a good enough mood to leave you be tonight, praying for it on repeat in your head.

Your mom won’t be home from her business trip for another few days, and he’s always careful to bruise where it can easily be covered up when she is. The thick silence between you two is tense, but you still prefer it to the spike of anxiety you feel when his mouth drops into a narrow line, like he’s debating his answer. His eyes trace all over you, going from your face to your hands and down your exposed legs quickly. Landing on your lips, as they always do. “It was alright,” he says. He watches you for another moment, before grabbing the remote to turn off the game.

Such a small motion that makes your stomach drop, feeling the familiar panic rise into the back of your throat. Because it means you’ll have his full attention, and when you do, it hardly ever ends well for you. He pats his thigh, and smiles. “Come sit here, tell me about your day.” The tight embrace your mother took you in before she left, that’s all you can see when you swallow. ‘Be good, be good.’ It rings through your head like a heavenly command, something you promised her to soothe her worries. Even when you don’t want to be good, even when you want to kick and scream, you still long for the approval. Your mind still craves for it, and the former star setter is smart enough to use it well.

You rise to your feet. As you sit down on his lap, feeling heated at the closeness, you let out a little puff of air. You don’t tell anyone. You never tell anyone about your stepfather, and that should have been the first sign that this is wrong. You tell even less of what he does to you. But it’s so much easier to believe him when he says he means well, and you’re just so exhausted of being unable to trust.

His muscular legs spread a little to let you get situated against his chest how he likes it when it’s just you and him at home. Tooru always had a thing for cracked toys, though he didn’t quite know it before he started seeing you more than twice a week. Now though, after all the times he has let his hands explore your sticky, sweat-covered skin, he does know.

He doesn’t try to fight it anymore. Your daddy makes a little noise as he taps your shoulder. “Other way ‘round.” The order freezes you, just a momentary break in your panic to consider everything you did today. It’s instant, and if he could read your mind maybe he would laugh at how honest you are. But you hate what happens when you’re not too much, you hate how turbulent and dark his eyes get when he lines up every reason why you’ve fucked up. So when you slowly maneuver around you put your legs both sides of his, and try to ignore the way his hands settle too low on your back. “Well?” he asks, leaning forward to rest his chin on your shoulder.

His breathing on your neck is soft. His honest little girl, he wants to pinch your cheeks when you pout at him. That and— some less savory things. “I went to class, and then to get something to drink with my friends— Marie and Yuri,” you add quickly, choosing to busy your hands with the collar of his shirt as you talk. You catch his eyes only for a split second, just to check. He luckily doesn’t seem mad and even if you know he’s good at hiding it, you feel yourself relax a little.

“Then we went to the library. And then I went to go see Haruto after his class.” Your voice dims toward the end of the sentence, as your heart clenches sharply. Oikawa pulls back a little to look you in the eyes. He knows. You did leave your phone on the counter for a while this morning, that’s probably it. And it should be obvious he knows, he always finds out, but he still wants to hear you say it.

“Oh?” he says, his mouth curling just a little at the corner. Your chest feels a bit tighter, just thinking about it. You didn’t expect it to end today, that’s probably what hurts the most. When your answer doesn’t come, Tooru presses. “How is Haruto doing? Good?” Your bottom lip shakes pitifully at the innocent question, and suddenly tears are welling up in your eyes as you cling a bit closer to his collar.

“I— You-” you start, looking around the room for anything that can comfort you, “you were right. He was seeing some other woman, daddy.” The fingertips on your hips drag small figures into the flesh. “Some girl he met at work. And he told me—” you hick, with teary eyes you miss the way his eyes barely waver. They narrow, but there is no surprise there at all. “Told- me that he never really liked me. That I just held him back in everything. And that he was just dating me for fun but that I couldn’t even do that right, and—”

Your voice cracks. Without a second thought he pulls your face to his neck, holding you tight and letting you sob. The scent is so full, so comforting, and his body is warmer than yours. A perfect pane to curl up against. He pets your head, with gentle whispers and even softer kisses to the shell of your ear. Tooru runs his soft palms over your back and down your sides now, and nods.

“Shh, shh, it’s okay. Daddy’s got you.” You hate how easy it feels to slip your hands under his shirt, and rub your fingers up and down his sides for more contact. Hate how right it has become to need his touch after months and months of branding it into your skull, and how badly you need to know that he approves of you. You know you should hate even more how he tilts his head back a little and moans at your touch, but it is all you can remember to do anymore. Give into him. So when you pull back with teary eyes and a pout, you’re not at all surprised when his lips find yours. “Stay still,” he mumbles, before kissing you again, and wrapping his hands around your throat to hold you in place for him.

He kisses and sucks until he can drag his tongue over yours without problem, your mouth held open for him just right. So obedient. “Men like that still have too much freedom,” he whispers when pulling back, laying kisses down your cheek and along your jaw. “Of course he thinks you’re holding him back, you’re just a silly girl who’s still learning to be a person. You are holding him back. Didn’t you see that for yourself, huh?”

The words trickle like rain into your bones as he mouths along your ear and down your neck, sucking sharply at the skin there. You— no, you didn’t see it for yourself, but then again, you never do. “You didn’t believe daddy when I told you, but didn’t I end up being right again?” he demands, and his hands find the edge of your shirt to shove it up as you sit in his hold. Unmoving, because of course you should have listened better.

His expression pulls your fibers apart at the seams. It’s all disappointment, you hate how it caves your chest in like a hammer would. When you open your mouth to say something, tears beaded along your lashes, he sits back more to watch you. “Daddy, I…” you try, only to crack a little further. You hick as you try to hold it, but he only strokes his thumb along the soft skin of your throat, and squeezes a little harder.

“But that those guys you like seeing don’t treat you right, that they will continue to cheat on you, that’s an unchangeable fact of life. You’ll have to get used to it if you really want to date like all your friends do.” You know that. And it hurts more than any physical pain, because you’ve been here before. Different man but same situation, always. You always end up in Tooru’s arms, like it was meant to be. Like you were meant to be his, like he always tells you.

“Besides, you can’t blame them,” he continues, running the free hand over the swell of your breasts. “They are probably right about you not being able to do anything fun with them, aren’t they?” At the tilted glance he gives you, your breaking heart only shatters more, tears smearing along your cheeks. You don’t know what to do anymore. Maybe you deserve it, deserve to be cheated on. Deserve to be cussed out and talked about. Maybe Tooru was right from the start, he has always been good at reading people after all. When he calls your name again, you nod. It won’t make the pain stop, but you don’t want to think of it anymore. If you give into Tooru, he always shreds your pain at least.

At your pitiful agreement, he sighs. The brunet kisses your lips, and then the tip of your nose. “I still think you are fun though,” he admits with a soft smile, pressing the words into your hair and holding you a bit tighter. “You’ll always be daddy’s little girl to me.” The effect is instant. Such little praise, but you start crying again, relief flooding into your lungs. You shuffle a bit closer to wrap your arms around his shoulders, and let your eyes flick all over his handsome face. As much as you know he’s not your family, he feels familiar enough to cling to every word and truly believe it. He lowers his voice a little and he slips your top down your shoulder, one strap and then the other.

“And I’m already married, so it’s not like I’ll ever hurt you like that. I’ll never try to find anyone else.” You remember the guilty, almost pained expression your ex-boyfriend had this afternoon when he told you. Up until yesterday he was telling you how in love with you he was, so even now it doesn’t make sense. “Only my baby girl,” Tooru kisses your neck harder, as if sensing your distraction. The words don’t really sink in. You just feel the warmth of his lips on yours, the press of his hardening length against your center.

This is exactly what you didn’t want to do tonight. You just want to crawl into bed and fall asleep crying, but you’re too cowardly to stand up to him, even now. Tooru clicks his tongue at your silence. “Unless you don’t think I can take care of you.” His face turns vicious fast, narrowing with accusations ready on his tongue. “Would you rather I go see other women too and leave you, like your dad did?”

“No!” You find his eyes with your wide ones. “No, please don’t. Don’t leave us,” you plead, clinging so tight to his shoulders. He can’t, he can’t leave. Your mom would fall apart entirely, and maybe, so would you. He softly starts pushing you out of his lap, and panic spikes in your chest. You can only cling harder, cry and sob and lay your head against his pulse. “No, daddy, please don’t go.” He sighs at your persistence, pushing harder as your tears drip down your nose and chin, dropping to your collarbones. “No, no, you can’t go. Please don’t leave me again,” you babble, feeling his strong hands on the sides of your body. “I’m sorry, I’ll be better. I can be better, I swear.”

“How can I forgive you if you insist on defying me, huh?” Tooru asks, pulling up your face with two soft fingertips. Don’t leave, don’t leave, don’t leave, it repeats in your head over and over until you can barely hear anything else. At your heated, tear-ridden cheeks and wobbling lip, he softens his approach a little. Like the fanged monster was never there. The frown drops from his face, but there’s still a lingering pool of black in his irises. “I need to hear you say it, baby. Are you going to be good for daddy?”

“Yes,” you immediately nod, “I’ll be your good girl.” At his raised eyebrow, you stand up to unzip and shove your pants down your thighs, kicking them off. You sit back down as quickly as you can, and place your hands at the sides of his waist, to rub your hands up and down like he taught you. “I want to be the best for daddy.” Your admission is paired with a groan, as he reaches up to pull your head back with a fistful of hair. You hiss through your tears, but still melt into him as he pushes the pink muscle into your mouth, rolling his hard-on against your barely clad, slicking pussy. You moan into the kiss when he sucks at your tongue, goosebumps on your exposed skin. Tooru is always hungry for you, you can tell by the way his hands can’t hold still.

Touching your covered cunny, your chest, brushing along your face. He claimed it all for himself many times before, and tonight won’t be any different. When he pulls back for air, you watch him tug your top to sit under your tits. Your daddy unclasps your bra with one hand, as he lets out a little breath eyeing your exposed chest. “I think I’m the only man in the world who loves you enough to treat you right.” He clicks his tongue when leaning you back a bit, rubbing his thumbs over the slowly pebbling buds. “Don’t you think so?”

“Yes, only you,” you nod, “I want to be daddy’s little girl forever. Please, daddy, can I?”

He smiles as he drops his face to your chest to suck on your cute nipple, loving how you shiver. You mewl and sigh with his hard cock rolling in between your ass and pressing up against your covered clit for him to drive you crazy. “You’ll let me use you however I want to then? Let everyone know who owns this cute girl?” You nod again, tucking your bottom lip between your teeth as you thread your fingers through his hair.

The soft, fluffy tufts of freshly washed hair that show that he’s been playing again. One time he took you and your mom to see his team, every one of them no longer carrying the title of top athlete. Muscles a little less packed then at the height of their careers and movements not as immaculate as some of the footage you had watched. Still, you could tell that each of them had an immense pride in the way you looked at them with such wide, star-struck eyes.

They had been so kind and ruffled your hair, cooing about how cute and sweet you were. How lucky Tooru was. It was only when your mother had fallen asleep that he’d come into your room to fuck you stupid. They always ask about you now, his friends. You know it always makes your daddy want you even more, so it’s no wonder that he sucks hickies into your skin, right over the fading ones your now-ex left you days ago. “Such a pretty thing, you should only be marked with my mouth and my cum.” When he slips your panties to the side they are drenched already, sticking to your skin with an uncomfortable squelch each time he pushes his tip against your hole. You take it in stride though, rocking on his clothed cock so eagerly he can’t help but chuckle.

“Gonna ride me like this, baby?” he coos, and you immediately nod. ‘Please,’ you mouth over and over. You don’t even know what you’re asking for, but the bottom line is that you’d do anything for him. You kiss all over his mouth and down his neck, greedy, open-mouthed kisses along his soft skin. “Hmm,” he tilts his head to the side, mouth seemingly tilting along as he pouts, “I think you should lick daddy’s cock first.” You whine as he pulls your head back from him, eyeing you down. “Because you let someone else fuck this cunny when it should’ve been only mine.” You don’t like doing it, because he never lets you up in time. But desperate as you are, you hum just once, and let him slide you back until you can drop to the floor.

His long fingers jerk back with your hair to focus your eyes up at him. He grunts a swear when you already wait with your pretty mouth open and tongue out, twitching in anticipation. You really are such a good girl. Letting go of you for a moment, he puts his thumb into his own mouth to wet it with his spit, then rubs it over the tip of your little tongue and lowers his pants down his thighs. The fabric bunches at his knees, you slip it down a bit further to reveal more of him. And he spreads his legs more to allow you all the access you could ever want, a smirk on his pretty lips. Hard cock curved up to his stomach, beads of precum smeared across the flushed head. You whine for him, and wrap your hands around the base of it as you look up. “Get it nice and wet, princess,” he nods. “Be good for me.”

So you start gently, suckling at the tip and down with small kitten licks. Your daddy groans as he leans back into the couch, brushing his knuckles along your cheekbone. You suck the flushed head into your cheeks, hollowing them until you watch his eyes flutter, then pulling back to leave your glaze of spit on him. You leave kisses all over it and down the shaft, before taking him back into your mouth. The wetness is smeared along your lips and chin when Tooru’s fingers find their spot in your hair again and he starts pulling you closer to him. “Suck it properly,” he grunts though, “stop teasing. Take it all inside.”

He pulls you closer and inside your mouth further as your hands find his thighs, trying to steady yourself from his strong grip. You try to push your tongue down enough to let him into the back of your mouth, but the hand on your head keeps pulling until your all the way to his waist, and you swallow desperately around him at the painful stretch. He lets you up with a laboured sigh, then pulls you back down his glistening cock again. With each move he pushes up more against the back of your throat. You whine and gag around him, and he moans your name. It makes your cunny drip even more, slicking up the inside of your thighs.

With soft hands you work on the part that you’re unable to take in, twisting your wrist up and down to match the bobbing of your head. It doesn’t matter that you’ll be soar, it doesn’t matter that it’ll start stinging soon. You want him to feel good. “Just like that, baby, fuck.” Your jaw is starting to ache, but it is all worth it when he mumbles how pretty you look and how good you feel. “Does it taste good?” You hum around him as he pushes all the way back into your throat, loving how he twitches into your mouth. You can’t even taste the precum anymore, but the heaviness on your tongue is enough to convince you that everything about him is good. Your eyes flutter against the tears and you suck as hard as you can before he’s pulling you off of him all together. “Fuck, you’re such a fucking slut for my cock, aren’t you?”

He lifts you from the floor against him and waits until you’re able to place your knees around him, before putting you back on his cock. It pushes against your fluttering hole, but he doesn’t let you sink down just yet. And you can’t help it, a whine of frustration makes it’s way out of you before you can think better of it. “Daddy, please!” You barely finish the words before you’re dropping forward with whimpers and more tears clumping your lashes together, being dropped on his fat cock so suddenly your eyes roll back in your skull.

“Happy now?” he hisses when you press your cheek against his neck, whining out louder. “Can’t even let me sit you down properly.” He grabs you by the hips so tight you know the ovals will be visible in the morning, before helping you up. Your nipples brushing up against his solid chest as he brings you back down, fucking you open. Slowly at first, until you find your rhythm again and start bouncing by yourself like you should, grabbing at the short, coarser hair at the base of his skull. He lets out the prettiest sounds when you pull, when you kiss him with so many desperate kisses you feel breathless. “You just want to be a good girl, don’t you?” he mumbles, fucking up into you so that his cock presses up against your spot with each thrust.

Your mouth drops open as you work for it, sweat rolling down between your breasts and the wet pap of your skin slapping against his filling the room. As bad as it should be, you can’t help but think this is how you’re supposed to be loved. “Yes, wanna be daddy’s baby girl,” you say, voice already giving out. His warm body against yours is enough to get you coiling so tight, but then he leans you back for a better angle to rub his thumb over your puffy clit, and your toes are curling. “Ah, aah! Daddy- f-holy fuck, daddy, love you. Love your cock, loveyourcockloveyourcock,” you mewl, shaking on him as he fucks you through your orgasm, only easing up a little when you get so tight he might hurt you. When your walls flutter around him though, he increases his pace even more, resting his forehead against your shoulder.

“Fuck, gonna cum, princess,” he breathes, and you can only nod up and down through the last tremors of your own high as you squeeze around him. He cums with a choked swear and your name, spurting thick ropes of hot white into your greedy cunt. It fills you up with warmth and makes you feel so nice and full. You collapse against him with your arms still limply around his neck, and hiccup against the tears when he laves your cheek in kisses. “Good girl, such a good fucking girl for daddy.” You hum in response, and let him kiss you again.

“Look at me,” Tooru sighs against your lips, and you use the last of your energy to oblige. “You belong to daddy. And this can be our little secret.” He hums at your little smile, and kisses your nose. But when you catch his eyes, the darkness is still there. “Don’t think of leaving me again. No one else will ever love you like I do, you understand?” He pulls you a bit closer to his chest then, and you can feel the rapid patter of his heartbeat against yours. “I’ll make sure of that.”

#tw: stepcest #tw: manipulation #tw: daddy #oikawa smut #oikawa x reader #haikyuu smut #haikyuu #hq!!#haikyuu fic #haikyuu imagine #dark content #tw.stepcest #tw.manipulation #tw.daddy #💫ch.oikawa

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iwaasfairy · 3 years

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𝙷𝙾𝚁𝚁𝙸𝙳

rhi, this is for you ♡ remember when you said mafia seijoh and i said i’d write it?? but then i got super distracted with other fics and never did the thing? weLL I FINALLY FINISHED IT. she’s cut up into two parts bc i didn’t want to make it too long but part 2 should be up soon for @yanderexbabydoll & massive, big fat ty to @xplosiveboy

.wordc. 3k+ tw mafia!big 4, noncon, sexual harassment, yandere, coercion

horrid pt 2

It was written somewhere in your favorite library, on a vacant page of the grimy literature textbook stuffed between two shelves maybe, you read it just once. Back then you didn’t care much for the radical, unwilling to trust the faith of someone destroying what wasn’t theirs to begin with. Long, curved words littering the white; claiming full of hate that the poison our mind makes is the most powerful decay, that humans are the most horrid of creatures.

Back then you’d closed the book, sliding it back into place and tucking the knowledge far back into your mind, unwilling to use such a straight-set line of thinking on a world which had given you life, gifted you virtue and loudness. So terrifying; but splendid. You had swallowed, light and unwavering in the knowledge that you were still capable of processing, and giving kindness. You had settled above the cold of those words, thinking them sickly and rotten.

But you didn’t forget, the fire of them on the curve of the page. Or rather, you couldn’t.

It isn’t unlike you to falter in your step, feet rushing ahead faster than your mind can catch up and taking those half-hearted fumbles as just what it needs, before granting you another dash of mindless cadance. Not lost but wanting to reach home a bit faster, slicing off the unnecessary travel so you’d be able to cuddle up in a blanket a second sooner. Even without anything waiting for you on the other end. So you correct your balance for long enough to notice the long straight between brick walls, the direction of it catching your eye more than anything of value. The buildings here are taller, stubbier in their set size and darker, like the grime of the city has never been washed off them.

You’re small in between, but that has never stopped you before. You wonder if you could take that road, rush it. An alternative for the boring path you’re supposed to take. The monotony aches. You’re young, invincible, not having existed nearly long enough for something truly horrible to happen. Unbalanced, in a way.

But you’re not foolish either, and wasting precious time is the exact opposite of what you want. You bite your lip, carefully crossing the street to peek into the alley. Littered, wet, vacant. Until the breeze picks up and ruffles your hair, calling out for disaster. Unwilted flowers and those dusted grey to the core aching to meet, to make the balance even.

A show of red, white and black in the form of a man, and one that has your chest craving to be leveled with his. It isn’t that you haven’t been blown away by beauty before, but equality is something else entirely. Those things are weighty in their presence, heavy enough to break your reasoning and to have you rolling forward without will of your own. The heavy-set darkness of his eyes, his hair, his dress shirt. As if he wants to melt into the background, yet everything about him seems to demand attention. The bony points of his hands and fingers are bloodied, chafed and red shows through the split skin where his nose is lowest. But he fuels your wonder with a dignity, leaning against the metal door just as practiced as the cigarette held between his lips.

Never would you be more aware of your foolishness than looking back on that instant. But sadly you only figure that out long after you allow your body to drift towards him. Your kindness hasn’t failed you yet. It does crumble slightly when the weight of his gaze falls on you, staring your way like you’re a broken record disturbing his peace. But even in your clumsy approach you are obviously good and innocent, dragging closer. The pitter-patter of your feet against the wet concrete is shy, it drips from your lips. And beasts hidden in the cracks of society always sniff out that kind of virtue. “Excuse me,” you say. “Do you know where this alley leads?”

It’s a silly thing, more close to an excuse to speak than true curiosity but it has his mind churning. He blows out a white cloud beside your face, picking the destructive thing from between his lips with a tick of his brow. The tilt of his head in the way you had motioned leaves you tense, used breath building in your lungs, your tongue rubbing on the roof of your mouth like it has something to scrub away. “Don’t think you wanna go that way,” he simply says, eyeing you up and down with the languid movements of a lioness not yet bothering to stretch her muscles, “it’s dark and scary down there.” The glint in his hazel-greens should remind you of water pulling far back from the beach. It does remind you of it, but for reasons beyond you it doesn’t quite click.

So you puff out your chest, basking in the tiny bit of confidence you house to nod. “I think I can handle it,” you smile. As you consider your chances of making it to the other end, a feeling of irony comes to press on your shoulder. Sucking at the brave front until you’re all but left a shivering deer on two dainty legs. It feels colder here than it did on the main street.

So you look back only once at the handsome stranger, bowing in gratitude. “T-thank you, I— I’ll be going now.” Polite despite the tremble you feel, you were raised to be good. He only tilts his head in response, choosing silence the moment you wish for anything else, but you too are at a sudden loss. You turn on your heel and start tiptoeing away from the vast security of the street to drown yourself in sudden doubt in your ability. Most times you experience the opposite. You know the feeling of living, breathing with no worry, well and polishing your renewed understanding only later.

But the path his eyes take in chase of your body has a stickiness, and you can’t help but imagine he has already eaten you up in his mind, walking away with sweat on your palms. Two bangs sound against the metal, leaving you skittishly darting forward with your nails pulled into your palms. It’d be easier to pretend to be strong if you had a bit more faith in your own destructive power. Should you be a monster of preposterous size in the body of a cowering young woman, it’d be easy to push away the need to check, to make sure that you are not under threat. But you’re painfully human, so you glance over your shoulder anyway.

The handsome man has already slipped back into the building, but the memory of his expression gives you goosebumps. A reminder that humans are greedy in nature even when you don’t want them to be. You let the tense air out between parted lips, continuing down the wet curve of the buildings until a creak up ahead calls your attention. Against the darkness where another door swings open, two figures come out into the chill of the falling evening. You envy them for a moment, as they are not alone and you are, but then your feet halt to let your thoughts churn. The men, one with pretty, brown hair and the other a strawberry blond color, don’t need to search to find what they are looking for. The sharp eyes are turned your way the moment they exit the bruised building.

And you blink a few times, before taking a step back in the narrow space. They stand at the door with a stony confidence. Running now is definitely proof that you are not as brave as you pretended, but you can’t help it. With a deep breath you turn back, suddenly feeling hurried. No one reason could be good enough to put yourself into the jaw of an animal willingly, definitely not one as feeble as yours. You scurry back around the corner with a speed that would go unnoticed by most, but still you have to stable yourself again when you connect with another body. It catches you, wraps a large hand around your arm and you look up to express your gratitude by habit.

It’s another tall person, dark curly hair and a surprised expression. Something about his touch is debasing, seeming to latch onto every single one of your fibers. If it had only been this, it would leave you starving, your greedy heart categorizing everything under love at first sight— though you are barely old enough to have liked properly. But the contact is too long to sit well, your body straightening from him as best you can. “S-sorry,” you begin, silencing yourself with a gasp. The brunet of earlier, as well as the other two are upon you already, the presence of four men surrounding you so suddenly a frightening thing. “I- I’m sorry,” you mumble again, though it is lost in the intrigued gazes. They crowd around you before you can think of what you should do.

One of them shoots you a grin bright as the sun, leaning over your shoulder to come into view. “Look at you being the gentleman, Mattsun. You saved the cute girl from falling down!” You are still held onto by the curly haired man, who shrugs off the compliment with an indifferent expression. The cheerful one clicks his tongue, before rounding back on you with a smile that makes his eyes crinkle. The weightlessness he carries reminds you of something out of a fairy tale. Bright, obnoxiously cheerful. “What are you doing here, gorgeous? How old are you, you in college?” Voice lithe, sweet on your tongue like honey.

So you try to straighten up, dropping your lip from between your teeth. “Y-yes,” you say, to be interrupted by another voice. This one is more familiar, the first of the few. Tanned skin, handsome at every angle.

“All alone like this?” he breathes, “you must be pretty brave.” With an endless intrigue laced in his eyes, you’re pulled closer to the man with dark, spiky hair by your free hand. You stumble forward with the sudden shift. If you were ever an angel, your wings are useless now. And something tells you these men will make sure that soon they’ll be no more. He only smiles when you have to steady yourself on his chest with gentle fingertips, keeping you close to his warm body. But eager, it plays on his lips like you’re the thing he’s been looking to find for hours, maybe days. He lets out a chuckle at your dumbfounded expression. “I’m Iwaizumi, that’s Hanamaki and Matsukawa.” He waits a moment, smiling wider when you don’t show any recognition at it. “What’s your name?”

You’re so overwhelmed that it’s hard to even sound out the syllables. Your name doesn’t matter, you don’t disillusion yourself to think any of it matters, truly. But the looks remain even when you hesitate, and you find yourself speaking aloud. Though you barely get your name past your lips before you’re turned around by your shoulder, your response setting them alight. You’re left glancing up into a happy grin and pink hair. “You’re dressed up pretty. Nice skirt,” he coos, picking at the edge of it just once before leaning his face a bit closer to yours. “You’re pretty all over, you know that? Really pretty,” he draws out the sound until it sounds almost comical. “Right, Mattsun?”

You believe him when he says it, he looks at you like you’re shining, reflecting light like a diamond. The compliment, not your first but never truer, stews in your veins and boils your blood. There’s a vague hum from behind you, the man who caught you in your fall putting his big hands on your shoulders. Content to be near, if for a moment. With your constantly shifting gaze, you miss the lines on their hands and arms, the overwhelming smell of different colognes mixed with the smell of blood. “Not gonna say ‘thank you’?” He pouts.

“Tha—”

“Be nice, Makki!” The voice drowns out yours. “She’s just flustered. Right?” The unintroduced man smiles down at you again, his pretty face coming so close you can feel hit breaths tickle your cheeks. Kind or not, you jerk back instinctively. He continues, unbothered. “Sweet girls like her aren’t used to this. But we’re not so bad, I promise.” His pretty hand comes up to brush your hair back, cooing when your skin turns up the degrees more. Stupid, silly, your mind screams; it’s like your feet have been cemented to the floor. Like you’ve been here for centuries, and finally someone’s come to worship you.

Though his hand is shoved away from you rather harshly, with a frown. “Oi,” Iwaizumi growls, “let us do it ourselves, Oikawa.” He turns back to you with a certitude, closer and though you try to back away you’re only met with the hard lines of the person behind you. Mattsun still has his hands on your shoulders, rubbing comforting circles into the thin fabric of your blouse. Quiet, but not forgotten. You don’t dare look away from Iwaizumi though, his pretty eyes dark enough to make your heart jump uncomfortably against your ribcage. “He’s right though,” the noiret’s voice sinks low, “we’re not so bad. I think you’d like to see, huh?”

The words feel claustrophobic, your eyes widening. You glance at their faces in confusion, switching between each person quick enough to make you dizzy. “Uhm- I,” you stutter, but a brush up your leg has you gaping, frozen. “I don’t-” The cold fingers trail up the inside of your thigh, too high.

“Of course she does, look how nervous she looks.” Makki is so close now he’s molded to your side, the other men not far behind. “So precious,” he coos. “Here, take my hand for a second.” It is put in your field of vision like a peace offering, the breaths on your neck feeling suffocating. But with his long fingers opened invitingly, it’s almost easy to believe they have good intentions. You give in and drop your smaller hand in his, if only to get rid of the revering stare. Hiro grins wider though, and laces your fingers with his. He giggles, softly. “Like this, isn’t it so easy to just,” he drops your interlaced hands to brush up against his crotch, “put them here.” Every muscle in your body seems to quiver, but spun too tight to move. “You like it, right?” he taunts when you look down at the floor, holding your hand in place stubbornly. “Eheh, I can tell.”

“W-please stop,” you try to pull away, but the grip on your hand only tightens, thumb pressing down hard enough that you jerk back from the pain. “Aw, aw!” It’s painful, like your bone will shatter if he moves wrong, and the harder you pull back the more he clamps down. “That hurts!” you gasp, turning away in Issei’s hold.

“Such a good girl, look at you,” Iwaizumi says, his hands sliding around your waist to secure you a spot against him. You’re struggling now but there’s hands all over. More touch, more overwhelming motions to keep you near. You’re tucked into Mattsun’s chest, each swell of his chest brushing against your shoulder blades. And your cheek is pressed against a face, someone who starts pressing small kisses there. “You’re precious, I could just eat you right up.” Hajime grabs your face to turn it more towards him. On the inside you want to bare your teeth, show your claws and rip yourself out of the fragile shell, but then he presses a kiss to your forehead and all your fight sinks away. You were never the warlike type. You’re small, frightened and worst of all, cowardly. He smiles over your shoulder. “Right?”

“I’m sure she’d like that,” the tallest behind you grins, his deep voice shaking your body in his hold. “Just look at her.” One of his hands slips under the edge of your blouse, sparking like a smoldering ember. Though you start whimpering in their arms, he smiles. “Are you scared, little girl?” he chuckles, hovering his lips over your ear long enough to give you goosebumps. Your breathing is laboured, unable to stop the whimper that comes out.

“Pretty face, pretty hands, pretty legs,” Hanamaki names, his lips glued to the curve of your neck, “I bet you have a pretty tummy too.” He slips his free hand easily under the waistband of your skirt, pulling it away from your skin and you try to push him away to no avail. Though the pressure of his grip on you is anything but playful, he’s grinning like there’s no worry in his mind. “And pretty tits.”

“Guys,” Oikawa breaks the moment to motion his head towards the door then, already holding it open as the stroking continues. “If you would, please.” They’re suddenly pulling away from you, all but Mattsun who turns you in his hold and wraps your arms around his body, picking you up. His large hands under your butt, he chuckles when you gasp at the touch. Your arms are pulled over Issei’s shoulders and grabbed tight, forcing you in place.

You’d been overwhelmed, stunned and frightened, but when Iwa looks at you like you’re a new toy he can’t wait to use, to break; the building feeling shifts into something else. Terror.

“No, no, nononono,” you start pulling back against the brunet, looking around at the four men with big eyes. You try to kick your legs so that he’ll drop you, get fed up, anything. But he carries you into the building without a problem, much stronger than your pitiful attempt. “I have to get home, I can’t come with you,” you squeak, bristling when someone laughs. It’s a mean sound, cold and vicious and it makes your faltering heart drop. There’s an explosion of— some emotion or other, a stutter in your capacity to take in the world. You can only open your eyes wider, hoping that some sense comes through with it.

Excitement and fear always have a similar taste on your tongue, close enough in their thickness to mistake one for the other until it crawls out of your throat with a violent gasp for life. But this is more bitter, a feeling you recognize as panic too late.

“Let go! Let me go!! I don’t want to be here,” you rasp, the feeling slipping out in tears of stress at the corners of your eyes. The door is shut, casting you and them in darkness together.

“Yes, you do.” It’s Oikawa, though you can’t see him. The touch dragging up your back is enough to leave you with shivers. “We’re only going to take a second of your time, promise.” You’re carried deeper into this hall, the cold and draft the least of your worries. Part of you wants to scream, wants to bite and kick until you’re out of the door and as far away from them as you can. But a bigger part of you is more afraid of what they’ll do in retaliation, so you just bite your lip and try to control your tears.

“Hey, we promise,” the strawberry blond echoes, slipping around the tallest to shove his lips to yours. A deep rumble comes from his chest when you tilt your head away from him and against Mattsun’s neck instead. But he’s undeterred, instead pressing a few kisses to your wrist. “We’ll take real good care of you.” You can’t shake the feeling that their promises count for nothing. And as his long, scarred fingers tangle with yours like a mimicry of comfort, you can’t help but wonder. If those words on that page were written with so much conviction because the thing penning them down was the same as these men. Beastly, ungrateful monsters.

part 2 coming soon

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iwaasfairy · 3 years

Note

fairy!!! dawning was 👌👌, but was wondering how it would be like for the reader to give birth to a boy and everyone telling him all his life that he had been the product of a one night stand (but somehow looks so much like oikawa) and one night he catches reader and oikawa going at it and having been under oikawa's tutelage for so many years he also develops unhealthy feelings for his mom.

if you're not confortable with this, you can ignore it.

I’ve never really written anything like this before, so I hope it’s okay! But I just thought this ask was so interesting and I really wanted to explore it a bit more. Thank you my love, I hope you enjoy 💕

don't read if it'll make you uncomfortable!

tw stepcest, dubcon, voyeurism, implied reader x son incest, breeding

It comes with questions. His entire life, Atsuko has to explain to people that it’s just you and him. It doesn’t bother him much when it’s middle school classmates not knowing much better and asking about it. It comes with a bit of teasing and riskey poking at his boundaries in highschool, asking why he’s got the Oikawa family name if your dad isn’t his dad. He has your name, obviously, but they choose to ignore that in favor of treading right over his lines as teens tend to do. How can you not know who your dad is?

It’s slightly upsetting hearing the rumors on the regular, sure, but it’s not like he’s lacking anything. You’re so close with him that he never feels any less loved, and you still live at home all together, so he’s not lacking a male figure in his life either. When you go to work, it’s Tooru staying with him. Talking with him, raising him. He’s comfortable around him, and as much as he doesn’t mean to look at him as a father figure, your stepdad has always been around to teach him things you couldn’t anyway.

Out of highschool, the people are less nosy. The asking stops. But he can’t help but think that sometimes, he too can see it. He’s got your hair color and complexion, and you two laugh and frown the same. But his eyes are the same big doe eyes as Tooru’s, same hazel color. He’s got his build and when he looks at pictures of your dad when he was a bit younger, he thinks he should believe it. But you insist, and he’s got no clue how to bring it up despite how close you are. You’re protective and a bit snappy when Tooru tries to get between you as it is.

“Hey, mom?” he asks one day, as you’re folding the laundry and Tooru’s just stepped outside. He leans his back against yours and rests his head on your shoulder, picking at the last, soggier pieces of ramen as he keeps you some company.

You hum, giving him a sideways glance. “Hm?”

“Don’t take this the wrong way,” his long legs stretch over the end of the couch, “but don’t you think it’d be better if you stopped with the one-night stands?” You freeze up for a few seconds, fiddling with the shirt in your hands, before you bunch it up and put it away to turn to him, disrupting his peaceful splayed out state in the process. You don’t say anything though, so he motions his nose towards your neck. A minefield of dark splotches and bitemarks. He knows they go down your ribs and into your pants too, he’s seen you get into the bath before.

“I mean, that’s what got us into this in the first place,” he sheepishly adds when you just look at him so helplessly, and he does feel bad. He does, but it’s not like he’s wrong. “I’m just— you don’t need it, do you? You’ve got me and you’ve got Tooru, s’not like you’re missing a man in your life.” Isn’t that what this is about? Or if it’s the intimacy you’re missing, he’ll cuddle up with you all you like.

You finally break your eyes away from his when he puts the tub onto the coffee table and gently reaches for your hand, snatching it away a bit too quickly. “I- I’m a grown woman, Atsu. And there’s certain things a grown woman needs, okay?” You don’t even pretend to look in his direction, way too focused on the clock slowly ticking on.

“Yeah, I’m an adult too, but I still don’t get what things you need that I can’t—”

“You just can’t,” you snap, pulling your hand to your chest like he burns when he attempts to reach for it again, voice a bit too forceful to be without meaning, “Atsu, let it go. I’ll think about what you said, but please just let it go.” Then you collect the folded laundry and put back in the basket, before getting up and leaving him behind with more questions than answers. And the doubts, they gnaw.

Unlike you having plenty of interest in other men apparently, he really only has eyes for you. You’re his mom, but you’re also really the only woman that gets his heart so desperate and heavy as it does, and sometimes he catches himself staring after you when you walk around the house. He knows he probably shouldn’t, but you’re just so warm and kind and unlike most people that just get close to him because they have some sort of attachment to the Oikawa family name, you actually care about him enough to love him unconditionally. How can that be wrong?

He comes home way too late from a buddy’s house one night, finding the big house suspiciously quiet. He wants to check if you’re asleep already, which it sure seems like. Until he climbs the stairs and suddenly there’s sound banging and rattling, and moans so loud it’s almost worrying. Up ‘til now, he’s never actually gotten proof of your one night stands before other than the marks left behind on you, you’ve always been careful to keep that far away from him after all. But he can’t help but grow curious who’s making you cry out this much, as the jealousy and envy build in his stomach.

Maybe he’s a bad son. But he cracks open the door a sliver, and suddenly everything makes so much sense.

“Daddy, ah-daddy, please!” you squeak, bent double like a binder with your hands against the bed and your face scrunched up and mouth dropping open. Tooru, your stepdad, balls deep and holding onto your neck, skin slapping against skin loud and wet and your pussy is gushing down your legs because your ‘daddy’ is fucking you.

“Should’ve put more kids in this tight cunt, hm? You’re not happy with just one?” Tooru hisses as he hauls you up against his chest, the both of you shining and his pace not failing as he rubs his fingers through the mess he’s making of your pussy. “How many should daddy have given you? Two? Five?” You shake your head as you cry, but still moan into his kiss as he rubs your clit and squeezes your tits in his large hands, and you’re cumming so pretty all over him.

Atsuko stumbles all the way back until his back hits the wall, scared that you two will find him spying on you in the hall. But the noises of you being relentlessly fucked continue, and his entire face is warm and he feels a bit lightheaded. It makes sense. This, however fucked, makes sense. And as he carefully treads back down the stairs, that little voice in his brain is cheering with joy. Because how on Earth can what he’s feeling for you be wrong if you feel the same for your parent?

All he needs to do is sneak into your bed later and prove that he loves you more than Tooru does. You’ll understand, because you’re a lot of things, but he knows a hypocrite isn’t one of them.

#🍯honey.pot #tw.stepcest #tw.incest #tw.breeding #tw.dubcon #💫ch.oikawa #💫oc.atsuko

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iwaasfairy · 3 years

Note

more atsuko content pls... no pressure tho

Aye aye Captain! the brainrot has been very heavy today

tw incest, stepcest, breeding, threesome

"Not so hard," you squeak, holding onto the wall and letting your head fall back against his chest. Atsuko giggles at the struggle in your voice, wrapping his hands a bit tighter around your neck and pulling on the arm wrapped around your waist so you're only pressed down onto him more, deeper. "Atsu, please."

"Shhh," he says, "stop being so dramatic." His fat cock sliding in and out of your wet slit with sharp, precise thrusts and hitting so far inside you. "You look so pretty creaming around my cock." It's almost impossible to think of anything but him, surrounding you, inside you, hands all over your body.

The worst part is that there's no sense of guilt left, even though your pussy is so wet and slick is running down his balls and your thighs. "Who's fucking you like this, mom," he coos as he presses his lips back to you, turning your face to kiss you breathless. "Who?"

"M-my baby is," you wail, and his hand moves from your throat to grab your tit, squeezing it hard between his fingers. "Ah- ah, Atsuko, slow down." He doesn't. The begging only makes him thrust harder, balls and thighs slapping against you and fingers mercilessly tugging at your nipple.

"Drive me this fucking crazy." He grunts some muffled swears, biting his lip and bending you over. The change of angle makes him hit right into the spongey part of your walls, filling you up even more. Your mouth drops open as he switches sides to grab your other tit, pulling your hips back into his thrusts. "Mgh- Love you, mom."

The door clicks open. If you'd be able to open your eyes you'd see the narrowed glare Tooru gives the other man, glancing down at you a second. "You two aren't even trying to keep it down." He shuts the door again behind him, before sighing deeply. "Not going to let her cum, are you?"

At this point your head is pounding, your muscles tense and orgasm so close it's almost painful not to have your clit touched. But you have to hold onto something or his thrusts will knock you over. "You do it," Atsu only groans, too busy ruthlessly fucking into your wet pussy as his pace starts to falter.

"Having a good time, princess?" Tooru asks you then, brushing his fingers past your face as you try to nod. 'Daddy, daddy,' you whine into the little kiss he gives you. Your noises are so loud, but you can't help it. Tooru must know this, because he moves one of Atsu's hands and offers you two fingers to suck on.

Behind you, he groans loudly, now sloppy thrusts speeding up and breaking you open. "Gonna c-cum. I can cum inside right? 'M gonna fuck my seed into her."

And as you whine out a string of begs around his fingers, Tooru drops to his knees in front of you, starting to rub your clit in rhythmic circles. "Tch, still got so much to learn. Go ahead, but you're going to make her cum properly after."

#🍯honey.pot #tw.stepcest #tw.incest #💫ch.oikawa #💫oc.atsuko #tw.breeding #tw.threesome

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iwaasfairy · 3 years

Text

𝙿𝙸𝙽𝙺 𝙻𝙴𝙼𝙾𝙽𝙰𝙳𝙴

please give those recycled house tracks my warmest regards, and lock the door if you're home before the sun, oh pink lemonade a/n. pain pain pain pain,, yes this is inspired solely by pink lemonade by the wombats because apparently i like destroying myself from the inside out,,, and this absolutely hurt me more than it will hurt you :)))

wordc. 4k tw cheating, iwa x reader x oikawa, angst, daddy kink, degradation, manhandling, spanking, more dark content-ish in next parts

part 1. part 2. part 3.

There’s a strange magnitude to how you’re standing, strong and stable and arms raised high above your head with balled fists. Victory pose, triumphant. Like the Colossus of Rhodes, or a battle axe coming down for the finale. You remember standing in that sweaty, grand hall with blinding lights as the athletes poured out of the stadium to embrace their coaches, their other teammates, and Hajime too. You remember two of them raising his hands with force, and his smile growing despite himself at the forced inclusion. You remember crying when he turned that blinding, grateful smile to you; you remember all the hours he’d put in for them. For victory.

It doesn’t fit you, you decide in that moment, keys dangling above you and an overly excited grin on your lips that you’re still able to play this game. Hajime still lets you, biting his cheek against a smile as he walks closer. It only licks the braveness from your outer shell like it’s honey when he leans in and whispers your name, cornering you entirely against the door. And you’re prepared to fight him for them, maybe dig your fingers into the sensitive spot under his ribs, but it doesn’t come. And suddenly your victory isn’t much of anything.

Sweetly, carefully, he wraps his arms around you and pulls you in such a tight embrace your breathing falters. For just a few seconds, you crumble. Your lungs fill the more compressed space instead with the smell of Hajime, crisp and pepperminty and always softer than you expect it to be. Because Hajime is only war and power and thunderstorms when he’s out there, and here with you— it’s different. He’s different. You love him for it, truly.

You do. It’s not that much of a surprise when you get a bit choked up at the kisses he presses under your chin and neck, hooking his chin over your shoulder. “Always so late. I’ll miss you.” You hum through your tears, sucking the toothpaste taste from your own tongue before you pull back. You hate this part the most. Facing it. Sometimes you break down just outside the door, and have to spend minutes behind the wheel pulling yourself together. You hate yourself often these days. You nod though, absentmindedly, picking at the keys in your hands as you lower your arms.

“I’ll be back before you go to sleep.” Your voice is softer now, but you can’t help it. You wrap an arm around his neck and run your fingers through the soft hair at the base of his skull, leaning up to press a kiss to his lips that he leans into a little with a sigh. “It’s just a few hours.” His pretty olive greens flick over your expression for a moment, before he drops his hands to your hips and a thin line comes between his eyebrows. He looks to the scraped floor instead, lines of the stupidly heavy furniture set you tried to move.

“They really shouldn’t make a long term employee go to the after-hours shit.” He shifts onto his heels as he puts his hands back in his pockets, before meeting your eyes again.

And you can only run your tongue over the ridges of your teeth, before turning to grab your jacket. It’s not gotten easier with time. You guess that’s a good thing for most. “Yeah, well— don’t wait up for me for dinner, okay?” You stuff your keys into your bag and quickly fight your arms into the sleeves, suddenly aching to hurry the walk to the car a little.

“I won’t,” he says, following your shape with his eyes the last few minutes. “If you need me to pick you up-”

“I won’t drink much, Hajime,” you quickly assure, turning over your shoulder to watch him plop down into the couch. You send him a small smile, heart warming when he puts his feet on the coffeetable and the ugly, patterned pyjama pants hike up high on his shins. And you can’t help but wonder if this one does meet your eyes, because it should. He seems to recognize something off about your lingering, because he looks back over. Warm, sturdy, loyal— unfairly so, giving you a little wave that you mirror.

“Hey,” you draw a single breath, “I love you.”

And he smiles, making his words so soft and smooth as he gives you his world. “I love you more.” It splits your heart into a million glass pieces, because as always, Hajime’s probably right.

You brush your hair over your shoulder and settle in the soft plush of the blankets, crawling into them to feel the cool fabric brush over your exposed legs. These small rooms are always too hot in the spring and summer, and the air conditioning just gives you extra noise. You stretch out and hum softly, listening to a hummed melody. When you turn to lay on your back, you stare at the ceiling. The sun is setting low behind the towering buildings and casting an orange glow on everything, from the desk to the comforter, to the top of your nose.

From the bathroom a familiar jingling of the pipes comes, the shower has been turned off. With a huff you shimmy backwards into the blankets until you’re bumping your head against the headboard, and tap your fingers on your thigh, skin still electric. The soft patter of feet from the other room makes a smile tug at your lips, as you stretch out your arms.

Doing that makes your knuckles hit the wall. You make yourself sit in the foreignness of this cramped room though, because at least it’s some retribution. If you were also taking that away— You hear him through the thin walls.

When the door of the bathroom opens, your eyes fly smoothly in his direction, smile curving on your lips. Oikawa rests his hand on the doorknob and takes a deep breath, before lifting his shoulders and dropping them in defeat. “They must be doing that on purpose, making them as small as possible,” his voice is bright and lithe as he speaks, eyes turning into little half moons along with the small smile that forms on his cheeks, “I bumped my elbows at least six times.” You nod. A toilet, a showerhead and a sink have to share a space where you can touch your hands to both walls if you reach.

His brown hair is still damp and falls in loose strands in front of his face, rid of product and natural in it’s messy state, and his skin still a little flushed from the hot water. His cheeks and eyes are more puffy than normal though, making him look a lot younger than he is. Glowing. His shirt and the black boxers sticking from under it leave his muscular thighs exposed. You love getting to see him like this, open and vulnerable. Though you don’t really respond, he can tell that you’re paying attention. You always are, when he’s near. And that prickling guilt is too easy to ignore.

He smiles down at you softly, eyes catching the light with the way he looks down at you. His eyes— like a window to a blooming garden. You know what he wants to say, and sometimes you wish you could see yourself through his eyes. You wish you could feel how pretty he thinks you are, because it’s hard for you to remember without having Tooru here to remind you. Without another word he walks over to you, avoiding the stack of clothes that is spilling out over the floor and crawls onto the bed, resting there for a bit on his knees. You keep his eye as your breathing smoothes out and his closeness fills your lungs with a sweetness. He’s beautiful. You’re still not sure what you’ve ever done to deserve him.

His pretty hands slide forward over the blankets as he smiles, creating a ruffling noise, until they brush your ankles and he grabs a gentle hold there. Soft, barely touching, tingling through your bones and settling in your bloodstream. His cheeks pull up more when he takes a better hold of you and drags you towards him by your feet, letting your limbs rest around him. He glides his hands up your calves and the bottom of your thighs slowly, nails raking your skin softly and sending goosebumps all over.

When he leans forward a little, he pulls his bottom lip into his mouth, revealing more of the charming grin you’ve spent too many days studying. His hands don’t stay still for a second as his touch reaches every inch of your exposed legs. “Did you shave for me?” he laughs, the orange light catching the one side of his face and lighting it up like fireworks in the night sky. For a second you’re lost for words at how damn beautiful he is, searching a way out of his features to move your lips. You just nod when his one hand gives you a tiny squeeze.

Tooru blinks twice, before moving off his knees to lay himself in your hold and hover above your body on his elbows, using his one hand to link your ankles together behind his back. His other hand trails up your arm then, from the very tip of your finger all the way up to your shoulder, or at least the part that is not covered by the white shirt that you’re wearing. “I told you before that I don’t mind either way,” he says, irises flicking from your eyes to your lips and back.

“I wanted to,” you mumble, arms dragging from the softness of the blankets to wrap around him, his warm body beaming like the sun under his shirt. When his face moves just a little bit closer to yours, where you can feel his soft breathing brush your nose, you look down and at the blanket that is squished between your two bodies. “Definitely when we’re only together every so often.” Your whisper lingers in the silence for a while.

When Tooru moves, it’s to right himself a bit so he can look at you better, catching your eyes and biting his lip more aggressively now. You think you want to be the one to bite it, make it tingle and bruise only because of you. But you can tell that the words stick and make that sticky longing peek up. You know that feeling all too well, and it is painful to know he gets it too. His warm eyes look defeated, even with that once sentence because you both know. You both know how bad it gets, have ingrained the feeling deep in your bones and reaching marrow.

With you, he feels whole, and without him, you feel porcelain. Like an addict, feverous and aching. Oikawa’s lips tremble slightly, before they send words rolling out that seem to have been thought over many times. “I’m sorry,” he says, voice lowering to something barely a whisper, as his hands still on your skin and for the first time today you get to feel his entire makeup. For however soft he is, you know he has a hardness to him as well. An edge, visible when he turns too fast or works too hard, and piercing through the softness of his skin like it’s aching to get out. Not where he blames himself and takes on the entire weight of your combined sins.

“I never meant to have it go on this long.”

“Neither did I,” you respond. Your hand brushes up his spine to lap at the base of his neck and the warmth there, while you press your cheek to his jaw. The touch delicate but needed. “It’s not just you, Tooru— I- You started but I kept going too and- I—” He knows.

When you drop your head back to the pillows, Tooru looks. For what he might be searching, you’re not sure but he looks— long and hard until it spills over into a silk move of his hand on your cheek and his forehead to yours. A gentle movement of his fingers to cup your face and the soft sensation of his breathing on your lips. You’ve never craved much for anything, but you crave for him without doubt. You crave for his heart, mind and soul like it’s the second half of you and you wish to swallow it all inside.

So full of life and love. When his lips press to yours, careful and breakable, you almost break. He’s the china shop and you’re the bull, raging around in the bedding of his love. His soft lips hold against yours for a second, until you move and give in to his touch. He’s always like this. Crystal clear. You don’t think Tooru’s ever had it in him to lie. Not like you, your traitorous, filthy lies. If you were a better person, you wouldn’t kiss him back. Your hand reaches from his jaw to the back of his head, where your fingers tangle in the fluffy coolness of his hair.

When you do, a small sound comes from him. A little hum, one much like the one he makes when he’s asleep and curled against you. You hate that it’s you who he feels this for, though. You suck it up and tangle it in your soul as you fight the tears. His lips mold with yours as if you were always meant to be this way, moving and shaping you with greedy touches. His lower half comes to rest onto the bed between your legs and traps you beneath him, as your fingers pull his hair ever so slightly.

Lips and tongues melding together, his one hand comes to grasp your chin between his two fingers, like he’s trying to hold you in place and like it’s force of nature, you follow. His free hand glides from your shoulder down your arm and even lower, tangling his shaky fingers with yours. The kisses he washes over you like waves go from soft to something denser, heavy and close and painstakingly tangible and he takes your bottom lip between his teeth as proof of it.

You let out a soft noise yourself, mixed between sigh and moan and it makes Tooru curl closer to you with a desperate tug. You want the entirety of his body against yours, the heaviness of his weight to shift to your shoulders instead. As if he reads your mind without second thought, he rubs his hardening cock against you with precise movements. Swelling against you as he lets out a moan and presses harder, getting lost in it. The air you share is hot and only of the two of you. You let go of his hair to reach around and grab his shoulders so hard you can feel him lean in more to escape it. You hope he retaliates. But he gives in with a smile that makes you feel the curl of his soft lips.

With his body moulded close and tight to yours and with a squeeze of his hand just under your tits you pull back. Too overwhelming, and while you will never get enough— you need a second to catch your breath. When Tooru smiles down at you with flickering eyes and his long lashes so close to your face that you can count them, you wrap your legs tighter around his hips and throw your head back at his giggle as bright as the season of summer.

If you had to pick your own necessary life source, you’d pick his laugh a million times over. Because he’s still holding onto you tightly— hand having slipped from your face to your thigh, you’re shifting to get the soiled, flimsy panties off and the both of you are seconds away from tumbling out of the bed. So Tooru pulls you to his chest and kisses you again.

This time, it is not gentle at all. It’s hard and needy, locking you to him, tongue pushing into your mouth and lapping you up. You’re so close that you can feel his heartbeat bang against yours. If you try hard enough, you’re sure you could feel every single muscle in his body move. His lips part yours as his hand sneaks down between your bodies, rubbing the head of his cock against your clit and down the length with such ease that it’s almost stupid. Your hands fist into his shirt and slide it up to feel him, and this makes him smile too. It pulls at your bones, like even this tightness is not close enough.

“I love you,” he mumbles between kisses, “fuck— you’re drenched, pretty girl. Is this what a little bit of dry humping does to you, hm?” He runs two fingers under the stretchy band of your panties and collects some of the slick to press it up to your puffy clit, starting off rubbing it fast. It sends your entire body in overdrive, still pushing back against him as you moan.

“Y-yes- daddy, please,” you whimper, now digging your fingers under his waistband harshly and shoving at it, “take this off, please.” He doesn’t waste much time to do so, cock free from the confinements to stand hard and swollen against his belly, connecting a few strings of precum to the wet patch of his boxers. You don’t even have to say anything to get him to pull your panties down just as quick, forcing his fingers deeper inside you and curling them so good you can’t keep your eyes open. He adds another finger, not giving you a second to adjust as he ruts them deep inside you, then going even faster when your hips buck.

“That’s it, baby,” he hums, rubbing his thumb over your clit so good, pressing and circling the nub without a second of pause, “my little whore. So pretty,” he kisses the corner of your mouth as you moan and squirm, whimpering when you push your cunt to his cock and he pushes your hips down. “Let me,” he grunts though, nipping at a particularly sensitive spot of your neck and making your breathing stutter, “you’re not in fucking charge here.”

The swelling feeling of warmth that starts in your lower belly spreads more and more as you clamp your legs around his glutes, hiding your face against his neck instead, and he quickly reaches up to grab at your throat to keep you there. But the building feeling grows so tight that you can’t help but start wiggling anyway, the lack of oxygen to your brain leaving you deliciously on the edge. “Love you, daddy, I love— ah,” you cry at the sudden lack of touch when he pulls his fingers back and stuffs them into your mouth, forcing you to taste yourself and knocking your thighs open more with his knees.

You look through your tears as you suck, trying not to gag at the pressure on your throat and the merciless way he pushes his fingers over your tongue. At the way he pumps his flushed cock and bumps the pretty head to your clit, before pushing in and putting his full weight into you. He’s so fucking hot, even with sweat starting to make his and your skin a bit clamy, everything so warm. As he pushes his cock inside, the stretch making your mouth drop open as his fingers pull out to go back to rubbing your clit, his lashes flick down every so often, but his eyes stay the same.

Full— blooming. They’re full of love, full of care and of pain and of longing.

Your fingers trace the lines and dents of the sharpness his body carries, digging your nails into his lower back and pulling him the last bit into you as he hisses. But he hums again, putting his hands over yours as you whimper at how deep he reaches. The hard thrusts leave a ring of white at the base of his cock. “You’re mine,” he whispers suddenly, pressing his forehead to yours and kissing your lips, the intensity of his gaze making your entire mind fuzzy. It’s too much, it’s always been too much, and yet you never— your thoughts drop entirely when your phone rings.

Far enough to be ignored if you wanted to, stuffed deep into the bag you left at the door of the hotel room, but you can feel it. The little pause, the tenseness of his muscles above you, and he suddenly fucks harder into you. So hard it knocks you off him and he has to line up again, pushing his eyes closed with a frown. “You’re mine, all mine,” his free hand comes to grab a fistful of hair and pulls your head back until your eyes tear, and you’re already nodding against him before he kisses you again. Clashing teeth as the pounding of his cock goes faster, knocking hips.

“Aw, aw, ah- daddy- Tooru, not so hard,” you moan into his mouth, and he grunts as he sits back to pull you up and over harshly, not caring too much as he pushes you into place.

“Stop complaining, take it how I give it,” he grunts, but when the ringing stops his hand smoothes over the small of your back anyway. No matter what, you know. “My pretty girl, you look so fucking pretty. Pussy dripping down your thighs like this. Bent over like my personal whore.” He gets back behind you, and lands his flat palm on your ass twice, hard. The sting making you squeak, biting through your tears as you suck your lip into your mouth.

Your hands just grip the pillow harder as he rubs your clit harder than before, and pushes back in, and you’re still not used to his size. It just feels so good, everything feels so good that when his hand lands again you’re moaning out despite your tears, pushing back to meet his thrusts and have his balls slapping against you. Everything turns white and you cum around him, knees locking up and your moans probably growing too loud, but Tooru doesn’t stop. Not until his pace gets sloppy and he’s shooting ropes inside you, filling you up with hot, white cum.

When you get to the phone an hour and two more rounds later, you have to sneak out into the bathroom to check the message, only to slide down against the wall and pull your knees to your chest. 2 voicemails, and two hours later than you said you’d be. You click away and lock the device, wash your face, and stare at the man curled up in bed where you were two minutes ago. He lifts an eyebrow, before motioning you to him and pulling you into his arms, pressing a few comforting kisses to your temples. “I have to go home, I- Hajime—”

“Shhh, stop,” Tooru quickly says, urging your head back into the crook of his neck where it seems to belong. “Stop that. He knows.” His calm breathing washing over your cheek does very little to calm you down, but he pulls back to look at you still. “I’ll tell him soon, okay? Just don’t leave yet. Yeah?”

“Okay,” you end up nodding, biting back another sad truth. “I love you,” you say, and he smiles against your skin, tangling his long legs with yours.

“I love you more,” he whispers back, and again, it’s probably true. Which kills you even more. But you don’t say it, because for now, this is Tooru’s victory. His triumph, as you unravel yourself piece by piece.

#haikyuu smut #oikawa smut #iwa smut #oikawa tooru #iwaizumi hajime #tw.cheating #tw.daddy #tw.degradation #💫ch.oikawa #💫ch.iwaizumi

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