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jasmines-library · 1 month

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I know i’ve already sent in a lot of requests, i practically live in your inbox(not sorry), but i just wanted to know if you could whip up some really angsty stuff?

Maybe something with reader being on patrol and she just randomly passes out and just won’t wake up again?

idk, i’m just craving your content😞🙏

Veins

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Note: Anything for you my love. Dont feel bad for sending them in, i smile everytime your name is in my inbox. sorry for the wait. :))

Warnings: Poison/drugging, passing out, needles, ivs but non graphic

Word Count: 1.3k

⛧ BATFAM MASTERLIST ⛧

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There it was again. That funny feeling. You couldn’t quite place it, but it tickled the back of your mind. Physically, you felt fine. There was just something off about the whole night. Tim was running alongside you, the soles of his boots making little to no noise as he weaved nimbly down the street. Dick was slightly ahead; you were watching his six.The three of you were currently pursuing Poison Ivy, who royally pissed off, was threatening to release a batch of poisons into the water supply; naturally, it was your job to try and stop her before she could actually get there. Batman was also in pursuit, but he was coming from the other side of the city which meant that the chances of you and your brothers stopping Ivy before she got there were pretty high.

You had almost caught up with Ivy when it happened. You could see her ahead, her torn clothes flapping against the winds that whipped between the skyscrapers and whistled down the alleyways. You pushed yourself to run faster, feeling the burn in your calves as you raced towards her auburn figure. You would have caught her if you didn’t catch a glimpse of one of her goons perched on a window ledge. It was dark, but you could practically see his crooked grin as he leered down at the three unsuspecting vigilantes. By the time you had realised what was actually happening, it was too late.

The needle dug deep into your neck, with such a blunt force that you would have yelped if you didn’t have the sense to plaster your hand over your lips. It stung and would most certainly leave a bruise later. But what worried you was not, the soon to be bruise, but the groggy sensation that began to settle over you.

Blindly reaching for the syringe, you pulled it from your neck with a grunt. It clattered to the floor. Everything seemed to swim before you in a mix of colours. It made you feel sick. And suddenly your body felt numb, stubborn limbs refusing to move how they normally would. You lurched forward stumbling and trying to grip onto the wall to keep yourself upright. It was hardly any use though; whatever they had stuck you with made it nearly impossible to tell which way was up as your world span. You had fallen behind, moving without a coherent thought as you tried to keep up with the speck that you thought was Tim. Everything was too loud, but you could make out no sounds, just a piercing ringing.

“R’vn…” Someone was talking to you. You weren’t even aware you had stopped and hands swam in front of your face. Touching. Someone was touching you; their hands were against your shoulders trying to keep you upright. But who…

There was no face in front of you. Only a mangled mess of colours and an echo of your code name frantically falling from their lips. They were trying to get you to respond, to say anything but your eyes and glassed over and your limbs had fallen limp in against the stone wall you had been stumbling against.

And then your body gave up completely.

Tim had to scramble to catch your body as you keeled over, ragdolling into his arms with limbs splayed out in each direction. He cursed, panicked and settled you down on the ground to stand over you. Wide eyed, he pressed the emergency signal on his coms, praying that Dick would get to you quickly and that Batman was close enough to catch Ivy.

He tried your name again, shaking you by the shoulders. There was no response; your head just lolled to the side. It was then that he realised your body was hot. Far too hot. He struggled to get off his glove before pressing the back of his hand to your forehead. You didn’t even stir.

“Son of a bitch.” Dick skidded to a stop beside his brother, palling at the sight of you on the ground. “What happened?”

“I-i don’t know. She was fine one minute and the next she practically collapsed against the wall-” Tim stuttered, unable to keep his composure. Usually, he was the one with the steady hand they could all rely on, but now he was completely short circuiting.

With a curt nod, Dick tried to shake you awake, calling your name.

“I tried that.” Tim stated.

Dick nearly snapped at his brother for making an irritating statement when he saw the lines spider-webbing up your neck. They were thin and black, spindling out like branches of a tree devoid of its leaves. Twisting your head gently to the side, Dick revealed it to Tim who swallowed thickly.

“Drugged?” He asked meekly.

Dick shook his head. “Poisoned.”

Tim shifted his vision anxiously between Dick and you. His head perked up when something clattered off to their right. Dick was up in an instant, standing over you with his escrima sticks flickering with their angry blue charge. Tim reddied his bo staff.

“Go find them.” Nightwing ordered, standing over you protectively. “I’ll watch her.”

Tim darted off for a moment as the older boy watched you with shifty eyes, hardly relaxing when he returned a few moments later. By that time you had begun sweating and your skin had grown clammy and gaunt .When he looked at him with optimistic eyes, the younger boy shook his head.

“Nothing. But I did find this.” He produced a small syringe filled with a dark green liquid. The one you had pulled frantically from your neck.

“Good! That's good.” Dick exclaimed, taking a shaky breath. “We need to get her back to the cave. Page Alfred. Get him to prepare the infirmary.”

“On it.”

Sliding his hands under your body, he scooped up your limbs with ease. “Hang in there, kiddo.”

“Get her on the bed, quick.”

Alfred was on the two boys as soon as he heard the cave entrance fling open. Dick was sling clinging to you as he bustled through the door, hot on Tim’s heels who forced everyone out of the way. They all watched you with worried creases etched onto their complexions.

Dick lay you down on the bed. As soon as he was out of the way Alfred was replacing the empty space beside you, inspecting the spread of the poison. It had now begun to crawl down your arms and up the side of your face. Your features seemed sunken and your heart rate was dangerously slow.

He reached for a needle of his own, sliding it into your skin before hooking you up to an IV.

“What’s that?” Tim asked. His voice wavered.

“Hopefully an antidote and some fluids to flush it out of her system. Babs managed to analyse the sample you sent over. The poison is lethal, but because she managed to pull it out before the whole thing entered her system, we think this should help.”

“And if it doesn't?” Jason’s voice asked from where he had been lingering in the doorway.

“Let's hope it does.”

It took much longer than they had hoped for you to wake up, but nevertheless you did. Slowly but surely you cracked open your eyes and blinked at them groggily. It seemed that Alfred and Babs had been spot on; the antidote worked, but it made everyone nervous to think that if you hadn’t pulled out the toxin when you had, the situation could have been very different. Damian cringed at the thought.

They had all been there when you woke up. They had been taking it in turns to watch you because they couldn;t bear the thought of you waking up alone, but when Jason called out that you were stirring they all rushed to your side to sit with you.

It was nice to wake up with the all beside you, despite the fact that you felt like death. Probably because you had been so close to it.

Ivy was arrested and sent to Arkham without much of a second thought.Batman had caught her before she managed to release the rest of her poisons. She had made an attempt on your life. It was safe to say that she deserved jail time for that, though there was no saying how long she was actually going to stay there for.

The air was much lighter in the manor now that you were awake. You were still on bed rest for a short while, much to your protests and grumbling. But, luckily for you you were surrounded by a whole handful of people that wanted to do things for you that you didn’t even need help with. Not that you minded too much… Either way, they were there for you completely throughout your recovery, glad that you were going to be just fine.

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BATFAM TAGS

@aestheticdaisies @hearts4robs @xxrougefangxx @mamapucket @hell-o-kittys @harleycao @batfamsstuff

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qapleulia · 2 years

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#goodnight my loves #[ragdolls onto th e floor with a beeping noise like in hlvrai]#m

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lis-likes-fics · 5 months

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A Christmas Movie

Pairings: Miguel O'Hara x spider!Reader Word Count: 5.4k exactly Kink: Size Kink Warnings: NSFW, smut, unprotected sex, swearing, size difference, fingering, multiple orgasms, creampie, love vomits, Miguel speaking Spanish… A/N: This is a few hours late but I literally finished it five minutes ago. Miguel describes the reader as tiny a lot, but it is only meant in comparison to him, not as a physical description of the reader. Thank you! Also A/N: This can be read as a sequel to this oneshot, but can also be read as a standalone. Thank you and enjoy!

“Is this necessary?”

You rub your side as you lay on the floor, an ache in your muscles as you get thrown to the hard floor again. Looking up at him, you move to stand. “Yes.”

Miguel crosses his arms over his chest, his gray hoodie loose enough not to allow you the pleasure of seeing his muscles bulging through the material. “Why?” he asks, waiting patiently for you to recover before he advances again.

You stretch your arms over your head, feeling your back pop with a heavy sigh. “Well, you saw my attempt just then. You threw me like a fucking ragdoll.”

He shrugs. “Are you ready?”

You sigh, shifting back into your starting stance.

“Firmer stance. I shouldn't be able to move you.”

You roll your eyes and scoff. “Of course you should. Have you seen yourself? You're huge…in more ways than one.” You smirk at him.

He just rolls his own eyes in return. “It should be harder to push you. If I can use my finger to make you fall, your stance is flimsy.”

“You can use your finger to make me fall apart any day.”

He ignores you. He walks over to you, ignoring your remarks as he fixes your stance. He nudges one leg further from the other, widening your feet before pressing down on your shoulders to lower you slightly. He shoves you, you stay standing.

“Better. Do that,” he says.

“You're so grumpy,” you mumble.

A chill rushes up your spine and your right cheek flutters with heat. Ducking, you narrowly miss Miguel's fist to your face. “Dude, what the fu–!”

You backflip, landing in a crouch as he went for another attack, this time aimed at your feet. “Always be on guard. I could have knocked you out,” he instructs, still coming toward you.

His webs shoot toward you, and you act quickly as you jump up once again. You flip before planting your feet off a wall and jumping off just as fast to fly over his head. Another web threatens to wrap around your body, you block it with your own web.

Miguel bounds after you. When you land, you shoot your webs at him one right after the other. He dodges them all, nearing you like a colossus. When he's close enough, you flip back again and spring off your hands. Your foot almost makes contact with his face, but he turns just in time to step out of the way, grabbing you midair and throwing you away.

You're about to fly into a wall when you manage to change your position enough to bounce off of it. He isn't fast enough to catch you this time. You hook your leg around his neck and manage to wrap them both there quickly. You squeeze your thighs tight around him. He reaches up to grab you, and you web his face to blind him.

Miguel's hands grip your body, but you tighten your legs around him and lean back with as much force as you can muster. You shoot webs to the floor, gripping them tight to add some strength as you manage to flip him forward. He lands hard on the floor, and you land in a perfect crouch.

He groans at the impact, moving to rip the webs from his face quickly to an attempt to stay on the attack. But while he's distracted, you web his hands to his face and web his foot to the floor, shooting a few extra for good measure.

He rips the webs on his hands almost too easily, breaking free from the restraints. In one swipe, his foot is free. He comes for you immediately, pouncing at a surprising speed.

You roll onto your back, propping your knees to your chest. You manage to maneuver him so he flies past you. He rolls to avoid another hard hit to the floor.

The chill in your spine is just a second too late. His webs shoot at you. You lose your balance as you try to stand, and you fall back in the middle of turning to face him. In the next second, he's on top of you, a hand around your throat and your hands pinned above your head.

His face is inches from your own, his breath heavy and his eyes are nearly glowing red with exertion. “What were you waiting for?” His voice is insistent and rough, high on adrenaline.

A shiver blossoms through you, a rush of pleasantness prickling your skin. Your breath is shallow and quick. As you stare up at him, wide-eyed and also on an adrenaline rush, you smirk. “Do we always end up like this?”

He tilts his head, confusion finding its way to his face. Then he remembers. You're in the training hall, this is just practice, and you're you.

He rolls his eyes, and the adrenaline seems to fade. He doesn't get up. “You're smaller than me, which makes you faster. You can't let down your guard, and you can't slow down for any reason.”

You huff. “Okay, but that kick thing was impressive.”

He stares at you, debating. Then he shrugs, “Wasn't bad.”

Again, you roll your eyes. “Get off me. You're heavy.”

He does, moving to stand and give you room to do the same. “Okay,” you stretch. “Let's go again.”

“No. Go home.”

You straighten your spine immediately, surprise taking your face. “What? No!”

He peels his hoodie off, leaving his top bare as he walks over to the shelf of towels. “Yes. Go.”

You run over to him, blocking his way. “We don't have to train, you know. We could…” You pause to think, clapping when you have it. “We could watch the surveillance systems! I love the surveillance systems!”

He raises a brow, walking past you. You walk with him. “You hate the surveillance systems.”

You pause. “I do hate them. But you'll be there anyway.”

He stops, looking down at you, unamused. He brings his hand to his face, pinching the bridge of his nose with a sigh. “Go home,” he says, looking at you now. “It’s Christmas. You should be…” he thinks for a moment, “out spending time with friends. Not here…looking at surveillance with me.”

You shrug. “Okay, then we can do something else together.”

“Isn’t there some Christmas party for you to go to?” He starts walking. You follow at his side, shrugging again as you nod your head.

“Hobie’s throwing one in his dimension, yeah,” you mumble. “But I’m not there. I’m here.”

He stops again, turning his full body to face you with a raised brow. “Why are you here? Why don’t you just go home?”

You look up at him, swallowing thickly as your gaze slips from his. You sigh, letting the silence stretch a moment too long as you come to terms with saying it. “I have no one waiting for me at home.” Miguel’s stare softens, becoming a little more sympathetic as he processes your words. “And, like you said, it’s Christmas. No one should be alone on Christmas.”

He looks at you again. With a sigh, he shakes his head gently. “You’re too nice to me.”

You smile, accepting his defeat. “I know. Go get your shower. I’ll see you after.”

One day, he'll tell you.

Miguel’s shirt swallows you whole as you pull it over your head. It’s huge and gray, and it hangs at your knees , sagging off your shoulder. Your fuzzy socks are pulled up to your mid-leg, silencing your steps as you walk to the side table.

Miguel’s room in HQ is small, almost like a mediocre hotel room—the tiny room with a single bed and drawer (minus the TV) that nearly takes up the whole space, a tiny closet, a tiny bathroom, and a tiny living room with an okay-sofa and a TV. He has a small area for a coffee maker, a fridge, a cabinet, and a microwave, but that’s as much of a kitchen he has. A mediocre hotel room. He has a house, but he doesn’t go there often.

He comes out of the bathroom, steam rising from his shoulders as his white towel hangs low on his waist, He’s still dripping with water, tiny droplets from strands of hair, little tears streaming down his skin. He’s beautiful. You look away from him.

You pick up two DVDs from the side table, turning the cases over in your hands to examine the front. “Okay, so I got these from Movie-Verse.”

“Movie-Verse,” he mumbles, running a hand through his hair as his broad body stands in front of his dresser. He opens the third drawer and grabs the first pair of shorts he sees.

“Yeah, the movie store next to the cafeteria. Has a ton of movies from all the ‘verses.” You wave a hand dismissively, setting one of the cases down and taking the other in both hands. “Anyway, I picked this up. It’s called The Nightmare Before Christmas by some guy named Tim Burton.” You use a mysterious voice when you say the title, stretching the drama. “I think it would be cool.”

He finishes patting dry the water from his skin, tossing the towel onto the bed to pull his shorts on. “Sounds like a Halloween movie.” His tone is flat. He seems almost bored, his face dropped into that grumpy expression he’s taken on.

“Well, yeah,” you shrug, “but it says Christmas on it. Look.”

You toss the case to him. He catches it in one hand effortlessly, his gaze fixed on the drawer he was closing. He examines the front. “There’s a skeleton on it.”

“Doesn’t matter,” you matter-of-factly. “Put it in. We’re watching it.” He does as he’s told. You go to his little kitchenette and pull open the fridge. “Do you like eggnog?”

He’s retrieved his towel once more, rubbing it over his wet hair. His muscles flex with every little movement. Part of you wants to make a sly comment, but you refrain.

“No.”

“Yeah. Me, neither,” you hum. You close the fridge, pulling open the cabinet to retrieve two glasses he has stowed away (one that had already been in his cabinet and one you’d put there for yourself months ago). “I just got wine and hot cocoa.”

He practically grunts as a reply. He sounds uninterested, unimpressed. Your pep sours, and you feel yourself physically deflate as you try and fail to brush off his seeming apathy. You set the glasses down with a gentle click and fidget with the fabric of the oversized shirt.

Your voice is small when you speak, almost embarrassed. “Do you want me to leave?”

He looks up at you then, directing his attention. His brows furrow as he holds the remote in his hand, which dwarfs the “tiny” device. “What?”

You shuffle from one foot to the other, feeling awkward. “I can go if you want… Hobie has that Christmas party, like I said, and… I can just go there if you don’t want me here.” The last part comes out choppy, your lips unwilling to form the words, your mouth reluctant to speak it.

There’s a long pause as he stares at you. His furrowed brows soften, and he takes in the sight of you. You’re wearing his shirt, and it looks huge on you. He can see the outline of your soft panties through the material of it. You’ve got on fuzzy socks, long ones that cover most of your leg and your hair is set free.

You look shy. It’s something he doesn’t see often. You relish in dirty jokes and confident suggestiveness. You’re sarcastic, and you thrive on the sass you hand to him. Even during the times where he has your body in his hands, off on another rendezvous to release stress—his and yours—you still hold that glint of mischief and wit.

You look sad. You look sad and small, and he hates himself for making you look that way.

Miguel’s shoulders fall. He turns his body to face you, taking naturally large steps to stand in front of you. You have to crane your neck just to look up at him, but your disheartedness only allows you to reach his chest before giving up.

He raises a hand to your chin and lifts it just a little more so you can see his face, which he tilts down this time to better view you. He sighs and speaks softly, earnestly. “I want you here.”

You blink once, searching his face as your gaze shifts between his plump lips and his russet brown eyes. “Are you sure?”

He leans forward slowly, giving you time (partially because it’s quite the journey) before gently pressing his lips to yours. It’s far too gentle and far too sweet, but you relish it anyway. They’re gone just as quickly as they came as he pulls away just enough to break the kiss.

“I’m sure,” he says.It almost sounds pleading when he says, “Stay.”

His eyes examine your face for another couple of seconds before he steps away from you, lets his hands fall back down to his side. “I have a blanket you can use.”

You breathe a tiny chuckle out of your nose, effectively reassured by his warm and gentle plea. “Is it big?” you smile, considering his offer.

He shrugs a shoulder, beginning to turn on his heel when he shoots a rare smile at you over that same shoulder. “For you.”

It makes you giddy, your courage slowly returning. “I’m not that small.”

His back turned to you, he continues. “You’re right. You’re smaller.”

You roll your eyes at him, turning toward the counter again. You unscrew the wine bottle to begin pouring. You shake your head as you chuckle a little. “Oh, fuck off.”

He opens his tiny closet and pulls out a cream colored blanket (basically a thin duvet). He picks the remote up again, sitting on the sofa with his legs spread wide. He makes the couch look tiny. “You look even smaller in that. Mujer pequeña.”

You move into a pose, pretending to be sexy. “You like?” You wink comically at him.

He licks his bottom lip. “Are you going to sit?”he asks, avoiding the question.

You giggle to yourself, pouring the dark wine. “You love.” You carry the glasses to the sofa.

He's already started the movie, not that you mind. The music starts, the billowing of wind whistling in the background to set a spooky tone.

“The first song is literally saying it's Halloween,” he comments, lifting his hand from his lap, your feet kicking up and resting on his lap as you pass him his glass. He takes it and spreads open the blanket.

“Ugh,” you roll your eyes, “you make me sick.”

He lifts the glass to his lips. “You chose it.” He takes a sip from his glass, resting his hand on your ankle as his thumb strokes the skin over it.

You both sit and watch the movie in silence. You tuck the blanket closer. You sip tentatively at your cup as you direct your gaze at the screen. You miss the way Miguel's eyes linger on you, his gaze tracing the features of your face: the length of your nose, the curve of your lips. He memorizes the details of your face before he realizes he's been staring too long. He looks away.

Another little while passes of being hyperaware of you before he glances over again, noticing your glass go to your lips as you take a sip. He sighs silently. “Come here.”

You look at him, humming. He waves his hand invitingly, You move the blanket, setting your glass on the table. You sit next to him, snuggling into his side. He reaches over your body as his hand lands on your hip.

Miguel lifts you, pulling your body over his lap to straddle him. Your hands fall to his shoulders. He shows his affection the only way he knows how. He kisses you.

You hum lightly, pulling away from his lips and dipping your head, looking down at his chest instead of his eyes. You smile to cover your discontent as you lower your hands to his waist. “Is this why you wanted me to stay?”

His knuckles trace your cheek. “I want you to stay because, surprisingly, I enjoy your company,” he jokes.

You chuckle half-heartedly. “I'm like that.”

There's more quiet in the next pause as his eyes look over your face. “Why did you want to stay so bad?”

You look at him, biting your lower lip. “I told you.”

He rolls his eyes, chuckling lightly as his hands stroke your thighs, over the curve of your ass. “Yeah, ‘no one should be alone on Christmas’. But, like you said, Hobie’s got his party. You have plenty of friends there.” He glances over your face. “Why aren't you?”

You lick your lip, turning your head away. Another song plays quietly in the background, the sound of sleigh bells and horns and clarinets creating a holiday symphony behind you. You wanna gloat. “Ha, I was right. It is a Christmas movie.”

You sigh gently, the tips of your ears hot and the pit of your stomach fluttering.

“I don't want you to be alone.”

He takes a breath in, inclining his head just a bit as he considers your response. His eyes flutter as he stares at your face, seemingly entranced. You look back at him, unflinching.

“You're too nice to me.”

You smile. “I know.”

“You deserve better than me.”

Your eyes flutter at that and your heart stops beating for half a second. You're warm, and you laugh as you speak, “What's that mean?”

He glances away as he sighs, looking back at you with an expression that's almost pained. His heart is heavy in his chest, and he holds his breath a little when you lift your hands back to his shoulders.

“Don't make me say it,” he almost whispers, his eyes pleading. “Please don't make me say it.”

You hesitate, staring at him as your heart hammers against your chest. Your breath is thin. “Say what?”

“Corazón… I–” he breathes in, his voice reluctant, “–haven't said this in a long time.”

You move your hands from his shoulders to cup his face, making him look at you and taking away his option to turn the other way. If he's going to say it, you need to hear it. You need to be sure. “Said what, Miguel?”

He breathes, staring into your eyes and softening.

Tonight, he'll tell you.

“I'm in love with you.”

Silence strikes the room. The movie plays in the background, long forgotten in both your minds as the quiet and the tension drones on. Your skin prickles, your brain is fuzzy, your mouth is slightly agape.

Miguel stares at you, you do not blink. You stare at Miguel, he does not blink. The silence stretches. He's desperate.

“Please say something.”

“I love you.”

His heart pounds at the confession, but he doesn't believe it. This kind of thing doesn't happen. “N–”

“No. I love you, Miguel,” you promise, leaning closer to his face and holding him a little tighter. “I'm in love with you.”

His mouth crashes down upon yours, a clash of lips and teeth and tenderness and insistence. You moan lightly into his mouth, standing on your knees just enough to get some height on him as you kiss him back just as eagerly as he. Fire burns in your belly, in your face, licking at your flesh. Your hands tangle in his hair and fuel it.

He begins to turn you to lay you on the couch. You press on his chest, encouraging him back so he's on his own instead. His hands fall to your thighs as you straddle his waist, his shorts and your panties the only thing separating the two of you. You bend down against his body to continue kissing him with everything you have.

Miguel whispers your name against your lips, moreso when your hips grind against him. His hands smooth along your skin, dipping under his huge shirt on you to feel your waist with his gentle but insistent touch. Your hands roam his chest, feeling his soft skin over his hard muscles, enchanted by the way he feels under you. He relishes in your touch, hypnotized.

“Your hands are so small,” he mutters, his fingers lightly digging into your sides.

You chuckle lightly, losing your breath as you speak. “You’re just big.”

He smiles against your lips, his hands on your hips moving you slowly up and down on top of him. But, like you said, he’s big. Your hips grind over his belly, but the movement alone is enough to make you moan. You sigh heavily against his lips, pulling back just enough to speak as your brows knit together.

“Miguel,” you breathe. “I need you.”

He nods, reaching a hand to the back of your head to encourage you into another kiss. “I know, baby, I know,” he whispers. He opens his eyes to see you, and he loses his breath at the sight of you: disheveled with desire for him. You open your eyes to look at him, and he can see the way you gaze at him, like he’s everything to you.

His hand slips from your waist, down the length of your body until he’s dipping it between your legs. You bite your bottom lip as you moan at the way his fingers graze the thin fabric covering your pussy. Your whole body shudders at the feeling, and he just watches you react to him.

He rubs his finger teasingly over you, feeling as you slowly become more and more wet as he does. You grind your hips into his hand, eager to feel him. “You want my fingers in you, baby?” he says, his voice low and rough. “You want ‘em to stretch out this little pussy for my cock?”

“Please,” you mewl.

He's weak as he dips his finger underneath your panties and slips it past your folds, working it into you as he watches your lips part at the sensation. You grind against his hand, seeking more of him as his thick finger slowly moves in and out of your warmth. When you're slicked up enough, he slips another one inside. And then a third.

His fingers thrust in and out of you, slowly building in speed as he seeks out your delicious moans, the way your eyes flutter and your tongue darts out to lick your chapped lips.

“So pretty,” he mutters. “Your little moans sound so pretty, querida. I love them.”

You breathe soundly, squeezing around his thick fingers as he curls them inside of you. “Fuck, Miguel,” you moan. “Mm, keep going.”

He does, spreading you open with his fingers as he gets you nice and slick for him. His cock is painfully hard now, restrained by his shorts as it tents them. He feels like he'll explode just watching you. As you continue to grind your hips down on his hand, he shifts his thumb over your clit and begins to rub circles over it. “Mírate. See how beautiful you are, mi pequeña cosa?”

Your breath blows heavily through parted lips. His words play over and over in your head. “I'm in love with you. I'm in love with you. I'm in love with you.” You moan and hold the sides of his face, stroking your thumbs over his cheeks as the pleasure rises within you.

“‘M gonna cum,” you shudder, your pussy clenching around his fingers.

He curls his fingers some more, massaging them inside of you against that spongy spot he knows you adore. “Cum for me, chiquita.”

You do, mouth parting and eyes squeezing as the wave of pleasure washes over you. He feels you tighten and untighten around his fingers, encouraging your spasms by pumping them through it. You moan his name, slowly coming down from the pleasure as your hips jerk at the feeling of his fingers.

He pulls them out of you, bringing you down into another kiss as his lips slide against yours. “You did so good for me,” he sighs, leaning into you as you hum against him.

You pull at his shorts, pushing them down his thick thighs to get them off him. He actually helps you, kicking them off and leaving him bare as you continue to straddle him with his shirt draping low on your body.

You go to take it off, but he stops you, his hand on yours. “No,” he says. “You look perfect in it.”

He set his hands on your hips once more, raising you to hover over his cock. He stops, waiting for you. You want to kiss him again, biting your lip roughly as you whisper. “Please.” You stroke his face, “I need you.”

He’s weak. He can do nothing but comply as he lines you up with him, letting you down just enough to squeeze the head of him inside you. You moan, closing your eyes at the feeling as he holds you steady with a grunt. It’s you who lets him sink deeper inside, grinding your hips against his cock as you make him lower you.

He stretches you out, a delicious stretch you could never grow used to as you moan all the way down. When he’s buried to the hilt with you sitting properly above him, he groans. “Fuck, I love this little pussy,” he grunts. “You always take me so well.”

You huff, catching your breath as you roll your hips slightly, shuddering at the pleasure. “So big,” you mutter, gripping his hips as you give yourself another moment to get used to his size before rolling your hips again. The feeling is electric, sets off a deep hunger in your belly that has you grinding down on him so desperately.

“You like that?” he breathes. “‘Course you do. My tiny girl loves it when I stretch her out like this.”

You roll your hips over him, moaning as his cock presses deep inside of you. His hands slip underneath your shirt, feeling your waist as he helps you grind down on him. Your rhythm is slow and measured, feeling everything. Every little roll, every little squeeze, every little ridge of his cock dragging against your walls.

“Fuck, you’re so big,” you moan again, relishing in him.

He smiles, continuing to watch as you fall apart on top of him. You feel him sit up, one of his hands wrapping tightly around your waist. You open your eyes to look at him, whimpering when he slips his cock out of you.

“Shh,” he says, flipping you onto your back as his massive body towers over you, his size that of a predator but the gentleness of his touch and the care in his eyes that of a man who loves a woman. “I’m gonna take care of you, mi corazón.”

His eyes stay glued to yours when he thrusts back in. Both your moans rumble in your throats as you watch each other. He rocks his hips back and forth inside you, thrusting so deep and pulling out so far before doing it all over again.

He holds onto your tight as he fills you with his cock, so wrapped up in you as you moan and squeeze around him. The pace, still slow, picks up as he thrusts deep within you, grinding against the deepest part of you with a groan in the back of his throat.

You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer as you bury your face in his chest. “Fuck, that’s good,” you whisper.

He manages to kiss your forehead, his hand slipping underneath you to encourage his steady rhythm as you continue to clench. His other hand finds your clit, rubbing slow circles over the sensitive bundle of nerves as he builds you up for another orgasm.

You tense, your walls fluttering around him at the feeling of his thumb on your clit. He grunts at the feeling of it, ready to fall apart as he watches you. “I love you, mi amor.” You shudder at the words. “I love your little body. I love your little smile. I love your little eyes. I love your stupid little jokes and the way…the way you care about me too much.”

You cradle his face in your hands, melting at his confessions. “I love you,” he says again, his voice spent and his breath speeding up as you squeeze around his cock and moan his name like a spell.

“Miguel, I…” you moan, the pleasure building into a knot in your stomach as you get ready to explode. You breathe in and you keep breathing in as he presses a little harder on your clit, circles a little harder as you clench him so tight.

Your eyes shut and your lips part as you come, moaning loudly as the ecstasy washes over you like a crashing wave. You roll your hips up into the pleasure, whimpering when he presses himself as deeply inside of you as he can go, grinding and intensifying every little feeling.

Miguel almost collapses on top of you when he cums, dropping his head down and grunting with a heavy breath as he spills inside of you, nearly fucking into you as he does. He moans something under his breath, all his muscles tensing as he keeps pumping his cock into you. You wrap your legs around his waist to pull him in closer.

It’s a while before you both come down, catching your breaths as the pleasure wanes and leaves a pleasant buzz in your bones. He pulls out of you, and you whimper at the sudden emptiness.

He sits up to pull some of his weight off you, though you keep him down by his waist to feel his body still looming over you. He brushes his fingers over your forehead, your heavy eyelids fluttering open.

“Fuck,” you sigh, looking up at him with a sticky smile. You readjust yourself so you can see his face better, taking it in your hands and pulling him down to kiss his lips. The kiss is soft, a gentle embrace as you take your time to pour your care into it.

“I love you, too,” you whisper back at him, kissing him again and then whispering it once more. He smiles. It’s a slow and small smile that spreads over his lips. For a moment, he forgets about all the fears and pains and dangers of love and just thinks about you. How much he loves you. He kisses you again.

“And I was fuckin’ right,” you smile, a gentle chuckle in your chest.

He hums. “About?”

“It is a fuckin’ Christmas movie.”

It takes him a moment to realize what you were talking about. It’s just then when he remembers the movie still playing in the background, another slow song in the background from the one girl that was meant to be a play on Frankenstein’s monster. He doesn’t remember her name, he wasn’t paying much attention.

He laughs. It isn’t a small laugh either. He throws his head and closes his eyes as a loud, booming laugh erupts from his chest and fills the room. It’s so genuine and so electric, you can’t help your own as you join his excitement.

You both laugh for a while, calming down enough for him to kiss you again and say, “You are right.” He takes a breath, staring down at you with a wide smile. “It is a fuckin’ Christmas movie.”

You giggle again, sighing deeply as you pull his weight down on top of you (though he still holds most of it to keep from crushing your tiny body). You hum, speaking in a quiet whisper. “I love you.”

Miguel wraps you in his arms and turns you both around so you’re laying on top of him. He pulls the blanket from where it had fallen on the floor and spreads it over your body, slipping his hand under your shirt so he touches your bare back.

“Merry Christmas,” he mutters, letting out a slow breath. “I love you.”

Oscar Isaac taglist: @loki-hargreeves @hb8301 @tessarqctt @fanreader @alexxavicry @gublur @katsukis1wife @hatterripper31 @papichulo120627 @anotherblackreader @kmc1989 @the-nerdy-goddess @minigirl87 @woahhajime @notzammm Tag yourself here…

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x reader smut #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara fanfic #miguel o'hara fanfiction #atsv miguel #across the spiderverse #across the spiderverse fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #reader insert #female reader #10 days of smutmas

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8bit-mau5 · 2 years

Text

fanart posting will have to wait, sorry roe ):

#8bit beeps #i gotta spend the nextfew hours reinstalling all my brushes #SIGHS #throws my body onto the floor #like a ragdoll

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sinsmockingbird · 4 months

Note

HEAR ME OUT–

MILF!reader in my head sounds so hot can someone pls do it or I'm gonna lose my mind HSJDKDNDKDND

Imagine Miko or Yelan thinking your so easy to dominate when it's the opposite cus you have more experience and it just throws them off on how you're so good at sucking on their pussies or pounding into them with your strap-

PLS HEAR ME OUT-

Milf!Reader!! Ough I love the thoughts this ask is bringing forth to my mind. The idea of Miko, Yelan or any other Genshin women thinking you'll be easy to dominate only to be proven wrong is so perfect.

CW: Smut under the cut.

✧ YAE MIKO

When Miko first saw you, she thought you were going to be so easy to have fun with. You were so polite and timid, eyes never really being able to meet hers while you talked. You were so adorable, a wonderful mother and truly a woman she was going to have fun with teasing and dominating.

But then, the second you finally have some alone time and enter your bedroom, you changed in a way that had Miko so excited and... nervous. The dominating aura you let out, command in your voice, and movements rough as you forced her to her knees, degrading her.

For the first time Miko felt so little, yet so turned on. You treated her like nothing more than an animal, yanking her hair, tugging at it, degrading her. Forcing her on all fours, while you fuck your strap into her from behind.

Miko has never felt so... little. She's never felt so happy to be treated like she's nothing, nothing more than your fuck toy that you can have fun with whenever you want. She finds herself wanting you to treat her roughly, toss her body around like she was nothing more than a ragdoll.

She's moaning so perfectly, crying out your name as you rearrange her insides over and over again. Tears falling from her face as you bring her to orgasm over and over again, not relenting till she's lost any sane thought, till she can't think.

And as soon as your finally done you go back to being so polite and timid, apologizing over and over again for leaving her numb. But Miko simply thanks you, kissing you reassuringly and mumbling against your lips how she can't wait for you to do it again.

✧ YELAN

Yelan has been eyeing you since the first time you walked into the club. You looked so modest and shy as your friends pulled you onto the dance floor or encouraged you to take shots. You looked so pretty with that flush on your face. You looked so perfect for her to ruin.

She'll slide up to you at the bar when you go up to get more drinks for you friends, striking up a modest conversation. She throws in a line about how you don't seem like the type to be at a club. That's how she learns that your a mother of two little kids.

Yelan will press only a little on the subject, learning how your friends pushed you to get out and have some fun, only for the night. That's how you ended up at the club, that's how you ended up her prey, how you ended up being beckoned by her to one of the back rooms.

As soon as she's kissing you, she notices something shift. You become so confident, so commanding, in a way that has Yelan breathless and clenching her thighs together. She finds herself giving the power to you so willing, moving to rest back on the couch in the private room, spreading her legs apart for you.

You settle between them so effortlessly, throwing her legs over your shoulders with such practiced ease. And then your tongue touches her aching heat, and she's completely at your mercy in seconds.

You work her so well, moving your tongue against and inside her so well. You suck her aching clit so perfectly that's she's creaming into your mouth in a minute. It leaves her seeing stars, leaves her light headed.

But you don't stop, continuing to work her over and over again, till she's cum so much she's shaky and has tears in her eyes, till her voice is hoarse. And when you do stop, your peppering her face in kisses, telling her well she did and apologizing softly for doing too much. She just shushes you with a kiss, while asking for your number so you can dominate her again.

#*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟsins writings #*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟsins inbox #genshin impact #genshin smut #yelan #genshin!yelan #sub!yelan #yelan x reader #yelan x you #yea miko #genshin!miko #sub!miko #yae miko x reader #yae miko x you

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woso-dreamzzz · 5 months

Text

Gone

Hardersson x Child!Reader

Part of the Big Adventures Universe

Summary: Your Momma is gone

Momma doesn't wake you up.

That's a little strange.

Momma almost always wakes you up.

You look at your window. Sun comes through your curtains and you frown. It isn't night time anymore but still Momma hasn't come to get you.

You shuffle out of your bed, feet touching your soft carpet. You grab your girl-swan from her place on your pillow and head out the door. You find Momma and Morsa's room without difficulty. Opening the door happens to be more of a problem but you manage to get it done.

Morsa is sitting up in bed, typing on her laptop.

You look at her.

She looks at you.

Momma's side is empty.

You frown.

Morsa smiles at you though and she taps the space in bed next to her. Morsa doesn't offer to let you in the Big Bed a lot so you hurry to take it, clambering under the covers and wiggling your way to her side.

She kisses your head and wraps an arm around you, pulling you in even closer.

You peer at her screen but it's got a lot of boring English on it so you glance back at Momma's side. "Where...Where Momma?" You reach out to touch her side. It's cold. Momma hasn't been here for a while.

"Momma's out, princesse," Morsa says," So it's a y/n and Morsa day."

Your crinkle appears as you think over her words. You've never had a y/n and Morsa day before. Back in Germany, everyday was a Momma and y/n day and now in England everyday is a y/n, Momma and Morsa day.

"No," You say suddenly," Not y/n and Morsa day. y/n, Momma and Morsa. Like everyday." You nod, satisfied with your solution.

Morsa cards her fingers through your hair. "Sorry, princesse, but Momma's already gone. She's meeting with her other friends, remember? She told you last night?"

You whimper. You definitely don't remember and you don't like being blindsided by this. You feel positively heartbroken at this revelation.

You've never had a day without Momma before, at least not one you've ever remembered. You're not entirely sure you know what to do without Momma.

"But...But..." You scramble to find a reason to get Momma home this instant. You feel triumphant when you finally think of one. "What about breakfast? Momma always makes breakfast."

Morsa looks at you fondly, a kiss pressed to your hair as she turns off her laptop and gets out of bed. "Silly, y/n," She says," Morsa will cook breakfast."

"You can't!"

She gives you a weird look. "Princesse, I made breakfast for myself all the time before you and your Momma moved in."

"You can't make mine!" You adjust your wording. "Momma makes my breakfast! Like always!"

Morsa pulls you into her arms as you tear up, eyes watering. "Oh, princesse, it's okay. It's alright."

It's not okay and it's not alright. Your little tears come into full blown sobs and you reach out for Momma's side of the bed like it would suddenly make her appear.

●～●～●～●～

Your sour mood persists throughout the few hours you've been awake and, frankly, Magda has seen nothing like it.

You were always such a happy kid, always excited to see her and sit with her but now, you don't seem to know what to do with yourself.

You had picked at your breakfast even though Magda made your favourite pancakes and said you could put as much syrup on it as you wanted.

You refuse to get dressed and you squirm away from her when she goes to brush your hair. She releases you when you get a little angry and you grab your swan toy and plop yourself down onto the floor by the door.

You pointedly ignore her as you stare at it.

She keeps an eye on you for a while before moving to quickly put on some laundry and put the dirty dishes in the dishwasher.

You don't move from your position for well over forty-five minutes and Magda grows worried.

She sits behind you and pulls you into her lap. The first indication that something is terribly wrong with you is when you ragdoll as she touches you, going completely boneless and limp.

The second indication is the way that you speak completely in Danish. At home, your speech is an amalgamation of Swedish and Danish, easily slipping between them with random bits of German and English to make sure you keep up with your understanding (Pernille is adamant that at some point in the future you will all end up back in Germany).

For you to slip completely into Danish is worry.

"Princesse," She says and then gets her third indication.

You don't react at all to her sweet nickname. If anything, you seem to recoil before you suck in a shuddery breath and say with shaky speech," When Momma coming home?"

Magda checks her watch. "You've got a lot of hours to wait, princesse. More than six."

"I wait," You insist but you feel incredibly shaky and worried about Momma. She's never not been there when you wake up before. "I-I wait for Momma."

Morsa nods at you, a hand running over your head. "Okay, princesse," She says and if you were properly listening, you would realise that she sounds a little bit sad," If you want me, I'll be watching tv. You come get me if you need a cuddle or something."

●～●～●～●～

You look positively miserable and Magda is running out of ideas. She has tried absolutely everything.

You didn't want to play with your toys or colour or watch your favourite show. If anything, the longer Pernille was away, the worse you seem to get.

Your shoulders hunch over and you slouch, lips wobbling.

Magda's just coming back from the bathroom when she sees you burst into tears. There's no lead up to it, just full on hysterical sobs.

"Oh, princesse, oh." She scoops you up quickly, pacing the length of the hall while bouncing you, something she used to do back when you were a baby.

It soothes you a little but mostly makes you want your Momma.

You sob and you sob and Magda flounders as she tries to get you to calm. Your hand fists her top and your tears continue even as she promises you the world to get you to stop crying.

"Momma," Is your broken hearted response," Wan-Wan' Momma."

"I know." Magda feels halfway to tears herself. "I want Momma too."

You end up practically catatonic on her chest.

Magda lies down on the sofa, propped up against the armrest. You end up calming down by yourself but it takes a long while and you're still whimpering slightly as you wipe your nose on her top.

"It's okay, it's okay," Magda repeats. In the back of her mind, she knows that this will need to be addressed by her and Pernille tonight. Your meltdown shouldn't have happened and Magda thinks that it's partially her fault.

You had lived with Pernille for all your life, had attached onto Pernille more because Magda could only be present sometimes. It makes sense that her sudden disappearance today had thrown you into a tailspin.

Magda feels terrible though, even after she's rationalised it, because she can't give you what you want, which is Pernille. She can do nothing but let you tire yourself out, going limp in her arms as soft hands card through your hair.

When the front door, finally opens, you dissolve into a fresh wave of sobs - this time, because you can see Momma.

"What's wrong, princesse?" She coos at you, endlessly confused because you don't look hurt or sick and seem perfectly fine to lay in Magda's arms.

"She missed you," Magda replies, standing up and passing you to Pernille," She's been hysterical all day." Magda feels herself getting tearful just like you as her vision waters. "And-And nothing I did helped!"

Pernille takes you easily and reaches an arm out to cradle Magda's face. "It's okay," She says," She's still adjusting. You did nothing wrong."

"Feels like it."

"Do you need a minute?" Pernille asks.

Magda nods, excusing herself. She reaches the bedroom and bursts into tears.

Pernille has assured her time and time again that she's a good mother, a great mother but right now, it doesn't feel like it. Settling you down and comforting you should be second nature but it just makes her feel awkward and strung through with worry.

She stares at herself in the mirror and angrily wipes away her tears.

The door opens just as Magda has gotten a hold of herself.

Pernille is there and so are you (of course). You still a look a little teary eyed from where you're on Pernille's hip, hand clutched tightly around the collar of her shirt.

"See?" Pernille says as she bounces you lightly," Morsa is right there. She hasn't disappeared."

Your furrowed brow relaxes and you reach your other arm out for Magda. "Morsa," You say," With me and Momma." Your order is slightly comical. "For y/n, Momma and Morsa day. Like always."

Magda approaches you. Your hand catches onto her collar like your other one is clutching Pernille's. "Hey, princesse," She keeps her voice low and comforting," Are you feeling alright, now?"

"Better," You confirm," 'Cause Momma is back now and you are here." You nod firmly. "For cuddles in the Big Bed."

"Cuddles in the big bed?" Pernille laughs," I don't remember agreeing to that."

"Morsa said so," You say decisively," For when you weren't here and I was crying. Morsa say that we can have cuddles in the Big Bed and whatever I want for dinner."

You're right.

Magda did say that along with hurried promises for cake and ice cream and a baby swan so your girl-swan could be a Momma-swan. She kind of hopes that you only remember her promise for big bed cuddles and dinner.

"I did promise her," Magda says with a smile.

"Well, in that case," Pernille laughs," Let's get into the big bed and see what we can order for dinner.

#woso x reader #hardersson x reader #magdalena eriksson x reader #magdalena eriksson #pernille harder x reader #pernille harder #woso community #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso #The Big Adventures Universe

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gojoidyll · 27 days

Note

Teaching Aventurine how to dance... 😫👀

Love this so much anon!! 😫😫 cause like

ahhh, just imagine teaching aventurine how to dance, it's making me giggle and kick my feet. Like, I can imagine him being somewhat shy at first because it's you and he likes you (but doesn't want to admit it) but then gradually becomes confident and taking a hold on the situation once he has the steps down (mainly because he doesn't want you to notice how easily you are able to fluster him without even trying) 😳👀

Imagine that Aventurine must attend a banquet of some sort for the IPC but it requires him to dance with a few refined ladies that will be attending.

"Now place your hand on my waist like this."

Which was how he found himself holding you against himself. The palm of his hand gently cradling your own hand. While his other hand fell to your waist and your free hand finding purchase onto his shoulder.

"Since you'll be the one leading, you'll want to move your feet like this. Remember not to go too fast or you'll be dragging your partner around like a ragdoll. But don't go too slow either or your partner will end up stepping on your toes."

He could feel the heat radiate off of you as you gave him gentle instruction on how to move across the floor to the beats and tones of the music playing.

"Do you know the steps now?"

Aventurine nodded. He couldn't trust his words right now. Not with the way you were pressed against him.

"Want to try leading?"

Another nod.

You found it unusual at how silent he was being. No quips or remarks. Just pure focus. When he originally asked you to teach him how to dance, you thought he was joking. Though, as he held you close and moved you slowly throughout the song that was playing, you were glad that it wasn't a joke and that he was taking this seriously.

"You're doing so well!"

He couldn't stop the blush that started to form on his cheeks. He knew he had to do something quick or you would start to notice his bluff of concentration, "well, it helps that I have such a wonderful instructor," he said with ease as he dipped you. His hand moving to your lower back as he held you.

You were surprised that he did such a move, but impressed nonetheless when he went to pull you back up with such ease and within tune of the song no less!

And to be completely honest, even though you were teaching him how to dance, you were glad that his first dance was with you even if that does sound selfish on your part. (Little did you know, however, he felt the same.)

"That reminds me, my dear instructor?"

He made a sudden movement, his arm moving to encircle your lower back and pull you tight against him. Your noses were barely grazing each other, your breaths mixing together.

"The invitation to the banquet says I can bring a plus one, so how about it instructor, care to join me?"

"But what of all those rich young ladies waiting to dance with the ever so handsome, blonde gambler," you said ever the dramatic, your lips forming a little grin as you did so.

He chuckled lightly, "now that I know how to properly dance - I believe I want my lovely instructor to be my one and only dance partner."

Aventurine was glad he was able to calm his beating heart and actually conquer the furious blush that coated his cheeks. Because you may be the one teaching him how to dance, but he plans to be the lead from here on out.

Besides, it frustrates him how you are able to fluster him so easily without even trying. Just once he wants to see you become a stuttering mess and not the other way around. (And who knows, maybe he can get a few more dance lessons while he was at it too.)

#honkai star rail #hsr #aventurine #hsr aventurine #aventurine x y/n #aventurine x you #aventurine x reader #honkai star rail aventurine

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pinkydevil16 · 1 year

Note

ajax manhandling 😍

Okay: the 5 times Ajax manhandled Y/n in a week

Ajax smiled at Y/n as she walked in, his hands instantly reaching out and pulling her into his lap with a small yelp coming from her as one of his hand wrapped around her waist and the other sat on her thigh as he leaned back on the bench continuing what he was saying to Xavier.

"We'll totally win this year man." Xavier smirking as he showed Ajax his plan, Ajax nodding along as he dragged Y/n around his hand gripping her thigh tightly as he leaned over her chest to look at the page. Y/n rolling her eyes as she moved his head ready to get up, Ajax grinning at her as he let her go with a little wave pulling her hand so she was forced to dip down allowing him to kiss her, one of his snakes kissing her forehead quickly then disappearing under his beanie.

Y/n stood with Enid by the boat both going over the plans for the poe cup as Yoko kept painting, Y/n moving to point something out when she felt arms around her and suddenly faced the sky as Ajax laughed spinning her around as she squealed hitting his arms as he stopped spinning. Y/n looking over her shoulder at him waiting to he put down as he smiled childishly at her not putting her down until Enid hit his arm.

"Stop stealing my strategist, also she's not a ragdoll." Ajax grinned widely at Enid as he placed Y/n down kissing her cheek as he pulled her into his chest his arms tight around her waist as he leaned on her shoulder.

"She loves it." Y/n rolled her eyes hitting his arm, kissing him on the cheek as he let her go and shooing him away with a soft smile. Going back to her strategy explaining what each contraption she added did and when to use them so Enid could win the poe cup.

Ajax hid behind the tree as Xavier grabbed the flag, jumping out and grabbing Y/n around her waist making her shout out in fear as he held her back from getting to the flag, Xavier nodding at him as he pulled the flag free. Y/n smacking his arms and cursing at him as finally let her go running after Xavier as Y/n got off the floor scrambling for the flag as she glared at Ajax, the latter blowing her a cheeky kiss as she ran after them. Y/n smirking as they rowed past them blowing Ajax a kiss as Xavier had a mini tantrum.

Ajax climbed out the water soaked through as Enid and Y/n cheered at their victory, Xavier pulling Ajax to the tent so they could get out their soaked clothes. Coming out the tent Ajax walked over to Y/n as she grinned at him opening her arms for a kiss, Ajax ducking at the last minute throwing Y/n over his shoulder his hands roughly holding her thighs in her catsuit as he grinned at her team.

"Congrats guys." Ajax said before turning Y/n hitting his back as she moved holding herself up and staring at Enid as she swore at Ajax.

"Put me down!" Y/n demanded Ajax shaking his head with a wide grin and a bounce in his step making Y/n lose her balance and huff out as she dropped her upper body accepting her kidnapping as Ajax happily kept walking.

"You can't keep throwing me about whenever you want." Y/n huffed out as she stared at Ajax, a lazy grin on his face as he stared up at her, Y/n moving closer with an annoyed expression pointing her finger at him.

"Seriously i'm not-" Ajax reached out grabbing her thighs throwing her onto the bed as he hovered over her with a cheeky grin, Y/n huffing as she hit his chest.

"You love it." Ajax whispered leaning down to kiss her as he moved to grip her thighs dragging her closer and wrapping them around his waist dropping one hand to hold him up by her head as he dragged her about. Y/n laughing as he stood up dragging her with him as she held onto his neck his hands grabbing her tightly by the thighs as he kissed her neck. "Still want me to stop throwing you around?" Ajax teased Y/n as he bounced her upwards holding her higher against him so she could look down at him with a grin. Y/n rolling her eyes at him before Ajax held one arm under her thighs taking her hand off his neck and pushing it to his other as he pushed her upwards so she flopped over his shoulder Y/n making a noise as she stared at the floor, Ajax laughing.

"I stink of the lake lets go shower." Y/n rolled her eyes smacking his butt as he held her thighs tightly turning his head to nip as her waist making her squeal.

#ajax petropolis x reader #ajax petropolus x reader #wednesday ajax #ajax petropolus #wednesday #wednesday series #wednesday netflix

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goldengalore · 1 year

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Rough Day

Summary: For Harry, nothing makes up for a bad day better than rough sex. Luckily, he has his friend Y/N to help out with that.

Word count: 2.1k

Warnings: smut (friends with benefits, mean dom!harry, degradation, bondage, spanking w hands and belt, choking, oral, anal, use of ball gag and butt plug)

***

Harry slams the door behind him as he enters Y/N’s apartment. He texted her earlier to ask if he could come over. His message alluded to the possibility of rough play, which Y/N could hardly ever refuse. As soon as he arrives, she can sense the irritability radiating off of him. It shouldn’t excite her this much—her friend being in a crappy mood—but it does.

“Hey,” she greets him, sitting up on the couch where she’s been indulging in some online shopping for the past hour.

He just hums in response and drops his duffle bag on the floor before removing his shoes, coat, and gloves.

“Rough day?” she asks, studying him.

“You have no idea,” he mutters.

“Wanna talk about it?”

“Not really.”

Of course he doesn’t. Harry doesn’t like to talk at the end of a bad day. He likes to fuck. Without holding back.

Glancing at her, he says, “Wait there.” Then he picks up his bag and heads into her bedroom. A minute later, he emerges from the room without the bag and strides over to her.

“Up,” he says, as if he were instructing a dog.

“Okay.” She sighs and takes her time getting off the couch to avoid seeming too eager, even though on the inside, she’s ready to do just about anything he tells her.

Once she’s on her feet, he simply says, “Clothes off.”

Again, she dawdles while pulling her sweatshirt off and fumbles with the waistband of her shorts, lazily inching them down her legs. Harry releases an impatient sigh.

“Today, Y/N.”

“Okay, okay!” She quickly removes the rest of her clothes.

The path his eyes take as they trail down her bare body sends the blood rushing between her legs. He steps closer and places his mouth over hers. His hands rest on her hips for a mere second before sliding to her backside. He squeezes it firmly, his fingers digging into the flesh of her round cheeks and pulling her body upward. She rises up on her toes and clutches his shoulders for balance. His teeth bite into her bottom lip. He tugs her even closer until her naked body is flush against his clothed one.

The kiss ends abruptly, leaving her wanting more. All of a sudden, he lifts her off the ground and slings her over his shoulder like she weighs nothing at all. Her upper body hangs behind him, her ass in the air.

“What are you—?” she starts, but he lands a swift smack to her rear, ordering her to be quiet.

He carries her to the bedroom and tosses her on the bed, not bothering with gentleness, then flips her onto her stomach. While she finds her bearings, he bends down to grab something from his bag, which is sitting on the floor next to the bed.

A moment later, her wrists are pulled behind her back and cuffed together. His hands wrap around her ankles and yank her towards him until she’s bent over the edge of the bed with her feet on the floor. She hears the clink of his belt buckle behind her.

It all happens so fast. One moment, he’s rubbing the tip of his cock over her entrance, and the next, his entire length is inside her. No warning. No preamble. A strangled moan escapes her mouth.

“So fucking wet,” he growls, grabbing on to her hips. “You like being manhandled and tossed around like a ragdoll?”

He doesn’t wait for her to answer before ramming his cock into her again. Usually, he’ll start slow and build up to a hard and fast pace, but today, he seems overcome by a primal desperation—one that has probably been festering inside him all day. She can barely keep up, but that makes it all the more exhilarating.

One hand pins her bound wrists to her lower back, keeping her in place, while the other grips her hair and yanks her head backwards, forcing her to arch her back. He finishes fast, emptying deep inside of her cunt, grunting and moaning with relief. She looks over her shoulder at him.

“That’s it? I didn’t even come,” she says just to egg him on.

He grabs a fistful of her hair again and speaks lowly into her ear, “What makes you think I give a fuck about your pleasure, hm? Sluts like you don’t deserve to come.”

He releases her hair and pulls out. Some of his come leaks down her inner thigh. Through the corner of her eye, she sees him reach down towards his bag. And then something cool and hard pokes between her legs. He presses the object into her slit, twisting it around, dousing it in her arousal and his come. It’s a plug, she realizes. A rather large one.

Once it’s covered in a mix of their fluids, he uses his free hand to spread apart her cheeks and starts inserting the plug into her tightest hole. He doesn’t really take his time. The rounded tip goes in, then the rest of it is hastily crammed into her. They’ve been doing this long enough that it slides in easily, but she still squirms and whines at the discomfort.

“Oh, stop whining,” he snaps. “It’s not even that big. You’ve had bigger things in your ass before.”

She scowls at him over her shoulder. “Well, if you think it’s so easy, why don’t you try shoving one up your own ass?”

He retaliates with a harsh spank.

“Ow!”

“Bold of you to talk back to me from the extremely vulnerable position you’re in right now,” he threatens, and the effects of his words are felt right between her legs.

He grabs something else from his bag, then tells her to open her mouth before shoving a ball gag in there. He secures the leather strap behind her head.

“That’s better,” he says. “Should’ve done that ten minutes ago. Only thing your mouth is good for is sucking me off anyway. Isn’t that right?”

All she can do is glare at him with the gag in her mouth.

“Glad you agree, love,” he says with a cocky smirk.

A soft, plushy object is placed in her hand—the squeaky toy they use in place of the safeword when she’s bound and gagged. Then he folds his belt in half and gently glides the cool leather over her bum. As soon as he raises the belt, she tenses and screws her eyes shut, bracing herself for the first strike. When it doesn’t come, she relaxes a bit and opens one eye, falling for the same trick he’s used on her countless times.

The belt smacks against her ass. She cries out. A second smack makes her knees buckle, dragging her down a bit.

“Stay still,” he orders.

It’s a good thing she’s gagged because she definitely would’ve answered back with a snarky comment and made things worse for herself.

He whips her with the belt several times in a row. Her ass clenches around the plug each time. He pauses only briefly to run his hands over the bright red marks now decorating her backside, like an artist proudly inspecting his work. And then he’s back to belting her, occasionally aiming for the backs of her thighs. There’s no doubt that sitting will be a challenge tomorrow.

Tears stain the sheets beneath her while her cunt drips with arousal, the pain cathartic and excruciating at the same time. She comes somewhere between the punishing blows, too lost in the pleasure to keep count.

He eventually stops and tosses the belt aside, telling her to get up on the bed. It’s a little awkward with her hands cuffed behind her, but she manages anyway. Once again, he yanks her around like a doll until he has her in his desired position: lying on her back with her head hanging off the edge of the bed. Her hands are trapped under her but still free enough to squeak the toy if needed. He removes the gag from her mouth and instantly replaces it with his hard cock.

“Let’s put that whore mouth to good use,” he says as he begins fucking her mouth the same way he fucked her pussy earlier.

His tip connects with the back of her throat over and over, his large hands clawing at her breasts. He pinches and tugs at her nipples hard enough to make her body arch off the bed. Then he brings a hand to the front of her neck, squeezing it while his hips continue thrusting into her mouth. She presses her thighs together tightly.

Just when she thinks he’s going to come down her throat, he pulls out. She gasps for air. Finally, he takes off his own clothes and joins her on the bed, flipping her over onto her stomach. He uncuffs her wrists and cuffs them above her head instead, then lifts her up onto her knees and forearms.

She feels him tug on the base of the butt plug, fucking her with it a little before taking it out. He squirts a generous amount of lube between her cheeks and begins driving his cock into her ass but doesn’t get further than a couple inches. She’s too tense. It always seems to happen despite how many times they’ve done this.

“Gonna have to relax for me, love,” he says in the softest tone she’s heard him use all night. His hand caresses her lower back. He can be a dick sometimes, but he’s shockingly aware of when she needs a gentle touch.

“Give me a minute,” she says, steadying her breathing before telling him to continue.

He pushes in a bit more, then draws back and pushes in again, going a little deeper every time. Once the tightness in her muscles eases, he slides all the way in and holds himself there.

“Fuck,” she groans. “Fuck me.”

“Beg.”

Her mind is so muddled by the intense sensation of her hole stretching around his cock that she almost doesn’t hear the word.

“Huh?”

“Beg me to fuck your ass,” he demands.

That bastard.

“Fuck you,” she replies, though it comes out as more of a whine than an insult.

“I’m not moving an inch until you beg.” He grips her hips tightly to ensure that she can’t move either.

She doesn’t want to give in so quickly, doesn’t want to give him the satisfaction. But as much as she hates to admit it, Harry’s dick makes her weak. And the worst part is he knows it too.

“Please, H, please fuck me. Your cock feels so good in my ass. I need you to fuck me hard and not hold back. Just— Fuck! Just use me for your pleasure. Please.”

Finally, Harry’s hips start moving. He retracts them, then thrusts forward sharply. She cries out in surprise and relief. He starts pounding into her. Quick, sharp thrusts. One after another. With little pause in between. She would reach down and rub her clit if her wrists weren’t bound together. Fortunately, Harry has the same thought. His hand finds her clit, rubbing it in fast circles to speed up her orgasm.

She feels it crash over her moments later, igniting in her core and spreading outward to her limbs. Harry continues fucking her through it, not slowing down for a second. He tells her he’s going to come in her ass, calling her his good little cumslut and his perfect little fucktoy and every filthy word in the book, becoming more and more incoherent until he finally lets go with a deep groan.

Rolling over onto the bed, he frees her wrists and tosses the cuffs to the side, not caring where they land. Y/N lets her knees give out under her and falls onto her stomach with a soft thud. She closes her eyes. A while later, his fingertips graze the back of her shoulder.

“Hey,” he says softly, “you good?”

She opens her eyes and grins. “Yup.”

“Wasn’t too rough, was I?”

“You know that’s how I like it.”

A pleased sigh leaves his lips. He runs a hand through his hair, pushing the stray curls off his damp forehead.

“Thanks for letting me come over,” he says. “I really needed that.”

“Aww, you needed me?” she teases, knowing how much he despises the idea of “needing” anyone.

He scoffs and looks away, but not before Y/N can notice the blush creeping into his cheeks.

“You wish,” he grumbles.

“Whatever you say, tough guy.”

***

Thank you for reading! MASTERLIST

#harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles smut #harry styles x reader #harry styles imagines #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles one shot #harry styles angst #harry styles fanfic #harry styles x you #harry styles fic #harry styles writing #harry styles x y/n #harry styles oneshot #domrry #dom!harry #mean dom harry #fwb!harry #my writing

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fear-is-truth · 14 days

Text

TEMPTER, OR THE TEMPTED?

── kai anderson x fem! reader

part II of SWEET PUNISHMENTS

warnings: mdni! edging. cockwarming. dub con. unprotected p in v. exhibitionism. name calling. not proofread + english is not my first language

a/n: this was kinda rushed cuz i was sick when i wrote this one... sorry if there are any misspellings!

read part one here!!

The clock hung on the wall to your left, its numbers just out of your line of sight, as if making a mockery of your inability to tell how much time had passed. It felt like hours since Kai forced you to sit on his cock during a cult meeting. As a punishment.

Oh fuck.

Your thighs gave a telltale quiver, and then you felt the warm gush of your arousal dribbling onto Kai’s trousers. Panicked, you casually glanced around the crowed basement. Fortunately, no one seemed to notice, since their eyes were glued on your Divine Ruler.

Unfortunately, Kai noticed. Pausing mid-sentence, he leaned his face near your ear in a conspiratorial manner.

“Poor lamb… can’t control yourself, hm?”

He chuckled darkly before turning his attention back to his gang of loyal lapdogs.

“Boys! Remember what I said about porno?”

Kai hollered on top of his lungs, right next to your ear which made you wince. Obnoxious creep. Murmurs of agreement rippled through the men, punctuated by an overly enthusiastic “Hell fucking yes!” by that suck-up nicknamed Speedwagon whom you especially despised.

“Are we allowed to watch it?”

He screamed. Again, the room chorused in unison— “No!” “Fuck no!” and “Porn makes you weak!” A sinister smirk tugged at the corners of his lips as he nodded, satisfied.

“Your leader has taught you well. In that case, guess what boys, you're in for a treat today!”

With that, he grabbed you by the elbows and hoisted you off his lap as if you were nothing but a ragdoll. Before you could react, you found yourself sprawled on the floor.

A shocked gasp, and then someone (you suspected it was that fuckass dickhead Gary) let out a wolf-whistle. You realised in sickening horror, how pathetic you must looked—your hair was a disheveled mess, the miniskirt and the lack of panties displayed your lower regions to Kai and the rest of the men to gawk at.

Embarrassment burned hot against your cheeks as you fought to suppress a sob that had been welling up in your chest. Twenty-two pairs of eyes bore into you, a mixture of shock, amusement, and silent judgment.

“Discipline. That’ll do you good,”

Kai clicked his tongue reproachfully before bending down, administrating two, harsh slaps across your ass. You whimpered, because it stung but mostly out of humiliation. You started to crawl, military style on your elbows in a feeble attempt to escape.

“Just where do you think you’re going, lamb?”

Amused, he allowed you to get a few feet away before he squatted down and grabbed you roughly by the ankles, dragging you back towards him. Frantically, you scrambled desperately to find purchase on the carpet, your nails leaving marks like a silly cartoon cat.

The urge to kick him in the face was dangerously tempting. Kai was going to carry out his threat, because you fully knew he had no issues with having sex in front the cult. In fact, the idea was probably even more gratifying to him to see everyone's reaction to your humiliation.

Twisted, sick fuck that he was.

And yet, why did this shit turned you on?

Perhaps you were as sick as he was.

“Such a whore for your leaders attention,” he positioned himself behind you, “…Now you’re gonna get what you’ve been begging for. You know why? Because I’m no tyrant; I’m your benevolent, gracious ruler!”

Digging his nails into your hips, Kai slammed his cock inside you, burying himself to the hilt in one, smooth movement. Thanks to the prelude of your punishment, your body had already worked itself well enough to accommodate the full force of his brutality without too much agony.

You cried out when your face rubbed against the coarse texture of the carpet, the friction burning your skin. Even so, the sensation of him filling you felt so exquisitely good that you loathed yourself.

It was only a matter of moments before the men started to get restless; fidgeting in their sleeping bags and looking visibly uncomfortable as they witnessed Kai dole out “punishment”.

“Little slut, gonna fill you up with my divine seed-”

A throaty moan escaped his lips, and then he started to fuck you with earnest. The wet squelches of your connecting bodies ricocheted through the basement, and your back arched every time his hips came in contact with your ass.

Walls constricting around him, you felt the tip of his cock hit your sweet spot again and again, prompting your back to arch like a tightly wound bow. Kai leaned forward, chin resting on your shoulder as he whispered:

“The tempter, or the tempted, who sins most?”

At first, the question made absolutely no sense to you. Then it clicked; the theatrical fuck was quoting Shakespeare.

Ridiculous as it seemed, that was all it took to sent you thrashing over the edge. Euphoric waves of pleasure crashed through your body, and Kai was right behind you in his quest for release. In a matter of seconds, rope after rope of his cum was spilling into you, just as he’d promised. Still panting, he pulled out of you with a soft, wet squelch.

Trembling, you stayed sprawled on the floor, the combined release leaking out between your thighs. The room was pin-drop silent. The only sound that could be heard was the rustle of cloth as Kai pulled up his trousers.

“Now boys, tell me. This is way better than PornHub, right?”

TAGLIST @acidbrainstorm @evanpetersmybf @alittlesil @kaiandersonsdevotedwife @ellaaaaa44 @warrenlipkaswife @slvt4jamesmarch @kaismanwich @maddaline @evpeters87 @lacucarachapisser @howtobesasha @lissasharp @feefymo @night-prowler666 @nickrhodeslittledarling @bluerthanvelvet444 @r8ttenapples @nahoyasboyfriend @kai-slut @lak3cityqui3tpills @coentinim @doll3tt33 @taintandviolent @babygorewhore @violet1737 @sukirosiac @slutforgarlogan @90sbr1descake @newwavesylviaplath @am3ricanh0rrorwh0re @k31sley @violet-harmon2011 @luuuuucyscorner @babydollxxblood @sugarr-and-spicee @viscerati

+ send an ask to be added

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inkyquince · 4 months

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There's something about freakishly tall men. Towering over. Freak tall men. Using their height against you. You have absolutely no hope of getting away from hands pining your hands above your head, thighs pressed against your crotch, mean mean mean. MEAN freakishly tall men.

So Bailey, but freakishly tall. So so mean, so so freakish. The way he's leaning over his poor little orphan, his body curving unnaturally, hissing in their face.

Morgan. A towering beast in the sewers, following close to his prey, silent despite how fucking big he is. Of course you cannot get away, he's too fucking big, just lugs you around. Picking you up around your middle, huffing his hot breath against the top of your head, dragging you around no matter how much you squirm, your feet never touching the floor.

Veteran Guard, a fucking monster as he stalks the halls of the prison, cap nearly brushing the ceiling of the narrow halls, filling up the entire fucking space. You have no hope of getting away from him. His eyes gleaming from under his cap, a predator, can grab you and pin you down, and encompass your entire body. Lying on top of you, suffocating you, broad chest pressing against your shoulder blades, his legs extending over yours, his breath hitting your temple as he pins you down.

Also all of these men, would fucking have you ragdolling as they grip your waist and bounce you up and down on their cock, unrelenting as they pound your hole, ruining it as they just use you endlessly. You can barely even hold onto their shoulders as they break you in for them.

#teehee #dol #nsft #self reblog #morgan the sewer dweller #bailey the caretaker #veteran guard #degrees of lewdity #i just #been thinking of some fucking freakishly tall men

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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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