#oikawa x iwa | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

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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kageyuji · 7 months

Text

meeting his friends

⤷ oikawa, iwaizumi, kuroo ; [gn!reader]

warnings/genre: none, just fluff :) also not beta read el oh el

notes: uhm. heyyyy i’m back from the dead. anyway its 2023 what is wrong w me IUFHRE

━━ oikawa;

oikawa had always been good about hiding his nerves. he made a habit of hiding his anxieties with a charismatic smile and witty line.

this is why his current predicament was a statistical outlier.

he sat at the door of the gym, where he could hear the impact of volleyballs on the ground and the sharp chirps of shoes against the floor. he could also hear his heart pounding in his ear and feel the heat rising from his chest to the tips of his ears. his palms were sweaty and he couldn’t manage to make himself stand still.

it was when he heard your voice call his name that he felt relief wash over him. for a moment, anyway.

you smiled. you were so happy, so excited, to finally meet his friends. don’t get him wrong — he was excited to show you off, and to finally get to brag about how great you were to his friends. the issue he had was the insecurity biting at him.

“are you ready?” you asked, voice near-mockingly sweet for how nervous he felt.

“of course, my dear,” he smiled, placed a quick kiss to your forehead, and grabbed your hand. his thumb began to rub small circles around your knuckles, although you couldn’t help but think that maybe it was more so to calm his nerves than yours.

as the door shut with an awkwardly-loud bang, his team stopped. a single volleyball bounced once more against the floor and hit iwaizumi in the ankle almost comically.

“hey,” he started. his mouth was dry. was he breathing fast? he felt like he wasn’t getting enough air. “this, this is y/n. i’m sure you’ve heard me-”

“they’re your partner, right?” mattsun called.

you squeezed his hand. the smile on your face eased the fluttering in his chest, almost, almost making him forget about the fact that he hadn’t said anything.

“yes. yes, they are.” he realized now that he was smiling. he squeezed your hand back. “and i imagine that they’ll be around for a while, so get used to their face.

━━ iwaizumi;

“i’m excited!” oikawa whined.

of course he was excited. excited because he knew how much oikawa had been itching to embarrass him ever since his relationship status had reached oikawa’s ears. iwaizumi, as much as he adored you, was painfully aware of this fact and had been equally concerned to introduce you to setter.

“i’m aware, ‘kawa, just don’t scare them off at the earliest convenience. okay?”

“loud and clear.” oikawa gave a mock-salute and sat back in his chair. it earned a small smile, but it didn’t change the fact that iwaizumi was a little bit concerned still.

a knock was heard on the door.

iwa was on his feet in his second and opening the door just as quickly. he met you with a smile, although you weren’t ignorant to the nerves hiding behind it. he had taken the time to text you on your way over and warn you that oikawa might subject you to embarrassing stories and (well-meaning) jokes at iwa’s expense.

“hey! i’m y/n,” you spoke.

“it’s nice to meet you,” oikawa smiled and stood up to meet you where you were standing just in side the door. “i’m oikawa. although i’m sure your boyfriend talks about me at all hours of the day.”

“whatever helps you sleep at night.” iwaizumi said. “anyway, you can come in and sit.”

oikawa mock bowed; back bent perfectly, one arm tucked under his chest and one against his back, pleased look on his face. the whole nine yards.

this was going to be… fun.

━━ kurro;

“i would imagine that i know how to impress my own partner.” kurro frowned.

“do you?” kenma asked, holding up the flowers he had gotten you.

he always meant well with gifts. although there were some times where he sent them without really knowing why he was getting them — he just liked to give you things, he supposed. regardless, he had bought the flowers with the thought process of them being a peace offering between you and his friends. why he needed a peace offering, he didn’t know, but he just wanted the interaction to go smoothly.

his favorite people were meeting each other. he was allowed to be a little nervous, alright?

that said, he drew his attention back to the flowers. met his black stare, kenma sighed.

“the thorns. and the leaves. take them off.” kenma huffed. he handed the bouquet back over to kurro. from beside the black-haired individual, bokuto gave the flowers a tentative sniff.

“get your nose out of their flowers!” kurro frowned again.

bokuto held his hands up in defense, although the three of them were now laughing. he joined kenma on the couch and left kurro to tend to the flowers. from his trek to the kitchen, they vaguely heard something and timing and leaves, although they couldn’t have been bothered to clear up whatever he had been babbling about.

that was, until a few minutes later when the two of them heard a knock. they shared a knowing look before bokuto fell over himself trying to race to the door. he opened it with record speed and a crazed look on his face.

you looked surprised to see him at the least.

“hi. uhm, bokuto, i assume?”

from behind him, you watched as a blonde grabbed the back of his shirt and dragged him back into the house. he offered you an apologetic look. he called for kurro, before looked back at you.

“sorry. you can come in. well… it’s not my house, but you can come in.”

you blinked. well, ok then.

you stepped inside in time to see bokuto plopping himself down on the couch and kenma walking over to join him. as if on cue, kurro rounded the corner with roses in his hand.

his eyes darted from you, to the two of his friends, and then back to you. he looked akin to a deer caught in headlights before he muttered a preemptive apology for the two of them.

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leahrintarou · 8 months

Text

☠︎︎ DAY TWELVE: MARKING FT. IWAIZUMI

☠︎︎ WARNINGS: y/n is a tease, jealous iwaizumi, hickey giving lol, they're roommates

☠︎︎ WORD COUNT: 950+

"y/n" he called from his seating on the living room's sofa. she hummed in response, acknowledging his call for her attention. "can i talk to you for a second?"

she was confused but curious at the same time. her long term roommate wasn't the kind of person to request her attention in such a confrontational tone. "yeah sure, let me put my bags away first"

he hesitantly nodded, aware to the fact that she'd just returned back to their home and needed to put away her newly purchased belongings. he listened to the sounds of her steps slowly fading off in the direction of her bedroom.

three minutes..

six minutes..

eight minutes..

iwaizumi was getting impatint as time passed by, causing him to get up from his seat on the sofa. he walked down the hallway and into y/ n's room, seeing the door slightly cracked open. he knocked a couple times, slightly pushing the door open when he heard y/n's hum of approval.

expecting to see her just putting away her purchases, she was instead trying them on. he'd have no problem with that if it weren't for the fact that the purchased items were lingerie sets.

"I'll stop by tomorrow" she said, catching iwaizumi's attention. she had her phone held to her ear, holding a conversation with what seemed to be a close friend of hers. y/n turned around, glancing up at iwaizumi to see what it was that he wanted. she noticed his flustered expression, before informing the person that she would talk to them another time, eventually ending the shared call.

"what do you think? i was just about to call you since i wanted your opinion on it" she smiled tossing her phone onto her bed. "who was that?" he questioned, noticing how y/n fumbled with the laced fabric of her top. "kuroo. why?" he reached for y/n's wrist, pulling her figure closer to himself before speaking.

"i told you i wanted to talk to you about something" he reminded her of his words, noticing the apologetic look that unknowingly formed on y/n's once calmed expression. "oh my gosh. i fucking forgot, i'm sorry. what was it that you needed?"

he sighed, eyes leaving her own gaze before actually taking in their current state. their lips were practically in reach of the others, the only thing covering y/n being the sheer fabric of laced detailed lingerie. "you don't feel guilty of wearing something like that while on the phone with a friend?"

she smiled shaking her head before moving away from his figure to take a seat on the edge of her bed. "at least i wasn't naked" she mumbled before laying on her back. iwaizumi couldn't help but admire her figure. she looked so vulnerable at the moment. he sensed y/n's own gaze before lazily looking up to catch it.

"are you jealous?" she questions, staring up at the ceiling to voice her words properly, trying not to get caught up in his peering gaze. "there's nothing to be jealous about. i've done the same thing with you too. except, i wasn't wearing this" y/n said, indirectly poking a tease at him.

"then what were you wearing?" he questioned through a stillness toned voice.

she made eye contact with him, smirking before seeing his eyes widening as she focused back onto the detail of the ceiling. iwaizumi walked up closer to y/n before placing a cold palm onto her abdomen. feeling her tense at the unwelcoming touch of low temperature.

he propped himself up by placing a knee in-between y/n's slightly parted thighs, hovering directly over her body, making it harder to avoid his gaze. "why don't you try wearing something else..?"

"like what?"

"they're purple and can cover practically everything on you"

he leaned down, closer to y/n, pressing a kiss onto her lips before slowly trailing down her jaw and to her neck. a breathy sigh escaped from her mouth when she felt felt the warmth of his tongue lap at a sensitive spot that only he knew of.

iwaizumi knew that it was an area that only he knew would drive y/n crazy, making him only use it to his advantage even more. "wanna give kuroo a call back? i'm sure you two weren't done talking"

she shook her head letting out a small whine of a drawn out "no". iwaizumi was satisfied at the prominent bruise that now resided on her neck before admiring the rest of her exposed body, slowly mimicking the same process in what seemed to be like a specified shape.

he smiled taking a glance up at y/n to admire her panting expression, evidence from his abusing pleasure to her chest. he hummed against her skin, feeling her hand thread through his hair when small nibbles were felt against her breast.

iwaizumi moved down lower, slightly letting out a groan when y/n tugged on his hair. she noticed his movements were more controlled and somehow pinpointed in a special patten on her abdomen. he placed a couple small pecks to her abdomen and neck, not missing the chance to pinch at her skin between his teeth.

a whine fell from her lips before he finally leaned back a bit admiring y/n. "what's that smile for?" she questioned though a pant, eye's growing in suspicion before she glanced down at her chest and abdomen.

I.H

he'd specifically marked hickeys in the shape of his initials. iwaizumi reached for y/n's phone before taking a picture of his so called 'masterpiece! "can i?" he questioned, an innocent smile on his lips when y/n rolled her eyes, already knowing what he was asking permission for. she nodded before hearing a familiar sound.

>> sent to tetsuro

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orankiro · 11 months

Text

happy birthday iwa-chan!!

please dont eat oikawa's cake, it looks scary...

#iwaoi #iwaizumi #iwachan #iwa-chan #oikawa #oikawa tooru #iwaizumi x oikawa #iwaizumixoikawa #iwaizumi hajime #haikyū!!#haikyuu #fanart #hq

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msphattt · 4 months

Text

the only one for me

iwaizumi x fem!reader

tags — vaginal sex, cunnilingus (barely), vaginal fingering

3744 words

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

Today was the day, he was coming back. It’s all anyone had been talking about but I couldn’t understand why, he was only gone for five months, so the welcome back seemed…over the top, to me.

His arrival had no effect on me, rather, I carried on with my day as I usually would, why would I care that Iwaizumi was coming back? The last time we spoke, he made it clear that it would be the last time, so, why care?

“So…what are you saying?” I asked, “Do you not care to speak at all? What are you saying?”

It was all so confusing, the fact that Iwaizumi had just said we needed to “separate for a while,” seeing as he would be gone for five months, across the country, for a volleyball tournament.

��I just don’t want to leave with strings attached,” he explained. Bullshit. I had never said anything about a relationship, not even that we were exclusive, so I couldn’t understand where this was coming from, I at the very least, thought he and I were friends under whatever we had, but it seems I thought wrong.

The surprise of the situation was too much and my thoughts were running wild, why now? When he didn’t leave for two more weeks? I wasn’t going to make it hard for him though, after all, he wasn’t my boyfriend.

His eyes met mine and for a second, I thought I saw that he was ashamed, like he was ashamed of his reasoning, but I wasn’t thinking that deep into it, if he wanted to leave me, then that was that.

“I understand, that’s what you want, I’ll go,” I said, confusion clear in my tone but I wasn’t staying somewhere I wasn’t wanted.

I gathered my bag, my belongings and my car keys without saying a word and simply, left.

Of course, the five months weren’t the easiest but it wasn’t like Iwaizumi and I were in a relationship, we made sure to place boundaries. Though, in the end, it seemed like he had gotten under your skin, and it was difficult to deny the pull toward him.

But, that was five months ago, and I have spent the last four of those months making sure to keep my head up and keep going. The piercing heat of the sun pulled me out of my thoughts as I began to prepare my body for my morning jog around the park. Jogging was one of the things I did to keep me from overthinking, and today was as good a day as any.

I tucked my phone into my gray yoga pants and did my last few stretches, reaching up to the sky and lifting my heels off of the ground, leaning on the tips of my toes and inhaling deeply, the exhale melting some of the tension away.

I began stepping off with my right foot, moving slowly with one foot in front of the other. It was the same type of people, the early birds who would sit to gather on the grass ether studying or listening to music, the athletes who were leaving from morning practices, and others who grumbled for being up too early on a Friday.

As my music blasted in my ears, the world was gone to me. The rush of the wind flying past my ears as my legs moved to carry me where they may. I had gone my usual route, around the center of the park, through the garden and around the open field, where I often made contact with the athletes.

My legs began to grow weak, a response I was used to as I jogged through the garden, indicating that I was two-thirds of the way through my jog. Faint sounds of instruments floated through my, already extremely loud, headphones that I used to tune out the rest of the people occupying the park. Confusion covered my face until I remembered, his welcome back celebration. The athletes had taken over the field with a mass amount of themselves, it almost seemed like a parade.

I continued jogging, making sure to keep my chin up and my form tight, pushing through the last leg of my workout. I made my way around the baseball field and continued on toward the trees, where most of the athletes would gather their trucks. Still, I didn’t move, the wind continued to fly by as I felt the euphoric feeling begin to creep under my skin, the wind blowing right over my shoulders, which were now covered in sweat.

The welcome back hadn’t seemed to just be starting but was in full effect. I wish I could say, what is it about him? But I knew the answer to that question. As I made my way around the outskirts of the trees, his eyes bore into mine.

And time stopped.

He had changed so much in the months that he was away; his shoulders were broader, and his muscles were outlined perfectly, under his shirt. My breath stopped momentarily, it felt as if my I would lose my voice instantly if I was to speak to anybody in that moment.

The connection broke instantly, when I returned my eyes to my path in front of me, pushing my legs to finish my jog, and after turning the last corner of the field, I began jogging back to my apartment, only five minutes from the park.

As I finished my jog and entered my home, the euphoric feeling and coolness of my body after hitting the cool air made my head feel dizzy. My chest heaved after just jogging and I took a gulp of water to try and calm my nerves.

Four days went by, I jogged for three of those days and made the mental note that I had not seen Iwaizumi since his arrival. I shook my head, why did I care so much? I continued to say I didn’t, but my feelings knew otherwise. No matter, it was time for me to get ready for the Art Expression Gala, my favorite event of the year.

The Art Expression Gala gave a platform to anyone within the city who needed to express themselves, no matter how, and the formality of it all felt elegant.

My hair fell down my back, pulled back from my face where I focused on a sultry makeup look, which always seemed to include warmer shades of gloss, eyeshadow and even blush, going for orange rather than pink. I always liked looking seductive, it was part of my character, I liked to assume as such. I wore a black dress that ran past my ankles and left my left leg bare, the split stopping just underneath the hilt of my thigh. The straps of the dress were thin, my shoulders covered by my hair and its’ loose curls.

The honking of the horn outside my door let me know that my friends were at my apartment ready to pick me up. I grabbed my purse and phone, locking my door before entering the car where my friends were more than ready to get to the venue.

“I’m so excited for you guys to see my piece at the gala, I worked really hard on it,” my friend Ellie beamed. I responded, telling her that we couldn’t wait to see and how proud we were of her. Of all my friends, Ellie was the most passionate about her life and her love for dance, which anyone with eyes could see. “I heard the entire athletic department’s there, even Iwa,” Ellie said, a mischievous glint in her eye. I rolled mine, “Iwa and I have nothing going on, we’re not even friends,” I explained. Ellie laughed and mocked me, “oh please, ‘we’re not even friends,’ when have you ever been friends? When he was-”

“STOP,” I yelled, Ellie’s laughter only grew as much embarrassment became more and more apparent on my face. I brought my hands to my face and let out a little giggle as I remembered the memory Ellie was about to blurt out.

I giggled as he continued kissing my neck, his hands squeezing the flesh of my ass and back. “Iwa, stop,” I breathed out, my voice nearly at a whisper from the way his hands touched my body. We were currently laying on the big cushion, under the canopy by the pool, correction, by Oikawa’s pool.

My slightly damp towel covered my legs, draping under my belly button and hanging off of my waist as Iwaizumi used his hands and mouth to try and make me cave.

“Oh, c’mon baby, nobody is out here but you and me, I just wanna taste you,” he whispered, kissing my shoulders and squeezing my thighs. A shuddered breath left my lips, as I fought my inner thoughts, this man had consumed every one of my senses, how could I say no to him?

“I’ll make you feel so good, just let me taste you,” he whispered again, and my resolve completely melted away. The raw desperation in his voice was enough to have my legs spreading and head leaning back and he explored every inch of what I had to offer.

He kissed me slowly, making sure to let me know how much he appreciated my body and my back arched against the cushions as the first feel of his soft tongue met my clit, the warmth of his tongue on my sensitive clit that he had played with relentlessly. The feeling began to build, my eyes immediately closing and my hand moving through his hair in an attempt to push him further against me.

His two fingers pushed, slowly into my pussy, filling my stomach with a feeling of fullness that has me moaning softly and bucking my hips against his mouth. The feeling of my thighs being held tightly and I was spread out before his tongue that ravaged my pussy so sweetly, it all became hazy as my vision failed to focus after my eyes fluttered open.

His fingers continued to work into my pussy, hitting that place so deep as he continued to suck on the head of my clit without slowing down, the pace building the pleasure in the pit of my stomach.

As he continued to punish my pussy, sucking my clit and thrusting his fingers simultaneously, everything began to blur together as the knot in the pit of stomach began to tighten by the second. At the sound of his groan, my thighs clenched, and my toes curled as my back arched off the cushions, moaning and squeezing whatever my hands could find at the moment, the wave of pleasure washing over my body.

I was pulled out of my flashback when the car came to a stop, the jolt shaking me out of thought. The night was warm, but I still found myself with goosebumps running down my arms, I rubbed them slightly as we began to walk toward entrance of the building.

Time went on fairly quickly and it was time to watch Ellie’s performance. The soft music began as Ellie’s body began to move in the way she had trained, the soft raise of her leg and the sharp point of her feet. As entranced as I was in the performance, I felt as though somebody was staring, causing my eyes to shift around. My neck turned left, only slightly as my eyes scanned through the crowd. Turning from the left, now looking toward my right is when I saw him, staring at me, unashamed. The darkness of his eyes bore into mine, his cup lifting to his lips as he took a sip of his drink and brought it back down, all while looking at me, never taking his eyes off of me. I looked away with a quickness, making sure to turn as softly as I did before, I would act like he was nothing to me even though the burn of his gaze was making me feel exposed.

After Ellie’s performance, I decided that I needed to go into the bathroom and make sure I didn’t look as flushed as I felt. I began walking toward the back in the direction of the bathroom, my short and skinny heels clacking slightly as I fidgeted in my purse looking for my wipes and powder. My attention was on my purse as I grew agitated at not being able to find what I was looking for, that I did not see when a strong hand gripped my arm, pulling me into the men’s bathroom on the right side of the hall.

Fear took over for a second before I was face to face with the man who had been staring all night long.

“You’ve been avoiding me, you know I don’t like to be ignored,” he said. His voice instantly making my thighs rub together, I had forgotten how deep and intoxicating he could be, not to mention his cologne, and the fact that his face was only four inches away from mine.

I took in a breath, looking at this face before choosing to respond, his eyebrows knitted and lips pursed, as though he was actually upset.

“I have, we’re not friends,” I answered, making sure to pout slightly and turn my head to the left, as though I cared about our divide, I did.

Iwaizumi let out a dry chuckle, clearly not amused by my act.

“Excuse me now,” I said sweetly, as I moved to lean off the wall and move toward the restroom door, a single stall restroom that anybody could have been waiting for. Before I could move, his left arm stretched out to hit the wall, blocking me from moving where he put me against it. He touched my chin, cupping my face softly as his thumb ran across my cheek as I looked at him, fury suddenly taking over my body.

“You can’t be serious right now, are you kidding me?!” My voice was laced with anger and annoyance, frustration beginning to peak out as I continued. “You said you didn’t want strings, so there ARE no strings, move,” I spat, pushing his chest and swinging the door open before anything could escalate further. It didn’t take me long to find my friends and express that I was going to go home, suddenly feeling under the weather.

I took a cab home, sitting on the couch and listening to music after a hot shower to help bring me back down. It was hard for me to stay somewhere and act like I wasn’t upset, when I so clearly was. I couldn’t understand why I was affected as much as I was, but that being our first encounter after not speaking for so long, I let out a rush and heavy breath after thinking about it again. It was then my door rang, drawing curiosity and confusion from me.

As I opened the door, there he stood with a white dress shirt to show every ridge of his abs and muscles, his dress pants showing the muscles in his thighs. My eyes narrowed and rolled as he walked toward me, past me, and into my kitchen.

“Get out, what are you doing here? Get out.” My voice was calm now, my weight shifting to my left leg as I crossed my arms looking at him from across the island. There was no denying the effect he had on my body, his appearance making my nipples hard under my cropped cami.

He said nothing, rather than leaving, Iwaizumi set his phone and car keys on the counter behind him and began walking to me, my neck slightly pulling back at his height. He touched my face again, holding my right cheek as he now faced me and looked at me with a stoic face, yet solemn eyes. His right hand in his pocket, his left on my cheek. “I listened to what you said,” he started, “but you know there’s nobody else for me.”

My eyes met his and darted back toward the floor momentarily before meeting his gaze once again. “That’s not enough, you left me,” I whispered, my true feelings had surfaced that quick. “I know, I’m sorry baby, forgive me.” His kisses on my cheek soon traveled downward, my neck feeling the warmth and strangeness of his lips. He pulled back, looking at me before glancing at my lips and back to my eyes, “you’re the only one for me,” he whispered.

My eyes searched his for a moment, giving into what my body had been craving, “the only one?” I whispered softly, whimpering slightly at the heat that began crawling over my skin as a result of his kisses. He groaned as he whispered, “the only one,” and his lips softly touched mine.

The quickness and delicacy of the kiss made me wonder if it actually happened, but my hardened nipple and throbbing of my clit had assured me it was true. My hands traveled up his arms, gripping his biceps as I closed my eyes, the kiss consuming me. With a swiftness, Iwaizumi grabbed my thighs, lifting me onto the island in the center of the kitchen. His large hands moved across my thighs and up my stomach until reaching my chest, my back arching instantly at the feeling. He began to rub my nipples, kissing my neck as the slight pleasure only added to my arousal.

A soft moan left my lips, short breaths accompanied by the occasional moan that would slip out of from between my lips. Traitor. My body reacted truthfully while my mind still fought rationality, but the movement of his hands against my breasts reminded me of just how good he made me feel.

His fingers wrapped around my neck, my eyes glossy as they meet his. His hips rolled into me, his erection pressing against my clit as his tongue ran down my neck and over my breast. His lips wrapped around my left nipple, the pleasure immediately letting a moan through my lips. His tongue flicked and sucked my nipple, carefully pinching the right, twisting and ghosting over it ever so softly with his middle finger.

The jingle of his belt felt like music to my ears, suddenly heating my ears up as my tips of my toes touched my island, my legs bared open to him. He groaned as he freed his erection, the tip leaking of precum as he began to stroke himself. Anticipation ran through me and left as quickly as it came. He lips left my chest as his hand remained around my neck. “Look at me, baby,” he whispered, wetting my panties even further. My eyes fluttered open, licking my lips and taking a breath, I moved my eyes to meet his.

And time stopped.

My shorts were pulled down, flung somewhere neither he, nor I, cared about. My breath quickened as he lined himself against my hole, grinding against my clit slightly and working my legs even farther apart. His forehead met mine as I clutched his biceps through his thin, white dress shirt. His eyes focused on mine as he pushed in, the feeling of intrusion hitting so deep within me that I couldn’t help but to close my eyes, the pleasure immediately making me arch my back and curl my toes against his waist.

He began his thrusts slow, breathing me in and out as his hips worked against mine. Moans flew from my mouth as he gripped my thighs, removing his hand from my neck and holding my legs open so that I was spread bare in front of him.

“Fuck, I missed you baby, did you miss me?” He groaned as he continued to thrust into me, his pace keeping steady and hitting every inch within me, making my mind go blank. My moans became uncontrollable as he continued to thrust upward, hitting my spot over and over again, my fingers gripping the edge of the island and his biceps.

His pace grew relentless, pounding into my pussy over and over again causing me to throw my head back, “answer me.” Iwaizumi loved to have his way. He continued his rough pace, my head thrown back and mouth open, moans flying out as though it was the only noise I could make. His thumb found my clit, rubbing slow circles as he slammed into me, unforgiving as though he was punishing me for not responding how he wanted during out first encounter.

My defiance showed, I refused to answer him and his assault on my clit only grew, fast pace meeting rapid circles, all making my head dizzy at the pleasure coming from how deep he was hitting my spot. My moans grew louder, “too much, Iwa,” I whined, not being able to say anything else, or even remember anything else. “You can take it, tell me, did you miss me?” He was relentless.

I shook my head as the pleasure continued to build, the strain of my nipples against my cami while my back continued to arch into his chest, the bucking of my hips into his own. His hands lifted my hips, slightly, changing the feel of everything. It was sudden, Iwa was now hitting my spot over and over, sucking on my neck while continuing to groan against my skin.

My moans were loud and heavy as my grip tightened on his biceps, “oh, yes I missed you, fuck, I missed you so much, Iwa,” I moaned, but eyes closing as my stomach knotted tightly. My toes curled against the counter, my breathing quickened and my eyebrows furrowed as my hole began clenching around him.

“I missed you so much baby,” Iwa groaned as he kissed my neck, “cum for me baby, let me feel how much you missed me.” His talk into your ears did nothing to quench the fire in the pit of my stomach. The eyes squeezed even tighter as the knot in my stomach began to tighten, my back arching and my breasts feeling the warmth of his chest. My breath hitched in my chest as I came undone under his sweet nothings, his grip on my body becoming so tight as he filled me with all of him.

“I wont hurt your feelings again, I promise.” And His kiss would seal his promise to me.

#omg i love iwa #haikyu smut #haikyuu #iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi hajime #iwaizumi smut #mention of oikawa but hes not actually in the fic #teach me how to tag lol #cross posted on ao3 #ao3 writer

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bakugokemkatsuki · 5 months

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Fangirls

Iwaizumi Hajime X Reader

Oikawa Toru X Reader (Platonic)

**Genre: Angstish/ Fluff???

**Warning(s): bullying

**Reader is Fem/GN (ish)

**Key: Talking; You, Iwaizumi

You’d been in the same class as Oikawa since middle school. You two were polar opposites in every way. You were introverted and pessimistic while Oikawa was extraverted and optimistic . You were always dressed in black, while Oikawa was very colorful. He was athletic and you were not. Anything you two could be opposites about you were. So how did you ever end up friends with him? Well let’s just say you were sure your teachers absolutely loved torturing you. It all started back in middle school with you two being paired together for a project. It didn’t stop there though, it seemed after that your teachers were always finding a reason to have you two work together. This little thing carried over into high school. Now after being paired together so much you were bound to become friends. You ended up really liking his company and you realized there was way more to him than just his pretty setter “fame”. Now being friends with Oikawa meant Iwaizumi as well. They were a package deal. Now though you and Iwaizumi had more in common then you and Oikawa (i.e. you both liked the same music, similar movies, and had similar color palettes for dressing) you two were still pretty close to opposites. The three of you were really close and you quite liked hanging out with them. Having weekend movie marathons at Oikawa’s house binging the Godzilla movies or Alien Documentaries were some of your favorite memories. You though not one to care much about sports found yourself at there games more and more until you were always there at every game. You quite enjoyed seeing them two play the chemistry on the court was phenomenal and way different from them normally. Now what most people didn’t realize was just how hard being friends with them was. Why? Well once you guys hit high school Oikawa had fans popping up left and right. By second year he had a whole fan club. He quite liked his fans but he never saw the dark side. You were normally bullied not a lot but some back in middle school for being weird, dark, different. Now though, his fan girls were ruthless. It started small but when you seemed unbothered it quickly became physical. They’re push you or shove you or trip you just because you were friends with Oikawa. They would constantly harass you. It was getting really bad, but you didn’t want to ruin your friend’s happiness so you stuck it out. Until one day… The girls had caught you on your way to the gym and like usual were braiding you about why you’re not good enough to be around Oikawa. As you tried to walk past one girl shoved you and when you didn’t fall a second girl shoved you again causing you to fall. While they did this they continued hurling insults until they heard a voice. “Get out of here now and leave her the HELL alone.” Terrified the girls fled without another word. You sat there looking down at the ground. “Please don’t tell him.” Iwaizumi offered you his hand helping you up. “Why? You don’t deserve that.” “He deserves to be happy.” Frustration lacked in Iwaizumi’s voice as he said “So do you. He deserves to know.”After a bit more arguing you agree to tell Oikawa everything. You two stood there looking at each other in since when Iwaizumi finally spoke again. “Um… by the way, what they said… you know it’s not true right. You’re the most beautiful person I know.” “Iwa… I can I be honest?” “Sure.” “I don’t want to ruin our friendship dynamic but I have feelings for you.” “Really?” “Yes. I know a lot of people were expecting me to fall for ‘Shittykawa’ but it’s you.” “Funny enough… I like you too.” You two ended up starting to date not long after that and Oikawa did not take the news well. “WHAT MY BEST FRIENDS ARE DATING NOW I HAVE TO THIRD WHEEL ALL OUR HANG OUTS!!”Though he wined a lot he was the most supportive of the relationship and thought how he couldn’t wait to be the best man at your wedding someday. He was happy for the two of you because you both deserve the world.

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kirbyskisses · 2 years

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cw: smut, fluff, jealousy, possessiveness, dirty talk. sorry for any typos i wrote this in < 15 minutes.

Iwaizumi who thinks you’re in love with Oikawa. he knows you have to be because of how much you hang out with him, how much your eyes light up around him during your private conversations.

Iwaizumi who doesn’t realize that you’re just shy around him - that you’re really asking Oikawa how to win him over and if he likes you back.

meanwhile, Iwa’s massaging his balls in one hand while using the other to fuck his pocket pussy, pretending it’s you even though he’s sure you’re so much tighter. that your moans are so much sweeter, teeth grinding - voice whining and growling and groaning so deep.

“yeah, you want him huh? fuckin’ shittykawa, keeping everything for himself - he doesn’t deserve this sweet little pussy - what’s he got that I don’t got, huh? c’n he stroke into you this well?”

Iwaizumi who’s more aggressive and distant around you. whose jealousy gets the better of him; he stops lighting up when you show up. who stops going “there’s my girl” whenever you run to him and instead sucks his teeth - “what do you want? I’m busy. why not just ask Crappykawa?”

Iwaizumi whose heart shatters when Oikawa calls him out for making you cry. who punches a hole in his wall out of frustration for not noticing how obvious it was that you wanted to be with him.

Iwaizumi who begs for your forgiveness, calls himself an asshole and takes you on every date he can to make up for it. who never lets you lift a finger afterwards, carrying you everywhere, showering you in affirmations and giving you his jacket and kisses and aces every single spike that he dedicates to you.

Iwaizumi who’s so gentle your first few times and always takes the time to kiss down your body and smile against your thighs. But one day, Oikawa hugs you and his dam of self control breaks - jealousy making him fuck you deep and angrily.

“you know you’re mine right? mine to fill. mine to love. fuck - y’r squeezing me. no other man could get you to feel this huh? just me? yeah, cum on my cock. this pussy is all mine. this body is all mine. you’re my girl.”

#smut #iwaizumi hajime (27) athletic trainer #iwaizumi hajime #iwaizumi x reader #iwa chan #oikawa tōru #oikawa tooru #oikawa x reader

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vigilante-izuku · 8 days

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iwa being oikawa's self-appointed guard dog is everything to me because clearly oikawa doesn't need one. he fights with cutting words and a sharp tongue than with anything else. but iwa has been protecting oikawa since they've been kids. and its became a habit. its just second nature to him.

and of course oikawa teases him about it, how protective iwa is, how he'd snap his jaws at anyone who pokes at oikawa in the wrong way. when teasing goes a little too far for iwa's liking.

oikawa fondly says "iwa-chan, my knight", anytime it happens. and iwa grumbles about the nickname right up until oikawa leans forward and gives his a sweet rewarding peck on the lips. to show him how appreciative he is of his guard dog.

its an immediate reaction. iwa's face blooming bright red. a deep scarlet flush to staining his cheeks as oikawa laughs, walking away leaving behind his flustered knight.

#iwaoi #hq #oikawa tooru #iwazumi hajime #oikawa x iwaizumi #eri's ideas #and the thing is that oikawa has never asked him to #not since they've been kids #iwa just immediately steps in #because thats who he is #i think oikawa asked iwa for help ONCE when he was like five #and never had to ask iwa for help with anyone bullying him ever since #thats not to say that oikawa wouldn't go batshit if someone dares touches iwa #like iwa would beat someone up #but oikawa would straight up RUIN their life if they bothered iwa

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iwaoiness · 7 months

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Hajime is home

Iwaizumi's lying on the three-seater sofa, legs up and Takeru's little body on the soles of his feets, laughing and holding tightly to Iwaizumi's safe hands as he swings his little legs and shouts with laughter "I'm an aeroplane, uncle Iwa! I'm flying high and high!"

And Tooru, on the floor, leaning against the one-seater sofa, his legs tucked in and his head resting on his arms crossed over his knees, smiles lovingly. His ears are delighted by the mixture of his nephew's laughter and Hajime's laughter.

He loves how Iwa-chan has always been part of his family, how they have grown up sharing two fathers, two mothers and an older sister. He loves how, in fact, Iwa-chan is family, how he relates his name to that, to home, to warmth, to protection.

To salvation.

#iwaoi #oikawa tooru #haikyuu!!#iwaizumi hajime #oikawa x iwaizumi #bl boys #haikyuu #hajime iwaizumi #oikawa tooru fluff #soft and fluffy #takeru #uncle iwaizumi #iwa-chan is takeru's fav uncle #hq fluff #oikawa is so in love #my hc fav is the interaction between takeru and iwa i swear #short story

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baeshijima · 27 days

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anyway since my hq!! hyperfixation has reared its head around once more, i shall remind u all of one thing:

iwaizumi hajime (27) athletic trainer (+ argentina player oikawa tooru)

#sophie's idle chatter #...........my brain chemistry went through a complete and utter overhaul when the timeskip happened in the manga #ESP WAKATOSHI LIKE OURGHGKD #AND OFC WASHIO TATSUKI AND ONIGIRI MIYA OSAMU #and the whole iwaizumi and wakatoshi meet up in usa.... sobs.... and when iwa sent their selfie to oikawa.... sobs again....#i love hq!! its genuinely such a comfort anime/manga for me like good lord #my pinterest made me cry seeing them in the timeskip again...#but also some of the official arts reminded me of the x reader longfic + au fics i planned years ago #i think i still have the canon longfic + fantasy au longfic notes... ourgh... maybe its time to go back to my hq!! writer era....

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iwaasfairy · 2 years

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┌─ “ ! „ AMBUSH TACTICS

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

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

iwaizumi x fem!reader x oikawa

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Am not.”

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

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

“I’m not your imouto.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Water.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I never hated you.”

“Did too.”

“Did not.”

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

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

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

“You’re looking to settle.”

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

“You’re a tease.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re an ass.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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