yangirlyere - Tumblr blog

yangirlyere · 5 months

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SALTBURN FEVER IS MY NEW ROMAN EMPIRE

⋆ eat your young pt. 1

Felix Catton x gn!reader x Oliver Quick - 18+ mdni

⊹˚. ౨ৎ

They dangle on the leash of their own longing; their need grows teeth

warnings: smutty, nsft/nsfw, Oliver and Felix being creepy, mild somnophilia, non-con participation in masturbation, Felix jerks off, reader gets relentlessly objectified, dark themes, sexual fantasies, mentions of oral sex, mentions of cum, mentions of crying during sex, Oliver and Felix both want to make you their plaything, reader gets ejaculated on lmao, reader is implied to be shorter than Felix, 18+ MDNI

note: whew, baby. I genuinely like this one, and I hope you guys do too :> There'll be a second part involving the much anticipated threesome tee-hee. male!reader version here

wc: 3.5k

⊹˚. ౨ৎ

Midnight draws closer, the world around the castle long swallowed by complete blackness. As though the only things to remain are its cold walls and the surrounding gardens, guarded by the looming beast at the labyrinth's heart.

Warm light spills through the crack in Felix’s bedroom door, casting an amber glow onto the hallway's floorboards outside. At its edge, with his head resting on the wooden door frame, stands Oliver.

Shrouded by the night's darkness, his eyes fixate on your figures lounging on the bed. A fiery glint within them, like a flame licking at the sight in front of him. Burning him from the inside out.

It nearly scorches the surrounding air, illuminating the corridors in a hellish red—or maybe that’s just Oliver’s mind playing tricks on him.

He rolls his shoulders back, muscles flexing and twitching beneath the thin fabric of his tank top.

You and Felix are both half bare, sprawled out across the bedsheets in underwear due to the merciless summer heat. The two of you are making sure to keep your banter hushed and giggle into the pillows to avoid waking the others.

But Oliver knows you want to be watched; that's why you left the door open after all. To lure him in, like a lone moth begging a bright, shimmering light to swallow it whole.

And it worked; you have his full, undivided attention now. You've sparked a ravenous, horrifying hunger deep within him. A need to belong, to join. To burrow his way in between the cracks and crevices of the castle walls.

He watches you clamp a hand over your mouth to muffle your laughter as Felix just leans back, a satisfied grin on his face. It’s a picturesque sight, really, the both of you lazily draped over Felix’s bed.

So effortlessly beautiful and utterly mesmerizing as dim, golden light bathes your bodies.

He should've known that, where Felix resides, he was bound to find more gorgeous people. But he could've never imagined that someone could match Felix's mind-bending ethereality.

Venetia's best friend, so sweet and astoundingly kind, but more than often found at Felix's side instead of hers.

Oliver almost feels bad for her, but he's not certain that it's a conscious decision on your part. Felix has a way of wrapping people around his finger with seductive ease. Perhaps Venetia has less of a say in your visit than everyone lets on.

"Oh, I stay here every summer." You showed him around the premises along with Felix, excited to meet his new friend.

"It's always been like that." He nodded, playfully nudging you. "Part of the family at this point."

Maybe that is what is so inescapably intriguing about you. You've managed to carve your name into the castle's foundation and remain an anomaly among the countless faces that come and go.

There's something about you that has somehow allowed you to stay.

So, Oliver naturally came to the conclusion that you were one of the missing pieces within his puzzle. The one thing to grant him fulfilment and bridge the gap between him and Felix. So useful and so sweet.

After all, he sees the way Felix looks at you, even if you may not notice. Glances that linger far too long, dopey smiles, and a feverish intensity in Felix’s gaze he’s never seen before. Sorely out of place among those angelic features, almost alien.

"Just make yourself at home." You'd both smiled so sweetly when you said it that Oliver could barely sleep that first night. Your presence quickly clawing its way into his consciousness to join Felix on his throne.

Haunting his dreams hand-in-hand, even during waking hours, it's unbearable—hours upon hours of pitiful fantasizing about you and Felix. He wishes you'd both just give in and accept that intrinsic craving gnawing at your bones.

Just let go and devour each other, as it should be. How delicious it'd be to watch you two press against each other, glistening with sweat and whispering filth, as teeth sink into skin in relentless fervour.

What a spectacle it'd be. He feels dizzy just thinking about it.

Your sweet face stained with hot tears as Felix pounds into you, and Oliver tenderly wipes them away to lick them off his fingers. His thumb in your mouth, your lips wrapping around it as you whimper and whine, looking up at him through your lashes. God, it'd be the death of him.

He wants—no, he needs—for it to become reality. Otherwise, he'll really go mad in this godforsaken place. Oliver's eyes flutter shut as he palms his painfully hard erection through his flimsy boxers.

Well, they're actually Felix's, but what does it really mean for something to belong to someone? Surely, Felix wouldn't mind sharing something as miniscule as underwear if he already so graciously took Oliver in for the summer, right?

He won't realize they're gone anyway, so who's to say Oliver can't indulge himself? He's here to enjoy his summer break after all and share with you all.

You wear Felix's clothes all the time, so who can really blame him for following suit? He just wants to fit in, really.

He slinks away from the doorway, silently skittering back to his own bedroom to settle in for what is ultimately bound to be another long night for poor old, lovesick Oliver.

You two are wrecking him, reducing him to a needy, clingy mess.

⊹˚. ౨ৎ

Felix leans against the edge of the open window, revelling in the cool night breeze caressing his skin. A sloppily rolled joint is loosely clasped between his index and middle fingers as he stares into the blackness outside.

He takes a slow, absentminded drag from it, holding the smoke in until it makes his throat itch. He blows it into the wind and lets it get carried away, disappearing into the night.

Hopefully, the smell doesn't wake you up; he'd hate to disturb you when you look so serene, your chest rising with measured breaths as you cradle his pillow. It's cute—unbearably so.

Felix swallows thickly; shame burns in his chest as he tries to suffocate the thoughts with another deliberate drag. It's all futile, though; he's been trying to will these feelings away for years now, with no hope for success. You're just so sweet and so irritatingly platonic in the way you act towards him.

It drives him up the fucking wall.

Everybody wants him; people bend over backwards and throw themselves head first into self-destruction to get a mere sliver of his attention, and you just got him wrapped around your finger since the first time he laid eyes on you as a kid.

You're entirely inescapable.

Usually, being so used to getting every last one of his needs and desires fulfilled, someone playing hard to get just plain kills his interest. Why should he fight for someone's interest when there are countless hot people practically pouncing on him?

All he has to do is snap his fingers, and he gets some cute guy sucking his dick or multiple chicks littering his neck in love bites. Never once in his life did he have to beg for someone to covet him.

Except for you. Unattainable in a world in which he gets everything he could ever possibly ask for. The sheer cruelty of it all is enough to strip him of any rationale.

Every person he fucks ultimately reminds him of you. Whether it's the way they look up at him, as if he's holy, or the manner in which they say his name, it all just leads back to you, and he can't fucking break free from the chokehold you got him in.

He doesn't even remember their faces; they're all blurred by his sheer need to replace them with you. All of them sound like you in his head, crying out his name and begging him to slow down.

He takes another drag, groaning at the heat pooling in his abdomen.

It doesn't matter how many people he sleeps with or how many people bend to his every will, because none of them are you. And he's slowly growing insatiable, itching and aching to feel you and to taste you.

Adoration grows teeth and claws, boiling over and oozing down over his deprived heart to singe it with obsession.

You shift in your sleep, sighing blissfully. He watches your shirt ride up—his shirt—to expose more and more of your soft skin.

Is the universe testing him? Could the dear devil himself be tempting him to complete his transformation into the horrible monster he so longs to be right now?

And you're wearing his boxers too, too exhausted to run back to your room to grab your own. So, of course, Felix offered his clothes. Because he's kind, and perhaps because it's truly a precious sight to behold.

He licks his lips, his darkened eyes fixated on the way they hug your hips and thighs. As if they're made for you, not for him.

There's a part of him that never wants to wash them, preserve your smell, and bury his face in them.

He's done it before, but he's still riddled by the guilt he felt after cumming on a pair of tight briefs you'd borrowed from him. It was the hardest he'd ever climaxed, though, and he simply can't get rid of the urge to do it again.

He chews on his lower lip, the joint in his hand now completely forgotten as his shorts grow unbearably tight. A warm, fuzzy feeling crawls down his neck and along the expanse of his shoulders. His judgement being clouded by the weed.

It's almost painful to be so close to you in such a vulnerable state.

What have you done to him?

It's all too much for him—the anguish from restraining himself in such a way is excruciating at this point. Something animalistic lingers beneath his skin, snarling and scratching at his bones to break free. So eager and so monstrous.

He quietly walks over to the bed, careful not to rouse you. Completely silent as he looms over you, tall, larger than life, and shrouded in darkness. If he wanted to, he could so easily overpower you and make you his right here and now.

But that's not the point.

He wants you to choose him and to crave him like all the others. The only way he'll be satisfied is if you beg and tear yourself apart for him, just as he does for you every night. He wants you to crack your rib cage open to offer him your heart, still beating and oozing blood.

The mattress dips beneath his weight when he reassumes his position next to you, his large frame easily filling the free space and almost curving around yours. For a few moments, he just lies there, savouring the feeling of casually sharing a bed with you, the proximity, and its near domestic idyll. Tracing your features with his eyes in complete adoration.

Would you wake up if he tried to wrap his arm around your waist? He so desperately wants to hold you close, breathe in your scent, and never let go. Maybe waking up cradled within Felix's arms would finally make you realize how seamlessly you two fit together.

How perfect he is for you.

You shift in your sleep, dragging the hem of your shirt further upwards in what Felix assumes is an instinctual attempt to keep yourself from overheating.

Oh, you poor thing.

He hesitates for a second, reaching out his hand and letting it hover above the bunched-up fabric before gently freeing your entire torso. Merely to help you cool off, of course. He wouldn't want you to feel all sticky and gross in the morning from sweating all night.

Well, it depends on what kind of sweating. Ew, gross, Felix. Don't think about that, he winces.

Nonetheless, he lets his fingers ghost over your stomach, softly tracing the boxers' waistband. Fuck, he just can't keep his mind clean with you looking like this.

He sucks in a quiet breath through his teeth before shakily pressing his warm palm to your crotch and rubbing up against it ever so slightly.

Your breathing falters for just a moment, a weak mewl falling from your lips at the welcome pressure. Felix nearly groans when you unconsciously buck your hips into his hand to chase after the pleasant feeling.

Felix Catton is a weak man, quick to indulge in his compulsions, especially when it comes to you. You're like that one crack in the dam, threatening to split it open and flood the lands of composure in him with pure, shameless debauchery.

He spits onto his other hand, swiftly slipping it underneath his own waistband and wrapping it around his agonizingly hard dick. Fuck, the things he'd do to you if you just let him.

The heat radiating off you crawls up his arm, making his hair stand up and sending waves of white-hot need washing over him. This is so wrong, so utterly wrong in every way, but fuck, it feels so good.

He simply can't find it within him to stop, far too spellbound by the way your brows furrow when he lets his fingers run along over your core.

He laps up every sleepy whimper and gasp he pulls from you, biting his tongue to keep his own moans from spilling out.

Though he can't help but let his mouth hang open when he pictures your plush lips wrapped around his girth, your eyes big and so full of adoration as you look up at him. Tears stream down your face as he fucks your face, hitting the back of your throat and forcing you to swallow every last drop of his cum.

You'd be so, so good for him.

Felix lets his head fall back against his headboard, drawing blood from biting down on his lower lip in a desperate attempt to stay silent as he releases all over his fist.

A coppery taste spreads throughout his mouth, but he's too dazed to care. Mindlessly observing the wet spot on his underwear, it grows larger as he catches his breath.

God, he made such a mess.

He pulls his hand out from beneath, spreading his fingers to watch the cloudy, viscous fluid stretch between them.

He watches it glisten in the dim light before leaning over and carefully smearing it on your waist, drawing a heart shape as though he's simply doodling in a notebook. His thumb gently digs into your flesh, trying to massage it in.

Ultimately, though, you'll seemingly be waking up feeling a bit sticky after all. Hopefully, you won't question it too much, or he might have to come up with some sort of lie.

Good thing Felix lies with a vexing, graceful ease.

Felix wriggles the soiled boxers off, carelessly tossing them into one of the room's corners, and lifts himself off the bed to grab a fresh pair. He looks over his shoulder, making sure you're still fast asleep as he slips them on.

You haven't even moved an inch.

He smiles, amused and comforted by your ability to sleep through all that. He should be feeling deeply ashamed, ablaze with the flame of gut-wrenching remorse, but he doesn't.

Instead, his appetite has just grown ever more ferocious. As if someone has released him from the shackles that bound his wrists and ankles. Itching to get more, feel more. He's growing greedy. He's merely had a lick of what could be, savouring its heavenly taste on the back of his tongue.

For tonight, though, he'll let you rest. He wouldn't want to rob you of your beauty sleep. Not yet, at least.

Those nights will come, and he'll make sure of them.

Felix makes sure to keep the window open, crawling back into bed with you to settle in with his chest pressed to your side and his arm languidly slung over you. Your quiet snores softly lull him to sleep with a satisfied grin plastered on his face.

He'll have you caged in between his arms soon enough; just you wait, darling.

Such a beautiful, tranquil summer night, he muses.

⊹˚. ౨ৎ

Oliver feels as though the sun has grown even harsher, grilling him alive as he tries to get comfortable on the crickety deck chair. They're not very luxurious—a very noticeable exception among the obscenely extravagant furniture inside the Catton estate.

But, nonetheless, they're still quite cosy; the problem is how tense and jumpy Oliver himself is at the moment.

You're lounging in one of the ponds, skin wet and glistening in the late afternoon sun, as you casually chitchat with Venetia and Farleigh. All three of you stretched out on your apparently designated pool floats.

Farleigh nearly caved Oliver's head in when he tried grabbing his. Lesson learned. So, like the sweetheart you are, you generously offered him yours that day.

"Don't be afraid to grab it whenever you'd like too. I don't mind at all." You smiled at him, and Oliver swears a halo encircled your head then. "Doesn't really belong to me anyway."

Oh, but it does. Because they all adore you, and he's sure if you merely asked, they'd buy hundreds of those pool floats without batting an eye.

Elspeth cooed over you just this morning, going on and on about how wonderful you look today. And you do, of course, but it's just so curious to see the Cattons so enamoured with some common person. She's totally infatuated with you.

Could it be that, with time, they simply forgot that you're not really one of them? Felix did say you're part of the family at this point, whatever that means to people like him.

Oliver lets his gaze wander the length of your legs. Your feet dipped into the cool water, your head leaning back and your sunglasses sitting on top of your nose, threatening to slip off any second now.

Farleigh, the whole reason he's been feeling so fidgety today, shoots you a mischievous smirk before splashing you with a handful of pond water. You yelp, nearly tipping your float over from the icy shock.

He chuckles at your reaction, which sounds how sandpaper scratching against Oliver's brain would probably feel like. Grating and violence-inducing.

As soon as you regain your composure, you move to return the favour, but with two handfuls. Farleigh gasps in mock offence, jumping off his float to wade over to you as you laugh and shout at him to fuck off.

Oliver purses his lips, scowling at the playful scene unfolding in front of him. He looks at Felix, dozing in the chair next to him, with the book he's been pretending to read all summer resting on his belly.

He chews at the inside of his cheek, a malicious idea suddenly popping into his pretty head.

He nudges Felix, who lifts his head to drowsily raise his brows at him. "'S matter?" He mumbles.

Oliver, as nonchalantly as he can muster, nods his head in your direction before setting his little plan in motion. Big, innocent eyes as he peers at Felix.

"Seems like Farleigh got himself a little crush, eh?"

"What?" Felix's brows knit in confusion before he peeks over the rim of his Ray-Bans to see Farleigh shove you off the pool float and into the pond.

A huge, goofy smile is on your attacker's face as he watches you resurface. Your face lights up with an unbridled but light-hearted thirst for revenge. Farleigh is quick to play along, pretending to fear his impending doom as he allows you to chase him out of the water and across the chalet gardens.

Both of you are giggling and squealing like children; it's sickening.

Oliver notices Felix's leg begin to bounce up and down impatiently, his jaw tensing when you tackle Farleigh to the ground. You laugh when he pokes your side to escape your clutches.

It's a horribly childish display, really. And entirely unnecessary.

Felix nearly seethes, his chest rising and falling in tandem with an agitated sigh. Oh, is that jealousy Oliver's smelling?

Putrid and foul as it pollutes the air around the two of them, like toxic fumes rising from their pores. Their skin almost turns green from their relentless loathing, with half a mind to gruffly put a stop to your games.

"You really think so, mate?"

"Sure looks like it, doesn't it?" Oliver mutters, a theatrically naive lilt to his voice.

Felix just hums in response, bitterness and disgust written all over his otherwise flawless features. Plush lips contorted into a vague frown as he silently lights a cigarette.

Oliver turns away, pretending to yawn, in an attempt to conceal the pleased smile on his face.

He just managed to successfully plant the seed of resentment and faux competition deep within Felix's mind. And he knows Felix can't stand not getting what he wants, much less when it comes to losing to Farleigh out of all people.

There's something about facing defeat when it's at the hands of someone you've deemed trustworthy your entire life.

If he could, Oliver would absolutely pat himself on the shoulder right now. Excellent work, mate. One step closer to achieving his goal.

And you're ever clueless to the web Oliver's silently and meticulously stringing up around you and Felix, wrapping his string around your neck and leaving you both none the wiser.

This might be easier than Oliver expected.

⊹˚. ౨ৎ

Part 2 coming soon :> !!

Please consider reblogging this if you enjoyed it! Likes are very much appreciated but sadly don't do much for writers and artists on Tumblr. By reblogging, you're telling us you'd like to see more and help our work reach more people that might be interested! Thank you so much :> ♡

⊹˚. ౨ৎ

11.01.2024

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yangirlyere · 1 year

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the worst thing i could do to myself is the first thing i did in the first signal of boredom.

i should not have stalked his twitter after literally having to kiss three other guys just to forget about him AND NOW ITS ALL IN VAIN AND I AM HORNY ALL THE SAME I JUST HATE IT HERE

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yangirlyere · 2 years

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team black here but one look and he can get it anytime

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yangirlyere · 3 years

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OMFG THIS IS SO GOOD, AND THE ENDING????!🤯🤯🤯🤯

initiation

bakusquad boys x reader

dynamic // (very scummy) frat!bakusquad boys x fem!reader

aged up characters - nsfw, MINORS DO NOT READ, LIKE, REBLOG, COMMENT, OR FOLLOW ME.

word count // 19.8k (this is a reupload!) // AO3 LINK

warnings // gangbang, bukkake, virginity kink, corruption kink, sexual coercion + manipulation, very dubcon, tagging noncon just in case, power imbalance, intoxication, exhibitionism, creampie, noncon creampie, dacryphilia, double penetration (one hole & two), cum eating, cumplay, oral (m & f receiving), stomach bulge, spit kink, impact play (choking, slapping, biting), objectification, teasing (+ bullying), degradation kink, humiliation, praise kink, breeding kink, multiple orgasms, noncon recording

LINKS // masterlist x tip jar

DO NOT POST MY WORK ON TIKTOK. DO NOT READ MY WORK IF ANY OF THE TOPICS LISTED IN THE WARNINGS WILL UPSET YOU.

preview

There’s a half-formed plan surfacing in his hazy, smoked out mind. It’s a plan for you, Mina’s innocent bookworm of a roommate. Really, he’s kicking himself for not making it a point to meet you ages ago. After all, he’s heard tons about you from Mina. Tons about how shy and quiet you are. He can’t believe it took him this long to scope you out.

A wicked grin spreads across his face.

Denki would bet his entire weed stash that you’re a virgin, and he wants to absolutely ruin you.

He opens his phone and taps to his messages.

To: ALPHA CHI BOYS - i found one, guys. she’s a real cutie.

full text

Keep reading

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yangirlyere · 3 years

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so... just find out that my lil sis is into yandere boys too

so I think it's a family thing I'm definitely concerned.

#kink #yandere #someone help lmao

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yangirlyere · 3 years

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tetraphobia

maybe seijoh's revenge doesn't always have to be on the court. maybe seijoh's revenge can come in the form of fucking kageyama's sweet little girlfriend.

wc: 3.3k

tags/tw's(PLEASE READ): explicit n*fw, noncon, gangbang, mindbreak, victim blaming/guilt, forced infidelity, hints of sadism, anal, double penetration, deepthroat, cunnilingus, sorta overstim? idk this is very nasty, fem!reader with inner genitals, timeskip!characters

a/n: this is for @somecravings' gangbang collab! this work features the seijoh four.

i don’t want minors interacting with my content

“I wonder where Tobio-chan found himself such a cute girlfriend.”

The words freeze you in your tracks.

A tall, well-built, man leans against the wall of the hotel hallway, the cramped space making him loom large in front of you. You think he’s a stranger at first - but a closer look at the waves of his chestnut hair, his molten hazel eyes - and memories of the pictures Tobio had shown you flood back into your mind.

Oikawa Tooru, he’d told you. Teammates at Kitagawa Daiichi, and then rivals at Karasuno and Aoba Johsai. I took away his last chance to make it to nationals in high school. Now he’s on Argentina’s national team. Looked up to him a lot, but we had a… strained relationship.

His eyes flicker back to the faded yearbook photos, an unmistakable note of bitterness in his voice.

The very same Oikawa Tooru from his pictures stands in the hallway leading to your hotel room, arms crossed and eyes glittering with amusement.

Almost as if he’d been waiting there for you.

“He’s out celebrating his win, isn’t he?” he says, cocking his head to one side. “Along with the rest of his team.”

He steps closer, walking towards you until he’s mere feet away. You can see where the hem of his blue jersey peeks out from beneath his jacket, the white of his teeth glinting as he grins. Up close, he’s even more intimidating, and you suppress the sudden surge of discomfort that crawls beneath your skin.

Your eyes flit back and forth, eyebrows creasing in confusion. “Is there something you need?”

“Yes,” he says, his hand reaching out to stroke gently along your cheek. “I was wondering if you could do me a favor, sweetheart.”

Panic seizes you when his cold, calloused, fingertips brush lightly along your skin, your heart thudding as discomfort rips through your body. You don’t know what his intentions are, but his words scare you. There’s nothing genuine about his tone, nothing kind, and years of too-close encounters with men have left you wary and alert. His touch is invasive, contemptuous, mocking, and you jerk away from his hand in an attempt to backpedal-

Warm hands clamp down around your shoulders in an iron grip. Your heart sinks as you realize you’ve got nowhere to go, dread seeping into every vein in your body.

“I’m a little late. Sorry.”

The voice at your ear is a low rasp, his tone nonchalant, but you can hear the message that undercuts it as clear as day: you’re not going anywhere.

“Don’t worry about it, Iwa,” Oikawa says, fingers curling around your chin, tilting your face up forcefully until you’re staring directly into his eyes. “You got here just in time to help me out. She looked like she was about to run away for a while there. Can you imagine?”

The man behind you - Iwaizumi Hajime, you recall - chuckles. “Wouldn’t get very far.”

Your blood runs cold at the implication of his words. Your stomach churns, an awful, nauseous feeling that makes you feel sick, shoulders tensing as you struggle against Iwaizumi’s hold.

“Hey,” he warns quietly. “Don’t make this harder on yourself.”

His words almost make you want to laugh; he says them like he’s trying to help you, like he genuinely cares about your well-being. You remember the late-night talks you and Kageyama would have, the ones where he’d describe his days spent in middle school, secluded and walled off from the other players on his team. There was always one name he spoke with a particular reverence: Iwaizumi Hajime. Tough. Strong. Kind. A good man, he’d emphasized. I’m glad he was there during those years.

Well, this certainly was a reality check, wasn't it?

He removes his hands from your shoulders and wraps an arm around your waist, keeping you pressed close to his side, as if a reminder of you how powerless you are in this position. “Come on, baby,” he says. “Let’s go.”

“It’d be rude to keep Makki and Mattsun waiting any longer."

Oikawa slides his fingers into yours until the two of you are holding hands, humming happily as Iwaizumi escorts you down the hall towards your own hotel room. It takes every last ounce of self-control to stop yourself from crying and screaming on the spot, to hold back the tears that threaten to spill over, to save yourself the embarrassment of breaking down pathetically as these people - these assholes - watch.

You get the feeling that they’re not going to leave you alone out of pity.

They escort you to your hotel room, passing by rows and rows of rooms that blur as your vision tunnels. Their presence is suffocating; Oikawa’s fingers brush against your wrist, rubbing tender circles into your skin, and you can feel Iwaizumi's warm breath on the crown of your head.

Oikawa grabs the key card from your purse, sliding it into the scanner, and pushes the door open when it lights up green.

Your heart stills with fear as they drag you inside, flicking the light switch open until the room glows softly.

There’s two more people sitting in the bed.

A tall, lanky man waves in acknowledgement, nudging his companion in the side as his eyes flicker appraisingly over you.

The other man looks up, tossing his phone aside, blowing aside a stray strand of strawberry-pink hair.

“Hmm. I hate to say this, but Oikawa was right,” he says, a wry grin on his face. “What a pretty girl.”

You feel so vulnerable with four pairs of eyes roaming over every inch of your body, your mind running rampant with fear and anticipation as they admire and scrutinize. And you’d be right to be scared, because there’s so much they can’t wait to do, so much of you they’ve been dying to explore, so many of their little fantasies that they’ve been waiting for the right girl to help them act out.

You’ll help them out, won’t you?

Without warning, there’s a pair of hands on your waist insistently pushing you downwards, applying steady pressure until your legs collapse and you’re forced to your knees.

“So impatient, Iwa.” Oikawa clicks his tongue, shaking his head. “You won’t even let her get settled in?”

There‘s a huff of annoyance above you. “The more you talk, the less I’m going to enjoy this.”

“Alright, alright.”

Oikawa slides a hand onto the back of your neck, the other moving to grip your hair. His touch is gentle, fingers stroking along your pulse point, but you know it won’t last if you misbehave. You have no illusions about the kind of person he is, not when his hands maneuver your mouth and throat into nothing more than a warm fleshlight for his friend.

Iwaizumi palms himself in front of your face, hands skimming over the bulge in his jeans as he groans in pleasure, and pulls out his half hard cock, veins throbbing and flushed with arousal. Cupping your face in his hand, he fits the tip to your soft lips and tilts your chin upwards to meet his piercing, lust-filled eyes, his gaze swirling with want.

“Open up for me like a good girl, okay?” he growls.

You can’t help the way your cunt pulses at his tone, an intoxicating rush of fear and desire that leaves your mind hazy and mouth dropping open. He doesn’t waste the opportunity, pushing his cock into your warm, wet, mouth, a moan falling from his lips as he thrusts his hips forwards. You retch at the intrusion, instinctively jerking your head backwards, but Oikawa’s grip on your neck tightens as he holds you in place. He crouches down, lips finding your ear as Iwaizumi starts sliding in and out of your mouth.

“Don’t worry,” he whispers, warm breath sending shivers down your spine. “If you take it like you’re supposed to, he won’t last too long.”

At those words, his hands push your head forward, impaling your throat on his cock, holding you down as you choke and drool and retch. Your eyes redden as silvery tears drip through your lashes, panic rising, vision turning to static, the pain in your lungs growing unbearable as Oikawa’s smile turns razor sharp. “Atta girl,” he encourages softly, his thumb wiping away one of the tears running down your cheek. “I think he’s gonna cum soon if you keep this up.”

If you keep this up. As if you have a choice.

Iwaizumi’s thrusts grow more erratic, fucking you rougher and faster as he slams in and out of your throat. “Fuck,” he curses under his breath. “Such a good fucking girl for me. Got such a - such a perfect little mouth, taking me so well,” he says, breath catching.

Just like Oikawa had predicted, he doesn’t last much longer after that, hips stuttering when he spills down your waiting throat. He tastes warm and slightly salty, the last few drops of his cum dripping down your chin as he presses a thumb to your lips and wipes away the drool collecting at the corner.

There’s a horrible, sinking, feeling settling inside you as he grabs the collar of your shirt and hoists you up with him onto the bed, your limbs going limp as you let him press an open-mouthed kiss to your trembling lips, his tongue slipping inside of your slack mouth.

You feel used.

Up close to Iwaizumi, you can see the flush of arousal coloring his bronzed cheeks, the sheen of sweat on his forehead, all the physical evidence of just how good you made him feel, and your stomach churns.

Your thoughts are interrupted when you feel fingers softly stroking at your clit, light, teasing strokes back and forth that leave you whimpering. A twinge of arousal pulses in your cunt as you hear words murmured against your inner thigh.

“Didn’t even try to fight back, did you?” There’s a gentle laugh from the pink-haired man beneath you, soft and terrifying, and the light brushes turn into more insistent circles. “It’s almost like you wanted it.”

Iwaizumi’s tongue curls deeper into your mouth as he deepens the kiss, leaving you gasping for breath.

“I had no idea you’d turn out to be such a slut,” he hums, mouth latching onto your thigh. “Although I’m really not complaining.”

“C’mon, Makki, don’t be so mean to her,” Iwaizumi chuckles, his teeth scraping roughly against your lips.

“I’m only telling the truth.”

The fingers circling your pussy creep upwards, grabbing onto your hips and pushing you down against the mattress. “Keep those legs spread nice and open for me, okay?” Makki says, voice sweet and cloying.

When the flat of his tongue brushes against your clit, his breath huffing warm on your folds, your thighs twitch involuntarily. It’s as if he’s made it his mission to eat you out as slow and light as possible, his kitten-licks and teasing strokes sliding along your folds and circling around your sweet spots without ever truly giving you the satisfaction that your cunt craves.

And he can tell you’re starting to break.

As Iwaizumi’s mouth moves down to suck at your neck, lips brushing along the erratic heartbeat of your pulse point, your hips jerk upwards against Makki’s waiting mouth as a moan slips out from between your lips.

He sucks at your aching clit, the steady, constant pressure making you writhe in his grasp. “Cute little cunt wants more, doesn’t i?” he coos.

You don’t dare say a word, face flushed with embarrassment as you bite your inner cheek in embarrassment. Makki’s right.

He’s right, and you hate that he’s right, hate how good he’s making you feel with every long, languid, lick, with every brush of his lips that leaves your walls throbbing in search of more.

A hand picks up your limp wrist, guiding your fingers until they wrap around something warm and hard, something incredibly thick and so, so, long -

You freeze as you realize it’s a cock.

“Mattsun’s blessed, isn’t he?” Makki laughs from between your thighs. “Maybe now you’ll understand that I’m really trying to do you a favor. We want these sheets stained with cum, not blood.”

You swallow nervously. That monster cock, so big you can barely fit your hand around it, is going inside you.

You’re paralyzed with dread, not even bothering to fight back as he maneuvers your palm up and down along his length, wrapping his much larger hand around yours as he uses your fist to help jerk him off.

All the revulsion in the world can’t stop the slow, mounting, wave of pressure building inside your core, growing stronger as Makki sucks with more force against your clit. Crooked fingers push inside your slick, needy, hole, his nimble digits searching and prodding, the pads of his fingertips rubbing insistently at your g-spot.

“See?” he murmurs. “‘m making you feel so good. You’re gonna be nice and ready when I’m done with you.”

You want to scream. You feel like a whore for enjoying anything at all; bile and guilt rising in your throat as white-hot arousal throbs in your cunt.

You’re strung out along the edge when you feel another mouth descending on your body, a tongue flicking out to tease at your nipple. You see a flash of chestnut brown hair as Oikawa looks up at you, a smirk curving at the corners of his mouth, almost as if he knows exactly what he’s doing, knows where your limits are and how to push right past them.

It’s too much for you to handle, too much for you to take. Three mouths ravage your body, tongues flicking out to lick at your neck and suck at your nipples and drag along your clit, silky and sensual against your soft skin, all while your slack hand pumps steadily along the shaft of a huge cock.

When an orgasm rips through your body, it’s like something stolen, something taken from you, and as your hips buck and thrash wildly, an emptiness settles in your stomach after you’re all fucked out from their ministrations.

What’s wrong with you?

At this point, you don’t feel like much more than a sex doll for the four men, all spread out and useless as you lay your head in Iwaizumi��s lap. He strokes gently at your hair, brushing a stray strand out of your face.

You barely even react as Mattsun manhandles you up, large hands positioning your hips until the head of his fully hard cock sits at your entrance, sliding just the tip into your loosened, clenching, hole.

“Ready?” he asks, his half-lidded eyes glinting with amusement.

He doesn’t really care about your answer.

“One… two… three.”

He forces you down on his cock, pushing your hips further and further down as you squirm and struggle and moan from the stretch. Your mind goes foggy as you feel the drag of his cock against the front of your walls, burying itself so deep in your cunt you can almost feel it in your stomach.

Mattsun likes it when his dick makes girls feel good, of course, when he fucks them better than their boyfriends, when he makes them cream and gush after barely moving.

He likes it better when he makes girls go stupid.

As he looks down at you, a warm rush of arousal twists in his gut. Your eyelids flutter in pleasure, mouth open and panting, small hands fisting at his shirt as you moan softly. It’s just too big for you to take, isn’t it? You can't handle being used like a pretty fuckdoll, or eaten out until you cream, or to be impaled on a cock so nice and big you can barely think straight. A string of drool falls from the corner of your mouth, but he doesn’t bother cleaning it up. You look better ruined, he thinks.

You’re dragged out of your fucked-out daze when a voice crawls into your ear, taunting and cruel, and a warm dick presses and slides along your ass.

“Bet Kageyama’s never tried this before,” Oikawa says.

A spurt of terror grips you as you hear the thinly-veiled anticipation in his voice, his fingers trembling with excitement as they grope at your ass.

He holds back a laugh at the way you freeze, shuddering in a mixture of fear and pleasure as Mattsun rolls his hips up and thrusts his cock even deeper. He knows he guessed right, judging from your cute little reaction, a high-pitched, pathetic whimper dropping from your lips as brushes his cock against your hole.

He hopes it hurts.

When he presses in, it’s a slow, aching, stretch that leaves you feeling raw and split wide open. Unlike the dull pain from Mattsun’s cock, this one is a searing, brutal, torment, a stinging intrusion in your tight hole that forces a choked gasp from your lungs.

“Wish your boyfriend could see us right now,” he breathes, pressing a gentle kiss to the crook of your neck. “Feels so good squeezing my cock, so fucking nice and tight.”

Tobio.

Panic races along your veins. Your chest rises and falls rapidly, breasts bouncing slightly as your breaths come shallow and rapid.

“I can’t imagine how he’d feel - seeing his perfect little angel getting stuffed so full in both her precious holes.”

The tightness in your chest bursts as tears stream down your face, cries and moans coming out thick and stuffy as you sob. You know he’s right. It didn’t matter that it was forced, that you said you didn’t want it - you already came once, didn’t you? And judging by the tense pleasure pulsing at your clit, you were due for another sooner or later.

Oikawa laughs. “It’d be awful if he came back right now, wouldn’t it? Just in time to watch his precious little girlfriend getting raped by his former senpai.”

Mattsun snickers, bring a hand up to swipe at your clit. “Look,” he says softly, tilting your head until you lock eyes with Makki.

He’s fisting his cock rapidly, a hungry, predatory, expression on his face, tongue darting out to lick at his lips as he lets out a pleasured groan.

It’s better than almost any of his gross little fantasies. He’s not sure his favorite porn videos will ever be able to compare to the sight of you being fucked stupid and split in two by his friends, two cocks sliding in and out of your tired holes as you cry.

You squeeze your eyes shut as the first waves of the orgasm begin to roll over you. Mattsun’s deft, long, fingers toy with your clit, stroking you insistently through the wild jerking of your hips as he feels your walls fluttering and creaming around the base of his dick. The pleasure is intense, unbearable, almost impossible to hold back, even as disgust crawls beneath your skin at the feeling of being stretched wide open.

Maybe they were right.

All those times you’d thought about what you’d do if this happened, every single night when you’d lie awake and tell yourself, i’ll fight back. i’ll resist. i’ll make them regret ever forcing me -

They were all lies.

Oikawa feels a sick sense of satisfaction as he watches the turmoil in your expression. He can tell by the slump of your shoulders, the bitterness in your gaze, the way you turn over to your side and curl up into a fetal position - they broke you, turned you into a mindless, slutty, fuckdoll, showed you who you really were.

Kageyama can have you back now. He’ll come into this hotel room, horrified at the sight of you passed out and naked, and call the police. Maybe he’ll help wash you up, bring you a cup of tea as you sob and insist that it wasn’t your fault. Maybe he’ll even believe you, despite the way you’ve stained the sheets.

But things won’t ever really be the same for you.

They made sure of it.

if you liked this, reblogs and comments are highly appreciated! my inbox is always open :)

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yangirlyere · 3 years

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just thinking abt dilf sugar daddy kuroo🥵

#kuroo smut #kuroo headcanons #kuroo x reader

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yangirlyere · 3 years

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request ; could you make a inarizaki or nekoma manager headcanon please :))) — anon

warning ; none

characters ; nekoma

author’s note ; this is also pretty bad but the inarizaki manager post is here !

honestly, you weren’t sure how you ended up being the manager but you don’t regret it at all. everyone finds you admirable, you left a mark on every single one’s heart and heads.

literally every single member flirts with you and tries to get your attention, some more than others and more obvious than discreet.

they all include you in their team, you are one of them now— you are apart of the blood that runs within the veins.

you have every single player trying to impress you, kenma tries but he’s not so obvious— but give him a cute compliment of how well he did it by tricking the other team with his eyes, a small smile is on his face.

but actually every time you do that, the team expects a compliment from you too so please hand them over.

you are always in the middle of the team’s bickering— either you are stopping it or the reason why, they just dislike sharing their attractive manager but sadly they don’t have a choice. that is if someone makes a move first.

they all actually love you and you affected them all just by the littlest things— breathing the same air is one.

they do always fight for your attention though because kenma is always by you and taking up your time with his presence and you are not against it at all.

you’re always treating every single one with respect by handing them their towels or bottles, chasing the balls and giving them compliments and tips. you are the reason kenma even grew to use hair ties during practice after one time his hair kept getting in his face and you tied it up with your extra hair tie.

as i said, you have left a mark on everyone and they all have traits or ideal things with you.

you have the mischievous captain who teases you for the littlest things but if he knows you don’t like it or it makes you insecure, expect an apology and he will never speak another word of that specific thing.

then there’s kai with how reliable he is, his presence is enough to keep you sane really. need any aid? he’ll be glad to assist you whether it is mentally or physically, just say the word and he’s there.

yaku is beyond grateful for you to be apart of them. he is already supportive and believes in his teammates now imagine having you cheer him on for the skilled liberio he is. please, he adores you and he loves how responsible you are. there’s another person that he can actually stand. he also uses you to shape up lev.

need any confidence boosters? you have yamamoto praising you— of course. he love to brag to the teams that they too have an attractive manager who tolerates them. he is basically like a guard, will be by your side all the time unless you ask him to keep it to a certain level. he drinks his respect women juice. but compliment him please, return the favor.

lev is just as vocal about how attractive you are like yamamoto but he’s more subtle if anything. plus, he’s new to the game and just in general just like you are so please comment on him. especially on his skill on the court, he will be more on his feet knowing that his progress has recognition— especially knowing someone has his back and believes in him.

kenma is more on the collected side— sometimes. when you are watching them play, he usually leaves the court and just sits beside you, he allows you to watch him play on his switch or even lets you play. he finds so much comfort with you so that’s enough to show how much you mean to him.

the members are actually very intimidating when it comes to anyone from the rival team coming to interact with you. one glance and they want to cower away, of course they turn when you try to see what happened behind you. they all agreed that you are theirs— no sharing.

basically, they all are fond of you and in one way or the other— there is a relationship whether its platonic or not within every single member.

it’s chaotic most of the time but you wouldn’t ask for another team.

reblogs are greatly appreciated 🤍

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