ghostface’s gf

and for a secret, it really is so obvious. but your parents either don’t pay enough attention or just don’t care enough to notice just how close you are with your big brother. they’re oblivious to the fact that he takes you shopping all the time and chooses all your clothes— even your bras and panties. or how they only hear the shower being used once in the morning, but you both come down with damp hair, and tooru always has a smug expression as you trip over your own feet trying to walk on shaky legs. all the marks his strong fingers leave when he holds you still to stop your squirming away from his big cock— they figure it must just be from how stupidly clumsy you are. tooru was a nice enough big brother to place anything you might hurt yourself on or knock over out of your reach, and you still manage to get all those purplish bruises all over you. what are they going to do with you?

it makes you sad to see just how little you compare to tooru in their eyes, but he always tries to make you feel better about it. he thinks you’re smart, and pretty, and sweet. the best little sister ever— he tells you a lot when he’s got his leaky cockhead in your mouth or when he’s deep inside you, giving you those slow, deep thrusts that make your insides hug him really tight.

you really love your big brother. if you think about it too much, you get all confused because he’s also like a father to you in a lot of ways. he feeds you, dresses you, punishes you when he catches those rare stolen glances between you and that dark-haired setter. doesn’t ever let you date boys and spends a lot of time teaching you about the world, telling you how dangerous it is for little girls like you who just don’t know that much about anything. it frightens you, makes you cling to him and kiss him that much more desperately when he’s got you beneath him, taking the length of his cock deep in your cunny until he fills you up with all his cream that makes you feel so warm.

he’s right, of course — you really don’t know anything. you don’t know why you can’t seem to get any affection from your parents, or how tooru manages to be so patient with you when you’re so dumb and clueless. it hurts your little brain when you spend too much time thinking about how your big brother is also like a father and a boyfriend all in one, but you guess that’s why tooru always tells you to just stop thinking— and it works! life is so much easier when you just shut up and do everything your big brother says.

not fair that he fills the role of an older, stronger, wiser male figure in your life so completely. you’ve tried to get over your issues in the past, tried to feel complete on your own without clinging to teachers and advisors who tell you how smart and wonderful and pretty you are every chance they get. but it feels so good with him. too good when he lets you stay late with him after closing to help him try out new recipes, sitting on the counter and swinging your legs as he cleans up and tells you all sorts of interesting stories and corny jokes.

too good when he lends a sympathetic ear to your struggles and insecurities about being all alone and in need of someone, some gentle, guiding presence — a father figure — that you can depend on. rely on. who makes you feel safe and secure, validated and so, so loved. you’ve never had that, not really, but you’ve seen it. you crave it.

osamu nods reassuringly. he asks if he’s ever helped fill that void for you as he brings you into his arms when you start to get all teary, rubbing your shoulders with strong hands to soothe you. you nod, unable to lie to him, fidgeting with your hands as you avoid his gaze. it’s so embarrassing. he’s not your dad. you don’t want him to think it’s weird that you sometimes think of him like that.

“really? that’s sweet,” he coos, turning you around, your back to his chest as his hands start massaging lower. his fingers curl around you, holding you steady, almost touching the sides of your breasts as his thumbs work through the tension in your shoulder blades. “i kinda think of ya as my daughter, too, ya know. yer so darn pretty, and smart, i’d be so proud to call ya my little girl.”

you can’t help the soft moan that escapes you. you both pause, and you try to play it off with a small “t-that feels good, how you’re- um, my back.”

but you’re a bad liar. you’re blushing furiously, your thighs squeezing together and your eyes getting all glassy and lost. there’s a physical reaction to his words, your brain getting all dizzy with the praise and affection. he’s noticed it before when he’s given you small compliments, tried not to let his mind wander to how far he could push it, but you’re just so cute. so easy to read. he feels his cock get all hard because he knows where your little mind starts going when he talks to you like this.

“oh yeah? feels good?” he muses, getting a little deeper, gripping you a little harder. you’re so small compared to him, look so fragile in your little skirt, parting your glossy lips to let out small sounds of pleasure as you nod. it really does.

“use your words, darlin’. you can do it,” he mumbles, and you whimper as your thighs press closer together. “tell yer daddy how it feels.”

“feels s-so good.” you breathe out, and he can feel you trembling in his hands. “thank you…”

he knows what you want to say, but he hears the way your breath hitches as you choke on the word. you’re just so unsure of yourself, so helpless when you don’t have him telling you what to do and praising you so nicely for following directions. he knows how hard it must be for you to go through life without the kind of reassurance little girls like you need. but he’s here now. he’ll fix you up real good.

“you can say it, sweetheart. i’d like to hear it,” he encourages, his thumbs kneading your lower back now, his hands finding their way to your hips as he leans down to speak in your ear. “i think it’d suit me.”

you nod, leaning back to rest your head on his hard chest as your tummy flutters. your panties are all wet and sticky, more heat flooding to your center as you let out a high-pitched “thank you, daddy.”

he groans in appreciation, his cock throbbing and twitching in his pants. you gasp when he pulls your hips into him, pushing into you and making you feel it.

“say it again, sweetheart. gonna make ya feel what it does to me.”

you try not to writhe as he holds you against it, getting desperate for a little friction down there. your pussy feels empty, all soaking and needy. but you’re a good girl, so determined to fight the dizziness in your brain and do what he says.

“daddy, i—” you cut yourself off with another gasp, shaking as you feel his… thing— pulse and twitch against your aching center. it feels big, even in the confines of his pants. he groans as you wiggle your hips against him.

“what is it, darlin’, hm? tell yer daddy what ya need.”

you whine as he ducks his head lower to graze his lips against your neck, placing sweet kisses there as you fall apart.

“n-need my daddy’s… oh— p-please don’t make me say it. ‘s so embarrassing.”

he lets out a deep chuckle, wrapping his arms around your body and squeezing you closer to him in a hug. he’s so strong, crushes you with no effort at all to stop you from shying away from him. he can see you getting all flustered and panicky now that it’s real, but it’s okay. little girls like you just need someone to be firm with them, make them finish what they started. it’s what you wanted, after all.

“ya think i’m gonna laugh at ya? hm?” he asks, still slowly rolling his hips against you to get some relief. “yer daddy would never do that to ya, baby. i promise. now tell me how you want this to go.”

he can feel your little brain working, trying to get through all those fears and mental blocks that hold you back from admitting what you really want to happen to you. but he’s patient. he waits, trailing gentle kisses from your temple all the way down to your neck, savoring the way you begin to soften against him and relax.

“i want… want your… cock,” you squeak out. you’re so embarrassed by your own words, but it makes your legs all wobbly when he groans behind you, squeezing you tighter in encouragement. “inside me. feels so— so big, i-i can’t think— please, daddy.”

you’re crying, trembling and gasping as he starts to suck bruises into your neck. you can’t move in his hold, completely powerless as he pushes you with his body until your hips are pressed up against the counter, having to go on your toes so he can force your upper body down and bring your ass level with his hard bulge.

“that’s a good girl, baby— fuck,” he grunts, flipping your skirt up and pushing your panties down so he can get a good look at your glossy pussy clenching around nothing. “‘m so proud of ya. gonna treat ya so good, since ya asked so nicely.”

you’re nodding mindlessly, whining and moaning as he finally brings his cock out and runs it through your folds. he has to bend his knees a little to angle it just right before he starts to push it in, slowly bullying his way through your tight walls to sink himself deep inside, all the way to the hilt.

you’re crying, squirming and spasming around the intrusion as he stands taller, his cock pushing in so far that he has to move you higher up on the counter, your feet not even touching the floor anymore. you’re helpless like this, unable to stop him from pulling out before you’re ready, then giving you a deep thrust back in.

“d-daddy!” you shriek, kicking your feet as he moans, throwing his head back and feeling you clench to keep him buried inside. “‘s too much!”

fuck, he knows. he looks down at his big cock filling your tiny entrance and it makes him lightheaded. you’re sucking him in, your walls hugging all the sensitive veins and ridges that make him feel so good. it’s better than he imagined, but you’re right— it is too much. way too much for his little girl to be taking without any prep. he looks at the position he’s got you in, and a piece of him knows that it’d be so easy to keep going like this. he could make you take him any way he wants, make you scream and beg and regret ever thinking that any older man who’s nice to you could be a replacement father in whatever fucked up therapy session this is for you.

he’s almost shocked out how hard it is to ignore that side of him, but he can’t focus on that or why you brought it out of him in the first place. he promised he’d be nice, go easy on you for being so good and sweet and placing all your trust in him. and the best daddies always keep their promises.

the next time he sinks back into you he does it slowly, with control. he lets you feel him slide through your tender walls and massage them, holding one of your hips with one big hand and tangling his fingers through your hair with the other. he hopes it brings you a little comfort, biting his lip as he watches you squirm and twitch when he bottoms out. he sees the way your shaky breaths wrack your body, hears you cry out for him weakly, and he feels his heart squeeze.

“i’m here, baby. daddy’s here.” he says, rubbing his thumb across your skin. “just got a little excited for a second, yer little pussy’s just so tight for me.”

he groans when you clamp down around him at the praise, unable to help yourself. “‘s okay, daddy. was a little h-hard, but i-i liked it.”

he coos, leaning over you and pulling you up by your hair a little so he can give you a deep, open-mouthed kiss with tongue. you moan and whine into it, but he swallows all your noises as he starts a slow grind into your heat.

“d-daddy,” you whine, finally pulling away when you run out of breath. you face is flushed and your eyes are struggling to meet his, rolling back whenever he nudges that sweet spot inside you. “feels so— so good, oh— thank you, daddy.”

he grins, picking up the pace until you’re relaxed enough for him to give you full thrusts again. this time you take it like you were made for it, made to be full of his fat cock as it ruins you. he straightens up, gripping both of your hips firmly as he speeds up, feeling his balls tighten every time you moan out something incoherent. you’re drooling and babbling just like a little baby.

“yer welcome, sweetheart. you just enjoy yer daddy’s big cock, okay?” he asks, and you nod, but he’s not sure you can really even process the words right now. “don’t have to worry about nothin’ else anymore. daddy’s here.”

you whine, still nodding your empty head as you fall into a fit of moans.

he closes his eyes, throwing his head back with a low groan as he feels you keep tightening up around him. he couldn’t have asked for a better way to finally get ahold of you. he looks down at where his big cock sinks inside you, knowing that it shouldn’t even fit. you’re too tiny for him. your feet can’t even touch the floor like this, dangling just inches above it, and you both feel his cock throb inside you. listening to the way you choke and cry over it makes that primal, protective instinct flood through him.

fuck, he’s gonna take such good care of you. make sure no one can ever hurt you again, he swears.

you babble something too quickly for him to catch, your legs starting to shake and your hands coming down to grip his. he groans, feeling you really start to clamp down and already knowing what you’re trying to say.

“gonna cum, baby? hm?”

you cry, nodding and sinking your nails into his strong hands as you squirm. he curses, holding you still as he keeps up his relentless pace, fucking into you harder— until your squishy insides start to hug him tighter.

“y-yes, oh god— daddy, i’m gonna—”

he knows. he throws his head back when you release, fucking you through it as you cry and beg for your daddy. he feels his own climax building, pumping into you like you’re a doll, the veins protruding from his big cock rubbing your walls raw. he’s so sensitive, can feel you sucking him in, trying to keep him buried inside you as you shake and squeak.

he cums with a drawn out groan, slamming his hips into you and using his much bigger body to hold you down, fisting your hair to pull you back in for another messy kiss. you’re crying into it, your mouth open and tongue helplessly trying to keep up with his as you take all his cum. you feel him everywhere— feels so full, too full, and his scent makes you dizzy. you’re still cumming and you can’t stop crying because— oh god, you love him.

“daddy, daddy—” you gasp, pulling away to breathe before he cuts you off with another deep kiss. you look so fucked, lips puffy and mascara running down your face.

“i’m here, baby, breathe,” he grunts, using his grip on your hair to make you look at him. “ya did so well, baby, ‘m so proud.”

it’s all you need to hear, whining as you squeeze down on him. you wanna keep him there, wanna be his little girl forever.

he hugs you into him, lifting you off the counter and back onto your feet with his cock still inside you, his cum leaking out and running down your inner thighs. gravity keeps you impaled on it, jumping to your tippy toes and whining because it’s too deep like this. he hushes you, pressing kisses to your face and letting you rest against his solid chest until he starts to soften inside you.

you cry when he begins pulling out, protesting when you start to feel empty again. it’s such a bad feeling, so wrong now that you know what his cock feels like inside you.

“shh, hey, it’s okay,” he coos, gripping your face to make your watery eyes look up at him. “‘m not goin’ anywhere. just gonna clean ya up, then yer daddy’s gonna take you home, ‘kay?”

you nod reluctantly, not really able to speak yet because you’re still shaking and crying. you can feel the ghost of him pounding into you, pussy squeezing around nothing pathetically as you focus on keeping the rest of his warm cum inside you.

osamu notices but doesn’t say anything. he knows you’ll be embarrassed, but he thinks you’re cute like this. so precious when you let him clean you up, fixing your pretty outfit and wiping your tears before guiding you out to his car. he lets you hold his fingers in your small hands as he rests a heavy palm on your thigh, rubbing your skin softly with his thumb the whole way back to his house.

stepdad grisha who fucks you nice and slow, gently because you really are just so sweet. the cutest as you muffle your own cries and keep any protests to yourself as he fills you up with his big cock. you shake when he pulls out, trembling as you feel him slide out of your sensitive walls then fuck himself back into you. his leaky cockhead always hits your cervix, and you take his tongue in your mouth so obediently when he quickly presses his lips onto yours to shut you up so your mom doesn’t hear. you moan and whimper as he speeds up, but all your noises get swallowed as he works himself up to a fast grind, keeping his entire length buried inside you as his cockhead bumps your cervix over and over. you cry when he praises you for taking it all— he knows it’s really too big for you, but this is good for you. cumming all over your stepdad’s cock is beneficial to your health— trust him, he’s a doctor. just promise you won’t say a word to carla about this, or he’ll have to stop giving you all these private treatments that feel so good.

sometimes it’s a tie, but he usually always lets you win. he may think he has you fooled, but you’re not totally clueless — you can tell when he’s speeding up on purpose or pushing the thick, leaky end of his boy part into that spot that always makes you squeeze around him and take the game. he cheats, too, always rubbing that little button above your hole that makes your whole body shake. you’ve never called him out on it, though, because it feels so good and you really do love winning. especially because your prize is a load of his big brother cream wherever you choose — either deep inside you til your tummy feels full or filling your mouth until it’s almost too much to swallow at once.

the thing about that game is that you wanna play all the time, especially when you’re on a win streak. but when shoyo told you the rules, he made it really clear that no one else can know about it. so you have to keep your mouth shut tightly to avoid slipping up and bragging about how many times shoyo gave you your prize in one week, or how sometimes his boy part makes you finish over and over again in just one round. you get a little fussy when you can’t play because someone else is home, or when he’s too busy with volleyball. he showed you how to play by yourself once, taught you how to use your own fingers and it felt okay, but nothing compares to the way your big brother does it.

“don’t make this harder than it needs to be.”

“you know i focus better when you cooperate.”

“you want me at my best, don’t you?”

you do, of course you do. you’d feel so badly if anything were to go wrong because of you. so if the star player needs to stuff your little cunny full so he can be on his A-game, shouldn’t you be a good little manager and just let him? your job is to support him in any way he needs, after all — even if he does need to remind you of that fact over and over again.

after practice, before big games, during hotel-stays when the team travels. a good manager lets the ace bully his thick cock into her entrance to keep him clear-headed and relieve stress, or take it deep in her throat as a way to congratulate him on another victory— and you want to be the best, don’t you?

you do, and you try so hard to be. even though it’s way too big— the stretch always burns and it hurts when he bullies it all the way in to cause a bulge in your tummy, and his strong hands leave bruises all over you when he holds you still and makes you take it all. and it’s so embarrassing that you always cry, especially when you uselessly push against his chest and he tells you to “stay still, don’t fight it — you’re not strong enough.”

he’s not even mocking you. just factual as he overpowers you completely, covering you with his much larger body, gripping your waist, your hips, your throat. he always tangles a hand through your hair when he knows you’re close, making you look at him as you fall apart on his cock, and you have to rush to cover your own mouth so no one lingering around in the gym hears you cry out for the team’s ace as you cum. and he forces you keep holding that eye contact as he fills you up, his eyes dark and fixated on you, sweat beading along his hairline and all his muscles tightening as he groans, filling you up with his warm, heavy load deep inside you.

it’s hard work keeping the ace at the very top of his game, and it goes almost entirely without praise. no one except ushijima sees all the extra hours you put into it. no one else knows why you exclusively wear skirts to practice and games, or why it’s hard for you to sit down on the hard bench for a couple days after a loss. they only see the results— his sharpened focus, his precision, his crushing wins. they never ask what fuels it, or wonder what it costs you to keep him that way. however it’s done, they’re just silently thankful, even if they have to pretend they don’t see his hand on your lower back when he stands next to you, or that his spare practice jacket is somehow always in your bag. no one thinks too much about how often you show up with bruised knees after “taking a spill” in the storage room, or why he smells like your perfume at the start of morning practice, or how you definitely squeak a little every time he spikes the ball so hard the sound echoes across the court— and the guys taking a water break are pretty sure you wince and rub your ass afterward, like it reminds you of a painful memory.

it doesn’t matter. if the cost of that precision, that overwhelming power on the court, lies between you and him, well — that’s the system. the structure that keeps the ace untouchable and his team victorious.

“t-tooruuu!” you cry, fighting and squirming to get out of his grip. you can’t look iwa in the eyes, it’s too embarrassing. you can’t let him see the way you go nearly cross-eyed, totally stupid every time your meanie brother ruts into you at that angle that makes your legs shake. “let me go—ugh—s-stop!”

he lets out another chuckle, releasing your hair to get a good grip on your face and forcing you to look at iwa. you can’t focus too well with your pussy being filled over and over and your brain getting all fuzzy, but you moan when you see him leaning back in his chair with his big cock in his hand, stroking it slowly as he bites his lip. the sight makes your body heat up, your pussy squeezing down on tooru’s cock as you moan and drool.

“oh, shit— don’t look so guilty, iwa. she likes this.”

you do. you do and you hate it. more than anything, though, you hate how much iwa likes it. you can see it on his face, never mind how leaky his cock is. his face reads as disgust, guilt, anger at his best friend for involving him in something like this. but it also shows overwhelming need. like there’s only a thin shred of restraint holding him back from ripping you out of your brother’s grip and taking you himself.

the thought makes you weak. you want to beg some more, for anything. for tooru to stop, or iwaizumi to leave, or one of them to let you cum, but any sounds you hope to make are muffled when tooru squeezes your cheeks together, making your lips pucker as your eyes roll back.

“there, doesn’t she look cute like this, iwa? makes her look real slutty, right?”

iwa nods reluctantly, now squeezing his cock a little tighter, thrusting his hips up into his hand and imagining it’s your pussy.

“see how badly iwa wants you, baby? hm?” tooru asks mockingly, leaning over you to say it in your ear. he pace hasn’t let up, still slamming into you over and over. it makes you breathless, squeezing him as hard as you can to keep him buried inside you.

“see what you- f-fuck— do to him? i think you should apologize for leading him on.”

you shake your head, soft cries wracking your body. you can’t. it’s so embarrassing. so utterly humiliating to have to look at iwa like this, let alone speak.

“do it. say, ‘i’m sorry for being such a slut, iwa.’” tooru grunts, his pace slowing to a grind. it makes you whine, throwing a little tantrum and moving your hips around to get more friction. you can feel the pressure that was steadily building start to rapidly disappear, crying because you were so close.

“hey, don’t be a fucking brat. say it— say you’re sorry for being such a fucking slut, and i’ll let you cum.” he breathes, squeezing your face even harder and stopping his movements altogether.

iwa stops touching himself, too, clenching his jaw and furrowing his eyebrows as he watches you. he’s flushed a pretty shade of red from his chest to his cheeks, his body tense and all the veins in his forearms prominent as he holds himself back— from touching you, from cumming all over himself. from beating oikawa’s face in because he’s jealous, he’s so jealous that it’s not him sinking his cock into your tiny little pussy. he’d be so much nicer to you, he swears. he’d make you cum around his cock so many times, you wouldn’t be able to speak. you’re too little to be getting treated this meanly, too sweet. and definitely too good of a little sister for oikawa.

but it makes his cock twitch in his hand when you finally muffle out a teary little, “‘m sorry for being such a s-slut, iwa.”

he and oikawa groan at the same time, and he resumes fucking his cock into his hand as his friend shoves your face down into the sheets and holds you there, fucking you harder and faster than before.

he can hear you squeaking and crying, working himself up and pumping his own cock in time with oikawa’s thrusts. he bites his lip harder, grunting and panting through his teeth because he’s so close.

he watches you intently, your little body jerking once, twice, then finally releasing in a fit of tremors as you cum all over your big brother’s cock. he and oikawa release at the same time, he thinks, tooru’s seed filling you up as his own spills all over his hand.

he throws his head back, riding out his orgasm by fisting his tip lazily, closing his eyes and listening to you whine as oikawa does the same with slow, deep thrusts back into your heat.