warnings: home invasion, noncon, degradation, fem!reader
a/n: this was supposed to be a crumb for @mahitopegger i have no idea wtf happened. i didn’t edit this || reposted from sideblog (now deactivated) on 4/17/2021.
It was only after the soft click of your door, and the eerie silence thereafter that seemed to threaten to close you in, that you realized that something wasn’t quite right. Your eyes darted left, then right, and you kicked off your shoes slower than usual, setting them semi-haphazardly to the side of your entryway.
Even if you weren’t paranoid, you were still the type of person to double check, sometimes triple-check your locks on occasion before you left your home, and you did remember your key turning the right way just seconds ago.
Maybe you were overreacting - after all you lived in a relatively safe area, alone save for your cat with a propensity to mewl for food at all hours of the day. Ah, that was possibly the issue, the fact that your little furry friend hadn’t made his presence immediately. But he knew how to be quiet sometimes, and was fond of an early afternoon nap.
The sound of your keys clattering on your coffee table now seemed unceremoniously loud, like you were disturbing a religious service. In your own house.
Your heart started to race for just a moment, and you turned around quickly.
Nothing. No person, no ghost, no cat. Just you, a sudden sense of unease, and your rapidly beating heart.
Why were you so anxious?
You couldn’t recall the last time you’d felt so unsettled for the moments in which you paced down your hallway, ears tuned to the soft footfalls of your presumably sleeping companion. You would have whispered its name but you didn’t want to wake up the needy little bastard unnecessarily.
It was only three paces in that you stilled suddenly, and the memory of the last time you’d felt this way suddenly struck vividly in your mind.
Clear blue eyes, bordered by long, pale white eyelashes. A smile, once easy and bright, with corners turned up far too high into malice.
You froze.
Was it him? Was Gojo in your house? He wouldn’t... would he?
Your last encounter had been... suboptimal, to say the least. You’d all but told him to get lost, that you weren’t and would never be interested, not after knowing who he was, what he was.
You needed a quiet, calm existence. Your imprint on the world would be measured. You had to stay away from bad omens like his.
But his reaction had been unnatural. He hadn’t given you a real response, just a smile, and you had felt just as unnerved then as you did now before you parted.
You were clearly still spooked.
But these nerves were just vestiges of your anxiety. Gojo knew how to take no for an answer. Of course he did.
He didn’t - you opened your bedroom to find the young sorcerer waiting for you, your cat comfortable in his arms.
“Ah! You’re back~”
Gojo didn’t move; rather, he continued to sit in his relaxed position, legs outstretched onto the bed, palm stroking softly at the soft orange fur. The soft purr of the docile animal filled the air with sharp contrast to your wordless mouth, opening and closing once in shock, and the frenzied beat of your heart.
He smiled before his eyes did, and shifted on top of your covers, getting to his feet. Dressed casually in a white t-shirt and a loose pair of sweatpants, as though he’d been lounging around your house the entire day... as though he lived here.
“W-what are you doing here?” You choked out.
His eyebrows furrowed, and his hold on the little creature relaxed, who remained for just a moment, mewing once before jumping off his lap, brushing by your legs that felt as though they would start shaking any moment, and then promptly sauntered out of the room.
“You didn’t tell me you had a cat,” Satoru remarked, now sitting with legs criss-crossed on the bed, hair mussed and relaxed, and with affect as bright as a child on his first sleepover. He patted the space on the bed next to him, beckoning you to come sit. “Did you have a good day?”
“Gojo, please get out of my house.”
His expression darkened for just a moment before it returned to its natural cheeriness. He patted the space next to him again.
“You must be tired. I can make you something. Tea?”
Your feet were glued to the ground, neither advancing nor retreating.
“P-please leave,” you repeated, more wary this time. Your hands were starting to shake and you watched his eyes flicker to them, then back to your eyes.
“Why would I do that?” He said, tilting his head ever so slightly.
His eyes bore into yours and you felt your stomach turn.
“Don’t you like my attention?”
“Satoru, please,” you continued, your lower lip wobbling inadvertently. “Please, just leave... I won’t tell anyone you came here, just... I can’t return whatever feelings you have, so just go.”
Your fists clenched and unclenched, but you still were so tense, planted onto the floor as though you were a sharp dagger thrust into vulnerable flesh. Why weren’t your feet moving? You should be running. Running as far as you can from this man who could just as easily become a monster if he so pleased.
As though he knew you’d already become powerless - not that it made a difference, the power differential was already so vast - he rose, walking towards you in an open, unguarded stance. He wasn’t afraid of you in the least. The very thought made your blood boil.
Once he stood before you, towering over your shorter, smaller frame, his lips pursed.
“Stop shaking.”
It was a command, given in an annoyed but direct fashion.
You don’t know why you eked out, powerlessly, “I can’t.”
“You weren’t this afraid when you were telling me to fuck off a couple days ago,” he noted. His hand rose to grip your chin, tilting your face to him. You don’t know when you’d started crying, but tears were now streaming down your face, warm and wetting his fingers.
“You’re crying? Where’s the sass you had then?”
“Please...”
Against your better wishes, his lips pressed to yours, and somehow then, your body remembered that adrenaline could also make you fight, and you did fight, thumping your hands balled into fists against his chest and his shoulders, as his hand gripped your chin tighter and his tongue forced its way down your throat. Once he’d gotten tired of your struggle, his other arm hooked around your waist, and he pulled you closer, pressing you against his body.
Your screams were muffled by his kiss as it grew deeper, and at some point, he’d decided on biting your lip painfully, drawing blood once he’d threatened you to shut the fuck up before he gave you something to cry about for real.
You remembered that the first time Gojo had kissed you, it had been soft and tender, nothing like this kiss that was violent and demanded submission; once his hand moved from its grip on your chin, it grasped your hair, fingers twisting and tugging to tilt your head back.
His lips left yours, now red and soon purple and blue, and made their way down your neck to mark them the same.
Every scream was futile, every plea for mercy fell on deaf ears.
At some point, you may have heard your cat meow for something... food? Out of sympathy? You weren’t sure, all you could think about were the painful hickeys on your collarbones and traveling down your bosom.
“I don’t know why you’re so resistant. You yourself called me selfish,” he murmured, ripping the top part of your clothing with the nonchalance with which one would peel a banana. At the sight of your exposed breasts, he was like a man rabid, slamming you backwards into the wall without much regard for head injury. His left arm caged you in, while his right pressed painfully onto your breast.
He paused for a moment, and grinned salaciously.
“Oh, don’t look at me like that~! You look so docile... it’s weird coming from you.”
To that, a fire renewed in your eyes, and you spat directly in his face. His lips curled again in satisfaction, barely reacting to the spittle dripping down his pretty features.
“Fuck you.”
“I will.”
With a small chuckle, he jerked your face painfully to the left such that you couldn’t look at him directly as he took your breast into his mouth.
The idea of this bastard suckling on you, loudly, lewdly as though you’d belonged to him only made the churn in your stomach worse, but the desperate attempts to a knee to his chest were met with barely a resistance. Like he knew you couldn’t hurt him and it was only a matter of time until you stopped and succumbed to him.
The process was already happening - you could feel your nipples hardening and a new flow of heat in your panties. Your tears became more prolific - no longer fear, but rage, but the hand that kept you steady against the wall was impossibly strong.
Your head swam as a confused pleasure started to replace the pain and fear you were feeling. More clothing was torn off of you, more of your skin was marked and licked and sucked. Once your panties were ripped to shreds, he lay your now languid and fight-drained body against him, cooing appreciatively at the new helplessness, pumping two slender fingers up and down your wet inner core as he moved you from the hard wall to the soft bed.
You almost thanked him.
His fingers remained within you as he laid you down, but once he withdrew his touch as your pounding hazy head hit the pillow, he replaced them with the roughness of his tongue, penetrating you without the least bit of shame.
You let slip the moan you had been holding in in defiance.
“That’s it, baby, let me hear you.”
He continued to lick and you continued to mewl.
Once he’d tired of the taste of your cunt, he invaded your privacy in the most all-encompassing way possible, pushing every inch of a greedy, throbbing cock inside of you. As you cried from the stretch, he shushed you with a hand clasped over your mouth to muffle your screams.
As if someone was going to help you. Maybe your cat would come and watch, but he’d found something else to do.
“I know it hurts but you’ll get used to it, I promise, babe,” he murmured, groaning slightly as he seated himself to the hilt. “There.”
He stilled and in the silence of the moment only punctuated by both of your soft pants, you remembered how to sob.
His nose crinkled, and he let out of a soft sigh, cock jerking impatiently inside you.
“Why are you so stubborn?” He mused, leaning against you so that his head rested in the softness of your breasts. He could hear your heartbeat that doesn’t beat for him... but rather it did, because he is the one making it quicken in some odd rhythm of terror and pleasure.
You didn’t speak because there was far, far too much to yell.
As though a timer had rung to mark the end of his empathy, he rose onto his hands again, sighing as he adjusted into the plushness of your walls that didn’t reject him as fervently as you did. He moved, shoving two fingers down your throat to gag your renewed protests as he thrust into you repeatedly.
The short gasps with every stroke only encouraged him, and the immense pleasure he found in the light of your eyes starting to fade into a placid dullness.
“You love me,” he informed you with every rut.
You didn’t answer.
You weren’t sure what this disgusting repetitive sensation bringing your body to climax was. You were no longer sure what he was even talking about, just that there was a warm thing pumping inside of you and fingers down your throat and pain everywhere else in your body, particularly your neck and shoulders and arms and breasts, and you were staring into precious sapphires littering the base of twin lakes.
"W-wakatoshi... fuh-fuck, people can probably-” your eyes clamp shut as his fingers go from petting to penetrating and curling into your pussy, wrenching a savage moan out of you, the kind that roils through your whole body.
“Hear us?”
He’d been fingering you somewhat lazily as he drove the two of you home from his practice with the other hand, something that wasn’t particularly safe, but his driving hand was always quite steady even if his other fingers seemed to almost vibrate as they played with your pussy.
You hate and love how long his reach is - that he can completely commandeer your nether regions without even bothering to take his eyes off the road. He didn’t even take the time to roll the windows back up, despite driving relatively slowly down this side road. You knew no one could hear you, but it felt lewd, feeling the cool air whisk against your face, now glistening with a couple beads of sweat, as you tolerated his rough handling of your cunt.
“Toshi!” you hissed. You wished you hadn’t worn a skirt today.
He laughed, and drew his fingers back, allowing you to breathe again. Your legs clamped shut, the wet feeling of your now well-lubricated labial lips incredibly distracting for the rest of the ride.
You did want more.
As if taunting you, Ushijima brought his soiled fingers to his mouth and licked them clean.
From the corner of his eyes, he could see you share at him in embarrassed shock.
“What?” He replied, a knowing smile on his face. “Just an appetizer.”
A/N: I’m thinking a lot about Ushijima’s hands in a distasteful (read nsfw) way.
---
Ushijima initially never paid much attention to his hands aside from how effective they were at what he lived and breathed to do - play volleyball.
But ever since meeting you, the love of his life, he’s acutely aware of his own two hands - how easily they practically up to half of your chest when he reaches for your soft breasts, or how wide the handprint he leaves on your ass is when he slaps it, sending tantalizing pleasure searing through every nerve fiber.
He’s in awe of how easily one of his hands gently wraps around your delicate throat like some kind of intricate collar, or how two grip firmly on your waist to keep you in position for him as he thrusts into you endlessly until you fall apart beneath him again and again and again...
He’s in wonder of how quickly and powerfully you react to one or two or three thick fingers tapping then circling your clit before invading your cunt, pumping slowly or fast, or those same fingers suckled softly before they’re rammed down your throat bringing tears of delight to your eyes.
He thinks of wide palms that cup your cheeks before he kisses you intimately or carefully caress your body that he is meant to worship and protect.
Hands that join with yours lovingly.
His hands on you remind him that you’re all his, forever his, and all he can think about is how blessed he is to have hands that can experience all that you are.
He whispers, “I love you,” and your breath catches.
It’s a split second only, where you’ve forgotten how to breathe, you’ve forgotten how or what to think, and all you know is how to stare, wide-eyed, as Kurapika brings your knuckles to his lips and kisses them softly.
You never thought you would hear him say it.
But you’ve always known that he loved you. You’ve always known, in some capacity, that the quiet days that you shared in between the relentless pursuit of revenge meant something more than a need for company and closeness with someone else.
You’ve always known.
But to hear him form these words that now carry between you, to hear it in the softness of his voice, is something else entirely.
And to gaze into his grey eyes, tinged with a hue of scarlet that betray his true internal state wells up emotion inside of you.
You should be happy, but you feel damned.
“I…,” you start, your voice halting into a sob.
Kurapika nods, then holds you close. He too has always known so he doesn’t need a response from you. He doesn’t need affirmation of your love beyond the warmth of your hands and the shivers in your skin.
But he needs you to know that he has always felt the same.
And this is the part that fills you with dread - the fact that when he lets go of your fingers and kisses your forehead before rising and making his way towards the door, it’s because you may never see him again.
He’s a man who lives on borrowed time, and thus your love is precarious.
a/n: i need to read more of the manga so this won’t be a *good* fic lmfao but i can’t get this mans out of my head ahhhhhhhh, anyway fem parts and pronouns, dacryphilia, size kink?, not proofread || reposted from sideblog (now deactivated) on 4/17/2021.
When Toji comes to see you, he means business.
You’re not sure where he’s returning from, and you don’t care because just the sight of him nonchalantly walking through your open front door, a smirk full of malice on his face and his hands behind his bed has your heart pick up speed.
Not just from surprise even it’s true that you haven’t seen him in a while, and not from relief either, he always returns to you, no matter what, but from the fact that your draw to him is immediate and physiologic, and you feel almost conditioned to respond a certain way to his presence.
You know it won’t take long for you to be wrapped around his cock; the only thing that changes are the exchanges of words that get you there.
“Toji?”
You’re not sure why you call out his name other than to acknowledge his presence but he draws closer anyway; desire seems to build inside him, inside you, with every step he takes.
His hand ghosts the curve of your waist, your hip, and then settles on your ass. He pulls you closer while his other hand trails the curve of your jaw before firmly gripping your chin and tilting it towards him.
“You get prettier every time I come back... Did you know I was coming?” For a moment, his look softens, even though his grip on you is firm and domineering, and you feel warmth grow on the apples of your cheeks.
You’re embarrassed, but you are his little one after all.
“I didn’t, but I missed you,” you reply, your voice smaller and higher than you intended. You hate that he brings this out of you, but he adores you most when you’re like this.
Sweet, cute, a precious thing that belongs to him.
“You missed me?” His smirk widens into a grin and he gives the part of your bottom he’s holding in his hand a rough squeeze. “What part of me did you miss, darling?”
You pout your lips at him.
“Everything.”
Pleased, he plants a kiss on your eyelashes and swiftly scoops you up so that your legs wrap around his midsection. Your arms reflexively wrap around his neck, and he kisses you again, pressing you against his body when he tilts your head back for intensity. The kiss is dizzying, especially with the arousal that rises within you the sloppier the kiss is, the more sighs and moans start to slip between the press of lips.
He halts, letting out a soft groan, and he lowers you ever so slightly against him just enough that you can feel the swell of his cock against his pants pressing against your pussy.
“Fuck, baby, look at how hard you make me...”
The nearest surface is a small dining table, just enough for four, and to your dismay, he clears it without any respect to your placemats or the books hiding in the corner, splaying you across like a dinner spread he cannot wait to indulge in. You’re too busy thinking about his cock inside you to notice, and again he stops, looking at you with hunger and desire as he stands in between your raised legs. From this vantage point, you can see the strain in his pants and the new gruffness in his voice as he deals with the fact that the blood is rushing away from his head to his other head as he grows impatient in measuring his lust.
“Are you going to take it off or do you want me to tear it off of you?”
“Do whatever you want, daddy,” you tease.
The statement is meant to be playful but you can tell he’s a little miffed by your cheeky response because he rips off your panties sharply enough to leave at least a few marks on your skin causing you to yelp, and in response to that he lifts up your legs just enough so that he can firmly slap your ass to draw a second cry out of your throat.
“Ah! Toji-”
Your protests die out once your attention to the sear in your skin is diverted by the heavy sensation of his penis breaching your entrance, thick and heavy as it parts your walls. You gasp as he settles a couple more inches, leans over to kiss your lips once more then wraps his fingers around your throat before pushing all the way in.
You moan and his fingers tighten until you can only eke out a soft cry.
There’s a glint in his eye when he sees your eyelids lower and your body bob in rhythm with his thrusts - breasts with hardened nipples bouncing haphazardly, the friction of the dining table skidding against the floor boards, your squeaks with every one of his ruts into you, the small amount of drool that collects in the corner of your mouth as he fucks you silly.
His grip relaxes intermittently so that he can lean in to swallow your cries with his lips and fuck you harder without risking asphyxiation.
“I-it’s so much... I can’t - ah - take it... I-”
You’re wailing and crying and creaming all over his cock now, and even if he slows ever so slightly because he loves his precious girl so much, his pace is still brutal.
“You’re doing a damn good job from what I can see,” he quips.
You’re a ragdoll, one he finally lifts off the table to hang haphazardly over his chest, now reduced to babbles with arms languidly draped around his neck, but he’s still pounding into you, standing now, grunts and groans now filling your ears. Your walls clench and milk him with every thrust and your muscles are no longer under your control; something inside of you snaps and you scream as you cream and squirt all over him, your orgasm hitting you so hard that you have a new burst of energy, all centered into clinging to him harder than you ever have in your life.
“Messy girl,” he teases, a proud smile unraveling on his face, and you are positively dripping; but he’s not done, the new slick only encourages him further. He continues to fuck you standing up, slapping your ass every few thrusts and you’re on the verge of sobbing because you’re close to being overstimulated and he’s just not. done. with. you.
Maybe if you’re good, he’ll give you a break before he decides to make you cum again; it’ll take a while till he’s satisfied, after all.
Hiyya there! How are you? We're getting close to 2021, let's hope it'll be a better year for us!
Anyway... Are you fine with writing smut?have you considered of writing Ushiwaka with lactation kink? 👀 HFT HFT IMAGINING CRADLING BIG, HANDSOME USHIWAKA ON MY CHEST IS JUST– *chef's kiss* 💦
Ushijima + lactation kink djflkajd;flajds;lfjasldfaj; (excuse me if I put a little breeding kink in there too, it be like that sometimes)
@xiao-yu-tan
TW: pregnancy mention, breastfeeding, nsfw
---
Ushijima couldn’t help but stare.
Despite reassuring you that his feelings towards you would be unchanged regardless of what pregnancy and postpartum put your body through, Ushijima instead found himself more and more fascinated by your transformation every day.
While the magic of bringing your child into this world had expectedly made his love grow even more, something else that awakened inside -
It didn’t take long for him to realize that he couldn’t help the lust that stirred inside him now that you’d started breastfeeding; he could feel a rise every time he caught a glimpse of your now constantly swollen breasts, especially when they overflowed enough that they were painful, dripping messily through your good shirts and bras. In fact seeing those wet stains that you loudly pointed out in annoyance had most of his blood rushing to a particular spot between his legs, but you’d never know from his stoic expression.
He felt just a little bit ashamed, sporting lewd thoughts every time you prepared for a feeding.
But whenever he watched you wince ever so slightly as your baby latched securely before suckling hungrily and heard your soft sigh of relief fill the air, he couldn’t help but envision his lips around your tender nipples right after. It didn’t help that you’d put yourself on a tight schedule, and so his mind was dirty all throughout the day, like clockwork.
So today when you sat between his legs, resting your back against his broad chest and cradling your quieting infant, he could feel desire rise once again and tried his best to distract from his racing thoughts so that he wouldn’t grow hard enough that you could feel him press into the small of your back.
The quiet was rarely agonizing for someone like Ushijima but he could hear his heart start to pound as he sat patiently waiting for you to finish. Holding you close, he shifted just once uncomfortably to hide his erection, whispering a quiet apology when you turned to give him a soft, quizzical look from the sudden movement, a soft flush blooming on his cheeks that you missed in all your focus.
When your little one finally relaxed and dozed off to sleep in satisfied hunger, you broke from Ushijima’s embrace to put the infant to bed, but instead, your husband kissed the back of your neck softly and bid you to wait.
“I’ll take her to bed.”
Your Toshi was always so thoughtful, you thought as you scooted back against the headboard, fatigue of your own now setting in.
When he returned, again that very faint pink flush graced his features as he advanced towards you.
“Me next.”
Your eyes widened in surprise but he’d been holding back for so long, and so without further explanation, he leaned into you almost rapidly, taking a tender breast in his mouth.
He sucked sharply and the sensation made a shiver run through your spine, especially when his fingers dug gently into the flesh of the underside of your breast.
“T-toshi…,” you half-whispered, half-whimpered. You hadn’t realized how long it’d been since he’d last touched you in this way and you’d forgotten how much you craved it.
“You… taste sweet,” he murmured as he buried his face in your chest.
Smiling, you held your much larger baby close to you. “Do I, baby?”
“She’s lucky,” he murmured again, repositioning his body so that he lay comfortably besides you resting his cheek on your chest. His hands started to drift lower until they rested between your thighs, then traveled up to the space between, index finger now gently rubbing through your thin panties as he continued to suck whatever was left of your full breasts.
“You’re a good mother,” he added in a whisper, planting a kiss between your breasts now as his fingers maneuvered around the fabric before entering you.
You let out a soft groan and he kept moving deeper, kneading and sucking on your breasts as he sped up.
“You’re perfect… and these... these are perfect.”
Pressure started to mount within you as he kept working your core with his digits, still paying special attention to your breasts and peppering them with kisses that alternated between your lips and your chest.
As you continued to squirm under his attention and praises, you came to a peak when he whispered the following words:
summary: gojo provides comfort when least expected, a drabble
a/n: reposted from sideblog (now deactivated) on 4/17/2021.
When Gojo strolls into the house you couldn’t keep him out of even if you tried (not that you wanted to, really), he finds you in the dark.
You’re huddled in a mess of blankets, so heavy and thick that it’s hard to really perceive your form, but he’s aware that you’re there, if only because there is a small sniffle that escapes every so often as he walks closer, footsteps so light he might as well be walking on air.
When he makes his way around to the side of your bed, your sniffles grow a little louder, as though you intrinsically know that he’s arrived, even though you really don’t - you’re too consumed by the very act of crying and the incomplete catharsis it brings.
He doesn’t really know why you’re crying, and he’s been accused one too many times of lacking empathy, but regardless, he sits calmly on the edge and gazes at the quivering you below the blankets.
Uncovering your body is something done carefully, almost ceremoniously. You don’t bother to look up at him, to look back into pale eyes that peer semi-curiously at you. Instead, you remain limp and don’t bother to say a word. You hold your tears but a sob still sneaks out with a drawn out breath.
You’re embarrassed, but he’s surprisingly understanding.
“It’ll be alright.”
Gojo says this as he retrieve your languid hand from below the pillow that’s now soaked in your tears and squeezes it tightly. He even ventures to bring it up to his lips and kiss it softly.
It’s an action that should be lewd and playful, he was keen to make anything a joke, but it is oddly comforting in a time like this.
Kind.
It’s in rare moments like these that Gojo is no longer loud and brash like a crashing wave threatening to destroy everything in its path, but more like a calm stream, coursing through the forest and bringing solace to all that inhabit it.
He should still be asleep but as you wake yourself up with a scalding hot shower, you hear the bathroom door creak open slightly over the whine of the shower head.
When he pulls aside your shower curtain ever so slightly to peek at you, you can see the sleep still heavy in his eyes.
“Morning, love.” His voice is still deep and groggy and it’s your favorite thing to hear before the sun comes up.
You turn and smile at him.
“Morning,” you reply, angling gently under the stream to rid yourself of those stubborn soap suds on your neck. “Aren’t you supposed to be resting up for today?”
“I wanted to see you before you left,” he says. As you turn off the water, he leans in and presses a kiss to your wet forehead.
“Drive safely and text me when you arrive. I love you.”
The warmth in your cheeks doesn’t just come up from the fogged up room.
