too·ru·noi·a ’’ 19

noun [\ˌtü-rü-ˈnȯi-ə]

an irrational, obsessive, or highly anxious state of mind centered around oikawa tōru and gojo satoru.

mdni !! // 18+ only \ \ pure nsfw (side) blog \ \ haikyū, jjk

risqué delusions

(jokes jokes all jokes i meatloaf you dont kill me pleaks)

; jealous husband!ushijima bends you over in the kitchen + aftercare :3

cw: p in v, breeding, established relationship, rough!ushijima, possessive!ushijima, size difference

your daughter participates in a trend where the photos show you when you were a teenager, then you now.

slideshow: you feeding ushijima grapes → you now, sucking on a lollipop, tongue peeking out.

comments:

“nah she’s giving throat demon, he doesn’t know what he has.”

“i’d pay her mortgage just to watch her lick me like that.”

“tell your dad to guard her, cuz i’d put a baby in her tonight.”

the slideshow ends, but the heat in the room is only just beginning to spike. ushijima’s face is a mask of stoic fury, a silent storm brewing behind those dark eyes as the comments continue to scroll—vile, hungry words from men who think they can touch what belongs to him.

​“put a baby in you,” he repeats, the words tasting like poison. he doesn’t yell. ushijima wakatoshi doesn’t need to raise his voice to be terrifying. he simply sets his phone face down on the marble, the click of the glass echoing in the silent kitchen.

​before you can even blink, his large, calloused hands are under your thighs, hoisting you onto the kitchen island. the cold stone is a sharp contrast to the sudden, overwhelming heat of his body pressing into yours. he doesn’t waste time with foreplay; his fingers hook into the lace of your panties and rip them to the side, exposing you, dripping and needy, to the harsh kitchen light.

​then, he’s there. he guides his thick, heavy cock to your opening and thrusts forward, burying himself inside you in one brutal, singular motion. your breath hitches, a choked-back sob escaping as he stretches you to your absolute limit. his hands pin your thighs wide, knuckles white, forcing you to take every inch of him.

​the thrusts are unhurried, agonizingly deep. he wants you to feel the weight of him, the sheer size of him claiming your insides. with every slow, deliberate shove, you can see your own stomach distort slightly, the crown of his cock hitting your cervix until your vision spots with white. you’re spilling down his length, your juices slicking his thighs, but he doesn’t let up.

​the lollipop you’d been sucking on rolls onto the tile with a wet clack, forgotten and sticky, just like the mess you’re making on the counter. ushijima doesn’t even glance at it. his mouth latches onto the sensitive skin of your neck, his tongue hot and demanding before his teeth sink in, marking you. he’s branding you, leaving deep, purple bruises that will tell the world exactly who you belong to.

​he pulls back just enough to stare into your blown-out pupils, his voice a gravelly, low vibration that rattles your bones.

​“look at me,” he commands, his hips never stopping that rhythmic, soul-destroying grind. “they won’t ever touch you. they won’t even get close enough to breathe your air. you’re mine. i’ll fuck those comments right out of your head.”

​you’re trembling, sobbing his name as your walls clench around him in desperate, violent aftershocks. you think he's done, but he’s just getting started.

“you think our daughter wants a sibling, my love?” he shifts his weight, flipping you over until your chest is pressed against the cool granite and your ass is hiked high in the air. he doesn’t wait for you to settle; he plows back into you from behind, the sound of his pelvis slapping against your rear echoing like a gunshot.

​his broad hand presses down between your shoulder blades, pinning you to the counter as he ravages you. he’s relentless, bottoming out inside you over and over until you’re a sobbing, leaking mess. he fills you once, twice, three times—thick, hot ropes of cum pulsing deep into your womb, making your lower belly feel heavy and distended.

​you whimper about the mess, the way his cream is already dripping down your thighs and onto the floor. he just grunts, a low satisfied sound. “good. when it takes, they’ll know exactly how well i bred you.”

∞ྀི

the intensity breaks as abruptly as it started. the territorial monster recedes, replaced by the steady, grounding presence of the man you married. he carries you to the bathroom first, his touch surprisingly light as he cleans the stickiness from your skin with a warm cloth. he’s silent, but he keeps his body pressed against yours, as if he still needs to feel the contact.

​he carries you to bed like you weigh nothing, tucking you under the heavy duvet. he disappears for a moment, returning with a bowl of chilled grapes and sliced peaches.

​he sits on the edge of the mattress, leaning over you. he picks up a slice of peach, pressing it to your swollen lips. “eat,” he whispers, his eyes softening just a fraction. he waits for you to swallow before leaning down to press a lingering, tender kiss to your forehead. his large hand slides under the covers, resting over your lower belly—right where he filled you. he rubs slow, soothing circles there, easing the ache he caused.

​“i’m sorry if i was too rough,” he murmurs, his thumb grazing your hip bone. “i just… i can’t stand the thought of them talking about you like that. you’re too precious for their words.”

“so you decided to breed me?” you tease weakly.

his head lowers, a pout almost visible on his lips. “i apologize.. i wasn’t thinking clearly, my love.”

​he pulls you into his chest, wrapping his massive arms around you until you’re completely encased in his warmth. he nuzzles into your hair, breathing you in.

​“you.. you’re mine,” he whispers into the dark, his voice thick with a possessive, protective love. “no one else will ever have you. i’ll keep you safe. i'll keep you fed. and i’ll keep you so loved you’ll never have to doubt it for a second.”