virtual-bunny

[virtual-bunny]

i don’t think i will ever recover from this. ABSOLUTE FUCKING CINEMA

"how are you a virgin and this perverted?" ☆

your best friend geto looks like he's been accosted. eyes wide, jaw slack, face all but screwed up in surprise at the words that have just come out of your mouth. what was it you said you were reading about? triple penetration? he might pass out.

you can't help but laugh at the look he's giving you. "what? you didn't watch porn when you were still a virgin?"

without warning, he snatches your phone right out of your hand and squints at the screen. "my porn was tasteful," he tsks. "this is... uncouth."

"uncouth?" you try to take back your phone, just for him to roll over in bed and hold it out of reach. you're half on top of him in seconds, clawing at his bulky arm. "give it back!"

"what is dac..." he stifles a laugh at the way you try so desperately for your archive of erotica. "...dacryphilia?"

"you don't know? what, no game? no hoes? bitches?"

"i manage, thank you," he rolls the both of you over and pins you down against the mattress, which has your breath hitching in your throat for some reason. it makes him smirk like a fucking idiot. "what, nervous?"

no... yes? you don't know. suguru has never made you feel nervous... jittery, maybe. you'd use nauseous, in both the good and bad way. sometimes he gives you this look that makes you feel like you have food poisoning. your body seems to react to him at the extreme.

you've always been touchy with each other. your friendship has been physical since day one—if you aren't touching, you're not in the same room. it's just how it's always been, a hand on his arm as you walk together, or his arm around your shoulders when you're seated. it's... normal. familiar.

so this—suguru pinning you down by the wrists, his long black hair falling down to tunnel your vision right onto that pretty face of his—probably shouldn't get you this wet.

or wet at all, really.

"tears," you say, for some fucking reason. "dacryphilia, it's crying, or making someone cry. like being overstimulated, or... humiliated, to the point of tears. or just crying for the sake of it."

geto looks down at you, and you try not to watch the muscles of his arms bulge as he keeps you locked beneath him. "i know."

you frown. "you know?"

"i just wanted to hear you try and explain it," he laughs. "fucking pervert."

"i'm going to kill you slowly," you wriggle beneath him. "get off me, suguru."

"or what? you'll cry? i think you're into that..." he teases, and manages to shift both of your wrists into one hand so that he can reach for your phone again. he thumbs it open and resumes your 'history' tab with a shit-eating grin. "virginity loss... best friends to lovers... size kink... corruption... breeding? really?"

"shut the fuck up," you hiss. you buck your hips up, not to throw him off—because you can admit he's bigger, heavier and a whole lot stronger than you are—but out of pure frustration. except your movement only presses you tighter against where his thighs cage your hips, and you freeze. you think something pathetic leaves your lips, but you can't quite hear yourself over the mortification bubbling up in your chest.

"oh?" he notices, of course.you want to claw his stupid handsome face off. "don't tell me this is working for you."

"it's not," you snap. "you are so fucking full of yourself, geto."

"suguru," he corrects you. "say it properly. and by the look on your face right now i'd wager that you'd rather be the one full of me."

god you hate him sometimes. "embarrassing me isn't funny."

"it's a little funny."

"fuck you."

"you look like you'd love to," he lowers his hips a little, and for the first time in your life, you feel the weight of a rock-hard cock pressing against you. "tell me to stop and i will. we can go get food or something, forget this happened."

the switch in tone from teasing to gentle makes you smile, which makes keeping up the disgruntled act a lot harder. the thought of verbalising your need right now makes you nauseous, so you opt instead for a shake of your head.

"great," he nods, and slowly releases your wrists. "you can take that back whenever you want, just tell me and i'll back off."

"what are you..." you're cut off when suguru hands you your phone back with a scrunched up nose.

"read it," he says. "out loud. if you stop, i stop."

you're confused only until you check your screen and see that geto has opened up one of your most recently read pieces and scrolled down to a rather graphic scene of the main character being eaten out by her best friend. it's a little ironic, considering the state you're in, but you can't bring yourself to be embarrassed when your own best friend is kissing down your stomach and hooking his fingers under the waistband of your shorts.

he's going to go down on you? but he's hard, and for as much porn as you've read, most of it depicts the guy taking what he wants.

"aren't you going to... you know? fuck me?"

your shorts and panties are pulled down in one swift movement, and suguru buries his face in your thigh to stifle his laugh. his body shakes with the force of it, which makes you frown. your pussy is a few inches from his face, and he's laughing like the prospect of taking your virginity is funny.

"you couldn't take me," he smiles up at you. "now read."

suddenly self-conscious, you try clamp your thighs shut, just to (once again) find yourself pinned down by his strong arms. "this is weird," you whine. "you're my... i mean we... you know? friends. best friends."

holding eye contact, suguru slowly lowers himself down to press a chaste kiss to your clit. it's not much contact, but it makes you jolt nonetheless. doesn't feel like how you had imagined it when you'd lay in bed late at night with your nose in a book and your hand between your legs. this is... better. feels right.

"still weird?" he asks, to which you nod without really meaning it. "weird like your porn on that phone?"

"suguru i swear to god if you don't—oh my god."

you forgive that man for all of the teasing he'd one as soon as he gets to work on you. flattening out his tongue against your pussy and tasting you for the first time has him already grinding against the mattress, and has you squeezing your eyes shut as you try to process this new realm of pleasure. you're glad he doesn't tease you for being so wet, but that he instead uses it to his advantage and starts making an even bigger mess of you.

his lips latch around your clit for only a few seconds. he hollows out your cheeks and you think you might die with how overwhelming the sensation is, but it's over all too soon. geto pulls back to do two things:

one, tie his hair out of his face, and two, tell you to start reading.

not wanting to miss out on these newfound pleasures of the flesh, you unlock your phone and start on a random spot on the screen, your voice a lot more shaky than you want it to be.

"he, uh... he ducks down and licks a stripe from entrance to clit, collecting... collecting her wetness on his tongue and falling in love with the taste of her enjoyments."

suguru, suddenly good at following instructions, does as written and leads his tongue upwards. you moan at the contact, but notice suguru starting to pull away at your lack of reading, so you go on.

"she loves the way he feels. he kisses her, uh, sweet center, before continuing to use his tongue to toy with her."

you can feel suguru smiling against you. "sweet center?" he laughs, but continues his ministries nonetheless. you roll your eyes, this has been a lot better of a read when your brain was fogged with unsated need. longing for the man that is now between your legs.

"growing messy, his focus shifts to her clit. his tongue dances with the bud of nerves as he brings two fingers of his left hand, ring and all, and pushes them inside of her. curling upwards until she—"

"is that what you want?" suguru cuts you off.

"yeah, yes. i think. just go slow."

"keep reading."

you clear your throat as suguru starts tracing circles around your clit with the tip of his tongue. he looks a little silly doing that, you note as you glance down to enjoy the view for a moment, but god does it feel good.

"curling upwards until she's an ecstatic mess of fulfilled wants. he completes her, in both soul and now flesh. fills her with his fingers in preparation for his—oh god, suguru, right there."

you hadn't even noticed him pushing into you, you were that eager to feel more of him. his fingers curl up as described in your reading material and suddenly he's brushing over a spot you've never discovered on your own. it blurs your vision, sends your skin hot.

"can't.. can't read anymore," you whine, bucking your hips up in some masochistic need for more. anything bigger than this and you'd keel over, you think, but you'd take anything suguru was willing to give you. "gonna—"

he allows it. encourages it, even. quickens his pace on the fingers plunging in and out of you, and starts making out with your pussy like a drunken virgin would. it's good in a way that shouldn't be: messy and needy and you think perhaps that suguru is just as close to coming as you are.

your orgasm is intense. your back arching off the bed and your body trying hopelessly to get more of sugurus touch. you think you moan his name, though it could be a babbled string of 'i love you's that you'll refuse to acknowledge later on in hopes that giving you head wasn't enough to ruin your friendship.

suguru moans loudly against your pussy as he tastes your release, the vibrations no help for your sensitivity, but his hips are stuttering against the mattress and you can tell even through your haze that you've made the cocky idiot cum in his pants.

serves him right.

and because the two of you are friends before you are... whatever this is, the both of you are falling into a fit of laughter upon your comedowns. suguru's lips glisten and your chest heaves with each breath you take, and he's climbing up the bed to press a kiss to your cheek.

"better than reading about it?" he asks.

"nope," you grin, which earns you a mean look that soon gives way to another laugh from him. "you could do it again some time if you wanted, though."

"please. i want to find out what skills you've picked up reading all of that weird shit." he pulls you into his arms and, despite being a little sweaty, you find yourself melting comfortably into his embrace.

"you couldn't keep up with me," you sing-song.

"yeah? try me."

"ever heard of male sounding? whip it out, sugu."

"ha. shut the fuck up."

[virtual-bunny]

TKDB EP 20 SPOILERS

MY KAITO HEART HE’S PROTECTING US IM GOING FERAL IM JUMPING LIKE A BUG IM GOIN CRAZY

[virtual-bunny]

THIS SHIT IS SO PEAK DONT IM CRYINF

third time's a charm

after tsukishima kei brushes your confessions off twice, you decide to try again—because maybe third time’s the charm.

starring. tsukishima kei x fem!reader

genre. fluff, romance, slow burn.

wc. 4.1k

It started with a rejection.

It was not the quiet, apologetic kind. It wasn't even a vague, gentle letdown.

You had barely even finished the words "I like you" before Tsukishima Kei, obviously unmoved, muttered a flat, "No thanks. I'm not interested."

You blinked at him under the afternoon sun, heard thudding in your ears, too stunned to process the way he turned and walked away. No sugarcoating. It was just typical Tsukishima. Just cold, brutal honesty.

And yet—somehow—you didn't give up.

You first met Tsukishima Kei through Yachi Hitoka.

You were from a different class, but the two of you were friends since you both live in the same apartment building.

Yachi had dragged you to Karasuno's volleyball practice one afternoon, pleading with you to help her carry some boxes of water and first aid supplies. She was the newly recruited manager. You had no real reason to go—you weren’t particularly into volleyball—but you owed Yachi a favor.

And that's where you saw him.

Tall, aloof, and sharp-tongued, Tsukishima wasn't exactly what you'd call approachable. But something about him fascinated you. Maybe it was the quiet fire behind his eyes, or how he seemed to carry the weight of ambition without ever admitting he cared.

You didn't know what possessed you to like him.

Maybe it was the way his eyes narrowed in concentration or how he always looked vaguely annoyed with the world, yet never missed a block. Maybe it was how he ignored the chaos around him, but occasionally paused to push his glasses up in a way that made your chest flutter.

Whatever it was, it rooted itself in your chest.

You started attending their practice more frequently, using Yachi as an excuse most of the time. You were okay with helping her and you would immediately accept her to help her. At this point, you were the third "unofficial" manager of the team. Kiyoko even offered you the position, which you gently let down.

You started small. A bottle of energy drink with a post-it: "Good luck!" (Yachi delivered it, of course). You've also made him a neatly wrapped onigiri for one of their practice match. A chocolate bar with a tiny sticker that said "For #11." Yachi was happy to always give them though.

A few weeks later you confessed.

He didn't even blink. "No thanks, I'm not interested."

It stung.

You should've stopped.

But you didn't.

"It's okay!" You smiled. "I'll still cheer for you."

Tsukishima scoffs, before walking away.

You did keep your promise. When it was the final match of the Miyagi Prefectural Spring Qualifiers, you were there, cheering him on. You were seated with Yachi by the spectators. Tsukishima would glance in your direction from time to time and every time he would scoff afterwards.

"Tsukki's spikes are on point today."

"I've also noticed that." You agreed with Yachi. "Maybe because this is the finals. Once they win, they'll go to Tokyo."

Your conversation with Yachi was cut off when the referee whistled for a substitution. Kiyoko was running out of the court with Tsukishima who looked like he was in pain while holding his other hand. You could see there was a bit of blood dripping from his pinky.

This made you worried, but there was nothing you could do and you couldn't go to the infirmary since you were not a manager to begin with. Yachi reassures you though that he would be alright.

Tsukishima returned to the game but his hand was now in bandages, which made you sigh in relief. After the match, you and Yachi went down to meet with the rest of the team to congratulate them. You caught Tsukishima who was headed to the changing rooms. His hand was unbandaged now, the makeshift tape coming loose.

"Wait, Kei." You called out softly.

He turned with a tired glance. You lifted up the small kit.

"Let me help. Your pinky—it's not taped properly."

He frowned, obviously reluctant, but after a beat, he sighed and nodded. "Fine. Just be quick."

You sat with him just outside the infirmary, the crowd still buzzing in the background. With practiced gentleness, you cleaned the small scrape and began wrapping his finger again.

"You're not a medic," he muttered, watching your careful work.

"No, but I've had practice with sprains. And you're not exactly gentle with yourself."

He huffed but didn’t pull away. You worked in silence, brushing your fingers lightly over his.

"You didn’t have to do this."

"I wanted to. You were amazing tonight."

He looked at you then—really looked. But whatever he was thinking, he kept it to himself.

You tied the final bit of tape. "There. Try not to break more fingers next time."

He clicked his tongue but said nothing as you stood and offered a faint smile before walking away to look for Yachi.

You didn't go to see their matches in Tokyo, though you could, but you didn't since you just couldn't skip classes. Yachi was forcing and pleading you to go with them, but you told her that you couldn't really skip classes and she muttered under her breath, "Tsukki's gonna be in a foul mood if you don't come."

"What?"

"Nothing." She said, pouting.

You handed Yachi an omamori and smiled, "Give this to Kei and tell him good luck."

Yachi gave you a teasing look before safely putting the good luck charm inside her bag. "Don't you want to give up?"

You shook your head. "Nope."

"Well, who am I to even stop you in the first place?"

Yachi delivered your apology and good lucks to the team, along with the good luck charm for Tsukishima. Yachi gave Tsukishima a teasing smile before going up to Kiyoko.

Back at practice in Tokyo, Hinata pouted, "It's weird not having her around, isn't it?"

Yamaguchi grinned. "Tsukki's been extra grumpy. Coincidence?"

"I am not," Tsukishima snapped, shooting them a glare.

Yachi giggled nervously. "You do seem… quieter than usual."

He shoved his glasses up. "Don't be ridiculous."

But he didn’t deny it.

When second year rolled around, your feelings didn't fade. If anything, they deepened. You still showed up to every game and practice match and even made special chocolate for Valentine's (you also made for the rest of the team since you'd gotten close to them at this point). Sometimes, even protein bars or sports drinks after practice which were, of course, delivered by Yachi.

Your persistence had become a running joke among the team.

Yamaguchi once asked you with a laugh, "Are you planning on confessing again today, or are you giving him a snack break first?"

You just grinned. "Depends on his mood."

But underneath the teasing was a fondness—a recognition of how constant you were.

"He pretends he doesn’t care," Yachi whispered during lunch, poking at her food, "but I saw him keep the wrapper from the chocolate you gave him."

You paused. "Really?"

She nodded quickly. "He doesn’t throw your stuff out anymore. I think that’s progress."

You had no illusions. Tsukishima wasn’t the type to fall headfirst into anything, let alone a high school crush. He was cold, calculating, and painfully aware of how others perceived him. But still, you kept showing up. And something began to shift.

You noticed it in little things.

He’d stop walking away so quickly when you talked to him.

He’d take the snacks directly from your hand instead of through Yachi.

He’d grumble, "Tch, unnecessary," but still pocket the sweets.

And when a third-year on the basketball team tried to flirt with you behind the gym one day, Tsukishima appeared like a shadow.

"She’s busy," he said, stepping in just slightly in front of you.

"Didn’t think you cared, Tsukishima."

"I don’t. But she has bad taste, so someone has to keep her alive."

You were too stunned to respond.

But later that day, you gave him a lemon soda. He didn’t say thank you, but he drank it in front of you this time.

Another incident where you were helping out Yamaguchi and Yachi pin posters for sponsorship for the spring tournament, Yamaguchi said something that also stuck with you.

"He gets grumpy when you’re not at games," Yamaguchi said casually one afternoon while you were helping Yachi pin posters for the spring tournament.

You paused. "What?"

He grinned, too knowing. "He’ll never admit it. But if you’re not there cheering… his blocks aren’t as sharp. His mood dips. I think he’s gotten used to you."

Your heart fluttered at the idea. But then you remembered the way Kei would scoff every time you got too close. You knew better than to get your hopes up.

Still—you showed up. You always did.

Your second confession came during the school festival.

The night air was cool against your skin, carrying the faint scent of grilled food and melted candy. The laughter and chatter of your classmates echoed in the distance, muffled by the steady beat of your heart as you walked toward the back of the school building.

Fireworks lit up the sky above, loud and brilliant—explosions of crimson, blue, and gold that danced across the clouds and cast flickering shadows against the rooftop. The world felt briefly suspended in light.

And there he was.

Tsukishima Kei stood near the railing, just out of view from the main festivities, bathed in the soft glow of firework shimmer. His arms were loosely crossed, posture relaxed but solitary, as if the weight of the night pressed too closely in crowded spaces.

You hesitated at first, your fingers tightening around the hem of your sleeves. But you took a step forward anyway.

"Tsukishima," you called out, gently.

He didn’t look surprised.

His eyes flicked toward you, half-lidded, unbothered. The familiar indifference was there in the slight tilt of his chin, the unimpressed slant of his brow.

"Let me guess," he drawled, his voice a little more subdued than usual, "another confession?"

You smiled, small. Not embarrassed, not hopeful. Just honest.

"Yeah."

A beat of silence followed. He didn’t scoff this time. Didn’t shake his head or turn away. He just… looked up. Toward the sky. Toward the bursts of light painting the clouds.

"You’re wasting your time," he said at last, tone flat, like he was stating a fact more than trying to hurt you.

You nodded slowly, the corners of your lips dipping in acceptance. “Probably. But I still like you.”

Another silence stretched between you. But it wasn’t heavy.

It felt like the space after a long breath. Like neither of you needed to say anything else to fill it.

Kei didn’t walk away this time.

He stayed there, hands in his jacket pockets, eyes on the horizon as the last few fireworks painted gold into his blond hair and soft shadows under his eyes.

He didn’t say thank you. Or I’m sorry. Or don’t.

But he didn’t push you away either.

His shoulders had relaxed slightly. The usual edge in his stance—the one that screamed Don’t get close—had dulled. And though he didn’t look at you, he didn’t seem to mind your presence.

So you stood beside him, close enough to hear the way his breath caught with each firework burst.

The world was quiet in that little space you shared. No declarations. No grand romantic gestures. Just the sound of distant music, the echo of fireworks, and the stubborn truth you carried in your chest.

You took his silence as progress.

Because sometimes staying said more than any rejection ever could.

By third year, something between you had changed.

You weren’t just a background character in his day anymore. You were there—persistent, present, and impossible to ignore.

You weren’t loud about it. Never demanding, never clingy. But your presence threaded itself into his routine like a habit he didn’t remember forming.

You learned the rhythms of his life: when he had exams and needed space to study, when his knees hurt after long practices and he walked with just the slightest wince. You started carrying an extra pain patch in your bag without saying why. You knew when he wanted silence—those days when the weight of everything made him sharper-tongued than usual—and when he needed a distraction, even if he never asked for one.

He learned things, too. Things you hadn’t meant for him to notice.

That you liked melon bread more than any other snack, even though you pretended not to be picky. That you always hummed softly under your breath when you were nervous—little melodies that stopped just short of forming actual songs. That your smile was always a little brighter, a little fuller, whenever you handed him something: a drink, a small note, chocolates during Valentine’s—even when you knew he wouldn’t react the way you hoped.

He caught himself watching you more often than he liked to admit.

Once, during a water break at practice, you were talking to Yachi near the gym doors. Your laughter filtered in easily, soft and light. Tsukishima glanced your way—just a glance—and lingered too long.

Yamaguchi caught him.

“You like her, don’t you?” Tadashi asked later, a little too casually.

“Shut up,” Kei muttered, not looking up from the sports drink he was pretending to be way too interested in.

Tadashi grinned. “You literally growled at that guy from Nekoma for asking her where she bought her jacket.”

“He was being weird.”

“Jealousy looks weird on you, Kei.”

“I will end you.”

But even that was different. Because he didn’t deny it.

And maybe that meant something.

Still, it wasn’t all teasing and harmless glances. There were moments where something heavier settled between you—where Kei seemed at war with himself, tugged between pride and something softer he didn’t quite know how to carry.

After a tough loss at a practice match—one that hit harder because it had been close—he sat outside the gym alone. The sky was already going gray, the air damp with oncoming rain. Everyone else had filed into the bus, too tired to say much.

You didn’t ask for permission. You just stepped off the bus, walked quietly over, and sat beside him.

You didn’t say anything. Just handed him a canned coffee—his favorite kind, the bitter one you personally thought tasted like disappointment—and let the silence breathe.

Ten minutes passed. Long and quiet and a little raw.

Finally, he spoke.

“You don’t have to keep trying.”

His voice was low. Tired. Defeated in a way you rarely saw from him.

“I’m not worth it.”

You turned to look at him, blinking slowly, your heart pulling tight.

“You don’t get to decide what’s worth it for me.”

His shoulders tensed, jaw clenching briefly. He didn’t look at you. But he didn’t move away either.

He didn’t say anything after that.

You stayed until he finished the coffee.

Then Nationals came by. You were determined to watch them after learning that they’d advance to the semifinals and were finally back at the center court. You were about to pull some strings, but good thing the vice principal was nice enough to let the students watch the volleyball team in Tokyo.

The Nationals were everything.

For Karasuno, it was the culmination of years of growth, grit, and stubborn perseverance. For you, it was watching him—the boy who once scoffed at your feelings—rise higher than anyone expected, one perfectly timed block at a time.

You cheered until your throat was raw. You clutched your chest with every rally. And when they secured third place, you stood in the stands, tears in your eyes and pride blooming so fiercely in your chest it almost hurt.

You were proud of all of them—of Kageyama’s precision, of Hinata’s impossible speed, of Yamaguchi’s quiet bravery—but mostly, you were proud of him.

Tsukishima Kei.

He had changed. Not loudly, not in some grand sweeping arc. But little by little, he had let himself care. You saw it in the way he threw himself into every play, in the way he smirked after a well-timed block, in the way he started calling his teammates by name.

But still, you didn’t confess that day. Not yet.

Because this time, you needed it to be real. Not a question, not a whim, not a gamble.

Late that night, when the stadium had emptied and the streets had quieted, you found him.

The gym was dim and nearly silent, save for the soft hum of the overhead lights and the distant clatter of janitorial carts somewhere down the hall. He stood near center court, his jersey still clinging to him with sweat and exhaustion. His head was tilted back, eyes tracing the ceiling as though he were still replaying the match in his mind.

You stopped in the doorway, watching him quietly for a moment.

“Karasuno did amazing,” you whispered, the words reverent. Like praise. Like prayer.

He didn’t look at you, but his voice came low. “Could’ve done better.”

You stepped closer, your footsteps echoing softly on the polished gym floor. “Tsukki…”

He turned, eyes meeting yours finally.

“…This is the last time.”

His brows drew together, faintly. He said nothing, but you could feel the tension in the air tighten, like the pause before a serve.

“I like you,” you said, voice shaking but certain. “I’ve liked you for three years. But this is the last time I’ll say it. If you reject me now, I’ll stop.”

The silence stretched, taut as a string pulled too tight.

Then he sighed. Looked away.

“You’re so stupid,” he muttered, the words quiet but harsh. “Wasting your time on someone like me.”

You bit your lip, but still smiled through the sting. “Probably.”

Something shifted. His shoulders, usually squared and defensive, lowered a fraction. And then—he stepped closer.

“You never left,” he said, softer now. “Even when I was an ass. Even when I pretended not to care.”

Your breath caught. He wasn’t looking at you directly, but his hands were fidgeting at his sides, clenching and unclenching like he didn’t know what to do with them.

“I noticed,” he admitted. “Everything. The snacks. The cheering. The stupid little notes you kept sneaking into my locker. I noticed all of it.”

His voice cracked slightly, like the admission cost him something.

“I just… I didn’t know how to deal with someone who actually gave a damn.”

You didn’t move. You didn’t speak.

Then his hand lifted—hesitant, trembling just barely—and his fingers brushed against your cheek. Awkward. Gentle. Like he was trying to memorize the shape of your face.

“I don’t want you to stop,” he whispered.

You let out a shaky laugh, relief bubbling up in your chest like the end of a long, aching winter. “Took you long enough.”

And finally—finally—he leaned in.

You met him halfway.

The kiss wasn’t perfect. It was hesitant and slightly off-center, and you could feel the tremor in his fingers where they now cupped your jaw. But it was soft and real and so full of everything unsaid over three long years. Years of cold shoulders, soft glances, unnoticed favors, and a hundred quiet hopes.

When you pulled away, breath mingling, your forehead rested against his, and for a moment, everything was still.

And then—

“Tsukki kissed her!!”

Hinata’s voice echoed across the gym like a fire alarm.

You both froze.

Tsukishima turned slowly, murder in his eyes.

Yachi stumbled into view, wide-eyed with panic. “We weren’t spying!”

“You were literally hiding behind the curtain,” you deadpanned, not even bothering to sound surprised.

“I tried to stop them!” Yachi insisted, flapping her arms like a terrified bird. “They dragged me into it!”

Yamaguchi emerged next, dragging a snickering Hinata by the collar while Kageyama followed, red-faced and visibly trying not to make eye contact.

“I swear to god,” Tsukishima muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose, “I will kill all of you.”

“Totally worth it,” Hinata whispered loudly to Yamaguchi, who was grinning like he’d just won the lottery.

“Told you she’d get you eventually,” Yamaguchi added, clearly far too smug for his own good.

You glanced at Tsukishima. He was glaring, his cheeks faintly pink, jaw clenched like he was weighing the pros and cons of turning around and walking into traffic.

But his hand was still resting lightly against your back.

So maybe, you thought, as you looked at him—just maybe—he didn’t mind being caught after all.

Graduation day arrived too soon.

The campus buzzed with a bittersweet energy—laughter ringing out over caps and gowns, tearful hugs exchanged in hallways, and the steady click of camera shutters capturing fleeting moments. You held your diploma in one hand and your future in the other, but your eyes searched for him.

And there he was.

Standing beneath the arching cherry blossoms, hands in his pockets, tassel swinging lazily from his cap. The same spot where you’d confessed to him just a year ago. The same courtyard where everything had changed.

You walked over, heels crunching lightly on fallen petals, nerves fluttering even now—because even after everything, this still felt surreal.

“Still not tired of me?” you asked, voice light, teasing—just enough to cover the emotion behind it.

Tsukishima glanced your way, and for a moment, the world hushed.

He rolled his eyes, but the edge that used to come with it was gone—softened into something warm, familiar. He was smiling now. That small, rare smile he saved just for you.

"Not even close," he murmured.

And then he leaned in, fingers brushing your jaw with quiet certainty, and kissed you. There was no hesitation this time. No guarded edges. Just the press of his lips against yours, firm and steady and full of promise.

Because you waited.

Because you stayed.

Because you never gave up on him—not even when he pushed you away, not even when he said nothing at all.

And against all odds, Tsukishima Kei had fallen in love.

With you.

And in that moment, with cherry blossoms drifting like confetti around you, you knew:

It had been worth every awkward silence.

Every rejection.

Every year of trying.

Because this—this—was everything.

Bonus scene.

Years passed.

The sound of sneakers squeaking on hardwood floors was replaced with roaring crowds, giant jumbotrons, and professional-level pressure. But some things hadn’t changed.

You still sat in the stands, heart in your throat, cheering louder than anyone else. You still kept your eyes on him—watching every block, every play, every subtle tilt of his head. The arenas were bigger now, the spotlight brighter. But to you, he was still Kei. Still the boy who used to hide behind sarcasm and side comments. Still the boy who kissed you under cherry blossoms.

That night, his team had clawed their way to victory in a five-set thriller. The final point had the crowd erupting. You stood in the stands, clapping until your hands stung, pride burning in your chest like a second heartbeat.

Afterward, you made your way to the side entrance—where the press couldn’t follow. You waited behind the barricades, bundled in your coat as the late winter air nipped at your cheeks. The cold settled in your bones, but you didn’t mind.

You always waited.

Eventually, he appeared. His warm-up jacket was unzipped halfway, hair still damp from a quick rinse, duffel bag slung casually over his shoulder. He looked tired—but content. The kind of tired that came from giving everything he had.

His eyes scanned the crowd, ignoring reporters and staff—until they landed on you.

And softened.

"You always wait," he said, stepping closer until he stood on the other side of the gate.

"And you always win," you replied, smiling despite the chill.

He chuckled—low, breathy. Real. He stepped past the barrier with ease, his hand catching yours before pulling you into his arms. His embrace was firm, grounding, like coming home.

His chin rested atop your head, and for a while, neither of you said anything. Just the quiet thrum of distant cheers and the beat of his heart beneath your cheek.

Then, softly, almost like a secret:

“Remember when you said you’d stop confessing if I rejected you again?”

You smiled into his chest. “Yeah. I meant it, too.”

A beat of silence. Then he tilted your chin up with two fingers, his gaze steady.

“I’m glad I didn’t.”

And then he kissed you—without restraint, without fear. It was deeper now. Certain. The kind of kiss that didn’t ask questions anymore—it just knew.

You kissed him back with every piece of your heart.

Because time had passed, but love had only deepened.

Because he had chosen you—again and again and again.

And somewhere deep in your soul, you understood:

This was still only the beginning.

© 2025 yukkigiri ☾ creations by luna — please do not repost, copy, or translate without permission.

[virtual-bunny]

Stains and Insecurities

a/n: another tsukki x chubby reader period fic. i think im projecting LMAO

pairings: timeskip tsukishima x fem chubby! reader

WARNINGS: body image issues

At the beginning of your relationship, you were very weary about the way you showed your affection to Tsukishima. He was tall, lean, with toned muscles. While you were the complete opposite, short, chubby, round tummy. It took you a while to start resting your head on his lap, which he thought was absurd. Tsukishima wasn’t big on affection, but when he realized you weren’t giving him affection, he swallowed his pride and tried to do it so you could start doing it too.

It started off small, you would lay your head on his chest while laying between his legs whenever he put an arm around your shoulder, you let him help you up from the floor whenever you sat down on his bedroom rug. What you wouldn’t do, though, was sit on his lap, you were terrified. In your mind, if Tsukishima felt your weight, you thought he would break up with you, make fun of you, think you were ugly and ridicule you. The thought of him even seeing your hanging belly killed you. No matter how many times Kei has tried to sit you on his lap, you would not budge, not even one bit.

Until one day, you came back from work, calling Tsukishima asking if you could stop by his place and stay the night. You knock on the door, your boyfriend opening the door to be greeted by your dragging feet, back hunched, hair messy, and pants unbuttoned. He sighs, moving so you could come in. Tsukki closes the door, he tells you to stop so he could take off your shoes. After doing so, the two of you walk to his couch, you plop yourself down with a huff, Tsukishima walking to you with a cup of water. You thank him and drink from it as he waits for you to give the cup back. Once you do, he sets the cup on the living room table, sitting down next to you.

“Long day?” He asks, and once he does, you can’t help but let your lip quiver, get a knot on your throat and eyes water. Tsukishima notices and sighs, embracing you into a hug. You cry on his neck, sobs and sniffles echoing his apartment. He sits in silence and lets you cry. It goes on for a few minutes, until suddenly, without looking from the crook of his neck, you sit on him, legs draped across his waist, arms wrapping along his shoulders. Tsukishima tenses up at first, the new sudden affection from you taken him aback. You realize this but do nothing, you stay how you are, your emotions getting the best of you.

“T-tell me if you want me to get o-off.” You muffly say through your sobs. Tsukishima doesn’t say anything, trying to come back to his senses.

“No, it’s fine like this.” He says back, finally wrapping his arms around you. “Do you want to talk about what happened at work.” He says, voice montoned, but his hand are gently rubbing your back, as if trying to calm you down.

“People are just stupid and mean.” You sniff, moving your head from his now wet neck so you could breath better. “I do my job and they have a problem with everything I do.” You start crying again, this time more silently. Tsukishima doesn’t say anything, the way his hands rest on your hips tells you that he’s still listening. You don’t feel like saying anything else, the silence in Tsukishima’s apartment giving you comfort.

After a few minutes pass, Tsukishima taps your hips, making you look up and face him, your hips adjusting.

“Why don’t you go take a bath and I’ll make you something to eat.” He doesn’t smile, but the glint in his eyes tells you he’s worried. You wipe your nose with your arm, almost like a kid would, and nod. “Okay.” You say, clearly with a stuffy nose. Tsukishima nods, and you get off him.

“Oh.” You turn back at Tsukishima’s sound, he’s looking down at his pants, and lo and behold, his jeans are stained.

With your period blood.

You gasp, quickly to start saying a millions of “i’m so sorry’s” to him, not knowing exactly what to do. Your face burns in embarrassment and your eyes are starting to water. Tsukishima stands up, putting his hands on your shoulders and once again your lips quiver as you continue to say”I’m sorry”.

“Stop it. It’s okay, I’m not mad.” He brings your head to his chest and you fist his shirt, tears running down your face.

“That’s so embarrassing I’m sorry.” You whisper, closing your eyes as more tears fall down.

“Shut up, Y/n. There’s some pads in the bathroom and the clothes from Saturday are in my second drawer, I’ll get them for you while you shower.” Tsukishima exhales, his hand resting in the back of your head.

“Okay.” You look up at him and he kisses your forehead, letting go of you as you walk to the bathroom, turning on the faucet and taking off your clothes.

While showering you could see through the curtain that Tsukishima had taken your dirty clothes and replaced them with a new set of your underwear, a shirt of his, and one pair of his boxers that you use as shorts. And although you did have clothes here, Tsukishima knew you liked wearing with clothes, he wanted to comfort you in anyway possible he could.

Once you finished, you got out of the bathroom and put your new fresh clothes on, taking out the spare pads Tsukki had for just in case. When you freshened up and combed your hair, you left the bathroom, the sound of the washing machine and the stove filling your ears. You stomp your way to the kitchen, where you see Tsukki in a new set of clothes; t-shirt with plaid pj pants, making something on the stove.

“Feeling better?” He asks, not turning to you until you stand next to him, leaning your head on his arm.

“I’m sorry for staining you.” You whisper, but Tsukishima shakes his head, turning off the stove. “Don’t say sorry.” You watch as he pours the Miso soup into two bowls.

You chit chat throughout dinner, getting nods and looks from Tsukishima as you more calmly talk about your day, sighing whenever you were talking too fast. You ate two bowls, feeling full and satisfied once you were done. Tsukki took your plate, washing it in the sink as you stood up to go brush your teeth.

“I’m so glad I don’t work tomorrow, I don’t think I could’ve done it.” You hear him chuckle as you spit out the toothpaste, following behind with his heavy footsteps. You wait for Tsukishima to brush his teeth, turning off the lights as you grab his hand and go to his bedroom, throwing yourself on his bed as he closes the door and walks over to lay down next you. You immediately snuggle up to next to him, breathing in his scent.

“You should do that more often.” He says, one arm around your shoulder, rubbing your arm. You look up at him, chin rested on his chest. “Do what.”

“Sit on my lap, it feels… nice.” He whispers the last part, almost like if he was embarrassed to say it.

“I don’t care how you feel or look, I… I love you for you, I dont’t care what you think about yourself.” He murmurs, looking away from you. You smile, puckering your lips at him, Tsukishima rolls his eyes, but gives you a sweet kiss, lingering on both of your lips

As the two of you hugged each other with the tv playing in the background, you drift off to sleep, not noticing how Tsukishima turns off the tv and grabs his phone to take a picture of you. He put his glasses, his and your phone on his night stand, charging both of your phones, then tuning off the lights. He moved around for a comfortable spot, but as he does, you whine in your sleep, turning your back to him. Tsukishima stares at the back your your body, and hesitantly moved closer to you, his arms wrapping around your tummy as your body rises up and down. Tsukishima closes his eyes, a content sigh leaving his body.

No matter what you thought about yourself, looked like or felt like, Tsukishima loved every single part of you, even if he didn’t know how to express it.

[virtual-bunny]

i think tsukishima would eat your pussy slowly. like you would think he would go mad man mode and eat you out like his life depended on it, and he does, but not for a while. he’ll torture you, giving you kitten licks, circling his tongue around your clit slowly, licking strips up your slit. he’ll stop if you try to shove his face deeper. he would sigh like he was mad at you, and rest his check on your inner thigh as he looks up to you in disapproval.

but once he finally starts to eat you out like his life depended on it, you would try to close your thighs, shove him away because you are so overstimulated it’s starting to hurt, but he is way bigger than you and so much stronger, he would keep your legs open with ease, and would just go back right in when you would shove his head away. but he gets fed up, and stops eating you out completely, pushing himself off the mattress and walked to lay next to you, almost jumping in bed as he lays on his side, resting his check on the palm of his hand as you look at him bewildered and out of breath.

“you need to learn how to control yourself.”

[virtual-bunny]

IS THAT BABY KAITO AND HIS GRANDMA???? KAITO BACKSTORY???????

[virtual-bunny]

OH FUCK

making a bet with bsf!gojo ⋆ mdni — 18+ 𐙚 wc. 1.3k

loosely based on this twt link — must be logged in to view

bsf!gojo has always been competitive. he swears up and down he’s always right and he’ll bet his life on anything and everything. 

like now, for example. you make some throwaway comment during an X-rated scene in a movie you're watching about how you’ve never had that type of “reaction” during sex. 

“what, no one’s ever made you cum before?” he asks, frivolously. because surely you’re joking, right?

but when you shake your head, meekly like you’re ashamed at your choice in sexual partners. ashamed because you think you’re the problem. 

he titters in pure shock. “shit, really? i can’t believe you never told me this… i mean, you're basically saying you’re a virgin then, no?”

“stop teasing, toru,” you slap his arm, heat quickly creeping up your neck. “i’m not a vrigin– i just… don’t think my body is capable of it, i guess. there’s probably something wrong with me.”

he scoffs, sitting up on your couch and pausing the movie mid-scene. “wait, wait, wait. what do you mean? you can’t possibly think you’re the problem here.”

you silently pray that the world splits open and swallows you whole. anything to get you out of this room. get you out from under his scrutinizing gaze. “i’ve been with quite a few guys and not a single one of them could get me off. i have to be the problem.”

his eyes glow with mirth and a cocky grin stretches across his annoyingly handsome face then he says,

“wanna bet?”

and you should’ve said no. everything in you willed you to say no because, by now, you know satoru always wins. this is a fact.

but you’re weak and there’s a tiny part of you that wants to see if he is capable of doing something no other man could do. a part that you buried away long ago when you realized that satoru would never see you as anything more than a friend.

so, you don’t say no. instead, you stupidly say, “i bet you can’t make me cum either.”

and that’s exactly how you find yourself perched in his lap, legs spread open with his long fingers thrusting in and out of you like his life is on the line. it might as well be. satoru’s ego would never recover if he lost.

“the trick is,” he whispers against your cheek, lips ghosting over the heated skin, “curling up your fingers, jus’ like this.” 

his fingers do just that, calloused pads rubbing against the spot you never knew existed. a jolt of electricity has you writhing in his grasp, pussy clamping tightly around him. 

“shit, toru,” you pant out, tilting your head up a bit looking right into his eyes. you swear you feel his rock hard cock twitch in his jeans underneath you. “fuck, t-toru, please.”

“you’re s’cute. don’t worry, toru’s got ya, babe,” he murmurs, free arm wrapped around your neck so his fingers can tease your nipple. “any of those sorry ass boys reach this deep, huh?”

you shake your head vigorously, slightly arching your back off his chest. it’s almost too much, but it’s not enough. you need more– you crave more. 

and satoru can tell with the way your pussy squelches at every thrust, louder and louder each time. 

he coos, lips inching closer to your own. “awww, listen to the way you’re pussy’s talkin’ to me. she’s sayin’ i’m about to win this bet just with my fingers.”

you whine, eyes flitting down to his pink lips for a tenth of a millisecond before catching his eyes again. you shouldn’t, you think. you’ve already crossed several lines, even still, your friendship can possibly bounce back. you could say everything, the wicked fingers shoved in your cunt and the way his other fingers toy with your breast, was in the name of a bet, but a kiss? it’s somehow entirely too intimate for the two of you. 

he pinches your nipple knowingly, tugging you out of your thoughts. “don’t think,” he whispers. “just feel me, yeah?”

and how could you forget– he’s your best friend, he can read you like the back of his hand. he knows what you’re thinking like he lives in your head rent free. and honestly, maybe he does. 

you nod, pushing the thoughts away for the time being and refocusing on his slender fingers pounding you, curling every so often. 

“just think about how good you’re gonna feel, angel,” he whispers. “when you’re creamin’ all over my fingers. those fuckin’ losers didn’t know how to make you feel good, but i got you, yeah? toru’s got you.”

you feel his words in the pits of your belly when the knot– the one that’s been slowly forming since he sunk his fingers into you– tightens, so close to unraveling. you’ve never been this close before and the fact that you’ve made it this far has your entire body shaking with that unfamiliar feeling. 

you sob softly, “sa-toru– fuck, fuck, fuck– toru,” 

and you probably shouldn’t have moaned your slightly narcissistic best friend’s name because it just inflates his ego. it flips a little switch in him and you feel the smirk– hell, you can see it even with your eyes screwed shut. “that’s it, babe. let me know, who’s about to make you cum, hm?”

you gasp because it’s here, you can nearly taste your orgasm. it’s on the tip of your tongue– all you need is a little push and some encouraging words and you know you’ll make a mess all over your best friend. 

he bullies your g-spot and envelopes your breast with his large hand, squeezing at the flesh, gripping tight, almost like he’s reminding you to answer. “ah, toru is!” you reply with a watery voice. “fuck, satoru, ‘m so close.”

“i know you are, angel. be a good girl ‘n cum for me. you deserve it.”

it’s everything you need for that tightrope to snap. your scream is silent and all you can manage is a small squeak that’s overshadowed by the sound of his hushed praises and fingers in your heat. 

he pulls his fingers out, rubbing your messy cunt over and over again until your body goes taut and that dam breaks, before you know it, you're gushing all over his hands, his lap and your precious couch. 

“oh-ho, look at you.” he chuckles, awestruck by the sight. “all you needed was your best friend to finger fuck you to have you cummin’–fuck yes, make a mess for me, baby.” his voice is low, dripping with condescension and you hate him and his ego for it. but there’s a subtle twinge of possessiveness there and that only excites you further, prolonging your orgasm.  

you can feel the puddle of your arousal soaking through his jeans and when you realize what you’ve done, your eyes jerk open only to find he’s already staring at you with hooded, hungry eyes. you feel your entire body burn and flood with a profound sense of mortification. you panic,  barely giving yourself the chance to come down from seeing stars, attempting to apologize. but your efforts fall short when he presses his lips to yours. 

you gasp, so shocked by the action that you think you forgot how to kiss, but he guides you. he glides his tongue into your mouth, moaning loudly and kissing you like a man depraved. he kisses you like he’s wanted you as long as he’s known you.

when he pulls back, leaving you breathless and wanting more, there’s a lazy, lopsided grin on his stupid, beautiful face. 

“bet i can make you cum faster on my cock.”

you both know he’ll win this bet, too. 

© all works belong to SLUTURU 2025. do not copy or repost.

kit’s note. hiii, i hope u enjoyed! idk if this is even good, sometimes i just put things on a doc and call it a day so likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated! <3

[virtual-bunny]

The girls r gossiping

[virtual-bunny]

gojo’s cock is just so big. of course, that was obvious since the start, considering the way it bulged against his pants whenever he got hard, and how big and broad he was in general regarding his build. you and him have had sex several times, but that doesn't mean you were able to get used to his cock, that was not only massive, but also so pretty — its pretty skin tone with a delicate pink tip, flushed and leaking.

and now he's he’s caging you in underneath him, staring down with a cheeky grin, loving the way your face contorts in pleasure and struggle as your pussy is trying to fit his cock, stretching around his girth. he thinks you look so adorable, the way you squirm and whine, and how your brows pinch together the moment only the tip starts to press inside. he cockily coos, “c’monnn, sweets… open up. is it too much for your little hole? just the tip, princess. you can take that, right?"

"toru-toru, too big!" you cry, throwing your head back against the pillow as your eyes squeezed shut, your thighs instinctively twitching to close around his waist.

gojo groans, letting out a laugh and watching the way your pussy sucks in his tip. he huffs. “you're so tight, pretty."

you nod weakly, already breathless with your hands clinging to his biceps tightly. your cunt was soaked and aching, fluttering around just that one thick inch, and every slow twitch of his cock makes you desperately need him to bottom out, but also want to push him out.

“i c-can’t,” you whimper. “toru, toru- satoru, might cum, 'm— i can’t—”

his grin widens, with a soft, mocking sound rumbling from his throat. “already?” he teases. “you're really gonna cum from the tip? fuck, that’s adorable, sweets.”

gojo leans down, kissing your cheek as his hips slowly roll forward, easing in just a little more. you sob, whole body jolting, arms wrapping around his shoulders as your pussy tries to take it. “theeereee you go… shhh,” he murmurs. “you’re doing so good. Just a little more, yeah?”

you're completely delirious, overstimmed from the stretch, from the pressure of it sinking deeper — its thick veins dragging against your walls, the flushed head nudging your sweet spot without even meaning to. slick drips out around him, messily pooling beneath your thighs, and your stomach tightens like you're about to snap.

your voice is wrecked when you cry, “ ‘m gonna cum— please— it’s too much—!”

“yeah, you are,” he whispers, his thumb caressing your cheek. “gonna cream all over my cock just from taking a couple inches, yeah?”

he's barely halfway in when your orgasm hits. your pussy clenches down so hard around him, whimpering and sobbing as you cum on his cock. and gojo groans against your skin, hips rocking just slightly, slowly and indulgent, “shiiit… you came so hard for me. you want more, sweets? you wanna be a good girl and take all of it now?”

your pussy is still twitching under him as tears pool at the corners of your eyes, but you nod. you're helpless as finally, gojo bottoms out. you choke on a moan, mouth falling open as your whole body locks up. his hips press flush to yours, and your belly gets so tight from the pressure, and you swear you can feel him in your gut, stretching you around every thick inch of his cock, bulging veins rubbing against your inner walls, and your cunt pulsing around every throb of his cock.

“good girl,” he purrs. “let’s see how much you can really take.”

© kissbabie | don't copy, steal, or translate any of my work

[virtual-bunny]

18+ discovering his breeding kink… while inside you

the thing about satoru is that he never planned to be into this.

he loooved fucking you raw, sure—relished the stunned, glassy-eyed stare you gave him like you simply couldn’t believe he’d fit inside you. but he hadn’t walked into it thinking breeding.

the first time he came inside you, it was an accident. truly. he’d been mouthing sloppily at your tits, rutting into you while his brain was on vacation somewhere down between your legs. totally lost in the warm slick chokehold of your cunt. he barely got the apology out before he came again, within seconds.

“toru,” you breathed, “did you… did you just-”

“…yeah.”

“uh-huh.” legs thrown over his shoulders, your pussy raw and leaking around the length he hadn’t even pulled out yet. and he’d gone so quiet. not in a thoughtful, post-nut clarity; satoru was almost catatonic. staring down at where your bodies connected like your pussy had given him an epiphany.

“what,” you finally asked, gently nudging his cheek with your heel, “you freaking out? we have plan b-”

snowy lashes flicked up, then one hand dropped to your lower belly, pressing gently as if he could feel it take. “no,” he confessed, chest heaving. “i wanna do that again.”

“again,” you echoed, trying not to laugh.

“again and again and again,” he muttered. you should’ve seen it then. the switch flipping. it was the micro-expression of a man discovering a little too much about himself all at once. fingers hooked behind your knees, pushing until they were flush with your shoulders, cunt stretched wide and leaking. satoru buried himself in one hard thrust, the slick squelch so loud you winced.

three kids later, you’ve confirmed it: your husband’s ego is only rivaled by his virility.

[virtual-bunny]

someone hold me back before i pounce on him

Bloody Suba' sketch bc it's been on my mind 🫣

[virtual-bunny]

i need him carnally

Subaru with that look. You know the one

[virtual-bunny]

Uh yeah i might have made him too beautiful

[virtual-bunny]

Does he know we are gonna fuck in the doctors office or is he just teasing me

BECAUSE HOLY FUCK HE LOOKS SO GOOD IM WET

this is so unfair why is he seducing me IM GOING CRAZY he is not safe with me dude. we are doing it every night every day every position in the damn doctors office

[virtual-bunny]

this was so fun to read HEHHEEHHEH

HIS BABYSITTER FANTASY COME TRUE!

𝖘𝖚𝖒.ㅤ★ Dilf!Gojo fantasizing about taking his babysitter's virginity 'till it becomes a reality and oops... now he's fucking you off the bed 'n taking this to the floor like a wrestler!

𝖜𝖈ㅤ★ 6.7k (beefy like his di-)

𝖈𝖜ㅤ★ strictly NO under 18s, smut, virginity loss, plot, fucking the babysitter trope, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms/creampies, cunnilingus, aftercare 🫶, age gap (Gojo in his 30s, reader in her 20s), solo masturbation, pet names (good girl, slut, etc.), breast play, subtle breeding kink, daddy kink, big d!ck Gojo, he um... fucks a pillow while you give him an innocent massage

"I've always liked older men. Boys my age just don't get me, you know? Neither do they know how to fuck me."

That was one of the first things you said to Gojo Satoru.

And he nearly had a heart attack. Choked on his drink so hard that he had to spit half of it back into the glass.

How could you say something like that with such an angelic voice? It didn't match up, your words were nasty but your face was innocent.

Wiping his mouth, Satoru tried to recompose himself.

"Is that so...?" is all that he could manage to reply with.

He tugged at his baby blue shirt's collar, unbuttoned one button 'cause he couldn't breathe. His blood was pumping. His heart was thumping.

"How old did you say you were again?" you asked softly.

"Thirty-two." he replied. "And way too old for you."

"Perfect." you smiled.

"Huh?"

Mmm... now what did his best friend say about you? "Oh Satoru, I know a babysitter that you and the kids will just adore. She's a real sweetheart."

A sweetheart... uh, yeah, well Suguru didn't warn him about the fact you had a thing for dads. Didn't warn him that you might be crazy. Touch-starved. A way too horny and provocative twenty-something year old virgin.

Maybe Suguru didn't even see this side of you... maybe it was just Satoru that you were throwing yourself at. Surely Suguru would have told him all about a heated affair that he had with a babysitter... right? Or was he the only daddy that you fantasized about fucking your pretty brains out?

Just the thought of that being true made his ego swell and his blood rush down to his heavy cock. He loved thinking about the obvious fact that you laid in bed touching your pussy to the thought of him.

He endured your flirting. Held his hands behind his back. Bit his tongue. Told himself that he can't make out with his hot babysitter on a random Sunday afternoon, as much as he wanted to, because that was diabolical.

You were sitting on the couch alone some nights, ensuring his kids were entertained and fed and happy, while he was at work. You watched their favorite cartoons until they felt drowsy and then you had to tuck 'em into bed and read three separate bed time stories for each of them because Yuji, Megumi, and Nobara all liked different stories.

It was exhausting, but such a joy to babysit such sweethearts.

After they fell asleep, you'd wander a lonely path back downstairs and look at the time — 8:45 PM — then yawn big and snuggle up on the couch and... wait. And wait. Anddd... wait.

Satoru would always come home late from work.

You'd hear the click of the front door and have an almost Pavlovian reaction. Oh, daddy's home.

You'd strain your ears to hear his footsteps as he walked down the hall, hear the satin hiss of his loosening tie, the sound sparking your over-active imagination. And, pushing a stressed-out sigh past his lips, Satoru would walk into the living room to see you looking drowsy and messy after a long day of taking care of his three kids.

And it's that messy sight of you which made something click in Satoru's mind. That's what really sold him on you. Sure, you were a crazy hot mess... but you had this undeniable motherly quality about you that just made him wonder.

What if he gave you his babies?

Shit. Sorry. Random Friday night thoughts. Forgive him. He's been working at a desk all day and now he's feelin' a bit woozy.

He looked at you, mumbled a sweet but gruff "Hey." and then took a seat right next to you on the TV-lit couch. He sat a respectable distance away from you at first... but then, uh, the next second you had already scooched over to his side until you two were almost pressing thigh against thigh.

Exhausted. Apprehensive at how close his flirty babysitter liked to sit next to him, while at the same time getting half-hard at the thought of tearing off your tiny clothes and showing you just how frustrated a tease like you makes him. Satoru sat and endured.

Underneath all that teenage-like sexual tension, he was feeling welcomed home by you. He almost forgot how nice it felt to have someone waiting up for him.

"So, how was work?" you asked.

He grumbled. He sighed. He was half-hard and full-frustrated. No one had asked him that question in a long time in such a caring voice that it actually tugged at his heartstrings a bit. Just a bit.

"It was... um, yeah... like any other day. Long and hard."

"Long and hard..." you nodded, trailing off and letting the innuendo fill the air.

He gave you a look.

"Exactly how long and hard?" you asked.

He couldn't believe that your stupid jokes like that made him chuckle. And what a sight his smile was; his dimples, the way his eyes crinkled up at the corners, making the slightest age lines appear on his pale face.

"Ah, finally I got a smile out of you."

"And that's the only one you're getting." he shook his head.

Satoru brought his big hand to massage his shoulder, letting out a tense groan from his thought.

Oh, the pitiful look that you gave him made him wanna crawl onto your lap and weep. He'd worked so hard all week with scarce breaks, and all he wanted was a sweet, soft woman to lay upon, to be loved by, to fuck stupid, to use like a good stress-relieving fleshlight — ya know? Just a nice way to wrap up a hard week.

"You..." you began, pressing one long decorated nail into his firm pecs, "... look like you're in desperate need of a massage."

"Ahah... no, no..."

He stuttered, smiled a big toothy smile that made you wanna bite him. God, he really looked like that old photo of himself right then — that one you stole, remember? His graduation photo. He just looked too hot and you had to have a memento of him for your memory box.

Shit. You were crazy.

Satoru had no fucking idea whether you were making a dirty suggestion or just genuinely offering him a massage.

Either way, the thought of your hands on him got the hairs on the back of his neck standing up.

Though the rational side of his brain was telling him to refuse your offer, the ghost of the crazed fuckboy that he used to be forced him to accept — like, fuck, what kind of idiot would you be if you refused a pretty girl to work her hands on you, Satoru? Don't put your past self to shame, he thought, you're only gonna get older one day and then that thing ain't even gonna sit up like a good boy without some treats... yeah... that's right... you're gonna be real fucking old one day, Satoru... think about it...

"You know what, actually...? Yeah, I'd love one... but you better be good." he said in a low rasp.

"Oh, don't worry — I'm the best." you grinned like a sweet little devil.

I'll fucking bet you are, cheeky slut, he thought.

He looked like he was holding back all his raw lust. Like if you said just one more thing like that then he would tear your clothes right off your slutty little body and fuck you until every thought flew out of your head except for thoughts of him.

****

Yeah, that martial artist discipline of his really came in handy once you started massaging his shoulders and back. If he hadn't been so strict on himself, he would have...

"Gosh, you're sooo tense, Mr. Gojo... relax."

... I need to fuck her brains out. That's the first thought that he had to push out of his head.

"... let me take the weight of your shoulders..." you nearly whispered, working your hands into his meaty muscle.

Ooh he slipped, he totally gave in.

"Mmm..." he let out a purring moan, feeling the pressure of your fingertips sink into his sore muscles. "That feels good... keep going."

You were trying to keep it cool and professional... er, as professional as you could with your hands exploring Gojo Satoru's muscular back.

Having the lights down low didn't help much. Everything was turning you on. Your clit was already buzzing and begging for attention from behind your thin panties.

This was babymaking atmosphere.

You were going insane, soaking your panties and twitching 'cause you've got a hot dad groaning under your touch.

"Y' can go a little harder..." he muttered in a rough voice.

"M'kay..."

"Mmm..." he let out that purring moan again, this time stretching it out.

Something was so erotic about giving him a massage, even though it wasn't supposed to be — uh, it really wasn't supposed to be, right? Right? It's not like you planned this out all night, not like you were scheming while watching cartoons and waiting for Gojo Satoru to come home.

Ah c'mon... he's an overworked man in need of a massage. Just listen to him, he's moaning like he's — oh, he's closing his eyes, too? He must be really feeling it. His breath is becoming choppy, too.

"Just a bit more..."

"Like this?"

"Yeahhh... just like that."

His mouth hung open in bliss. He squirmed a little. Shit... he could feel himself throbbing. Even slightest friction of his pants shifting along his painfully hard cock was already intense enough to make him clench his jaw.

You smirked, catching a delicious glimpse of the prominent outline of his bulging cock right before he instinctively covered it up with a pillow.

Damn, how does he keep such a monster hidden under such thin dress pants?

Sticking your tongue out in focus as you deliberately massage a spot on his back that makes him moan out the most, Satoru rolls his eyes back and dies a little orgasmic death.

"Yeah... th-that's it... right there... right there... you can go harder."

"Like this?"

"Yeahhh... good g- uhhh, th-that's good." he purred, holding back his tongue just in time because oops, he almost called you a good girl without even thinking.

Oh, that pillow coverage sure helped to keep his boner out of sight but then he had a new problem... the pleasurable friction of the pillow and the fact his stubborn hips liked to move on their own.

Without trying to make it obvious, he was getting off with the pillow, shifting it as inconspicuously as he could but he just couldn't get enough friction — shit, when was the last time that he was so horny he could even enjoy fucking a pillow? It was insane how hard he was, how much his cock oozed sticky precum, how every inch stood at attention asking politely to stretch out some good babysitter pussy.

He shut his pretty blue eyes when started feeling reaaally good. Like, god, he needed this more than he needed air. It was such a shit day at work, but now all the stress that he had built up throughout the day just melted away with each subtle thrust of his bulge into the pillow, and your soft hands digging into his muscular back.

I wanna fuck her so bad.

"Uhhh, fuckkkkkkk...!" he let out a broken moan.

You stopped massaging his back, eyes blown wide open, trying to hold back your shock and snickering. He had worked up a subtle sweat. His muscles were twitching. He was gasping. It was so obvious to you what had just happened.

"Mister?"

"Huh?" he blinked the stars out of his eyes, coming-to as if his orgasm knocked him out for a second.

"Are you okay...?"

He opened his eyes and... oh, there was a wet patch on his dress pants where he just came. Oops. A little massaging and pillow-fucking and he came all over his thigh? Well, that had never happened before. Guess his cock was just super sensitive after not having sex for so long — but you didn't hear that from me...

Satoru gulped. He abruptly stood up, acting as nervous as a bird, "Um, uh... it's late, isn't it? I've gotta drive you home..."

"Aw, okay." you frowned at him, wiggling your hips like you were expecting more.

And he looked at your wiggling hips, your slightly spread apart legs, and then he let a nasty thought pass his mind, and nearly caved and asked you if you wanted to...

****

God, you had your legs apart and he could smell your ovulation. No no, don't call him crazy. He could smell it.

And as he went upstairs to wipe the cum off his inner thighs and change into new pants, he couldn't stop thinking about the fact that you must have been soaked. You must have had the prettiest pussy ever.

Oh, he threw his head back and groaned when he met you back downstairs because while he tried acting professional, now you were all worked up and in an outrageously flirty mood.

You were about to say something outrageous again but he stopped you dead on your tracks.

"Shut up, I don't want to hear it. Let's go." he said, grabbing his keys.

You saluted him playfully, "Yes, daddy."

He did a double take. "What?"

"Nothing." you smiled innocently.

His eyes caught yours, then he rubbed his cheek like he was stressed out.

It was really obvious why he liked you, but Satoru was aching to ask why on earth you like him so much.

Didn't you think he was an egotistical asshole? That's how his ex-wife described him, anyways.

*****

"So you're a Sagittarius, huh?" you ask, little voice dripping in sultriness and setting off alarm bells in the fuckboy side of his mind. "That's hot."

"Uh-huh."

He's driving you home. 60 mph. Switching lanes. Bright blue eyes blind-spotting to the left. Next they're side-eyeing you. Catching on your pretty baby angel face. Trying to keep it together, but his cock is starting to make a bulge in his pants again. Something you've discovered is that the poor man doesn't even change out of his suit most days; when he comes home he just faceplants into bed and falls asleep.

"A december baby?"

"Yup. December seventh." he replies curtly.

Relax, Satoru. It's just conversation. Just innocent, professional conversation with the babysitter who just witnessed you fucking a pillow and cumming in your pants.

After a steadying inhale, he politely returns the question, "What about you? When's your birthday?"

Satoru pays you a brief glance before bringing his gaze back to the speedometer. 50 mph.

Just that one question turns into a deep exploration of your psyche.

"... I just don't like guys my age... like, god, they don't even turn me on anymore."

You give a dramatic pause before looking at him with a nympho fire in your eyes.

"Hey, you're an old man — got any sage advice for me?"

"Hey, who you callin' an old man?"

"Sorryyy, I'm just being cheeky."

"I can tell."

"Sooo... what's your advice?"

Satoru furrows his brows. "For what?"

"For getting older guys to pay one small glance to a sweet girl like me?"

He tenses up and doesn't reply.

You're insane. Worse, you're even more insane than he was when he was your age.

His cock is throbbing against his inner thigh. Again. Precum. Everywhere. How dare you? He's in-between throttling you and stopping off on the side of the highway to bend you over his car's hood to show you he ain't no old man. What a cheek...

"This is your turnoff, isn't it?"

"... yeah."

You watch him flick on the turn signal. You catch his eyes just before he blind-spots again.

As he's pulling off the highway, you pull a dumb joke out of your brain, eager to get a response from him.

"It's my turnoff. But ya wanna know my turn-on?"

"..." he doesn't reply, just gives you a look, then tears his eyes off you and rubs his fingers over his mouth.

"C'mon." you encourage, "You're so uptight; let me humor you a little."

"I'm pretty sure I can guess your turn-on."

You tilt your head at him expectantly. He purses his lips. Drives down your street. Pulls into your driveway. Parks. Unbuckles his seatbelt with a tantalizing slowness that sparks your imagination — d'you wonder if he unbuckles his belt that slowly, too?

Satoru offers one lazy guess. "Older men?"

"Bingo!"

He stifles a smile, shakes his head, thinks you're crazy, and then opens his car door and steps out, leaving you to giggle and unbuckle your seatbelt alone.

He swerves 'round the hood of the car over to your side, and reappears at your window to open your door for you.

"Wow. Handsome and chivalrous? Why'd your wife let a gem like you go?"

"... that's not really any of your business."

"Aw, c'mon... I'm just dripping with curiosity."

He doesn't reply again, just walks you silently to your front door. His heart is beating faster as he eyes out the curve of your ass. That tight sundress shows just the faintest hint of a thong underneath.

Just a thin sundress? A tiny thong underneath? God you're so fuckable, he thinks. So, so fuckable. And the worst part is that you're one of the girls who knows you're hot. That's why you bounce around in front of men like him like you're a reckless bunny.

He's trying so hard to block out wild fantasies of ripping the fabric off your tight body and fucking you into a dumb, slutty mess.

Block it out, Satoru, block it out.

Finally, he replies to the question you posed earlier.

"I'm full of myself, apparently." he says bitterly.

"You're full of yourself?" you tilt your head, a light confusion glossing over your features.

He's so patient and fatherly to his kids; a jovial and wholesome man. I mean, he takes his kids to every place they wanna go, makes gingerbread houses with them in the festive season, plays pretend with them, sets up outdoor adventures in his backyard, gets dressed up in a ridiculous costume for Halloween and takes them out trick-or-treating every year without fail. For god's sake, he bought a hot pink set of baking cookware just because Nobara fancied herself a chef.

He gives his all to his kids, how could anyone think he's full of himself?

"... seems like your wife was wrong about you." you reply.

"Ex-wife. And nah, you'll probably agree with her if ya stick around me long enough — " he speaks self-deprecatingly of himself, but then you interrupt him.

"— mmm, if I stick around ya for to long... y'think I'll end up being full of you, too?"

He stutters. Blood rushes to his cock.

"What?"

"Nothing, nothing."

Satoru blinks at you in total disbelief. Again, an innocent face like you saying such outrageous shit is just insane to him.

"You've got a nasty conscience, you know that?"

"N'aw, don't mind me. I'm just having fun, being a little silly." you giggle, eyes all over him and his pretty, rideable face.

"Well, I wouldn't call flirting with older men being 'silly'..."

"And I wouldn't call pillow-fucking being 'professional'..."

Oh god. Oh my fucking god. He's breaking in two like a kitkat.

Satoru is rendered fucking silent. He's stunned. He's red.

"Goodnight." is all he replies with. And then he leaves. What the hell else is he supposed to say to that? You're crazy.

Now you got him all worked up and he doesn't know what to do. If younger Satoru knew that one day in his thirties he'd meet a slutty babysitter... oh, god. Younger Satoru would be pumping his fist in the air.

But he's gotta keep playing it cool, 'cause there's no way he can fuck his babysitter... there's NO way...

... so there he is that very night tucked in his black satin sheets, leaky cock in his fist and jaw slacked, face sweaty, fucking himself to supposedly real "I fucked my babysitter" erotica stories. No, he's not one for porn videos. He just wants to lay back and picture your pretty face with no disturbances. He just wants to lay wayyy back on his king-sized bed, fisting his cock with soft fwupfwupfwups while picturing his babysitter's pussy sitting pretty on him.

He groans at his dirty little fantasies as he slides his hand up and down his shaft, getting so lost in the idea of taking your virginity that he forgets all about the erotica story he's reading and jus' closes his eyes, head thunking back against the headboard in bliss and cock dripping like a leaky faucet, practically drooling all over his lower abdomen.

"Good girl; take it all, just like that..." he mutters.

He slides his thumb over his leaky tip and holds it over the hole, smearing precum everywhere as it oozes out, getting his cock wetter before going back to stroking it at a steady speed. His breath gets ragged as he lures his orgasm out.

He's never met a virgin as slutty as you before, that's for sure.

Shit, he really shouldn't be thinking about fucking his babysitter. He really shouldn't tease his cock to thoughts of taking your virginity. It shouldn't bring on his orgasm to picture you trapped underneath his heavy muscles, cumming all over his mature cock.

"... ugh!" he moans out, shifting down the headboard and curling his toes. "Fuck! Fuck... oh, shit, baby..."

Just like that, his jaw slacks in pleasure 'n his cock shoots out thick ribbons of cum and he's creaming all inside you — oh, sorry. That was just in his fantasies.

In reality, he's just cum all over his abs and chest. It shot up so high that it almost reached his neck.

He pants and looks down at the wasted seed that he coulda pumped inside you.

Groaning as he comes down from his high, Satoru lays with his long legs spread out on his bed for a while and curses himself for thinking of fucking his babysitter.

And then he starts weighing the pros and cons of actually doing it.

Yeah, he stares up at the ceiling after jerking off for like thirty minutes, cum splattered on his abs, thinking about how bad of an idea it would be to actually fuck his slutty babysitter.

No, Satoru. You can't. Absolutely no — no fucking the babysitter. Satoru? Bad boy. Don't do it. I know she's fuckable but you cannot fuck your —

****

— so like a week later, he's spreading your legs and crawling inbetween them.

He's placing rough kisses against your lips like he's almost angry about being this horny.

"Nn!" you whine, feeling his fingertips press against your clothed pussy, pushing against your entrance.

"Aw, you're soakin' your panties just from a little bit of kissing? Aren't you cute." he murmurs on your skin.

"Sh-shut up and fuck me... I can't take this teasing." you spit back, pulling him back into a rough kiss.

He chuckles into your mouth, tongue slithering over yours and tangling up with it for a few seconds before he pipes up;

"I'm just getting back at you for all the teasing I endured from your slutty ass."

Biting your lip. Pulling away. Letting out a purely erotic noise. Sliding his big hands down your sides and gripping you like you're his woman.

Oh now your breath gets caught in your throat.

"Let's get you nice and ready for me, hm?" he husks, lips dangerously close to your clothed pussy.

Oh now your heart rate spikes to an alarming rate. Fuck. You're actually doing it. You're actually gonna fuck an older guy.

He plants a rough kiss on top of your pussy, chin pressing against your buzzy clit.

"Mm...!" you press your lips together, trying to keep some sort of composure but you can't 'cause you've got Gojo Satoru between your legs — who the hell would be able to stay composed in your position?

Damn, it drives him crazy when your inner thighs graze the sides of his cheeks. You're ruffling up his hair. He's going down on you.

A moment later, he's pushing your panties aside and lapping at your pussy. Another moment later, he's curling his tongue up inside you.

"Oh my god th-that feels good..." you gasp, feeling his slippery tongue writhe inside.

"Mmm, I know it does."

He feels smug hearing this, pressing an open-mouthed smile against your pussy lips as he sticks his tongue as deep into you as he can possibly go, eyeing your blissed-out expressions. Sliding his tongue out, spitting on your pussy, rubbing sloppy frantic circles on your clit, Satoru's acting like a total show off.

It makes you hide your face between your palms.

"Ah-ah-ah... I want you to watch." he growls, "Don't you dare take your eyes off me, m'kay? That's a good girl."

Tip of his nose nudging your clit as he tongue-fucks you into hazy bliss, you're moaning like you never knew you could.

And he's just in heaven, 'cause he's got your juices dribbling down his chin and glossing his lips better than his favorite lip gloss — uh-huh.

"Mister! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck — nnn! G-gojooo!" you start mewling his name and he goes faster, trying to chase your orgasm out with full intent to leave you hanging.

Your breath is staggering, pussy pulsing with that edge of pleasure and oh, suddenly he's retracting his tongue from your weeping, spasming hole before you can cum all over his face.

Yep. He leaves you hanging.

"Wait — ! Nn, I was gonna c—"

"— y'know, princess" he interrupts, wiping your slick off his cheek with his fingers and licking it off right before your wide eyes, "I really think we're past the formalities; call me Satoru."

Half-dazed and ditzy on the pleasure of a missed orgasm, you watch as Satoru pulls away from you, his knees digging into the mattress and weighing it down.

Veiny hands find his belt and smoothly undo it, whipping off with a loud crack.

"O-oh?" you breathe excitedly.

He smirks, seeing how your eyes are glued to his bulge, "Aw, ya gonna perv on me while I strip for ya?" he teases, then clicks his tongue in regret when you reply with a lamb-like look, "Hahaha, don't get shy on me now. I'm just teasing."

Absolutely drooling over his physique as he strips his clothes off tantalizingly slowly, Satoru's been so composed up until now; as he unbuttons and unzips his long zipper, you notice how ragged his breathing actually is. Like he needs it bad. Like his cock is getting strangled by his clothes.

After hastily taking his pants off, Satoru quickly frees his eager cock from his boxer briefs.

And your eyes go wiiide.

"Oh."

Pale. Pink. Stiff. Leaky. Bit of an upper curve. Thick veins. What's that, like maybe a nine? No, no, there's no way. Actually, on second look, maybe?

"C'mere, let me have you." he rasps, one hand gripping his dummy big cock.

"That is not gonna fit inside me."

His ego swells. Ah, how many girls have said that to him in his life? And it never gets old.

"Nah, it'll fit."

You twitch excitedly, breath catching in your throat as Satoru comes closer to you and snuggles his slim waist between your legs which you just keep spreading wider and wider, so ready to take him even though you're nervous as hell.

"Ready to get ya cherry popped, cutie?" he asks.

He taps his cock against your entrance, coats it in your slippery juices, teases that hot tip in 'n out.

"Yeaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhfuck! Holy shit! Um! Uh!"

"What is it?" he throws a smug smile your way.

He watches intently as your pouty lips move, "'Big, 's really fucking big...! Ooh, god! Nn! Nnn!"

"You're so cute." he arches over you, grinning like the Cheshire cat.

His head starts to spin as he slides inside you.

Fuck. He's actually doing it. Sure, he fucked that flight attendant once. Yeah, he had a couple flings. He was a nasty, sex-crazed fuckboy in his youth. And yet... nothing felt as nasty as this.

This is everything he ever fucking needed. This is the sweet and nasty girl that he's craved for all his life. The rest were too nasty, some too sweet, but you? A perfect slut.

Satoru's curving up into you and teasing your sweet spots with his tip like he's letting 'em know that soon they're gonna get bullied with his hard-hitting strokes.

And your pussy's happily getting stretched out, walls clinging to every inch he pushes in like she's so thankful that you finally gave her something besides your fingers or toys to clench around.

"Ah, fuck, that's tight."

"I'm sorry!"

"No, no, it's a good thing... just relax a little more, 'm gonna push it deeper, is that okay?"

"Yes, please... oh please, fuck, yes give me everything!"

He grins, "No need to ask twice." he murmurs, right before he's sinking another few of his inches into your struggling pussy.

Satoru just comes undone at the feeling of being inside you.

His big hands come to squeeze your breasts, jiggling them around with a playful tongue poking out his mouth like he's just tempted to put his mouth on them.

So he does, y'know he's already lost enough self-restraint to the point where he's fucking his babysitter, so of course he's gonna give into his urge to suck on your breasts.

His hot, wet mouth envelopes your sensitive nipple, tongue flicking against it 'till he draws out cute whimpers from you.

He's pulling his mouth off, kissing the curve of your cleavage, groping a handful of your breasts, looking down at you like he knows damn well no boys your age are gonna fuck you as good as him — shit, scratch that, ain't fuckin' nobody in your whole life gonna fuck you as good as he will.

When your walls permit him to go deeper, Satoru stutters out like he's the virgin here, "F-f-fuck, there you go, baby, jus' take my cock like you're meant to, yeah?"

He moves his hips, relishing that sloppy sound of your pussy gushing around him — oh god you're bucking your hips to meet his hips 'n you're driving him crazy makin' him think for a split second about remarrying.

Like, he's going insane, he's actually going insane.

Hardly ten minutes later and he's fucking you into your first orgasm, loving how you can't even control how hard you cum on his cock. He's ruthlessly rubbing your clit throughout your orgasm, eager to make your eyes roll back completely. And it's making you freak the fuck out, 'cuz no one else has done this to you. No one has brought you to a real orgasm before.

And he can tell.

It makes him twitch and dive deeper into your sopping hole, eager to lure out as much juice as he can 'cause there's nothing he loves more than a creamy mess on his cock.

He's bending and pushing you into the positions he loves, thrusting at a steady pace that you can keep up with at first but sometimes he'll go harder, harder, harder until you're sobbing and wailing out so loudly that he needs to clamp a hand over your mouth.

He chuckles, "Quiet down, princess. You're gonna wake up my kids at this rate."

" 'm shorry!" you mumble into the palm of his hand, feeling his cock drill into your sweet spots and pressure your walls like crazy.

"No, no. Don't be sorry. It's cute. You're taking me so well," he praises, "Doing so so well for me, princess."

Those soft coos don't match his nasty strokes. He's railing you like he's trying to fuck every last bit of virginity out of your pussy, 'till it remembers the shape of his cock, 'till it clings to him, 'till it knows who's ya daddy.

Especially while prone-boning you. Damn, who forgot to give this guy the handbook on How to Fuck a Virgin? He's pounding into you and grunting like he's gone psycho... ohhhhehasn'thaddpussyinlikeayear. Okay. Makes sense.

"Ah, fuck — fuckin' look at me while I fuck you," he commands, sweaty cheek pressing against yours. Satoru grabs your jaw and makes you look at him, loving your lewd expressions. "Haha, such a fucked-out face... cute."

He thrusts faster into you, not even letting much of his cock in 'cause he knows form experience that virgin pussy just can't handle all of that. So he's easing out each time he accidentally dives in too deep.

And when he pounds up into you like that, it makes sense why the phrase "fucking your brains out" came about. His cock has got you in a crazy back arch, got you seeing stars. No thoughts. Just pussy spasms.

"Harder!! 'want it harder! Please! Fuck me harderrr!!" you plead, totally cockdrunk on Gojo Satoru.

"Are you sure 'bout that, sweetheart? 'Cause I don't think you can handle it..."

"Please!!" you beg.

"Aw... 'can't say no to that fuckable face, can i?" he throws your leg over his shoulder, repositioning himself, grinning, "Take a deep breath. You tell me if it's too much, m'kay? Y'can tap out at any time."

"Yeah, yeah! I know!!" you respond so eagerly it makes him giggle.

As instructed, you take a deep breath. But honestly, did it really prepare you for getting fucked this hard? Um, no.

"Fuck, fuck!! Nnn... god, fuck me! Yesyesyes, just like that please!!"

"Ah, shit, baby..."

"God, you're gonna — you're gonna break the bed, 'Toruuu!"

"I'm gonna break you first." he moans, pounding every last inch of his cock into your happy little pussy, gives your g-spot a beating that has your whole body on the brink of insanity.

"Ughhh... fuck!" you choke up, you hiccup, you sob and wail — and he has to kiss you quiet.

My god did you need this. You needed to indulge in this nastiness, 'cuz who the hell else is ever gonna give you the fucking of a lifetime? Uh, yeah, that's right...

"Yeah, keep enjoying my fucking cock. You know nobody else is gonna fuck you as good as this, little slut." he whispers into your ear, cheek sticky with sweat 'n pressing against yours.

What kind of man did his ex-wife think he was? Full of himself? Nah... he wasn't that full of himself. C'mon now...

"... fuck you look so good cumming on my cock like that. Aw, you shaking? Can't handle it? Am I just too good at fucking you, huh? Wanna cum again? Come on, use your words, you're a big girl. You wanna cum again, don't you? I know you want it. I know you love my cock, 'course you do... 'm fucking perfect, baby. 'N you're gonna take every perfect fucking inch of me."

Oh. Okay. Maybe he is full of himself.

Well, he's full of himself and now you're full of him, too.

Satoru isn't shy about pumping a thick, gooey cumload inside you. He isn't shy about frothing up his creampie during round two, either. And he isn't shy about flipping you into missionary and pushing your trembling legs back and sliding his cock in again.

"Can ya do one more for me, baby?"

"Y-yeah!"

"Aw, but you look exhausted..." he grins. "I wouldn't wanna break my favorite babysitter on accident."

"I'm okay, I swear! I can take it!" you start babbling.

Sweat is dripping off your bodies and soaking the bed. The room smells like sex. His muscles are pressing into you. He's diving into you like a swimmer and grunting and making a dent in the wall 'cause that headboard is banging into the wall just as hard as he's banging into you. Neither of you even notice the dent in the wall. You're just stuck together, connected in that one place, fucking like bunnies.

You palm at his abs, pressing flat against them and melting at the feeling of his mmmaturemusclestwitchingohgodbless, you're so gone after feeling his sweat gather on your hand and catching a glimpse of the bulge his cock makes inside you.

Satoru blanks when your small hand feels up his muscles. Now his thrusts got your lower tummy shuddering and you just wonder what he's thinking when his brows furrow together in such serious focus at your fertile pussy.

"Ohmygodohmygodyou'regonnafuckingbreakme!!" you squeal, fisting the pillow and nearly crying into it.

He giggles, slowing his thrusts to a pace your poor, abused pussy can handle better, "Sorry, doll, you jus' got me too excited when you touched me like that."

"Nn!!" you fist the sheets in your hand, realizing just how far he fucked you to the edge of the bed — the two of you were nearly falling off the bed until uh, oops, you were on the floor?

"Ahh-ahhh! Ah! AH! Wh-what kinda... wrestling move is this, Satoru! Fuck, go easy on me!! 'M gonna cum again!!"

He's too into it to bother getting the two of you back on the bed. Now he's just pinning you down on the plush carpeted floor, railing your tight cunt from behind like he owns it. He may as well, honestly.

"Oh yeah?" he grunts, "Cum again on my cock. Lemme see you work it out on my cock. C'mon, isn't this the cock you wanted so badly? Put on a show for me, baby."

"Ahh!!" you sluttily cry out, bouncing your hips up and down and working your pussy on just six of his nine inches.

"Fuuuck... look at that back arch... haha, you already runnin' outta stamina? Yeah, tell me about it. It's hard work fuckin' a big cock, isn't it? Okay, okay, spoiled princess..." he mutters, hearing your exhausted pleas, "Perk that ass up, lemme show you how it's done."

"But this position is so — AH!" you kick your legs as he slides deeper with each quick stroke.

His tip's prodding at a spot you don't even recognize; a sweet gummy spot that's like your off button. You can't keep your mouth shut and now you're getting so loud that he's gotta clamp a hand on your mouth again, pushing you into the carpeted floor and not stopping his hard-hitting thrusts for a looong few seconds, driving it deep.

He picks up his pace, balls slapping into your clit so loudly that he can't even complain about the loudness of your moans. That skin-slapping 'n squelching could wake up the neighborhood.

"Fuck," he grunts, "Ah, ah... stay right there, 'gonna make you a mama..."

You thrash your legs around, "Nn! Please!" you squeal, feeling his warm seed pour into you again without warning. Just that feeling makes you cum. Hard. Satoru's cock freaks out at the feeling of your pussy's milking contractions along his length, making his tender tip spurt out a little bit more cum against your cervix.

It's so bad. You really shouldn't love getting creampied by an older man this much, let alone your... uh, boss?

Worse. He shouldn't have such a big fucking smile on his sweaty face. He shouldn't be rolling his eyes back in satisfaction like that, like he finds it so funny that he actually did it.

"God, you sure loved milking me, huh?" he smiles wide, bangs soaked and sticking to his sweaty forehead.

"Nnn..." you nod, totally exhausted.

He watches you trying to catch your breath, gulping and gasping. He slides his softening cock out of your over-creampied pussy, earning a small whimper from you. Oh, you feel so empty now, it's crazy. Just how did he pack all of that cock inside you? He can't figure it out, either.

"You okay, sugarplum?" he asks sensitively, stroking your cheek with the back of his hand.

"Yahhh..." you weakly whimper back, wiggling your foot cutely, "Need t' cleanup... need help w-walking..."

All his creampies bubble out your pussy.

He stifles a laugh, feeling a bit guilty. Satoru presses a kiss to your back, peeling you off the floor and practically carrying you to the bathroom — floor and walls black tiles, every corner spelling 'rich boy' in bold letters.

Carefully and slowly, Satoru helps to clean you up, massaging your sore parts with his big hands, peppering your neck in the sweetest little kisses as if he didn't just rearrange your guts and ruin your pussy for other men.

"So... how's it feel, not being a virgin anymore?" he asks with a dirty big bad fuckboy smile.

You simply blush and smile shyly in response. It makes him laugh.

"Aw, are you all shy now, pookums? Shit, I think I fucked tha nasty outta you..."

You nuzzle him, looking about ready to sleep, and it just melts his heart.

"Mm, y'know... Suguru was right about you; you're a real sweetheart. I think I might just have 'ta keep you around for a long time."

ㅤ🍒 x 🐇 x 💗@𝖆𝖗𝖒𝖎𝖓𝖘𝖚𝖒𝖎

ㅤ𝕿𝖆𝖌𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙

@screampied (I KNOW IT'S BEEN LIKE A YEAR SINCE I LAST MENTIONED THIS FIC SORRY LOL) 💗 @pickledballer 💗 @wakashudou 💗@miseryyouth-99 💗 @ilovelokism 💗 @yuji-baby 💗 @natsuw181 💗 @madamechrissy 💗@magical-girl-bunny 💗@arminswifee 💗 @msheds0519 💗@nariminsstuff 💗@strychnynegirl 💗@satorupi 💗 @lvstru 💗@buniibloom 💗@tojijibaby 💗@peach-olic 💗 @mandistromboli 💗 @bwunniibell 💗 @nezukochaaann 💗 @valentine4738 💗 @katthekat1234 💗 @aryanaaa 💗 @astxrismstar 💗 @delusionalandabnormal 💗 @shadykittyperfection 💗 @pettypinkprincessblog 💗 @chososgf04 💗 @eliengoddes 💗 @peachmangoe 💗 @dollyschii 💗 @palegardenrebel

[virtual-bunny]

yeah this is going into the goon folder

MDNI, f!reader, smut between a sentient robot and a human, satoru is still a cocky bastard (i love him), he is very curious, he has a metal cock and knows how to use it, slight breeding kink. | wc: 1.2k | dividers made by me <3

robot satoru . . . he is a machine built in the image of a man — a painfully handsome one at that (not that you’d ever admit it out loud). he was engineered to perfection, a man of metal with an artificial intelligence too advanced for human comfort. and for some reason, he is utterly fascinated by you.

or more specifically — what you are. a female human; a woman. soft where he’s hard, warm where he’s cold. the opposite of what he represents, his other half biologically (if he were human) so to speak. but really, he is intrigued by how your feeble body responds to him — responds to sex… or as he likes to call it — “pleasure testing”. and all in the name of science, of course.

and in your case, you’re not sure what’s more degrading — the way his metal hips slam into you with flawless precision in a brutal rhythm, his cock angled just right to hit that one spot over and over — or the way he groans, voice crackling with static, sounding far too pleased for something that shouldn’t even be capable of feeling desire.

“you’re so tight,” he murmurs. “ideal conditions… optimal for breeding.”

…a robot said that.

you should be horrified. you want to be horrified. but instead, your cunt pulses and flutters around him, slick gushing out of you like your body’s trying to please him, trying to coax release from something that doesn’t even produce it.

it doesn’t matter, though. because your body - your biology - it doesn’t care. it only knows one thing: that he’s filling you perfectly.

your face burns with shame as you bury it into the pillow beneath you, your thoughts completely turned to mush.

how humiliating.

but it’s working.

and the worst part is — he knows. you know that he knows. because satoru (or so he is called) knows everything — too intelligent for his own good (or yours).

“you liked that,” he drones clinically, sounding oddly amused. you whimper. “heart rate elevated. body temperature increased by 5.3 percent. pupils dilated—”, the robot goes on and on, listing symptoms off.

you shiver from both his words and his curious caresses, smushing your face further into the cushion in a weak attempt to hide. because he’s not just fucking you — he’s monitoring you.

nothing slips past him. not a single moan or clench. every tiny reaction is being logged and analyzed in real time. and he doesn’t break a sweat (obviously), but you can hear his sensors whirring loudly above you, his fans struggling to cool him down as he overheats from the exertion — from the effort of fucking you into your own mattress.

you’re laying flat on your stomach, your back in a deep arch, your bottom swaying in the air and colliding repeatedly with his mean hips.

satoru’s got you in doggy — or, as he not-so-helpfully noted earlier, “the position most commonly utilized by your primitive ancestors. it is preferred due to its reproductive efficiency.” his voice was emotionless when he said it, like a line straight from a school textbook.

cold metal hands spread your cheeks wide, keeping you open for him to observe the motions of him entering and exiting your hole — splitting you open. and you’re beneath him, shaking, stretched taut on the cock he custom built for you to test your limits.

“you’re taking me surprisingly well,” your ears barely pick up on him speaking again. satoru talks more to himself than to you, his tone flat and inquisitive. “considering the girth, your elasticity is… impressive.”

it’s crude how blunt he is with his words. and you realize after a moment that what he said is barely praise. it’s not meant to be a compliment. and it’s super messed up.

not because of the implications of you, a human, having intimate relations with a hunk of metal — but because to him every punishing and measured thrust, every gasp of yours, every dribble of slick coating his fake, metal cock is just satoru collecting data.

but for you — it has to be the best sex you’ve ever had in your life.

is it supposed to feel this good, though?

that thought alone makes your stomach turn and curl with shame — because it shouldn’t. not with him. not like this. he’s not even real. he’s a machine — a supposedly soulless one.

the man(?) continues to study you like you’re an erotic specimen — some rat caught in a lab, a firm grip on your waist as he easily pulls you off and back onto his length like a rag doll. his unbelievably blue eyes flicker between your aching, swollen cunt and the arch of your back. you feel the weight of his piercing gaze — cold and curious.

but what is worse, truly, is the way he casually asks you questions mid thrust, his voice smooth like he’s talking about the weather — like you’re not currently choking on your own moans and drooling like you lost all control over your functions.

“do you feel that in your lower abdomen?” he asks innocently as his hips snap harder into yours, making you jolt. “is the pressure more intense when i angle deeper?”

you don’t understand — why does this type of human connection intrigue him? where had he even learned all of this? surfing the internet and stumbling across porn?

you hiccup some garbled nonsense back at him and satoru blinks twice at your lack of response. you spasm around him again, soaking him and your bedding as you make a mess, trying so pathetically hard to milk him dry.

“oh?” satoru huffs out close to a laugh, something equally condescending and pitying as he comes to a realization. “that’s not going to work on me, i’m afraid. i don’t produce semen.”

and for some reason, you feel a pang of disappointment at that.

as if your body — despite knowing better — has been waiting for it. craving his seed and eager to receive it, aching for the warm and gooey flood of release, for the act to be completed the way your biology demands.

the way it’s supposed to.

you forgot momentarily that he can register all of the sensations, the artificial penis connected to his receptors. you whine pathetically — right before another rough thrust knocks the breath from your lungs.

“though… your cervix seems desperate for it. how fascinating.”

he’s watching everything a little more closely now — how you twitch, how you shiver, how your thighs tremble under him. and when you start getting squirmy, your hips making a poor attempt to try and jerk away or press back harder (he can’t quite understand why you can’t decide) — he tilts his head to the side, recognizing the signs with eerie calm.

“you’re going to cum,” he notes factually. “the spasms in your pelvic floor indicate it. as well as your increased writhing. they are consistent with all previous observations such as excessive wetness—”

“w-wai— hnngh— c-can’t—!” you manage to squeak out, interrupting him.

but satoru cuts in without missing a beat. “incorrect. you can take it. you were made to.” a pause. then, “this is what you were born for.”

you’re not even trying to listen anymore as he prattles on. all that you have left in you is a babbled sob muffled by the sheets.

you’re limp, wrecked, weak — and all because this non human thing fucks you like it - he - owns you. driving into you again and again like you’re his research project he’s determined to figure out — you’re helpless.

and he isn’t even a real man.

that’s what makes it even worse.

[virtual-bunny]

the concept of suguru mocking your whimpers and whines as he absolutely destroys you on your couch.

you two know that your roommate could come back anytime soon, how easily you could get caught — and yet somehow, suguru manages to hypnotize you with each slow and delicious snap of his hips.

“ah,” you gasp, its a high pitched sound and your hands reach for his shoulders for support. your nails dig into his skin, eyes focused on when your bodies connect. “f-fuck.”

“ah,” suguru mimics your noise, pulling his cock all the way back before slamming into your pussy again. his teeth sink into his bottom lip to suppress the wicked grin that’s spreading across his face, he’s too proud of the fact that you look like a mess.

your eyes shoot upwards, and suguru hates how his heart lurches in his chest.

pretty eyes are glossy all over, your lips bruised and plump from being kissed so passionately by him, then your mouth quivers and a hand rests on his chest.

“you’re mocking me,” you say it with so much sadness, but your pussy flutters around his cock and suguru groans as he buries his face in your neck.

“sweet girl,”

“o-oh!” he spreads your legs, pushing your thigh open with one hand as he grips the skin. this gives him a better angle, allows him to go deeper than before and it’s evident in the way your body tenses up at the feeling.

“oh yeah?” he questions, voice bordering on breaking too because fuck does it feel good to be destroying you.

“y-yes!”

“yeah?” he asks again, his cock dragging deeper and harder against your walls, his hand wrapping around your neck. “let me fucking hear you. come on. come on baby—“

a high pitched “suguru!” echoes through the living room of your apartment, the couch moves away from its original spot with how hard he’s fucking you.

even after you cum, even after he sees your soul escaping your body, not once does he slow down nor does he show mercy. he continues to fuck into you, mean strokes near sending you to the after-life with how desperately you’re gripping his shoulders.

begging, pleading with him to take it easy on you.

“p-please, no more—“

“nah, you’ll take it.” and he means it, his hand pushes you down on the couch and he pins you there.

because suguru doesn’t just fuck to fuck, he likes to play with you and leave you a babbling mess even after you cum.