yukkigiri

[yukkigiri]

and the list is finally complete!! can't wait to write this 🫶 I'll also post like a taglist form for this maybe around this week hehe

hi luna here! with october in a few months, I decided that I wanted to try and join kinktober 2025. so if you guys want to request just send it here (submission until sept. 15)

this is open to haikyuu, blue lock, wind breaker, jujutsu kaisen, and my hero academia

before requesting please do read the rules for requesting and take note that per character, it will only get two spots

day 1. breeding | miya osamu

day 2. bondage & threesome | takiishi chika & endo yamato

day 3. praise | akaashi keiji

day 4. brat taming | suna rintarou

day 5. pussy drunk | chigiri hyoma

day 6. toys | itoshi sae

day 7. hate sex | tsukishima kei

day 8. squirting | barou shoei

day 9. body worship | itoshi rin

day 10. bondage | kageyama tobio

day 11. brat taming | kozume kenma

day 12. dry humping | miya atsumu

day 13. strength kink | iwaizumi hajime

day 14. size kink | matsukawa issei

day 15. dry humping | suna rintarou

day 16. breeding | endo yamato

day 17. bondage | takami keigo

day 18. size kink | ushijima wakatoshi

day 19. cockwarming | nanami kento

day 20. food play | tendou satori

day 21. biting | kurona ranze

day 22. fingering | oikawa tooru

day 23. face sitting | bakugou katsuki

day 24. cam sex | kozume kenma

day 25. threesome | bokuto koutarou & kuroo tetsurou

day 26. food play | sakusa kiyoomi

day 27. dacryphilia | shidou ryusei

day 28. dumbification | matsukawa issei

day 29. dry humping | kageyama tobio

day 30. toys | yukimiya kenyu

day 31. manhandling | togame jo

[yukkigiri]

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.

[yukkigiri]

oh god...

yukimiya for c!!

also congrats on the 4k followers 🫶

you never realized how spoiled you’d gotten until yukimiya was the one between your thighs. he wasn’t like other men. he didn’t just fuck you, he ruined you. he worshipped with his body, treated your cunt like a luxury item he owned, paid for and had exclusive rights to. your legs were hooked over his shoulders, back arched off the mattress, his grip bruising on your hips. the first load was hot, thick, pushed deep until you swore you could feel it in your stomach. he didn’t even pull out, just let his cock soften inside you for a second before rolling his hips again.

“mm—don’t tell me you’re full yet,” he murmured against your neck, breath warm, voice slick with that spoiled-prince arrogance. “pretty thing like you was made to take it.”

you whimpered when the second wave spilled into you, your body twitching from the overstimulation, but his hands kept you wide open for him. he watched your pussy flutter around him, watched his cum leak out only for him to push it back in with the crown of his cock.

“you’re not leaking this on my sheets,” he growled, almost offended by the idea. “you’re keeping every drop.”

by the third, your mind was already fuzzy, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes from how deep he kept going. he bent you in half, folding you up so your knees nearly touched your chest, his thrusts hitting so hard your breath caught each time. the wet, filthy sound, that obscene squelch of him pounding more into you than your body could hold echoed in the room.

he pulled back just enough to see it, two fingers spreading you open. “look at that. fuck, my perfect little cumdump.” he spat on your clit, rubbing tight circles until your body clenched again, milking him through a fourth load that had you shaking.

your voice was barely there. “kenyu. s’too much—”

he smirked, leaning down to kiss your damp cheek. “that’s the point, baby.” his hand slid under your head to cradle it, a mockery of tenderness while his cock kept working every last drop into you.

by the fifth, you weren’t even sure if you were crying from pleasure or because your legs were numb. you could feel the hot mess, but he still wouldn’t stop, chasing one more, and one more after that, until the thought of him pulling out didn’t even register. when he finally collapsed beside you, his palm rested over your belly like he was making sure his work stayed put. he kissed your temple, voice smug and satisfied.

“mm. now you’re perfect.”

[yukkigiri]

I still have 10 more slots 🫶

hi luna here! with october in a few months, I decided that I wanted to try and join kinktober 2025. so if you guys want to request just send it here (submission until sept. 15)

this is open to haikyuu, blue lock, wind breaker, jujutsu kaisen, and my hero academia

before requesting please do read the rules for requesting and take note that per character, it will only get two spots

day 1. breeding | miya osamu

day 2. bondage & threesome | takiishi chika & endo yamato

day 3. praise | akaashi keiji

day 4. brat taming | suna rintarou

day 5. pussy drunk | chigiri hyoma

day 6. toys | itoshi sae

day 7. hate sex | tsukishima kei

day 8. squirting | barou shoei

day 9. body worship | itoshi rin

day 10. bondage | kageyama tobio

day 11. brat taming | kozume kenma

day 12. dry humping | miya atsumu

day 13. strength kink | iwaizumi hajime

day 14. size kink | matsukawa issei

day 15. dry humping | suna rintarou

day 16.

day 17. bondage | takami keigo

day 18. size kink | ushijima wakatoshi

day 19. cockwarming | nanami kento

day 20. food play | tendou satori

day 21.

day 22.

day 23.

day 24.

day 25. threesome | bokuto koutarou & kuroo tetsurou

day 26.

day 27.

day 28.

day 29.

day 30. toys | yukimiya kenyu

day 31.

[yukkigiri]

no req, just a wish that your pillow is cold on both sides every night and your food is always tasty because I am CRYING from your kuroo fic. It genuinely made me feel so warm inside, thank you for writing this masterpiece

hello irene! I'm glad that you love it 💖

[yukkigiri]

oh shoot i just noticed there's a google doc for requesting- my bad pls ignore- T-T

haiii!! you can just send it out to the form and I'm using that so it's more organized hehe

[yukkigiri]

putting this up again... guys I love to write smut and execute your request/prompts but please I will never write any incest 😭

please always read my rules for requesting before submitting anything and there it states no for incest that's why I won't ever write something for the sae/rin or megumi/toji

hello uhm can I like request a smut where mc can't seem to choose between sae and rin. things happened... you know...

My take on this: WHY THE FUCK IS INCEST ROMANTICIZE HERE like please touch some grass or get help... like not just here in bllk but also in jjk 😭 GUYS PLEASE STOP

also please do read my rules and regulations that I clearly stated no incest LIKE

the amount of times I'm always coming across fics regarding sae and rin, plus some toji and megumi... not to be rude but there's probably something wrong with you guys...

[yukkigiri]

Hi, luna, I am anon that requests about Reo x Older reader fic.

It's okay, actually, the age gap is not a really concern to me because I just want people to know what it's like for someone when they hit a certain age, especially for women when they are almost 40, they begin to get judged by people why they're not being married yet or having a lover.

I came from this toxic environment where people always asked me about when I'm getting married, I'm in my late 20s btw. But for me, being married so soon is scary because of how it turned out for my people around me, which ended in divorce.

Even some people will judge us for being too old to have kids when we're older.

I know some of my friends find their love when they are almost 40 and now they have partners who really appreciate them every second.

So sorry if I'm rambling too much, my English is not very good and my grammar sucks( ´△｀)

sucks that there's people like that who still thinks like that anon 😞 I don't really get the idea of getting married young or rushing it; I don't judge people who does get married young, but I don't see myself getting married in my 20s since I still consider myself young and I want to do things for myself first before settling down.

your feelings are totally valid, anon! marriage is a huge, lifelong commitment, so there’s no need to rush into it. I’m not against divorce at all, but I do think that if you’re going to marry someone, you should be ready to commit to them fully. when things get messy, it can lead to divorce, and if kids are involved, it can really leave a mark, especially if the breakup ends on bad terms

you're still young anon, no need to rush into things 🫶

[yukkigiri]

Hi, regarding your missing fics, I would suggesting using the wayback machine to recover your missing ones. For example:

https://web.archive.org/web/20250709122825/https://www.tumblr.com/yukkiji/784983788973408256/wrong-place-right-hands

I hope this helps 🙏

omg thank youu!! I tried using the wayback machine first, but there were only like specific stories that I could recover 😔

[yukkigiri]

hii lunaaaa!!!! I was just wondering if theres any way to help you recover your works so yes, i did have a look and tbh, idk if u alr have recovered this but this is one of your works called The Ghost Of Karasuno's Past: https://www.tumblr.com/ogeidsworld/791244228287201280?source=share

hellooo!! I already have that, still thank you ,💖

[yukkigiri]

oh em geeeee im so glad youre back :') i got scared & thought somebody stole your work!!!

nooo it was me reposting some old works that I recovered

[yukkigiri]

jujutsu kaisen masterlist

— geto suguru.

nerdy bf who's a freak in the sheets – smut.

[yukkigiri]

nerdy bf!suguru geto who's a freak in the sheets

cw. glasses kink, oral (f receiving), overstimulation, squirting, spit, fingering, face riding implied, rough sex, light choking, degradation, praise kink, dacryphilia (crying), creampie, multiple orgasms

he’s the type to adjust his glasses before speaking to anyone, especially strangers, and he’ll overthink the most basic interactions. if a cashier says “have a nice day,” he’ll stutter out “y-you too” while already walking away.

his fashion sense leans into soft and comfy—oversized hoodies, slightly worn cardigans, and shirts with niche anime or obscure band prints that only you recognize.

whenever you go out together, he’s more of a silent presence at your side, one hand hovering near yours before finally finding the courage to lace your fingers together.

you have to initiate most pda in public; if you kiss him in front of others, his ears turn bright red and he mutters something about “you’re evil” while secretly loving it.

his love language is quietly attentive acts—fixing your collar, carrying your bag without you asking, or bringing you snacks he thought you might like.

he’s soft-spoken most of the time, voice low and careful, like he’s worried about saying too much or taking up too much space.

but the second the bedroom door closes, the change is instant—his glasses glint in the low light as he crowds you against the bed, that shy demeanor dissolving into something calculated, confident, and filthy.

he loves eating you out, but what gets him going the most? keeping his glasses on while he does it. the way you gasp and tug at his hair when you see your own slick streaking the lenses makes him groan into you.

he’ll push your thighs apart wide, thumbs digging into your skin, eyes flicking up at you through the smudge of arousal fogging the glass. “don’t hide from me now,” he murmurs, his breath warm on your soaked folds before his mouth latches onto your clit.

his tongue works you in slow, deliberate circles, sometimes dipping down to fuck into you just enough to make you clench. when you start to tremble, he pulls back slightly, grinning as the lenses of his glasses are completely wet. “look at the mess you’re making, sweetheart.”

he has no shame in overstimulating you—sucking, licking, and curling his fingers inside you until you’re crying out and tugging at the sheets. when you finally squirt, it sprays over his cheeks and glasses, dripping down his chin. he moans like it’s his reward, licking his lips and dragging his tongue back to your clit immediately. “oh fuck, do that again for me…”

if you try to close your thighs, he just pins them apart with his shoulders, grinding his face against you with messy slurps until your body jolts with another wave. the sight of him with his glasses fogged, hair damp with sweat, and mouth shiny with you is obscene—and he knows it.

when he finally drags himself up to kiss you, you can taste yourself on his tongue, can feel the wetness still smeared on his jaw. his glasses are crooked, smudged so badly you can barely see his eyes behind them, but his gaze is sharp, hungry. “bet you’re ready to take me now,” he growls against your lips.

he fucks you deep and steady at first, but the second you whimper his name, his hips snap harder, the headboard hitting the wall. one hand presses into your throat, just enough to make your eyes roll back as he leans down to mutter, “say it again. louder.”

he likes seeing you unravel beneath him—thighs shaking, nails digging into his back, face flushed. every time you cum, he fucks you through it, hips relentless, muttering praises and filthy encouragement in the same breath.

even after you’re spent, he’ll hook a finger under your chin, forcing your glassy eyes to meet his. “one more. give me one more,” he says, and somehow your body obeys.

when he’s done, he’s back to that quiet, soft-spoken boyfriend—taking off his now filthy glasses, cleaning you up with a warm cloth, and tucking you into his chest like you’re breakable. the contrast makes you dizzy every time.

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

[yukkigiri]

hi luna here! with october in a few months, I decided that I wanted to try and join kinktober 2025. so if you guys want to request just send it here (submission until sept. 15)

this is open to haikyuu, blue lock, wind breaker, jujutsu kaisen, and my hero academia

before requesting please do read the rules for requesting and take note that per character, it will only get two spots

day 1. breeding | miya osamu

day 2. bondage & threesome | takiishi chika & endo yamato

day 3. praise | akaashi keiji

day 4. brat taming | suna rintarou

day 5. pussy drunk | chigiri hyoma

day 6. toys | itoshi sae

day 7. hate sex | tsukishima kei

day 8. squirting | barou shoei

day 9. body worship | itoshi rin

day 10. bondage | kageyama tobio

day 11. brat taming | kozume kenma

day 12. dry humping | miya atsumu

day 13. strength kink | iwaizumi hajime

day 14. size kink | matsukawa issei

day 15. dry humping | suna rintarou

day 16. breeding | endo yamato

day 17. bondage | takami keigo

day 18. size kink | ushijima wakatoshi

day 19. cockwarming | nanami kento

day 20. food play | tendou satori

day 21. biting | kurona ranze

day 22. fingering | oikawa tooru

day 23. face sitting | bakugou katsuki

day 24. cam sex | kozume kenma

day 25. threesome | bokuto koutarou & kuroo tetsurou

day 26. food play | sakusa kiyoomi

day 27. dacryphilia | shidou ryusei

day 28. dumbification | matsukawa issei

day 29. dry humping | kageyama tobio

day 30. toys | yukimiya kenyu

day 31. manhandling | togame jo

[yukkigiri]

oh no i was wondering what happened to your account 😭 i’m happy i was able to find you again

my account was terminated that's why 🥹

[yukkigiri]

LUNA!!

I managed to dig up two more fics reblogged by people but not sure if you've already reposted them here —>

1) Isagi (SFW)

https://www.tumblr.com/yoichiin/789827537397301248?source=share

2) Bokuto (NSFW - MDNI!!!)

https://www.tumblr.com/random26/790879432331182080?source=share

- 💙🌹

ACKKK THANK YOU 💖

[yukkigiri]

youre amazing

thank you darling!! 💖