IM BAWLING

offers to put lotion/baby oil/whatever on your legs for you after you shave because he just wants an excuse to feel you up:

iwaizumi, OIKAWA, yaku, fukunaga, ATSUMU, suna, aran, SAEKO, sugawara, futakuchi, KOMORI, tendou, semi, and KONOHA.

I have such a weakness for dilfs so dilf!Osamu pt II—

dilf!Osamu who feels like he's a horny teenager all over again with his cute, younger, and horny girlfriend. Who can barely manage to keep your hands off of him, and who's constantly half-hard because you're always begging for him to put his dick down your throat. Who's so deliriously dizzy with desire when you come from the bed, shamelessly naked, and rub all of your satiny skin all of his dad bod (he's a little self-conscious about his weight, but you're always just salivating for him). Who is constantly undressing you with his eyes, dick perking up with interest whenever he watches your ass as you walk past him. Who finds himself terribly distracted at work, because you sat on his dick before he left for work and now he knows his dick smells like your pussy. Who spends every evening coming back from work shoving you down onto the bed and desperately eating your pussy, because he hasn't stopped thinking about it all day. Who affectionately kisses your swollen pussy lips, fondling them, and relishing the quiet noises you make.

Who spends that first week fucking you like his life depends on it, so he knows exactly how to make you squeal and wail. Exploits each of your weaknesses mercilessly, an entire fucking menace. Who holds you down and to his face with those big and thick arms when he's eating you out, overstimulating you until you're shrieking, sobbing, and drooling. Who loves it when you call him Daddy, and when you look at him adoringly with hearts in your eyes. Who calls you his baby, and sometimes imagines what it would be like if he really was your child's Daddy.

Who sometimes forgets what a menace you can be, too, because you're usually so horny and eager, but quite submissive in bed.

Who makes a noise like he's had the breath knocked right out of his belly when you snake your hand between your bodies and scratch at his belly. His orgasm feels like a fucking explosion and he babbles frantically as his just starts rutting you like he's a fucking dog until he's milked dry.

Who's lecturing you about responsibility only to be cut off when you decide to be a brat and sit on his dick raw for the first time, his eyes rolling to the back of his head. Who has to snag your hip and can barely manage to say anything more than, "holy shit, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, FUCK" at the wet squeeze and suck of your pussy. He's lobster red from his hairline down to his chest, chest heaving like he can't breathe, his toes curling, wrapping a finger tightly at the base of his dick and praying that he can stop himself from coming. "You can't do this shit to me, you little brat," he wheezes, dick pulsing urgently, as you grind down on him, your pussy squelching obscenely. "I'm not as young as I used to be. I'll—ughhh, oh fuckk—I'll nut before—nnnh, this fucking pussy, yes—! I mean to!"

Who can only hold on for dear life as you ride him to orgasm after orgasm, begging him to hold on so that his baby girl can cum, because isn't baby girl good? Osamu forgets how vicious that mouth of yours can be. Because you're saying all the right things that are gonna have him creaming all up inside you like he's just a horny teenager. Hasn't his baby been so good, you plead. Baby climbed up on Daddy's dick, rode him so hard that the headboard has been knocking against the wall, isn't she making Daddy feel good? Won't Daddy reward baby with his nut inside her raw pussy? Daddy's gonna be with you forever, so what difference does it make anyways? C'mon Daddy, give her your nut, you're so big and virile—

"You fucking brat," he wails after you scream and squirt all over him for your fourth orgasm, feeling his balls draw up tighter than they have ever drawn up. "You fucking brat, I'm gonna squirt all up inside of you, I'm gonna get you pregnant—!"

He cums loudly, the bed groaning from the force of his thrusting upwards, his entire body shaking and convulsing. He opens his mouth mindlessly as you begin to sob and squirt all over him, your juices splashing all the way up to his chest and face, his eyes glazed over as he presses his thumb against your clit and starts rubbing viciously.

"Get pregnant, bitch," he slurs, as you bawl on top of him, your juices soaking running down his balls and soaking the bed. "Get pregnant, you little brat, you beautiful little shit. Gonna get fat with my baby, gonna be with me forever. Fuck! I love you, baby girl, I love you."

You sob that you love him too, collapsing on top of his broad chest and sobbing and shivering through your orgasm. Osamu grins, pussydrunk and sexed out of his mind. God, he gives the two of you five months before he actually knocks you up, and fuck, if that doesn't wanna make him roll on top of you and sink into you again.

HORNY DILF OSAMU WITH A BREEDING KINK? OH MY GOD????????? I have nothing to add to this except OSAMU WYA let me have your b-babies sob

cardboard beds wouldn’t stop me i’d fuck the life outta kageyama tobio on one

promotional illustrations celebrating the release of the new official haikyuu!! illustration book + a bonus christmas-themed sketch from furudate-sensei

i can’t write and i only have my meager drawing skills to offer but pls accept my humble doodle of what i imagine osamu to look like when i read about omah 👉👈 it’s not very clean but i hope it’s okay omg 💦 i just wanted to let it out of my system 🙃 

INSERTING MY FUCKING SELF HERE BECAUSE FUCK OKAY YOU TRYNA HURT ME DROP YOUR @ GIVE ME OSAMU ASKHDKJSDHA THE GLARE. would also love to be able to properly credit you. 

Fake pipe attacks by Japan 2019/2021

unconditionally love

It's time for Nini's Soft and Horny Violence—

dilf!Miya Osamu who's packed on a some weight after years of running a restaurant and who's mostly given up on finding love after the ugly divorce he had with his ex. Who constantly feels guilty, for not being a more attentive husband, for getting complacent, for being impatient and short and snappish. Who's resigned himself to a life as a workaholic.

Who blushes a mottled pink when you first walk into his onigiri shop and after eating one onigiri and laughing at his stupid jokes, you start aggressively hitting on him. You're young, he tells himself, you don't know what you want. (But you do. You're chasing your dreams, living your best life, and now, you want him to take you on a date and make love to you.) He can't deny how easy the chemistry is with you, and how easily you make him laugh. He tries to turn you down gently, but you dig your heels in, insisting that he take you a date. Why? Because you're a pretty girl and he's clearly feeling the chemistry and you're feeling the chemistry, so what does he have to lose?

Who eventually relents, and invites you to Onigiri Miya after hours. Who painstakingly cleans the countertops and carefully arranges a menu for you based on your favorite onigiri flavors. Who frets when you're five minutes late, wondering if he's the sad older man who's been flaked on by some pretty girl that he really thought he had a chance with. Who feels a rush of relief when you run in, panting and sweaty, apologizing profusely because of a detour you had to take on the way due to construction. Who feeds you every single onigiri, preferring to hear you babble on and on about your interests, because your enthusiasm and excitement is so infection that he can't help but also grin and get excited, too. Whose jaw drops when you grab his finger and slowly, slowly suck sauce off of it. Who thinks "fuck it" before grabbing your chin and kissing you.

Who can barely manage to get you upstairs fast enough (his pants are already unbuckles by the time you two reach his door, your hand working far too distractingly on his dick). Who can tell that how young you are because you're so eager and desperate, barely capable of slowing down and actually enjoying the sex. Who whispers in your ear, "slow down, beautiful, we've got all the time in the world", and savors the shiver and weak little noise you make because you've been so aggressive and you've kept him on his toes all night, so it's nice to get to turn the tables. Who eats your pussy, slow and intense, until you're wailing after multiple orgasms and you're shoving him away (he just grins, wipes his face with the back of his hand, and says "wow"). Who teases you cruelly, dipping into your pussy with the fat stretch of his dick, until you're nearly sobbing for it. Who spends the night making intense love to you, showing all the wonderful things that come with fucking an older man. Who feels like a fucking god, as he kneels over your sex-slick body and drinks in your desperate wailing, knowing that you'll never want a younger man. Who makes a broken noise when he finally cums, dick pulsing insistently when you whine longingly for it down your throat, all over your titties and the lips of your pussy.

Who makes you blueberry waffles and an omelet for breakfast the next morning. Who smiles, eager and hungry, when you tell him that you want to keep seeing him. He wants to play it cool, he really does, but God, if he doesn't want to take you back to bed and make love to you over and over again. He's over ten years older than you, but God, if you don't make him feel like he's just a teenager falling in love for the very first time all over again.

Oh my god my pussy and eyes are wet right now aljkshdjkasd please I love all of this. Dad bod!Osamu just hits different and dilf!Osamu?!?! Lord have mercy on my poor brain I can't. He's skilled and he knows it, but he's spent more time working on the business than his bedroom skills lately, and he's worried he's a little rusty. But you fall apart so easily underneath him, reduced to a babbling, begging mess that has his ego and cock swelling. He knows he doesn't have the stamina of his youth, so he takes his time pulling you apart.

He's always liked eating pussy, but you make it that much sweeter tugging on his hair and whining his name like that. And you're so enthusiastic, grinding against his face, rutting your hips along his tongue, making him feel wanted and desired.

And PLS. The "slow down, beautiful" made my heart FLUTTER.

Women have many belongings. It used to vex Nanami. But it doesn’t anymore.

The first thing to migrate to his home, was your face lotion. He has a face lotion, a perfectly serviceable one, but you insisted on bringing your own. Your routine was important to you, you had told him, and Nanami understood. Routines, rules, structure – these are all things he has always respected, found meaning in. And so, in his bathroom, his drugstore razor, toothbrush, and facewash sat together, lined up like toy soldiers, right next to a luxurious indigo jar of face cream.

The rest of your routine follows shortly: the lilac bottle of mist that smells like aloe, the golden serum that smells like summertime, and the periwinkle tube of your green tea face wash. Your bergamot and sandalwood soap linger on his pillow, and when he can’t smell you on his sheets anymore, longing sits heavy and sticky in his throat.

Your clothes are next. Amidst his practical navy, gray, and blacks, appear pops of warm lilac, royal blue, and torched orange. He doesn’t mind it in the least – it would be entirely unreasonable for him to demand that you stop bringing such colorful clothes in his home, especially when he never really wants you to leave.

When the two of you finally just bite the bullet and put your name on the lease, Nanami imagines that his life will certainly become more colorful. But he doesn’t have the first idea of how many more things will be in his house.

All his life, Nanami has lived quietly, abstemiously. He is a jujutsu sorcerer – while his non-sorcerer peers were learning trigonometry, he was learning how to kill curses and how to die as a soldier dies: with resolve and bravery, to the bitterest end. His life has been fat trimmed from steak, practical solid color towels, plastic storage bins with plenty of clearing near the edge, never packed to capacity. A man who walks on the very edge of life and death doesn’t require more than the necessities. The very few things he indulges in are sensible: good whiskey, grade A rice, custom leather shoes (no broguing) built to take a beating.

You bring in your life to his, and it is completely different. You’re striped linens, fresh flowers, scented candles on every corner. Baby blue drinking glasses shaped like beer cans, artisanal ceramicware made by friends locally. Your life is marked by comfort, simple pleasure, and (dare he say it) the sweetest, most innocent frivolity. He supposes it’s really what he loves most about you, honestly. He’s always tended drawn closer to brighter, bolder personalities: earnest and warm, like Haibara and Itadori, not bombastic and irreverent, like Gojo or Tsukumo. You belong in the same shades of sunlight as Haibara and Itadori, but…tender. Like the dream-like throw of warm, rose tipped dawn that thaws the chill of his lonely apartment.

Now, in the mornings, he doesn’t wake to the desolate silence of a man alone. He wakes to the sound of your fluffy slippers in the kitchen, the smell of dark roast coffee, the sight of your toiletries sitting side by side in the bathroom, cozy and couple-like.

Somewhere between your checker print tea kettle, and the warmth of your body on the sheets, Nanami falls so in love with you that he looks back on his life and wonders how he ever lived, starved of the sun that is you, for so long.

men in suits are my weakness