Hello! Your Eremin X Reader You Sent To Poppy Made Me Hyperventilate. I Want To Die. Thank You For Your

oh god his hands would be so rough

My piece for the MSBY: Game changer zine 💕

I’ve given you dilf!Osamu, crybaby!Atsumu, supportive!Iwa, and shy!Omi but I think it’s time for a new character for my growing canon—

*inhales deeply* possessive dilf!Suna’s a Tokyo high school volleyball coach, once he stops playing pro. Who though he wouldn’t like the job at first, but finds that he rather enjoys likes coaching younger players, who all have varying dedications and varying reasons why they love volleyball. Who meets you, a young MFA candidate, while he’s getting drinks at Osamu’s Tokyo location. Who can take his dry and cutting banter and turn it right back on him, 10 times harder. You’re bantering with one of Osamu’s staff, who seems to be a friend, and you’re chattering on excitedly about your recent admission into the program of your choice and Suna can’t help but murmur under his breath “nothing wrong with getting another useless piece of paper for money”. You turn on him, clearly affronted.

“Says the man who was once a professional ball smacker and who’s, now, what? Teaching other boys to smack balls?”

Suna raises a brow at that. “I went to the Olympics, you brat.”

You smile sweetly. And somehow, Suna just knows. Knows he’s about to take the L. “I know. I saw. You were in your prime when I was a little girl. It’s a shame you

Osamu laughs hysterically at him, and Suna has to smack him to ignore the burst of butterflies (and heat) in his belly.

Who knows he’s attracted to you, but resists the attraction for as long as he can. He has a baby sister, you know. She’s an annoying pain in his ass, but he’d blacken anyone’s eye out for being mean to her, let alone let an older man get his hands on her and take advantage of her youth. Who knows he wants you so bad, but never lets himself go too far. Who thinks that you’re also probably just young, with a taste for danger, and you’re just curious about being with a bachelor in his 40s. Who doesn’t even let himself indulge in your curiosity, out of his genuine concern that if he were ever allowed to get his hands on you, he’ll never be able to let you go.

Who can’t help but keep going back to Onigiri Miya, hoping to catch a glimpse of you and hopefully draw you into another play-argument as he nurses a beer and rubs absentmindedly as his five o’clock shadow. (You had once said that facial hair was sexy, but that has absolutely nothing to do with why he started to let his grow out a little). Who feels something ugly churning in his belly when he sees you with a man your age. Who feels like some stupid 20 year old again, scowling and huffing and downing more beer. Who wants nothing more than to stomp over and to pull you into his arms and kiss you, right in front of the stupid little shit you’re laughing with right now. Who hates himself for letting some girl in her 20s for getting him like this. Who feels so guilty for wanting you hen you’re so much younger than him. Who misses the way you keep looking over at him, hungry and hopeful, all through the night until he storms out, bitter and ashamed.

Who avoids Onigiri Miya for a while, hoping that distance will be enough to kill his crush. But who finds that he can’t stay away from more then two weeks. Who comes back and chats idly with Atsumu and Bokuto, all while watching Osamu with his little girlfriend. Who’s gut tugs hard when he sees Osamu’s arms encircle her, and how Osamu’s girlfriend looks up at him with hearts in her eyes.

Who feels a burst of butterflies when you walk in by yourself. Who feels his palms sweat, as you sit down along the counter and order some tea and a few onigiris. Aran and Atsumu eye him knowingly, and grin behind their beers when Suna finally, FINALLY, gives up trying to hold out on the attraction and walks to you.

“Hey,” he says, heart hammering. You look up at him, lips parting in surprise. “Let me buy you a drink.”

Your eyes widen, before you come back with another witty retort, because of course you wouldn’t make it easy. “Maybe I want to make a point about how my MFA is gonna help me pay my bills and buy my drinks myself.”

“Then let me buy you dinner,” Suna says. “Let me buy you dessert, afterwards. Let me buy you whatever you want.”

His heart does a flutter when you smile up at him, cheek resting in your palm. “Are you trying to buy your way into my pants, you old dog?”

And Suna thinks then, he’s had quite enough of your sass, sitting down and boldly cupping your knee in his palm and give it a sensual squeeze. He has to admit, he relishes the way you inhale shakily and jump a little, looking like a caught little rabbit. It’s good to know he’s still got it, and that you want him.

“Have mercy on this old man,” he murmurs, leaning in close. Close enough for you to smell the beer on his breath, his cologne. “He hasn’t in a while, and he likes you so much.”

You blush a little, looking up at him through your lashes. “I like you a lot, too. I want a TKG onigiri and a curry onigiri . Now, please. Thank you.”

Suna gapes a bit, opening and closing his mouth because of course he had to go and start falling in love with an incorrigible brat. He wracks his brain for a comeback, before sighing and giving up. He’s too old to be arguing with a 20-something year old over if he’s actually going to buy her onigiri. He grumbles about disrespectful brats, all while Osamu gleefully takes his money and Aran and Atsumu laugh at him from up the counter.

It’s still worth it when you leave together, your hand in his, and the smell of rice on your mouth when he finally bends to kiss you.

I love him. I love him so much, your honour. Suna is just...so sexy and dilf Suna is even sexier... 🥴🥴🥴🥴🥴

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

God, I’m so weak for big dilf!Kirishima

Dilf!Kirishima who is so in love with his sweet lil cry baby girlfriend. Sweet lil girlfriend who bawls her eyes out at the sad parts of movies and animes and who always makes a soft little sad noise before hiding in Daddy’s lap and wetting his shirt with her tears. Who is absolutely livid whenever anyone dares to bash her big lover. Who absolutely hates it when she and Kirishima argue, and who will cry if Kirishima decides to sleep on the couch (he never does this, he’ll always sneak back in after making a fuss because he hates going to sleep with her and he can’t bear the thought of her in so much distress). Who cries her eyes out of Kirishima gets hurt while working, and will fight anyone who tired to make her leave his hospital room. She totally makes him cry when she earnestly promises to take care of him and protect him from anything bad, because she’s so small and gentle and caring and he’s scared about how everyone will see him as a creepy old man and how physically battered his body will be after years of throwing himself in front of civilians and fires. Who makes him feel like such a big man and also like he’s a horny teenager all over again when they’re in bed together. Dreams of having chubby and happy babies with her, with hearts as beautiful as their Mama’s.

sob. :((( crying ‘cause he sleeps on the couch is what got me :(((

Your anime crush is so fucking weak for you. They practice asking you out in the mirror, stammer, blush, and lap up the barest scrap of your attention like it’s a four-course meal. Thanks I don’t take criticism

Dilf!Osamu who’s unsure of what to do for your first Valentine’s Day together. Who doesn’t mind pulling out all the usual stops: roses, chocolate, presents, and a fancy dinner, but also knows that eating too much food and having a bit too much wine is definitely going to make his dick flag. Who also isn’t sure if you’d rather do something more intimate at home with him. Who wants very much for you to have an incredible Valentine’s Day that makes you feel loved and spoiled and pampered. Who confers with Atsumu (who suggests a pretty piece of jewelry and a low-key dinner out), Kita (who suggests taking on some of your chores, flowers, and a home-made gift that isn’t an onigiri), and Suna (who simply tells him to lay down some good pipe, because he has all the romance of a pair of dirty gym socks). Who asks you what you want for Valentine’s Day, and is surprised when you blush and tell him that you’ve already planned the day out, so don’t worry about anything.

Who wonders if this is all a test, to see what he will do. Who frets back and forth if he should get flowers or chocolate or a pretty necklace or maybe a nice purse? Who decides that he’ll get a lovely bouquet for you and ask Atsumu to get some of the French chocolates Atsumu had last year (apparently, Ushijima on the Schweiden Adlers has a buddy in Paris who makes the most exquisitely chocolate).

Who’s jaw drops when you tell him that he’s on pussy probation for the two weeks leading up to Valentine’s Day. Who sputters and protests at your idea, trying to logic you out of it.

“But–but for what!”

“Because, Daddy,” you murmur, pressing coy kisses against his and running a very, very distracting hand down his chest, abdomen, and dangerously close to his dick. His dick, who, by a damn near Pavlovian response, starts to stand up, eager to greet you. “It’ll make it so good when we have sex again on Valentine’s Day. You’ll cum so hard. Won’t it be romantic?”

He stares at you, laughing in disbelief and dismay. “It won’t be romantic when I cum in you on the first stroke.”

“Oh, speaking in strokes,” you drop your voice into that low purr you know he likes. His dick strains to attention. “No masturbating until then, okay?”

“WHAT.”

Who, for some insane reason, agrees to these terms. No cumming. No masturbating. Well, agree is a bit of a generous term for you-stopped-busting-it-wide-open-for-Osamu.

Osamu doesn’t like it, but he has to admit that there’s an incredible allure to the anticipation and build up. And it’s two weeks. He can do two weeks. He won’t like it, but if it’s what you want, he can do two weeks. He figures he’ll just throw himself into working and working out.

He does not, however, anticipate you being an outright demon.

He nearly drops his morning coffee when you come out from the bedroom, naked as a new born, and boldly press your ass right up against his dick, who’s desperate to remind you of his presence. You kiss his neck, rubbing his chest teasingly and hook your thigh around his waist, with a sultry “daddy, come back to bed, it’s the weekend”.

He throw himself into work and lifting weights, but that doesn’t help either. Not when all your clothes magically fall off when he’s home, you’re pressing your body right up against him, and pressing all the right buttons. Not when he wakes up to his dick in your hungry, eager little mouth and hands. Not when you quickly crawl up his body and press the tip right up into your entrance, drunkenly talking about how much you miss is cock, how good it’s going to feel when you guys finally have sex again, how much you miss daddy’s stretching your pussy out, how you wanna milk all of his seed until it’s in your pussy, your throat, your titties, your ass, your face.

“Want you to spend your cum all over me like an animal,” you moan, grinding your clit against his cock. Osamu feels his dick pulse hard and he’s sure that he’s about to but when you pull away and start grinding your pussy on his thigh until you cum. He thinks he just might cry.

He cracks on day five of your two week torture. It’s 2 AM, and you’re rubbing on his cock again, and filth is spewing from your mouth.

“Daddy,” you whimper, pussy juices all of his cock, his abdomen, his face (you gave him 30 glorious seconds to penetrate you with his tongue before you moved from his face, much to his despair). “Oh, Daddy, can–we can just do the tip, right? Just the tip? Please, it’ll feel so good.”

And he knows it’s a fucking trap. That you’re going to sit all the way down on him, eating up inch by heavenly inch no matter what he says, and that you’re gonna make it so good, before you take it all away. And Osamu isn’t sure he can handle that.

“No,” he nearly shouts, slurred and dizzy with arousal. The squelching sound of your pussy is nearly enough to tip him over the edge. “No, ‘s gonna make me cum.! ‘S too much!”

You whimper, and tilt your hips until the tip catches on the entrance. Osamu’s hands fly to your hips, grabbing hard, harder than he’s ever grabbed. He’s so close. God, if he just bucked up just a little bit…

“No,” he slurs. “No, bunny, no.”

“You can take it,” you whimper, and you sit right down on the head. Osamu’s head flies back, making strangled, garbled noises, like he’s been electrocute. Your cunt is so slippery and it’s already sucks him in to welcomingly, like his cock has was always meant to be there.

“No!” Osamu gasps, much more frantically now. “No! I can’t! I’ll cum, I’m gonna cum—“

“Daddy,” you moan, and you sit right down on the hilt. This is it, he thinks, Im going to cum. Not a goddamn thing he can do about it. Especially not when you’re rolling your hips like that, with all those low, crooning you’re doing.

“Ughhh,” he slurs, drunkenly, lightheaded, release mounting higher and higher in his belly. “Hnghh, ugh, ugh—don’t stop, don’t stop.”

You wriggle your hips, looking pleased as you lean down to kiss him. And then slowly, but evilly, you start lifting off his dick.

Osamu’s eyes widen, hands grabbing at your hips, hips thrusting urgently. “No, no! No, no, no, don’t stop, don’t stop!”

But you’re too quick and you’re giggling shakily as he’s left thrusting cool air. And finally, finally, against all his intentions and strength, Osamu begins to sob.

“Noo,” he moans, shuddering rolling over on his side, torn between jerking his cock at a punishing pace and being good and listening to what you asked of him. He cradles his cock tenderly, the head screaming with the absolute agony of losing all that blissful heat and silk. He’s still slick with your juices, the scent of your pussy making him tear up in earnest. “No, oh, God. Please. Please. Please. Oh, god.”

“Aww, Daddy,” you murmur soothingly, slotting yourself right behind him, your breasts hot against his back, hands tenderly caressing his arm and flank, before encircling his belly—

“No!” Osamu wails like he’s in physical pain, entire body clenched. “No, you can’t do that. It’s too much, it’s too much. I’ll cum.”

You lay off the teasing for a few days, just to let him recover a bit. Not that it helps. He still wake up, very hard, and he can’t help but grind the bed a bit to just try and take the edge off, but it’s like an itch. The more he scratches, the hotter and itchier it gets. You ease off the physical teasing, and instead start sending him selfies that have him moaning out loud and grabbing and shaking at his cock to get it to calm down.

He wakes up on Valentine’s Day with a wet pussy grinding languorously on his dick.

“You’ve been so patient, Daddy,” you smile, shyly. Osamu can only whimper when you begin easing your way down his cock, nearly vibrating with need. “This is your surprise. Happy Valentine’s Day. I’m just got on birth control.”

He makes it 17 desperate pumps, holding onto your hips as though he’s afraid you’ll slip away and blue-ball him again. He cums with a broken moan, half disbelieving and half in sheer relief. He pants and shudders in your breasts, mouthing at them like he’s trying to self-soothe.

You promise him that this is only to just take the edge off. And the rest of the day is wonderful. You’ve both taken the day off, you have some quick onigiris for breakfast and you spend the afternoon fucking and eating and watching TV and napping. In the evening, you make huge portions of carbonara that you both wolf down before you bring him downstairs to the Onigiri Miya kitchen and you reveal your surprise: homemade chocolate croissants, made with the French chocolate he gave you. You had prepped the pastry the night before, and now all that’s left to do is bake it.

Osamu isn’t a baker, and so he watches with rapt attention as your fingers tenderly lift the edge of the long triangle and begins rolling up until it form a crescent, the wedge chocolate on the inside of the pastry hidden from sight. His whole body feels warm when you spoon him from behind and gently guide him through the motions, your fingers caressing and touching intimately.

“There’s a bunch for at least four days,” you murmur shyly into his sleeve. “You take such good care of me. I want to take care of you, too.”

Osamu’s chest feel overfull and bright at your words. And the pain au chocolat is delicious, every bite flaky and perfectly bittersweet. It is a testament to your devotion to him, to have made something so complex, so detailed, with such love.

That night, Osamu take you in the shower before he make love to you in the bed. And he swears that on White Day, he’s definitely going to out-do you.

kjhahagkhjsd??!?!? Nini, I feel edged rn 🥴🥴🥴🥴🥴🥴

Pls?? Now let's add in a spicy little dilf!Osamu who decides the best way to get you back is to cockwarm him. Who decides that's the cherry on top of him lapping at your puffy folds and curling his fingers inside your greedy cunt every day, making you whine and shake and sob as you grab at his hair. Who tells you the exact same thing you told him "It'll make it so good" as he watches you cry and grab at the sheets. Who hasn't let you do anything but sit pretty on his dick in the week leading up to White Day, who hasn't circled his finger along your clit in weeks, who gets such a rush of power when you arch into the feeling of him pinching at your tits or palming at your ass.

Who languidly strokes his dick in front of you and mourns that he can't fuck you sweet little pussy the way he wants while you try and change his mind, who love the feeling of you dripping all over his thigh when you try to ride it, loves the broken cry of his name when he stills your rocking hips and tells you to be patient. Who kisses you and cajoles you into admitting you love him too in return when he's smearing his cum along your skin, spreading it along your folds, over the soft skin of your tits, feeding it into your mouth and feeling you suck along his fingers as your eyes flutter.

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

There's nothing hotter than when a man puts his weight on you. Fucking into you from behind but you're pinned to the bed and his chest is on your back. Fucking into you in missionary and his chest is on yours. There's something so intimate about it. Being pinned by his weight while he ruts into you... completely enclosed by him

Why is cleaning so hard? 😐

mhm