Cardboard Beds Wouldn’t Stop Me I’d Fuck The Life Outta Kageyama Tobio On One

Please the way you fed me with that Eremin ask I'm so full!!!! Ugh, I love jealous bratty Armin and dom Eren so much. If you do end up writing more I always have room for dessert 👀

I just came from a great chair class and I'm feeling good so let's go—

happy eating, anon @ringpop-poppy @johnsrevelation

Eren means it when he says he loves both of his babies equally. He loves the punishing pucker of his baby boy's ass and he loves the warm, sucking silk of his honey's pussy. So Eren absolutely means it when he looks down at his baby girl, who's sobbing hysterically from the overstimulation, and the feral bare of Aremin's teeth, and says that he doesn't know who looks better. Fuck, he's sure that this is will seared in his memory permanently. The drooly gape of your mouth, Armin's urgent grunting, and the damp slap of skin almost seems to be happening in slow motion, with Eren's cock thrusting up into Armin as the impetus of it all.

"Doesn't our honey's pussy feel good, baby boy?" Eren growls into Armin's ear, eyeing the way your arousal has slicked all the way Armin's nipples. "Doesn't it make you wanna lose your mind?"

"Yeah," Armin grits out, thumbing your nipples and grinning at the way you twitch and gasp helplessly. "Ugh, yeah, fuck this pussy, Daddy, fuck our pussies."

Eren swears, and snaps his teeth against Armin's shoulder. "Squeeze baby girl's throat, choke this bitch out."

Your eyes fly open as Armin fists the base of your throat hard, and your pussy squeezes so naughty and nasty that Armin sucks in a breath like he's been the one choked out and jerks his cock back. It still doesn't matter—you're outright drooling and crying as you cum for the umpteenth time, and Armin finally, finally blows his load, babbling a garbled chant of "fuck, fuck, fuck, oh daddy, pussy, pussy, pussy so nasty, fuckkk—"

Eren's ass flexes five, six, seven more times before he shoves hard at Armin's back, cumming in him with a victorious hiss. "See? Always listen to Daddy."

the cakes turn out gorgeous: for the team, an airy almond chiffon cake with blackberry-lime curd and a dreamy raspberry swiss meringue buttercream and for the training staff, a nutty sesame olive oil with a blackberry-shiso jam, and salty swiss meringue buttercream. for the female-led and hired social media team, a lush devil's food cake with raspberry coulis and and an espresso buttercream, and finished with fresh flowers for a touch of style. the cakes are set up on display for everyone to ooh and ahh after, and for the last time, you check over the exact headcount of guests before the cakes are rolled back into the make shift assembly space to be portioned out and served.

the staff members protest when you insist on helping them serve the cake, saying that they couldn't ask you to do even more than everything you've already done, but you wave them away with a smile.

"i really love seeing people eat my cake," you beam a little harder than you really need to. "you can't imagine the joy i feel whenever i get to see it."

the second you step into the dining area where everyone is sitting after the banquet dinner, your eyes start scanning across the room for the guy. that one, beefy, surly looking guy.

and there he is, at the mixed staff table, sitting between an older bearded man and a man with wildly spiky hair. you paste a cheerful smile on your face, and roll your cart right over, setting down slices of cake for each person.

when you come around to him, his eyes are wary. good. the prick recognizes you.

"h-hello," you force a timid tremor in your voice and smile as nervously as you can. his brows furrows. "w-would you like a s-slice of sesame oil c-cake, or a different cake?"

"sesame," he says tersely, and you make a show of flinching and forcing a tight smile.

"of course, r-right away!"

"i know iwa-san's face can be a little scary," the spiky haired man sitting next to him pipes up with an easy going smile. "but there's no need to be intimidated by him. he's a nice guy."

you push out a high little laugh. "ah, yeah, i'm - i'm sure he can be. i ran into him in the hallway, and he, uh. he can really raise his voice."

the social media girls sitting at the end of the table look up from their conversation, while the bearded man frowns. the spiky haired man raises a brow.

"oh?"

"oh, but it was an extenuating circumstance, i would never blame him!" you exclaim. "he was handling two guys who weren't feeling well, so I'm sure he was just caught up in the heat of the moment."

"that's-!" iwa sputters indignantly. "you were-!"

"ah, wrangling those boys gets the better of us all at some point, iwazumi-kun," the bearded man claps his shoulder sympathetically. "you should take care to rest well, especially now that the year is over. have some cake."

"she-" he sputters, feeling utterly accused. you blink at him, innocent as a lamb, and set down his slice.

"i hope y-you like it, iwaizumi-san," you simper. his eyes narrow at you, gripping his fork and stabbing the cake with more force than necessary.

"is it good?" you ask, eyes gleaming with hope. the bearded man smiles at him encouragingly, and the spiky haired man sits back, watching with some measure of amusement.

"it is," he swallowed, forcing a smile that looks like someone is pointing a gun at his head. "it's very good."

"well, i'm glad," you smile. "i love it when people enjoy eating my cakes."

meet ugly with iwaizumi hajime athletic trainer where you’re catering the dessert table at the Olympic Training Center's End of Year Celebration. You’re covered up to your elbows in swiss meringue buttercream, iwaizumi is wrangling two drunk volleyball players about to vomit all over him, and there’s only one available bathroom left to use.

your eyes and his meet from either end of the hallway - he can clearly see you're covered in buttercream and you can clearly see two gigantic men being wrangled like puppies by the backs of their shirts, both slurring happily about how much they love volleyball and how much they love each other, bro.

in the center of the hallway, equidistant from either one of you, is the door to the only unoccupied sink on the first floor of the building.

of all the men in the world you would normally be willing to pick a fight with, a surly looking athletic trained with flexing biceps is not the first one you would choose to tangle with. but between your mixer dying on you, the two previous batches of buttercream that split on you, and the gigantic celebration cakes for the team, staff and the social media team still waiting to be frosted, you're willing to take your chances.

"hey!" he barks in shock, as soon as he realizes you're booking it to the door. Atsumu and Bokuto make alarmingly queasy sounds when he starts running in earnest to get to the door before you. "hey, stop! seriously?"

bokuto squawks, when Iwaizumi bodily swings his limp body across the threshold of the door, eyes narrowed at your buttercreamed hand just beginning to pull the door handle.

"pardon me," he says, low and deadly serious. "but i have two sick idiots about to blow chunks all over the walls."

"i have buttercream in my hair," you huff, eyes narrowed. "and three unfinished cakes waiting for me. i get you're in some sucky shit, but work trumps pukey people."

"urgh, iwa-san," atsumu mutters, strained, his forehead beading with sweat. "i think i'm gonna be sick."

"hold it in, you little bastard!" iwazumi barks, before turning back to you. "come on, can't you just wait 10 minutes?"

"i'm already running behind on my cooling and setting schedule," you snap back. "and i'll literally be done within in, like, two minutes!"

bokuto groans, hands coming up to hold his belly. "oh, man. i don't think i can wait 5."

iwaizumi gives you a sharp look. "you want shit and puke on the carpets?"

"you want to fuck with my job?"

"i don't give a damn if your cakes come out late!" he snarls. "frankly, it sounds like you have bad time management skills."

"and you sound like you can eat my ass!"

at that moment, atsumu lurches forward, hand slapping over his face as he shoves past the two of you and steps over bokuto. before the door even closes, you can already the retching sounds of him vomiting into a toilet.

"oh shit, i'm gonna shit myself," bokuto mutters, pushing up onto his hands and knees, drunkenly crawling on all fours as he pushes open the door.

"oi! bokuto, at least stand up!" iwaizumi shouts, only to get a vaguely panicked "no way, man, it's about to come out!"

Iwaizumi gives up, rubbing his forehead and counting slow breaths, almost as if he's completely dismissed the fact that you're even there.

spite is like acid on the back of your tongue.

fine. fine. you're not unwilling to recognize when you've been defeated. but this is not how you go out against this guy.

Todoroki who can't relate to the bawdy locker room talk he hears all the time in pro-hero rings. Who can't find the appeal in face-fucking, pussy pounding, or anything of that or shoving your face into the bed or tearing your clothes off. Who doesn't find the appeal in blowing you back out.

Who wants to watch you slowly undress, as you look at him through your lashes. Who would rather make you melt in his arms, under his touch. Who would rather take his time, slow and intense, tenderly kissing the full swell of your pussy lips, nosing tenderly at your clit until your legs are shaking and you're panting like he's knocked the break out of you. Who wants to look at your face when he presses the head of his cock inside of your pussy, your lips parting and your eyes closing, dreamily. Who wants to feel the soft exhale of your breath against his cheek, as he lowers his head to kiss along the line of your jaw. Who shivers when you reach around to cup his ass, squeezing and caressing in a way that's far too distracting. Who spends hours, squeezing his abs and flexing his ass as he fucks you, the headboard rhythmically bouncing against the wall with each pump of his hips.

Who hisses when you ask to be on top, eager to watch you sit astride him and pleasure yourself with his body. Who tenderly cups your breasts and whines with each languorous circle of your hips. Who pants excitedly when you start to cum, and only lets himself finish once you've had at least two orgasms.

barking 

i love rough sex and kinky sex obviously buy honestly reading sweet and romantic sex does something bad to my fucking heart but especially thinking of it being todoroki who is so wholly in love with you. like his dick gets hard for romance. 

todoroki who doesn’t really have many day-dreams of fantasies but when he does, there almost innocent. stuff like seeing you in his shirt or other simple shit that gets him so riled up. he learns things about himself slowly, not oblivious really but that everything is brand-new and honestly, the most appealing part of anything is you and not whatever kinks attached to it. 

you in his shirt, you in lingerie, fucking you in different areas of the house. all of it’s exciting cause he’s into you particularly and that makes him eager. makes his stomach churn bc he’s in love. 

trapping him inside when he promised to pull out. his hips stuttering, moaning "oh god, baby, baby fuck- let me out. m'gonna cum" but you just tighten your legs around his waist, push your pelvis up further to meet his, keep him locked inside so he can only grind and roll his hips in tiny circles, can't get any further. gripping the sheets on either side of you as his eyes roll back and his balls start to empty the first load; right into your warm pussy. "god you fuckin' little brat- fine. take my cum, fucking take it. gonna g've it to youuu- fuck- s-stop milking me, 'm gonna get hard again you bitch-"

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

Practice ♻️

bokuto asks in the locker room “guys what do i do my gf wont stop squirting all over my bed everytime we fuck 🥺” and then he gets smacked upside the head by several teammates who think hes bragging but he genuinely doesnt know what to do at this point

bokuto being the only one out of the msby black jackals with a girlfriend… all of them absolutely ravenous because bokuto doesn’t know when to stop talking sometimes, chattering about the extensive sex lives the two of you share-

asking them things they wouldn’t ever get a taste of because bokuto is just so good at fucking you.

it’s always inquiries about what to do for times when you convulse around his cock so bad he has to hold you down tight in fear of hurting yourself, or how to… direct your squirt in a way that doesn’t end up cascading down his toned stomach- not that he doesn’t like it, he loves it, but he feels guilty for the shy look, mortified gaze you give him after, watching the planes of his tummy drip with it.

they all stare, sitting in nothing but their black little uniformed shorts, the air in the locker room so heavy and thick with how they’re breathing- they’ve seen you, know what you look like, and the image painted in their head is so good they’re squirming as bokuto babbles on, oblivious to it all- genuinely asking for advice to men who sit and pant like dogs, lusting over you.

Why is cleaning so hard? 😐

men in suits are my weakness

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.