Oh God His Hands Would Be So Rough

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. 

oh god. oh my god. iwaizumi and milf reader. you're freshly divorced, finding yourself after being in a relationship with you ex, and you're going back to the gym again. you're so nervous about being surrounded by all the beefy gym rats, and you're self conscious about how your belly hasn't never full snapped back after you gave birth, and how much your metabolism has changed and has started to store weight in new places. it never once crosses your mind that the surly looking lifter who is 10 years younger than you, is absolutely panting over you, and thinks about nothing else but pinning you up against the wall and rocking his dick up inside you, and showing you just how strong he is.

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.

After Shibuya, he thinks to himself. After Shibuya, he’ll call it. No more fighting, no more soldiering. He’ll call up Mei Mei, ask her about property interest rates in Malaysia, surprise you with something lovely that you can both make a home from. He’ll bring home mangosteen and passionfruit, and you’ll bike to the beach and read on the sand, until you tug him onto his feet and make him dance with you in the water, just like how the tide tugs the earth wherever it pleases, and how the earth is utterly, irresistibly drawn in.

After Shibuya, he thinks, his chest warm and full with dreams of you in a cozy little cottage by the sea, laughing in sunshine, and always, always happy. After this nonsense is settled.

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.

I think Iwa just really thrives in that traditionally masculine role. Just really to takes being a provider, protector, and pleaser. Def the kind of guy to touch his lady’s waist when he needs to skirt by her, and who gets up early to shovel your car out from the snow. Calls you at the supermarket when you ask him to pick up some groceries if he has a question about something on your list, and keeps an eye out for any interesting treats that you might like. Brings home flowers on the regular, and has a strict no checking work rule for the weekends because he values his quality time with you. Makes sure he’s always walking between you and the road, and stays eagle eyed for any unsavory figures. just a solid, dependable man.

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

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

this following scenario is totally possible and real, it actually happened to me

dilf!Osamu who's fallen so hard for his cute little girlfriend that even just two months in, he's already imagining taking you on a vacation. Not just any vacation. A lavish vacation, a vacation where he absolutely spoils you. Start looking up places that would be nice to vacation at and settles on the east Caribbean.

Seven months into dating you, Osamu tells you that he's planned a really sexy vacation. Doesn't tell you the details of the place, only that you need to pack for about a week, he's booked the tickets, and that you brings plenty of cute outfits. Keeps the whole thing under wraps throughout the booking process, the plane check-in, and the eight hour flight until you finally arrive at an incredible, lavish honeymoon resort in the east Caribbean where you're greeted with cool peppermint hand towels. The staff and major domo assigned to your suite call you "Mrs. Miya" and you blush, but make no attempt to correct them (Osamu can't help but blush too). They show you to an open 4th wall suite, equipped with a balcony, a gorgeous view of the ocean, and you own private infinity pool. They can bring you room service every morning, afternoon, and evening, and there's even a bottle of champagne in the mini fridge.

Osamu initially plans that you guys will go to the beach or maybe go for a hike, but the room is so beautiful and you're so in awe of the beauty of the place and you're won't stop kissing him and saying thank you, that all you guys do for the rest of the week is go to the gourmet meals at dinner, play in the infinity pool and beach, and just...breed. Not have sex. Not make love. Breed. Every sunrise while you're in paradise, Osamu finds your pussy wet and swollen every evening, still sensitive from all the sucking on it he did last night, and grins rakishly when he slips it in and you wake up, sleepily moaning.

"Morning, mama," he purrs into your neck. He give your pussy a firm pat and all that's left is moaning, the sound of the hips slapping, and the wet squelch of your pussy.

You only learn afterwards that the vacation was over 10K, had to be payed in installments, and he booked it after two months of knowing you. Man does not play.

Nini I need you to swap lives with me ASAP 😳😳😳

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.