A Writing Competition I Was Going To Participate In Again This Year Has Announced That They Now Allow

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 :(((

Supportive!Iwa pt 3 because I just came from a great pole class ✌️

Iwa who tags along to one of your classes and is a little flustered when he walks in and everyone is dressed quite comfortably in underwear and booty shorts. He’s nervous about making any of the other women feel uncomfortable, but they all smile at him and wave (you told all your pole girls about him and they’re determined to make sure he has a wonderful class). Curiously follows along as you undress to just some boy shorts and a tank top, wash your hands with dawn soap, and apply your grip to your hands, inner arms, thighs, knees, shins, and feet. Who is fascinated by the pole-assisted stretches, the light core conditioning, and how attentive the teachers are to accommodate for any injuries. Who watches every move demonstrated closely, asking for a break down of the movements. Who has most of the muscles to do the moves, but whose skin isn’t tough enough and he nearly taps out over just the warm up fan kicks. Who can barely stop himself from swearing the first time he tries climbing the pole, and fails, only to watches in awe as you calmly ascend and simply sit, legs tucked neatly. Who finds himself totally gassed only 30 minutes in, his arms and fingers shaking. Who’s a little embarrassed, but pleased when he successfully completes an ugly fireman’s spin and all the girls in the class erupt into loud cheering. Who finds himself talking to the nearby girls, who give him tips about his grip, balance, and momentum. Who watches you twirl around gorgeously with some of the other girls, laughing and encouraging each other. Who leaves class feeling thoroughly worked, but immensely proud of you and all the skill you’ve accumulated. Who goes back home with you, makes you a delicious meal, and reminds himself to make a batch of the old protein muffins he made in college for himself, so you have a nutritious little post-class snack.

Omg the fact that you do pole classes is amazing and so very sexy because your core muscles must be insanely developed??? And I'm v jealous 😭😭 Iwa at a pole class though is so CUTE and adorable like he's sweating and swearing and very red-faced, but he tries so hard!!!!

And the bit about him making food foor after wahhhh please he would?! You know he started bringing them to the class too for you to share with all your friends and! He just!! He's the best!!!

Coming at you with a hook ✌️

SUPPORTIVE IWA PT 2 BUT MAKE IT HORNY

The only person who’s allowed to make bawdy comments and to waggle their brows at you is him. Totally lays it on all thick and greasy and dorky because he’s knows it makes you blush and giggle and it’s not like he’s even lying! Yeah, he absolutely respects how much strength you have to be able to do a no-kick invert with stripper heels on (those fuckers feel heavy when you try to fucking invert), but he also just thinks you look so good (“yeah baby, lemme see that ass in the air, show Daddy those legs, you know what Daddy likes”). Def leers when you’re doing your headstand conditioning and when you practice your leg waves. Conveniently asks you to send some of your sexier vids to him so he “check out your form” when he’s away 👀 definitely adds song suggestions to you practice playlist (Nao’s Bad Blood and Normani’s Wild Side are his absolute favorites). Will buy you pole gear he thinks you’ll like (and also will look super hot in). Loves it when your head is tilted back when you do a back hook spin, fairy sits, the Skater, and the Gemini because the arch of your back reminds him of what you look like when you’re cumming on top of him. Watch your videos when you’re away and just bites his lip, squeezing his dick, and thinking about everything he wants to do to you when you come home. Gets so worked up watching you get into sexy time at the end of a class, just stares at you all hungry and sexy while you’re just on the floor writhing and gyrating to the beat and running your hands all over your body. Hasn’t told you that ever since you started showing him your pole videos, he can’t stop thinking about stripper role play with you and totally fantasizes about being in the champagne room with him dressed in a sexy suit with a cigar in one hand while you’re giving him a private dance in glittery g-string, until he slips his fingers into your panties and rubs your clit until you cum on his lap. Definitely hasn’t told you that’s why y’all do the champagne room position so much more.

Oh my god YES. Iwa that starts asking you to show him your routine, that installs a pole in your apartment/house for you to practice on. I mean, he’d prefer if it was him you were grinding up against, but he’s not opposed to watching you run through your routines in the morning. There’s nothing like a cup of coffee and the sight of your arching back to get him going for the day. 

If there happens to be an uptick in the amount of lingerie he’s buying you he doesn’t say anything about it. If there happens to be a little more appreciative groping of your body, you’re not complaining. And if one day you catch him eyeing you hungrily as you’re rolling your hips in a slow circle on the ground...well, it was a good thing you never liked those leggings anyway.

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.

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.

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. 

men in suits are my weakness

Why is cleaning so hard? 😐

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

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 two."

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.