dilf!bokuto who’s still fit but has a softer edge to him, large bulging muscles that are covered in a layer of fat.

dilf!bokuto who lets his chest hair grow out a little and that happy trail darken.

dilf!bokuto who’s so big in every sense of the word.

dilf!bokuto who fucks you with purpose, who makes you forget any other man you’ve ever been with, who imprints his dick into your walls and reshapes them so you can’t take anyone but him.

dilf!bokuto who calls you sweetheart and little girl.

dilf!bokuto who praises you for being a big girl now cause you can take his dick all the way down your throat, cause he’s bottomed out in your cunt after weeks of not being able to properly fit all his length and girth. he lets you ride him and watches in awe as your smaller body squirms on top of him because you feel so full, it’s almost weird. his mouth falls open and he gapes and goes, “look at you,” with a small gasp.

dilf!bokuto who doesn’t understand the trends of your generation, the styles and the fashion, the statements and sayings, but he still buys you everything you want, still listens to you rant to him about shit, trying his best to understand, trying to give you anything from his wisdom he’s acquired at his age.

dilf!bokuto who‘s breathing stutters at the sight of you all dressed up for him whenever he takes the two of you out. he ends up pushing the skirt of your dress up and shoving three fingers down your throat, telling you to get them all nice and wet for him before he pushes them inside of you, trying to stretch you out for the girth of his cock.

dilf!bokuto who’s obsessed with your youthfulness. with your smooth skin and your cute laugh and your naivety and your helplessness.