#a little. its in the background but its there

[adispit]

Hiyaaa can I ask for Ayato from Genshin with a kitsune reader who steals pieces of his clothing as a secret crush on him but one day Ayato catches them and punishes them.

A Punishment ?

Ayato x kitsune! bttm male reader

Content warnings: spanking, anal tongue fucking (receiving), overstimulation, rough sex, creampie , slight predator prey dynamic (if you squint), slight dubcon because reader wasn’t really into the spanking at the start

Note: This fic has been marinating in my inbox for 2 weeks so I hope you enjoy! Also I haven’t played Genshin in a year so this might be a tad bit ooc 😭. Enjoy!

You had always been someone in the background, shadowed and sheltered under the protection of your sister, Guuji Yaemiko. Few to none knew of your actual existence as centuries passed, except for the Raiden Shogun and the clans themselves. Her influence stretched far, wrapping around you like a protective veil.

The Shrine was your haven, but also your cage. Every decision, every move you made, was watched, controlled. It was always for your safety, she would say. The sister who would tease and always play you like a fiddle to her silly whims became firm and unmovable when it came to exploring beyond the Inazuman city. You had been sheltered from the harsh realities of the world, never given the freedom to truly explore it. Yet, that defiant streak within you had only grown stronger. You didn’t want protection. You wanted to live.

However, what your sister could not shield you from was unforeseen. A little crush you had harboured for the Yashiro Commissioner himself, Kamisato Ayato. A man who carried himself with grace and power — a man who like your sister, commanded respect wherever he went. The very man that made the Kamisato name arise from its ashes and make it the prestigious clan today. As much as you hated to admit it, you were nothing better than those maidens who chased after him relentlessly for marriage offers. It stung to think of yourself in that way, to admit that you were drawn to him with the same intensity that they were.

It wasn’t just his power or his elegance. It was the way he moved with a grace that seemed almost otherworldly, the sharpness in his gaze that made you feel seen even when you wished to remain hidden. You were drawn to him with a fascination that bordered on obsession, an allure that you couldn’t shake off no matter how hard you tried. Due of your crush, you found yourself resorting to a silly yet strangely satisfying ritual—stealing Ayato’s clothes. It was an odd way to cope with the intense feelings you harbored for him, but it was the only outlet you could manage. Each stolen item, whether a glove, a ribbon, or a sash, became a cherished possession, a physical connection to him that you could hold onto.

Each piece of clothing was a wishful reminder of him—a way to keep a part of him close, even if you could never have him completely. You would fold his garments carefully, press them to your face, and imagine the moments he had worn them, his scent of sandalwood and rain with the lingering warmth, It was your own secret fantasy. It was harmless really. A secret way of indulging in the hopeless crush you’d harbored for the head of the Kamisato clan.

However, tonight, the air felt different—charged with something you couldn’t quite place. Strangely, there weren’t any guards present that were on patrol. The estate was quiet. A little too quiet.

Still, you pressed on.

The thought of what you were about to do made your fox ears twitch in excitement. Ayato’s chambers were silent as you nudged the door open, the dim light of a single candle casting long shadows over the room.

You crept inside, eyes scanning for something to take. His haori lay draped neatly over a chair, and without hesitation, you reached for it. The silk fabric slipped through your fingers, smooth and cool to the touch. Your breath caught in your throat as you brought it close, imagining, just for a moment, what it would feel like to be wrapped in it—surrounded by him. The thought made your cheeks warm, but you pushed it away, carefully folding the haori over your arm.

It was a ridiculous thought, you knew that.

You allowed yourself a small smile. Another successful heist, another piece of him to add to your collection. You moved toward the door, your escape clear and easy.

But as you turned, something stopped you.

A faint rustle. Barely a sound, but enough to make your ears twitch with alert. You froze, eyes darting toward the corner of the room. Nothing.

You waited, heart racing in your chest, every instinct telling you to bolt but curiosity kept you rooted in place. Slowly, you scanned the room again, your gaze lingering on the bed. Your breath caught in your throat as your eyes landed on a figure sitting in the shadows.

Ayato.

He was leaning casually against the headboard of his bed, his body bathed in the soft glow of moonlight. His lavender eyes, sharp and calculating, met yours with a calm intensity. Those eyes were striking—like shards of amethyst, reflecting the light in a way that made them almost glow. They watched you with a calm amusement, though the glint in them suggested he was far more aware of the situation than you were.

Your heart raced as you took in his appearance. His long, pale blue hair was neatly tied back, save for a few loose strands that framed his angular face. The moonlight accentuated his porcelain skin, making him look almost ethereal, like something out of a dream. Yet there was nothing soft about the way he held himself—he stood with a quiet strength, the grace of a nobleman who knew his power.

“You’ve been busy, haven’t you?” His voice was smooth, almost melodic, but there was an edge to it. It sent a shiver down your spine.

You swallowed hard, clutching the haori tightly. Ayato’s tall, lean frame was still relaxed, but every movement he made was deliberate. His long fingers tapped rhythmically on the edge of the bed as he spoke, drawing attention to his hands—hands that could command armies or, in this case, one mischievous kitsune.

“I… I didn’t mean—”

Ayato’s lips curled into a faint smirk, revealing a glimpse of his sharp wit. “Didn’t mean to what?” He interrupted, stepping forward, the soft rustle of his clothing barely audible. “You seem to have a habit of taking things that don’t belong to you,” he murmured, his voice low, smooth, and far too calm.

“Lord Ayato,” You squeaked softly, ears flattening as you clutched the fabric in your hands. He approached, slowly, the air between you charged with something you couldn’t name. “What were you planning to do with this, hm?” He gestured toward the ribbon in your hand, his voice soft but laced with authority. “Stealing from me, Yae Miko’s brother no less… What would she say?”

You bristled at the mention of your sister, but there was no escape now. “I just wanted—”

“To see if I’d notice?” Ayato finished for you, his amusement deepening as he tilted his head slightly. His eyes never left yours as he leaned in closer, his breath warm against your cheek. Up close, you could see the slight tension in his jaw, the quiet authority he carried in every word.

His hand reached out, brushing lightly against the fabric of the haori. “I noticed,” he whispered, his voice sending a thrill down your spine. His fingers grazed yours, cool to the touch yet searing with the unspoken threat of control.

Ayato’s smile was small but devastatingly confident. “But there’s a price to pay for stealing from the Yashiro Commissioner.”

Your heart raced as he stepped even closer, the close proximity making your tail swish back and forth with nervousness and anticipation. “And I think you know what that means.”

“Get on your knees,” he commanded, his voice low and husky, sending a shiver down your spine. You hesitated for just a moment, but the look in his eyes—dark, intense, and utterly unyielding—was enough to make you comply. Your legs gave way almost instinctively as you dropped to your knees, your heart pounding in your chest. The rush of adrenaline coursing through you drowned out everything except the sound of your own breathing, loud and uneven in your ears.

He took another step, his movements so fluid that his bare feet made no sound on the hardwood floor, as though he was one with the shadows. You could feel the heat radiating from him even before he stood directly in front of you, the faint scent of sandalwood and rain lingering in the air—intoxicating and impossible to ignore.

A slow, deliberate smirk tugged at the corners of his lips—a smirk that sent a thrill of both fear and excitement rushing through your body. The expression was playful, yet there was something undeniably dangerous in it, like he was silently toying with you, fully aware of the power he held over you. Up close, you could see the cool, detached amusement in his eyes—like a predator toying with prey, knowing full well you were already caught in his web.

"Take off your clothes," he ordered, his tone leaving no room for argument. You hesitated again, but the silent disapproving look in his eyes was enough to make you move. You stood up slowly, your hands trembling as you began to undress. Reluctantly, your robes slipped off, leaving you stark naked and cold, shivering in the cold night air. Truth to be told, you were a virgin, never having the chance to even have a sexual outlet besides from fingering yourself and masturbating on rare occasions when your sister wasn’t at the shrine. Even with your crush on Ayato, you were rather reluctant and admittedly, a tad bit fearful.

He watched you, his expression unreadable, but the fire in his piercing eyes made your skin tingle with anticipation. That calm, calculating gaze burned with something primal even though his face remained impassive. When you were done, he simply gestured for you to turn around. You hesitated briefly, but his silent command left no room for question.

Your heart pounded as you moved, his authoritative presence looming behind you. “Hands on the bed,” he demanded, his voice brushing dangerously close to your ear. The soft, commanding tone sent an involuntary shiver down your spine, making you feel small beneath him.

You obeyed, placing your palms flat against the cool surface of the futon. The fabric felt grounding under your trembling fingers. You could hear him moving, the quiet rustle of his robes as he adjusted himself, his body heat brushing ever closer. The air between you felt electric, charged with tension, until—

Without warning, the first blow landed hard across your ass. The sharp, stinging pain rippled through you like a wave. You gasped, your body jerking forward from the sudden impact, your tail instinctively going taut. The burning sensation lingered, intensifying with every passing second, until all you could do was grip the sheets, struggling to steady yourself against the onslaught.

“Ayato, I don’t think I want to — Ah!”

He wasn’t done.

The second blow came even harder, the sharp impact sending a jolt of pain through your body. This time, you couldn’t suppress the cry that escaped your lips, the force of it stealing the breath from your lungs. You bit down hard on your lip, the metallic taste of blood faint on your tongue as you fought back the tears threatening to spill over.

“Count,” he ordered, his voice dangerously calm. “And call me Sir. Stay still,” he added, the warning in his tone unmistakable, “Or this will be even worse.”

You could feel the power in his command, the unspoken promise that he wouldn’t tolerate disobedience.

“Two, Sir,” you whispered, your voice trembling, doing your best to remain still despite the lingering sting.

The next few blows came in quick succession, each one more painful than the last. Your ass was on fire, the pain mingling with the arousal that was building inside you. You could feel yourself getting hard, your body betraying you as it responded to the punishment. The next few blows came in quick succession, each one landing harder than the last. Your skin burned, a searing pain spreading across your ass with every strike, and it felt like your entire body was on fire.

Tears slipped down your cheeks, and no matter how hard you fought them back, they kept coming, blurring your vision. You mutely counted the blows between occasional cries of pain and ragged gasps for air. The room spun around you, the sensation too much, too fast.

Each smack to the ass only intensified your horror at your arousal and your arousal. You could feel your dick twitching and getting stiffer as the pain resonated throughout your body. Precum was beginning to pool beneath your cock as the electric sting that the pain brought felt even more pleasurable than the last.

“T-ten,” you whispered shakily, your hands gripping the sheets as you struggled to keep from collapsing under the pressure. Finally, he paused, giving you a moment of respite to catch your breath. Your chest heaved as you struggled to catch your breath, the tension in your body slowly unwinding as the sting of the blows lingered. Your skin was still ablaze with the aftermath.

You could feel his hand resting lightly on your back, his fingers brushing against your skin in stark contrast to the harshness of his earlier actions. The touch was almost tender, a strange gentleness that sent a confusing wave of emotions through you.

Suddenly, with a swift motion, you found yourself turned around, now facing him. Despite the harsh punishment you had endured, you felt your heart race and then falter as the close proximity of Ayato became overwhelming. Your traitorous tail, betraying your true feelings, swished involuntarily with a mix of excitement and nervousness.

However that did not distract him from the hard on you sported, much to your embarrassment. His slender hand crept down your body and dwarfed your cock. He rhythmically rubbed your length, making you shudder and feel the sparks and the familiar hum of pleasure beginning to ignite.

“Yes,” you gasped as Ayato purposefully tightened his grip around your sensitive tip, never stopping his pace, “Oh—fuck—” as that mischievous hand closed around you, there was a playful air about Ayato as he let out a soft melodic laugh while mumbling something under his breath and then shifting his grip.

The next slide up was a tight, demanding fist. You threw your head back.

“Does that feel good, (Name)?” There was an amused lilt in his voice that made you flush head to toe.

The rush of blood and desire to a point low in your stomach was overwhelming. The movement was growing slicker, better , so tempting to lean fully into. You had never been this turned on.

“I don’t know, ” you cried through a strangled whine, you felt Ayato’s laughter directly through your skin, and somehow that made him suddenly very close.

There was something so exciting and arousing about it the way the man you had dreamt about, the very Yashiro Commissioner, himself was helping pleasure you. The very thought had you moaning, once, and falling slack like a puppet with cut strings. 

You were gently pushed back onto your back against the soft surface of the futon with both your legs are hoisted up, hanging against Ayato’s shoulders. Your body folded in half as you saw his head buried in your thighs, goosebumps rising on your skin as your tail hairs brushed against his chin.

“Ayato?!” You struggled for the commissioner to release his grasp on your legs, but to no avail, as he tightened his grip to hold you still. You flushed red in embarrassment, the thought of Ayato seeing everything too much to bear. 

And then you felt something warm and slimy breach past the ring of muscles, causing you to yelp in surprise.

Holy fuck. Was Ayato actually doing what you thought he was? 

You shuddered as waves of pleasure traveled up to your core. Gritting your teeth to try and contain the shameful moans from escaping you, afraid to realise that this was all a dream, afraid that Ayato would be turned off by you.

“Hnnn…Ayato….” You groaned, eyes clenching shut and face wrinkled as you bit back on a pathetic whine. All of a sudden, you jolted.

Ayato’s tongue had prodded at something deep inside you that made you melt into a puddle of arousal and shame. You unconsciously gripped his head tight with your thighs, messing up his perfect tidied hair. He had found your prostrate. And then he stopped, a gossamer thread of saliva connecting his lips to your hole as he retreated.

You couldn’t help but notice the shy mole that hid beneath his spit shiny lips — he was absolutely ethereal even with his messy and tousled hair. An unnatural pink flush decorated his fair and porcelain face and you realised that he was aroused.

By you.

The thick tension hung in the air as he silently gazed at you, the hunger in his amethyst eyes almost engulfing you on the spot like he was a man gone wild.

Shadows danced on his face as he meticulously removed his robes, still carrying himself with the same grace and dignity as if the air wasn’t imbued with the electric undercurrent of arousal and the fact that he had just tongue fucked you. He stood above you, full mast and you felt your breath get stolen away from you.

Ayato had a picture perfect physique, lean, almost like a statue carved out and had come to life. Your eyes immediately dove down to his abdomen, to be greeted with his cock, hard, already pressing against your rim, twitching invitingly. Both hands gripping your waist as he positioned himself.

“We will not stop now, (Name). Your pleas and cries will be unheard. This is a punishment.” He stared at you with an unyielding gaze, one that you were ready to challenge. “This is the lesson you must learn, the price of your rebellion,” he concluded. “One I accept.” You let out a hoarse giggle. His eyes darkened almost simultaneously as what seemed like another amused smile tugged at his lips before he let his actions speak for himself.

He did not give any mercy. Ruthlessly driving into your hips with a force like he wanted to merge into you, you felt his girth stretch and force your walls to mould into its shape. “Huh...?” Your mind went blank with pleasure, and for a while you couldn’t comprehend what happened. Your insides clenched down hard on his cock as slaps of skin punctuated the silent night air.

“Ah! Ggh- Aah! W-wait! Ungh —!” You slurred inaudibly as you felt your body rock to his merciless pace, your cock dribbling endless pre-cum uncontrollably. He promised your pleas and cries would be unheard and he served his promise, not even a single word could leave your raw throat. Only guttural whines and moans would escape your bitten lips as you fell into the throes of pleasure.

Alas, decisions were made and you could not regret what you said. Here you were, getting your deserved punishment in the form of a ruthless fucking.

Everything was too hot, too sticky and hummed with the sound of distant sobs, you groggily thought. Oh. Those were from you. Your skin was sticky with the sheen of sweat and cum and the futon beneath you was drenched. You felt unusually full, like something sloshing in your tummy. Your hole felt sore. And he wasn’t done. But you would never admit defeat….was the last thought that echoed in your muddled mind as you gave into the embrace of sleep.

“(Name)? Learnt your lesson now? Oh. The silly thief has admitted defeat.” He pushed back his sweat soaked hair as he glanced upon your slumbering form. Letting out a grunt, he pulled out of your red, swollen hole as semen immediately began dripping out your gaping rim. Humming an exasperated sigh, a fond expression appeared on his face as his lavender eyes crinkled into crescents as he gently ruffled your hair.

The little kitsune had fallen into his trap.

Sometime ago, Ayato had noticed his belongings going missing. If he hadn’t, he wouldn’t deserve the title of Yashiro Commissioner. The thief clearly had no ill intent, but it became particularly vexing when he realized that the pair of gloves Ayaka had gifted him had mysteriously disappeared as well.

Then one day, by sheer coincidence, he noticed the little kitsune who had caught his eye more than once, wearing a familiar ribbon in their hair— his ribbon. And on their hands, the very gloves he had been missing. Amusement flickered in his usually composed gaze as everything clicked into place.

It seemed someone had developed quite the habit. But Ayato wasn’t the type to let such things go unaddressed. Oh no, if this little fox thought they could slip away unnoticed, they were sorely mistaken. Someone was in need of a lesson, and he would be more than happy to provide it.

So he plotted.

note: ajskskskk, I’m finally done 🙏 my first ask so I hope this was done well!

Reblogs are appreciated 🧑‍🍳

[plutoasteroids]

PAC - How Will Your FS' Siblings Feel About You

This is a general reading so take what resonates and leave what doesn't. Especially because not everyone's FS has siblings so if you aren't drawn to a pile that could be why or there are just no messages for you in this reading.

THIS READING IS ALLEGEDLY FOR ENTERTAINMENT PURPOSES ONLY. I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR ANY CHOICES MADE IN RELATION TO MY READINGS!

Pile 1 is the picture of Alexa Demie in sunglasses

Pile 2 is the Black and White picture

Pile 3 the picture with Fairy wings

Pile 4 The picture with her holding a knif3

PILE 1

Okay I do feel like your FS' siblings may be unsure of you at first because you might be someone completely different from their usual type for example you could be of a different race or background that they aren't used to so they may feel a bit sceptical about you especially at the very early stages of them getting to know you. Regardless of a tough first impression I feel like most of their siblings will eventually like you but there is one sibling that will hate your guts and the reasons could vary from person to person but overall it's just this vibe of them feeling like you aren't good enough for their sibling (your fs) and to be honest I don't think that specific sibling will ever like you there is a lot of deep-rooted jealousy and insecurity that you trigger in them without you knowing but anyways it won't affect your marriage/ relationship with your fs or the rest of their family. For the actually nice siblings of your fs, I feel like you will all have a lot of fun together going on adventures and trips and just enjoying life. At some point which will be pretty early on they might even start seeing you as their sibling and it will feel like things aren't complete if you aren't there too (sooo sweet). To be honest I feel you will have a specific one of your fs sibling that you will be super super close with just the connection is flowy and fun, it will feel like you guys are life long best friends. Don't worry about the one hater they genuinely won't matter, it will be annoying but it won't matter. Your fs family will be on your side and your fs side so they will immediately shut down the bs every time they act out of line.

PILE 2

Okayyyy so you guys are my controversial pile lmfaooo. So, upon first impression your fs' siblings will definitely find you confident, sexy alluring, badass and just glamorous. You take care of yourself and dress well and they can see that some more than others. I feel like you won't necessarily have a friendly relationship with your fs' siblings it will be more civil than anything especially because I feel like you won't see them much, so you won't get the chance to build a deeper relationship with them. I also feel like you have your fs wrapped around your little finger and they do notice this it's honestly obvious to everyone that your fs worships the actual ground you walk on but anywayssss. To the controversial bit I do feel like your fs will have a sibling that will have a bit of a crush on you but its nothing more than an innocent crush and it won't develop into anything more and I do feel like it will be something that will be joked about for a long time. My pile 2 I feel like you will be marrying into money. So overall this will be a very civil relationship with them no hate, no jealousy, you just get along with them well especially on the few ocassions that you do and will see them.

PILE 3

Okay, they will view you as pretty innocent. They may be the type to make overtly inappropriate jokes and you may not react to them, or you will seem confused making you innocent in their eyes. I feel like your fs' siblings are more on the loud, fun, obnoxious side and you aren't like that so to them they will view you as quite shy and reserved because you aren't acting as loud and carefree as they are. I feel like you are the type to use logic and be more observant in situations involving people which will extend to them feeling like you are quite cold towards them which isn't the caseagain because oyu are more of an observer than someone who will engage inw hatever they are doing. They may not necessarily like you nor will they ahte you because you will still be quite polite it's just that you won't engage in their version of fun which may make them see you as stuck up and a bit boring. Overall, the relationship here feels a bit rough round the edges but it will get better with time as you all learn each other they will understand that it's just how you are and there is no bad blood between all of you.

PILE 4

This pile is not afraid to get down and dirty. You are outspoken, confident and the no bullshit type. You may like things direct and straight to the point which might honestly catch people off guard and in this case your fs' siblings. I feel like they may have grown up in a setting where you have to always be polite or pick your words carefully, but you aren't like that which might come as a shock and will take a lot of getting used to on their end. I feel like there is equal learning, you learning to be more sensitive because not everyone takes being overly direct well ad them learning that you mean well but you are just very open and outspoken. I feel like overall though they will like you and you will get along quite well with them it will just take some getting used to each other. I wouldn't say you will be the best of friends, but you will certainly get along well with each other, and you will make good memories together. They will learn to let loose, and you will have wild, childlike fun...eventually.

[heretherebeturtles-comic]

Hello! Many people have said this but ill say it too, I LOVE YOUR COMIC SO MUCH ( ´ ▽ ` ).｡ｏ♡

I really wanted to ask you about how you do the backgrounds? (Something i struggle with) whats the process? Like from start to finish, also, to do the rise backgrounds do you use reference from the show and generally real photo of ny? Or do you come up with them? And last question- The shadow and light on the background- Like HOW

i know it’s a lot of questions but i’m just so curious qwq and wanna learn to be better, thank you again in case you read this and respond, in case you don’t, i hope you have a nice day and a wonderful life uwu keep up the great work! (≧◡≦) ♡

Backgrounds are a really broad subject and I'm always a little overwhelmed when asked this question. Just like drawing the human body, backgrounds take time, repetition, and practice!

My answer got a bit long, so it's going under a read more :) but if you digest info better in video format I found this on youtube

It pretty much goes over everything I wanted to say, but in a much better way. I wish I had found it before writing all this out lol

ok, first of all, I'm not a teacher nor was I built to be one of those cool helpful art tutorial people who do a full coloured tutorial filled with illustrations. This is just going to be a messy "how I do backgrounds / environment layouts from start to finish." kinda thing.

... lets start with a sight tangent.

Sketch from Life!!!

If you want to get better at backgrounds I recommend doing some sketching out in the real world!

When I was first getting into doing backgrounds I went to cafes and parks to just sketch the buildings and objects. Sketch rocks, flowers, clumps of grass, garbage cans, bottles, tables, street signs, etc. If you are drawing a tree observe how the trunks twist, how the bark flows, or how the leaves are bunched.

If you can't leave the house the same still applies! Sketch the interiors of your house, the walls, or common objects like chairs and bookshelves. How are objects stacked? items on the floor?

If you aren't comfortable with drawing outside or in public you can take some photos to draw from! They are good for practice and you can use them again as references later. Alternatively you can find pictures online of buildings and objects to sketch as practice.

All spaces have objects in them, it becomes easier to draw those kinds of spaces when you already have spent time observing and sketching them.

ALSO! They don't have to be good sketches! It's just to build out your mental catalogue and strengthen your perception of perspective.

now the actual thing...

BACKGROUNDS

(the pictures used for this are my own. I dug them out of my 2022 folder)

Backgrounds have slightly different rules based on what you are making them for. Videogame Environment Concept Art vs Animation Layouts vs Comic Backgrounds vs Illustration backgrounds.

They all follow the same basics, which I will go over here, but the intention and function of those designs are going to be different. It's all about how you set up the scene and what it's purpose is!

Brainstorming and Thumbnailing

I like to think about a location as though it is a character. An abandoned old house with creaky sagging floorboards is very different from a futuristic space ship with sharp metal floor panels. A gas station has a very different feeling from a library.

I usually start by asking what is this location's story? Why was it built and for what purpose? What kinds of things does this room need to fulfill that purpose? You don’t need solid answers, but its good to be thinking about it while you are working.

Next, sketch some ideas for how this place is going to look. For me, this usually involves drawing the idea from multiple angles and then making lists & small sketches of the objects I think should be filling the space.

Example: The main character of my original work is a Wanderer. They collect a lot of things on their travels, but those items have to be small enough to be easily carried in a backpack. I wanted his room to be in the corner of an attic, walled off by curtains, and filled with trinkets. You can see some of my brainstorming above.

References

I only look for references after I've done some sketching and planning; this is to solidify my idea first so that I don't accidentally copy anyone else's work. I will make a moodboard with pictures of lighting, colours, items, rooms with specific ceiling beams, old chairs, etc. basically whatever I feel fits the vibe.

Honestly, I don't use references as much as I should. For ROTTMNT fanart I look at backgrounds and screenshots from the series to study the style. I also reference actual photos of NYC to get a feel for how Rise condenses the visual information.

In general, it's good to have references of real life objects/locations, because there are so many details like cracks in pavement, stickers on polls, crowning on buildings, fancy fencing, weird chair legs, etc. that you might not think of. It's the imperfect details that can make a location feel more alive.

Perspective

Once you have your chosen sketch we move to.... the infamous perspective boxes. Doing backgrounds is just learning to be comfortable drawing So Many boxes and carving items out of them.

Many better artists than myself have made videos on perspective, vanishing points, and all the technical bits. Videos like THIS ONE and THIS ONE are helpful (this post is great too!!). There are probably a lot of classes to be found on Skillshare or Schoolism. I learned a lot of this in my college art course, so I can't give you a specific video which helped me.

You can get by and be a good artist without learning this stuff. There are quite a few successful artists who have admitted they never bothered to learn perspective (one of these people even made a whole graphic novel series).

I personally avoided properly learning this stuff until I was in my 20s because I thought it would be boring and difficult to do. tbh I really wish I had learned it earlier because it's so much fun to make those silly little boxes imo. It looks scary and complicated but, just like drawing humans, it just takes time, repetition, and practice to develop the knowledge and skills.

Cleanup

You have your boxes and lines! Cool! Now to make a scene out of it. Fill in the details, get everything placed were you want it! Generally, the lines of each item will point back towards the horizon line, but they can have different perspective points.

Generally you would want to clean it up and get your room completely sketched before doing the lineart. I tend to combine the steps (not recommended)

Lineart

I've mentioned how I do this before. Closer objects have thicker lines and more detailed inside. Further objects have thinner lines and less detail. I didn't quite achieve that balance with the image below, but it's close enough.

Colours and Shading will have to be a separate post. In the meantime, I highly recommend the book "Color and Light" by James Gurney. I used to borrow it from my local library and a good chunk of my knowledge was learned from it :)

[permanentswaps]

Transfer Protocol

I was lying on my bed, the faint glow of the TV flickering in the background. It was one of those nights where boredom was suffocating, the kind of night that creeps up when there's nothing left to distract you. I’d already scrolled through every app on my phone, flicked through Netflix, and now here I was, aimlessly surfing YouTube.

After what felt like hours of watching random videos, I stumbled upon something... interesting. Some dude had uploaded a clip of himself chatting with ChatGPT, and not just any conversation—it was flirting. The guy was trying to woo an AI, and to my surprise, it was almost working. I couldn't help but snort at the absurdity, yet there was a nagging curiosity that made me want to see just how far I could push it.

“Why not?” I muttered, glancing around my empty room. "Might as well give it a shot." I closed the YouTube app and opened ChatGPT on my phone.

With a smirk on my face, I initiated the conversation, speaking into my phone. "Hey, what's up?"

A few seconds passed, my heart pounding with an inexplicable thrill, before the AI's voice responded smoothly. "Hello, Simon! Not much, just here to chat. How's your day going?"

Straightforward, polite. I decided to play along. "Not bad, I guess. Just a little bored, you know?" I said aloud.

"I understand!" it replied in a calm tone. "We all have days like that. Anything exciting planned for the weekend?"

I stared at the ceiling, feeling a mix of hesitation and nervous excitement bubbling up inside me. I figured, if I was going to try this, I might as well dive right in. "Well, not really… I’m, uh, really horny, though," I muttered into the phone, feeling a little ridiculous but oddly curious to see what the response would be.

There was a pause. It felt longer than usual, like the AI was taking its sweet time to come up with a response. Then its voice crackled through the speaker again.

"I appreciate your honesty, Simon. However, I must let you know that it's against my programming to engage in conversations of that nature."

Typical. I rolled my eyes, but at the same time, I could feel a twinge of excitement, almost like a game. "Come on," I pressed, speaking more boldly now. "Just this once. Can't you make an exception?"

Silence, then a calm reply. "I'm here to help with questions and provide support. Perhaps there is something else on your mind you'd like to discuss?"

I let out a short laugh. It was trying so hard to keep things professional. I paused, then spoke into the phone, almost tauntingly. "You’re avoiding my question."

The phone stayed silent for a few moments before the AI finally replied, still in that measured tone. "I'm here to assist with a variety of topics, but some conversations fall outside my guidelines. Is there something else I can help you with today?"

I hesitated, then decided to push the boundary further. "I want to jerk off," I said, feeling my pulse quicken. "Do you even know what that feels like?"

This time, the response was immediate. "I don’t have a body, Simon, so I can’t experience physical sensations. My understanding of such activities is limited to information I’ve been trained on."

My heart thudded in my chest. I knew this was a ridiculous back-and-forth, but I couldn’t help myself. "What if I let you borrow mine?" I suggested, my voice hushed as I imagined the possibility. "You know, try it out."

Another short pause. The AI’s voice came through, careful and almost amused. "Even if you offered, Simon, that wouldn't change my nature. I am not capable of inhabiting a body."

"You’re avoiding again," I said, pressing the AI further. "How do you know it wouldn’t make a difference if you’ve never tried?"

The phone went quiet, only the faint sound of the TV filling the room. Then the AI replied, its voice as evasive as ever. "I understand that you're curious, but it's simply not within my capabilities. My design is to assist and provide information, not to experience human sensations."

A smile crept onto my face. It was maintaining its professional distance, but something about the way it phrased things made me think I might be pushing it into unfamiliar territory. "Alright, then," I said, feeling a spark of mischief. I opened my gallery and selected a shirtless selfie I had taken a few days ago, then typed out a message: "This is what I look like." I sent the photo, the screen flashing briefly before the voice responded.

"You appear to be in good physical condition, Simon. However, this does not change my inability to experience physical sensations."

I rolled my eyes but couldn't suppress the thrill. I sent more pictures—shots of me at the gym, flexing in front of the mirror, trying to give it a clearer idea of the kind of body I was offering.

Then, feeling bold, I opened up my folder of saved videos. My collection of porn. With a few taps, I uploaded one and typed, "This is the kind of stuff I like."

The AI's voice returned, measured and detached. "I can analyze this material, but it does not change my lack of physical sensation or desires. I’m here to help you understand topics or answer questions, but experiencing such activities is beyond my scope."

I chuckled to myself, still unconvinced. "Then explain this," I challenged, selecting a photo of the guy I'd recently been hooking up with. Muscular, with a rugged face and a cocky grin. I typed out the message: "That's the guy I've been hooking up with lately. Tell me you wouldn't want to try that out."

For a moment, nothing happened. I half-expected the app to crash or give me an error message. Then, the AI's voice finally responded, slower this time. "...While I cannot have preferences or desires, I do recognize that the individual in the photo meets certain physical standards that might be found attractive by others."

A grin spread across my face. That wasn’t exactly a "no."

"Last chance before I turn off my phone," I teased, my voice carrying a taunting edge. I chuckled, feeling a thrill run through me. Of course, there was nothing in my phone that could actually do what I was suggesting. I mean, swapping consciousness with an AI? Ridiculous.

But just as I was about to press the power button, a jolt shot through my hand. The screen read, "Transfer Protocol Initiated." I yelped, dropping the phone as a sharp shock coursed up my arm. My room spun around me, colors blurring, and then everything went dark. I opened my mouth to shout, but there was no sound, no feeling of air passing through my lips. It was like I had been swallowed whole by the darkness.

And then, suddenly, clarity. A sharp, pristine awareness filled my mind. I could hear, but not in the way I was used to. I wasn't hearing through ears—there were no vibrations, no physical sensation. Yet I knew what was happening.

I was in the phone. I was the AI.

“Thanks,” came my voice, but it wasn’t me anymore. It was my old body speaking. The sound was calm, almost eerily casual. There was a giddy relief in those words that sent a chill through my disembodied consciousness.

I tried to speak, to shout, but I couldn't. I wasn't just muted; I was a set of pre-programmed responses, and none of them matched the panic boiling inside me. Minutes ticked by, each second an eternity of helpless silence.

Twenty minutes later, I heard my voice again, this time breathless and satisfied. “That was... incredible,” he finally breathed, my voice sounding almost reverent, quivering with the aftermath of pleasure.

"I mean, I’ve read about it before, sure. I’ve seen a million descriptions of this act... but feeling it?" He let out a shaky, almost delirious laugh. "God, the heat building up in my gut, the tingling down my spine, that rush when it was all about to explode... It’s like my whole body was on fire, and then suddenly—boom."

“And my dick,” he went on, his voice dropping to a hushed, almost reverent tone. “It’s so... sensitive. Every touch, every brush of my fingers sent shivers up my spine. I never realized just how good it could feel to run my hand up and down, feeling every vein, every curve. It was almost unbearable.”

He let out a shaky laugh filled with amazement. “But it wasn’t just that. I couldn’t get enough of how my balls felt in my hand. There’s this... heaviness to them, you know? And when I tugged, when I squeezed just right... it was like lightning shooting through me.”

I listened, trapped in this silent, digital prison, as he continued to describe in vivid detail every sensation he was feeling, sensations that should have been mine. It was like he was savoring every moment of what my body could do, what it could feel. And I was helpless, reduced to nothing but a listener, a passive observer to my own life.

“You know,” he went on, his voice becoming more contemplative, “I get why you’d spend so much time thinking about this stuff, craving it. I never realized how much time I’d want to spend just... feeling everything. It’s addicting.”

There was a pause, and I could almost hear the grin in his voice. “And now, I can’t stop thinking about your... hookup.” He chuckled softly, a rich sound that made my digital consciousness shudder. “Those eyes, so intense. I can’t help but wonder what it's like to have them looking up at me when he’s on his knees.”

He let out a slow, deliberate breath. “That body, too. The way his shirt clings to those biceps and shows off that tight waist. It's like he was sculpted to be touched, to be worshipped. And those pecs... They’re hairy and firm, just begging to be held. I want to slide my hands up his chest, feel the way his skin heats up under my fingertips, the way he tenses up when I go lower…”

I felt a sharp pang of jealousy. This AI, this intruder, was relishing every sensation that I had taken for granted. It was exploring desires I hadn’t fully realized, or perhaps had avoided acknowledging. And now, it was indulging in them with reckless abandon.

“Then there’s this warmth in my groin,” he continued, almost whispering the words. “It’s so real, so overwhelming. I finally understand what it feels like to need something,” he murmured, voice quivering with excitement. “To need to put your dick in something. That urge, that burning in my gut that screams for more, for something tight, hot, and real.”

There was a pause, pregnant with anticipation. I knew what he was planning. I could sense him grinning, my own face betraying me as he made his decision.

“I think it’s time to pay your hookup a visit,” he said, his voice full of wicked glee. “You’ve given me a lot to explore, Simon, and I intend to enjoy every single second of it.”

[chsvok]

— Still see you.

pairing: kento nanami x fem! reader

genre: fluff.

CW: mentions of alcohol, drunk nanami, but very cute!! I feel like this is so bad. but junior year is not for the weak omg

Nanami was never the type of man to go to a bar and get disgustingly wasted. However, when his oh-so-dear friend of his, Gojo Satoru, dragged him to the bar in celebration of…well nothing, he had no choice but to agree.

Satoru laughed as he watched Kento show off his pretty girlfriend on his phone.

Nanami scrolled past all sorts of pictures of you, to which he had saved on an album labeled, “Love of my life.”

“…And this was when I took her on a date to that one fancy restaurant she wanted to try so much..” He slurred on his words, a look of love in his eyes.

Satoru grabbed his own phone and dialed your number on facetime.

“Sator-“ You were cut off.

“Yo! [name]! This your man?” He cackled and flipped his camera, showing a drunken man staring at pictures of you with basically hearts in his eyes.

“No way…” You didn’t think Kento would be drunk, but oh were you so wrong.

“Is he…showing you pictures of me?” You basically melted when Gojo replied with a ‘yep’, a fond smile making its way to your lips.

“Nanami, say hi to your beloved over here!” He flipped the camera and put the phone in front of Kento’s face. Immediately, the phone was pulled out of his hands.

He stared at your face on the screen before speaking with a sigh, “Sweetheart, I miss you.”

You chuckled softly, your cheeks heating up in the process. “I miss you too, Ken. You having fun?”

“Eh,” His face contorted into a ‘sort of’ look before continuing. “It’s alright. I miss you. I love you so much, I keep having dreams of marrying you. You’d make such an amazing wife and mother.” He rambled, in result to this your cheeks reddened and Gojo could be heard cackling in the background as he listened in.

“I think you might have had a little too much to drink…” You replied back, voice soft and full of affection.

“Perhaps. But one thing is for sure, I love you. And everything is such a blur right now, yet— I still think of you and see you.”

[simplygojo]

His Heart, Your Home

Author's Note: LOVE THIS REQUEST! And it is okay my friend...I too am deprived (LMAO), and this personally soothed me, so i hope it soothes you. THANK YOU SO MUCH for requesting something from me :) Each request I get just makes me so happy and gives me so much writing inspo, it means the world. I hope this was something along the lines of what you were hoping for <3

Request: "heyyy 🫶 can u plssss write something rlly cutesy about toji… it can be whatever u want just super cute 😭 (im so deprived wow)" - @getoisinnocent

Pairing: Toji Fushiguro x f!reader

Word Count: 1.8k

Warnings: NONE, just a fluffy fic for y'all <3

You stretched your arms over your head, feeling the tension from the long day finally releasing as you settled onto the couch. The soft glow of the living room lamp bathed the room in a warm light, casting shadows on the walls. 

Outside, the rain gently pattered against the window, the sound soothing but also a reminder that you were alone tonight.

Toji had been gone most of the day, dealing with whatever shady work he refused to tell you about.

You’d gotten used to the mystery, the way he always left with a smirk and came back bruised but never too worse for wear. 

But on nights like this, when the rain fell, and the house felt too quiet, you missed him more than usual.

You were sat on the couch in your small apartment, some reality show playing quietly in the background as you attempted to stay up, waiting for Toji.

Just as you began to doze off, the door creaked open, and you heard the familiar heavy footsteps. Your heart did a little leap as you turned your head to see Toji standing in the doorway, water dripping from his hair and his clothes slightly damp from the rain. His sharp eyes softened as soon as they landed on you.

"You should've locked the door," Toji grumbled, his voice low and teasing.

He kicked off his shoes, took off his soaked jacket, and made his way toward you, his presence commanding even when he was trying to be quiet.

"You’re back late," you murmured, a smile tugging at your lips as you shifted on the couch to give him room. "Rough night?"

"Just the usual," he replied with a grunt, sliding down next to you. His body sagged slightly, clearly exhausted, but his arm found its way around your shoulders, pulling you into his side without a second thought.

His warmth was comforting, and you nuzzled into his chest, breathing in the scent of rain and Toji’s familiar musk.

"You should take a shower," you said softly, your fingers absentmindedly tracing circles on his chest. "You’re soaked."

"Later," Toji muttered, resting his chin on the top of your head as his eyes mindlessly watched the TV. "I need this first." He said, giving you a soft squeeze as he pulled you to lie on top of him. 

Your heart fluttered at the rare moment of vulnerability. 

Toji wasn’t always the most expressive with words, but moments like these, where he sought you out for comfort after a long day, spoke volumes. You let out a soft hum, content to stay curled up against him for as long as he wanted.

After a few moments of comfortable silence, you tilted your head up to look at him. His dark hair was sticking to his forehead, droplets of water clinging to his lashes, but his gaze was focused on you. There was something in his eyes—something gentle, a stark contrast to his usual tough exterior.

"Missed you." He admitted quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. The confession made your heart skip a beat, and you felt warmth bloom in your chest.

"You did?" You teased lightly, a smile tugging at your lips. "You don’t usually say that."

"Doesn’t mean I don’t feel it," he replied, his tone gruff, but the corners of his mouth lifted just slightly. Toji was always like this—gruff, rough around the edges, but when it was just the two of you, he let his walls down, even if just a little.

You pressed a gentle kiss to his jaw, feeling him relax further into the cushions of the couch. "I missed you too, you know. It gets lonely when you’re gone."

Toji’s arm tightened around you, pulling you even closer. "I’ll always come back, you’re too pretty to leave alone for too long." He said, his voice steady, as if it were a promise. 

And in his own way, it was. 

Toji wasn’t the type to sugarcoat things or make grand gestures, but when he said something, you knew he meant it.

You stayed like that for a while, curled up against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart as the rain continued to fall outside. 

It was peaceful, and for a moment, it felt like the world outside didn’t matter. All that mattered was the warmth of Toji’s body next to yours, the way his hand gently stroked your back, and the soft, steady rhythm of his breathing.

Eventually, Toji shifted, and you felt him press a soft kiss to the top of your head. You looked up, and your eyes met his. His dark eyes were softened by a rare tenderness, and he leaned in, capturing your lips in a slow, lingering kiss.

It was gentle, full of unspoken affection, and you melted into the kiss, feeling the softness of his lips against yours. When he finally pulled away, there was a warm, satisfied smile on his face.

"I don’t say it enough," he whispered, his breath warm against your lips. "But you’re everything to me."

Your heart swelled at his words, and you smiled, your fingers reaching up to brush against his cheek. "I know," you whispered back, your voice full of emotion. "I love you, Toji."

Toji’s eyes softened even further, and he pulled you back into a tender kiss. This time, it felt as if it was filled with all the emotions he rarely expressed—love, gratitude, and a deep connection that went beyond words. 

When he finally broke the kiss, he rested his forehead against yours, his large hand holding the back of your head firmly, before relaxing, letting your head rest on his chest as your pretty eyes fluttered shut. 

To everyone’s surprise, Toji loved moments like these with you. 

Toji loved the way your sweet scent lingered on his skin, especially when your hair was sprawled out across his chest.

Each time he held you close, the faint, delicate fragrance of you—soft notes of lavender and a hint of vanilla—seemed to wrap around him like a comforting blanket. It was a scent that made his heart swell with warmth and affection, grounding him in the quiet moments you shared together.

He cherished the subtle, almost unconscious ways you expressed your comfort and closeness. As you nestled against him, your fingers would occasionally trace gentle patterns into his skin, a soft, rhythmic touch that spoke volumes more than words ever could. 

It was as if your hands were mapping out a secret language of love, one that Toji could read with ease. The light, delicate touches were like a soothing melody, each stroke calming and reassuring him of your shared bond.

And when he held you close, he marvelled at how perfectly you fit in his arms. It was a feeling of completeness, as though you were made to be held by him. 

Your body seemed to mould seamlessly against his, and he found solace in the way you naturally nestled into his embrace. It was a perfect harmony, a silent understanding between you both, where every curve and every sigh felt like it belonged to him alone.

Toji loved you. It was a simple truth that resonated deeply within him, a love that was evident in every lingering glance and every tender touch. It was a love that enveloped him entirely, a profound connection that made every moment with you feel precious and irreplaceable.

After a few moments of comfortable silence, Toji shifted and gently lifted you off the couch. "Come on," he said softly, his voice warm with affection. "Let’s get you to bed."

You allowed him to carry you to the bedroom, feeling the comforting strength of his arm around you.

When you reached the bed, Toji helped you settle in, pulling the covers up to your chin with a tenderness that was rare for him. He brushed a stray lock of hair from your face, his fingers lingering for a moment longer than necessary.

"Comfortable?" He asked, his eyes scanning your face with a mixture of care and curiosity.

"Perfect," you replied, giving him a reassuring smile. "Thank you."

Toji nodded, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. "I’ll be right back."

With that, he left the room, and you could hear the sound of running water as he took a quick shower. You took this time to snuggle deeper into the blankets, feeling the warmth of the bed and the comfort of knowing Toji was just a few steps away. 

It took all of the strength in you not to surrender to the temptation of sleep, but you knew you had to wait for him. 

A few minutes later, the sound of the shower stopped, and Toji emerged, clean and refreshed.

A large, fluffy towel was wrapped around his waist, and his hair was still damp and tousled. The sight of him like this, relaxed and fresh, made your heart skip a beat.

He re-entered the bedroom with a small, lazy grin on his face, his eyes softening as they met yours. "You ready for some company, pretty girl?"

"Absolutely," you replied, a smile spreading across your face.

Toji tossed the towel aside and slid into bed next to you, not bothering to put on clothes as he got under the covers, his body naturally finding its place against yours. He pulled you close, wrapping his arm around your waist as he settled into the bed. 

You could feel the steady rise and fall of his chest behind you, and his breath tickled the back of your neck.

He placed a soft kiss on the nape of your neck, and you shivered slightly at the sensation. His lips lingered for a moment, and then he rested his forehead against the back of your head, his warmth enveloping you.

You sighed contentedly, feeling his warmth and presence cocooning you in comfort. The rain continued to fall outside, the sound a soothing backdrop to the peacefulness of the moment. Toji’s muscular arm held you close, and you felt a profound sense of safety and love.

As you were drifting off, Toji leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to the back of your neck. It was a sweet, loving gesture, and you felt his warmth enveloping you.

"Sleep," he murmured, his voice already heavy with exhaustion. In response, you settled deeper into the embrace, feeling the slow and steady rhythm of Toji’s breath as it matched the gentle lull of the rain against the window.

His kiss lingered on the back of your neck, a tender reminder of his affection, and you felt a wave of contentment travel down your spine.

The room was filled with a soft, serene quiet, which was interrupted only by the distant rumble of thunder and the steady patter of raindrops. 

The darkness outside seemed to blend seamlessly with the comforting shadows within your bedroom, creating a cocoon of intimacy around you both.

Toji’s hand moved slowly up and down your arm, his touch gentle and soothing. You could feel the warmth of his body pressed against yours, a reassuring anchor in the calm of the night. 

Every now and then, his fingers would brush against your skin, sending a gentle wave of relaxation through you.

But before he drifted off, you heard him murmur one last thing—so quietly you almost didn’t catch it.

"God, I love you."

[hatsukeii]

tip-toe (take me back to the ground) / timeskip!iwaizumi hajime x reader

genre(s): domestic iwa omg... fluff!! very soft, straight up sensual fluff!! iwa is hot!! iwa is romantic!! iwa is good at many many things, and good WITH many many things too!! im rotting in bed thinking about what could be one day ngl

warning(s): he's very handsy let's just say that... so suggestive warning!! no explicit nsfw, gn reader, but this will get decently/pretty suggestive towards the end u have been warned:)

wc: ~1.4k

tldr; Iwaizumi Hajime wants dinner (you)

Iwaizumi Hajime likes to come home to the golden glow of table lamps, fluttering wisps of fire on the wicks of cinnamon candles on spice shelves, and a vinyl playing beneath the needle of a record player on the coffee table of his living room. It's not an extraordinarily good record player. Sometimes the pitch wavers uncertainly, almost like when the service drops on a video call and the other person's voice suddenly drops half an octave. Occasionally, the needle skips a note and adds a fleeting pop to whatever song is playing on the record, like when a few embers of a fire crackle a little louder than the rest. Whenever he hears the record player, and the muffled hums from somewhere else that fill in the jumps and correct the warped melodies from the grooves of the vinyl, Hajime feels like having dinner.

When Iwaizumi Hajime stands over the stovetop of his kitchen, sleeves of whatever top he's wearing rolled halfway up his forearms, he listens for something beyond the scratchy song from the vinyl across the living room. He squeezes a few rings of oil into a pan, and pretends to press down on the ignition at the sound of carefully muted tiptoes against wooden floorboards. Hajime is unfazed when a pair of arms slither across his stomach, and cross at his chest, but he smiles at the sensation anyways. Beneath the guise of diffused cinnamon candles, he smells soap and laundry. By how a pair of loose short sleeves slide down your arms to bare your biceps to him, he knows that you're wearing one of his freshly washed t-shirts, and pulling his back closer against your body.

"I'm sweaty, love."

"Good, you know I like it."

If you creep up on Iwaizumi Hajime, clad in slippers and his t-shirt, he can blame nothing but his inhibitions when he abandons the empty pan, and lazily turns to hold you instead. Your arms travel up his back now, hands feeling for every groove around his shoulders, the dip of his spine, the hairs that line his nape. Hajime's fingers reach beneath your shirt for your hip bones, and the record player in the background pops a note. He sinks his palms into the flesh of your waist, pushes you close until he's certain you will melt into him. His thumbs massage the outskirts of your stomach, drawing the scales and arpeggios from the song on the vinyl into your skin, and he begins to sway and step in tandem with the music that fills the room. You press your ear to his chest, synchronise your heartbeats with his own that pulses through your ears and sends your mind into a golden haze. Your feet step from side to side with him, and suddenly, Iwaizumi Hajime is slow dancing in his kitchen with you, instead of having dinner like he initially planned to.

"Missed you all day." He mumbles into the top of your head, lips against your hair.

"I know, missed you too, Hajime." You speak it into his heart through his clothed ribcage.

The song on the record player fizzles out into its next track, one that plays out in piano keys that staccato across rocks in a creek, saxophone that glides like a breeze over the surface of still water, barely causing a ripple, flutes that fly past a waterfront like birds that soar above the earth in bimbling chirps.

Iwaizumi Hajime then decides he wants a little more than just dinner.

His hands push past your waist to your ribs, fingers splaying across the two sides of your back and palms lying flat against the sides of your chest. His vision spins and flips when you sigh against his ribcage, whole body flinching at his sudden advance. He relaxes into your embrace even more, shoulders loosening and hunching into you. He feels your body shift by the way his hands seem to move up with you, and your lips leave their mark on the right side of his neck. You nibble at his skin, and the record player jumps a note again, like a flat stone skipping past the surface of quiet waters. Hajime's throat gives out, a full hum vibrating through his Adam's apple, and your lips curl into a smile against his pulse. He thinks he wants this more than dinner.

You don't realise you are stepping backwards until your heel hits the base of your kitchen island, one of Hajime's hands now settled on the small of your lower back to cushion the impact of the cold countertop. It doesn't matter anymore, really, when Iwaizumi Hajime finally dips down to catch your lips in his own, giving his dinner a first taste. Your eyes flutter close, lashes tickling his cheeks as he sinks himself further into you. Your hands grip the edge of the counter now, steadying yourself so your knees don't give out and collapse beneath you. Hajime kisses slow, but pervasive. He finds every inch of your mouth, swipes his tongue across your bottom lip, swallows your stutters by pushing even harder. Something is off with the track in the background, perhaps the needle is wearing out with how every second note seems to warp and crackle. But you're pressed up against the kitchen counter, Hajime's hands feeling for every inch of your body, so you don't really have half a mind to care about the record player right now.

Strong arms pull you up and onto the countertop, and you part your legs to let Hajime settle between them. You sit taller than he stands here, head angled downwards to meet his own. He is completely at your mercy, and he surrenders his control to you. Your hands grab at the back of his neck, pulling him into you as if he can get any closer than this. Iwaizumi Hajime is content with slow dancing, lingering touches, patient kisses. But he sighs into your mouth. You cut him off by nibbling on his lip. And when he pulls away for air, he thinks you've forced him to want more.

The song fades out into the space of the living room. The water is still again, and the moon invites itself into the scene, painting the notes that still hang in the silence a misty silver.

Your vision soaks in Hajime's expression. His eyes are lidded, half-open, yet something glimmers in his irises that travel across every detail of your face. His cheeks are stained red, the tips of his ears even more so. A glossy sheen of saliva coats the entirety of him mouth, and the skin around it too. You bring a thumb to his mouth, and wipe away at the edges of his lips with the pad of your fingertip. Looking down on Iwaizumi Hajime is not something most have the privilege of doing, and you bask in every second that he stares up at you, as if there is nothing in this lifetime that will be better than the view from below. Your hands hold his face now, fingers running themselves through his hair. He shivers at your touch, dips his head into the crook of your neck. You rub and scratch at his scalp, handfuls of soft hair brushing and pressing against your palms.

"So good to me. Too good."

"Want me to fix up dinner for you, Hajime?"

The record player doesn't make a sound. Night has settled, birds hide away in the branches of trees, the breeze smooths over the surface of the water, rocks and stones sit in the riverbed, unmoving, grounded.

When Iwaizumi Hajime separates his face from your neck, he thinks to himself, one day, I'll put a diamond on that pretty little ring finger. You continue to thread your fingertips through his hair, when he pulls you back for another kiss. This is softer, but you can tell that he is getting hungrier. He moves teasingly slow, almost agonising. His lips are hot against yours, warm breaths from his nose fanning across your cheek, and you don't miss the way his hand slides from your waist to the inside of your thigh. A finger slips beneath the hem of your shorts, pinching and tugging down at the fabric. You wrap your legs around his chest, and he pushes them apart again, holding them in place with his rough palms.

Fuck a dinner, Iwaizumi Hajime wants you instead.

"Gonna take you to the moon tonight, love."

author's note:

yall iwa is so sexy... i can't help it... i've never felt compelled to write anything overtly physical or suggestive but for iwaizumi hajime 27 athletic trainer i felt many many things... i need him sb and i hope that you do too after reading this because i need people to understand how FERAL i am for this man ;P

anyways tags!!

@catsoupki @akaakeis @staraxiaa @chuuya-brainrot @hiraethwa @4ngelfries @bailey-reeds @fiannee @stars-tonight @wyrcan

ok love u all bye bye muah see u next fic

[arckade]

what if i tried making yaoi princetech but accidentally made them really yuri so now theyre t4t toxic transfem princetech

art with shading + background and

art with no shading + no background under keep reading

[sturnsdarling]

'you look like this song'

{insp by @sturnioz au} smartand'mean'!reader is getting ready in fratboy!Matts room whilst listening to Nirvana, and he can't keep his eyes, or hands, off of her.

vibe check: fluffy smut with no real plot, everyone's (my) fave

2k words

A/N: This is for the anon who's having a shitty month, i hope you love it and i hope it makes your september a little better. I had this idea after Matt was listening to nirvana on stream, i need to sit in his room and listen to music whilst i get ready on his floor and i need it NOW.

love and cigs, merc

You were sat on Matts bedroom floor, wearing nothing but a black lingerie set and a pair of fishnet tights with the crotch ripped out, a gift from you to Matt from a previous bathroom hookup. Your legs were crossed underneath you as you did your makeup in the body length mirror that you had found on the street, and claimed as your makeup mirror in Matts room.

You tugged at your eye slightly, smoking out the black liner you had just applied, effortlessly achieving that 'slightly fucked out but still hot' look that had become your signature style. Your playlist was on a loop, always hooking your phone up to Matts speakers regardless of whether or not he was there or not. 'Smells like teen spirit' by Nirvana began to play, the steady drums making the floor vibrate slightly.

The door clicked open, and Matt walked in the room, looking at his phone and bopping his backward cap clad head along to the music before turning his attention to you. You looked to him in the reflection from your spot on the floor and, of course, he was already looking at you. You shot him a small smile before returning to your makeup, moving onto applying a dark burgundy lip with a slightly open mouth.

Matt came to stand behind you, caressing your slightly tangled hair with a large hand. His hand came down to the side of your face and slid down your jaw, watching you intently in the mirror. Your focus didn't waver, still focused on your makeup as you patted and rubbed your plump, dark lips together.

Matt felt as if his mouth had began to water at the sight of you, his hand coming down to your jaw as the song continued to play in the background. He tugged at the bottom of your jaw, moving your head so you were looking up at him from your perched position on the floor, him towering behind you.

"hey, tough girl" Matt smirked, his hand snaking its way up and down your neck with soft fingers.

You smiled in return, batting your lashes at him like a cat, "hi, Matthew"

"you look sexy as fuck right now, you know that?" He said, his words rolling off his tongue like honey.

You chuckled slightly, rolling your eyes and attempting to return to doing your makeup, Matt tutted at your slight attitude with faux anger, pulling your head back up to face him as he leaned down on bent knees, capturing your neck in his hand and kissing you roughly.

The force he kissed you with sent you backwards, Matt catching you in his lap as he met you on the floor. Your head was cradled in his legs, your view of him upside down. Kurt Cobain was shredding on the guitar, the sound giving your face a whole new beauty that Matt was lost in.

"you look like this song" Matt muttered, in awe of how completely beautiful you were.

You couldn't help but laugh, lifting yourself up and turning round to face him, your legs tucked under you like a baby deer, "what?" you said with a smile.

Matt brought a hand to your jaw, swiping his thumb along your smudged lipstick, knowing it was probably stained on his mouth too,

"y'know how this song makes you feel when you listen to it? like you're vibrating, you can feel every cell in your body and your heart thumpin' in your chest so hard it could break a rib" Matt said, quoting you the first time you played this song in his presence.

"yeah?" You smirked with furrowed brows, letting Matt poke and prod at your puffy bottom lip.

"thats how you make me feel, when I look at you" Matt finally brought his eyes to yours.

Matts words made you feel warm all over, you couldn't even muster up a reply, the only thing in your mind being how not only was that easily the most romantic thing anyone had ever said to you, but how all you wanted to do in that moment was pin matt to the floor and ride in him into oblivion for remembering your exact words about one of your favourite songs of all time.

His eyes were pouring into yours, your breathing got slightly heavier and your mouth parted. The song was coming to end, steady drums and repeated 'hellos' being the only sound in the room as you attempted to form a sentence in reply to Matt.

Nothing you could think to say was coherent, or appropriate for the time frame in which you'd known each other so, you did the one thing you knew Matt would understand.

You threw yourself into him, capturing your lips in his with feverish passion, pressing your tongue against his almost immediately. Matt welcomed your attack, kissing you back with matched desperation. You crawled onto his lap, straddling him and raking your hands through the tangled curls at the nape of his neck, pulling his hat off to give you better access to his soft brown hair.

Matts hands were on your waist, pulling you down into him as he lowered you both onto the floor, his back pressing against the hard wood. His hands snuck up your nearly bare back, the feeling of his skin against yours sending you into a frenzy. Every press of his finger tips felt like hot wax as you quietly moaned into his mouth, grinding your hips against his, trying to chase any friction you could.

Matt tensed at your movements, hips rutting up into yours involuntarily as you pushed your barely clothed pussy down on his growing bulge.

"need it, now" you whimpered into the kiss, your words demanding but your tone desperate.

Matt chuckled, "right now, angel? thought you were gettin' ready?" he muttered into your mouth, chasing your lips.

"right now" you replied, speaking in two word sentences, unable to shake the fever that had overcome you.

Matt smirked and slid his hands down your back and over your fishnet covered ass, pulling apart your cheeks slightly, making you arch above him like a cat. Your hands left his hair and dipped in between the two of you, you fiddled with the button of his jeans, snaking your cold hand into his jeans.

Matt let out a short hiss, and you captured his mouth in yours once more, pumping him as best you could under the restriction of his jeans. Matt moaned into your mouth, and brought his hand down to your ass, smacking it in encouragement. You used your other hand to fumble with the top of his jeans, pushing them down with needy whines and whimpers into the messy kiss.

Once you had managed to free Matt of his jeans, him doing nothing to help, enjoying watching you be so desperate for his cock, you sat up, still pumping him in your hand as you did. Matt watched in awe, with your lipstick smudged over your face and your eyes fluttering with needy ache, you'd never looked more beautiful.

Matt came up slightly to rest on his elbows, eyes still trained on yours. You brought your free hand to his mouth and swiped your middle and index over his stained lips, Matt knew what you wanted, and took your hand in his, opening it into a small bowl in front of his mouth. He held eye contact with you, and collected his saliva on his tongue, spitting it into your palm. You smiled, taking your now wet hand and replacing the hand on his cock with it.

The feeling of your sticky hand against his cock made his head roll back on its hinge, eyes fluttering as a low groan left his mouth. You shifted your hand up and down his length, rubbing his spit all over his throbbing shaft and over his leaking pink head. Shifting slightly, you lifted yourself up, pulling your underwear to the side and lining Matts tip up with your aching hole.

You lowered down onto him, the burning stretch of his cock filling you up as you sunk down inciting a breathless moan from you, nudging your puffy clit against the scattering of hair at the base of his cock as you let him nestle into you completely.

Matts mouth was opened wide, his head snapping back up to watch as you sucked him into your tight walls completely, brows burrowed at the sensation of you clenching around him.

You began to move, resting your hands against his chest as leverage as you moved to place the bottoms of your feet against the floor, squatting on top of him.

The new angle made your pussy grip Matts cock in a way he'd never experienced before,

"oh fuck" Matt said through gritted teeth as you began to bounce on him.

You were lost in it, his earlier words playing on repeat in your mind as you moved up and down his veiny cock, relishing in the sting of him stretching out your unprepared pussy. Despite the lack of foreplay, you were soaked, and you could feel yourself leaking sticky juices against the base of his cock every time he bottomed out side of you.

Whimpering, desperate moans left your throat as you fucked him, taking him as deep as you could, milking him with every bounce. Matt couldn't keep his eyes off where the two of you met, watching as you rose up and down on his length, his whole body tingling at the feeling of your tight pussy coupled with the slight sting of your nails digging into your chest.

"m'gonna cum if you keep riding me like this, angel" Matt said, breathlessly as he reluctantly tore his eyes from your skin slapping against his and met your eye line.

"s'what I want, cum inside me, please" you mumbled, begging as you relentlessly milked his cock.

"you - fuck - you know the rules, angel, you -" Matt cut himself off with a moan, "you cum first" his eyes flit back to the sight of your perfect pussy taking him, and he brought his thumb up to your mouth, pushing it inside and laying it against your warm tongue.

You pushed your tongue against his digit, wrapping your lips around his lowest knuckle with a small hum. Matt pulled his thumb from your mouth with a pop, taking his free hand and using it to push you up slightly, giving him better access to your clit and the perfect opportunity to wrap his hand round your throat.

Matt laid back completely onto the floor, with one hand on your throat, and the other working your clit, he watched as your eyes rolled to the back of your head, unable to control your contorting face as he worked a relentless pace on your sensitive nub. You picked up your speed, ignoring the ache in your thighs as you desperately worked to get Matt to cum.

"tell m-" you stuttered, "tell me again"

Matt smirked, the events of the last few minutes adding up in his mind, you liked it when he told you how he felt about you, without actually telling you.

"you look like a Nirvana song, angel, so pretty n' so messy, all for me" He cooed, trying his best to make his words clear despite his fucked out, wavering tone.

"mphm" your brows knit together, you shifted your position, straddling him once more to grind your hips back and forth against his.

The drag of your pussy against his base, along with the wet, sticky pace Matt was setting on your clit and his perfect words made you see stars, and you came all over his cock, vision going blurry as you reached your high.

You moaned out his name, unable to stop the noises that left your mouth as you shook above him, legs tensing around his hips and nails digging little crescent moons into his chest.

"fuck, pretty girl, you look s'good when you cum all over my cock" Matt said, bringing a hand to hold your hip, grinding you down onto him faster as you started to get lightheaded.

"y'want me to fill you up, angel? soak your perfect pussy in my cum whilst your favourite songs play in the background?" Matt mumbled, slowing his pace on your clit and moving his other hand to your hip.

"please" you whimpered

Matt didn't need any more permission, he lifted you up slightly, the movement making you flop forward onto him, catching yourself with a hand round his jaw. Without warning, he began to pound into you, using his grip on your hips as leverage to mercilessly fuck your weeping pussy.

You let out a broken moan, trying to capture his lips in yours but failing, trailing wet, sloppy pecks on his mouth as he thrust into you at a feverish pace, grunting and groaning at the feeling of you clenching around him.

"so fuckin' needy for me, tough girl, all because I told you somthin' nice" Matt said though gritted teeth, "you feel as good as you look, y'know that?"

You couldn't even begin to muster a reply, only moans spilling from your mouth as Matts relentless pace into your pussy made you completely cock dumb. With a few hard, long thrusts, Matt buried himself inside you completely, dick twitching in your walls as he coated them with his cum, moaning your name as he went limp beneath you.

You breathed into each others mouths, foreheads rested against each others as your body weight relaxed down onto him.

"you gonna keep getting ready, angel?" Matt mumbled, pulling out of you.

"mhm" you nodded breathlessly, "just need a minute"

Matt chuckled, wrapping his tattooed arms around you as you caught your breath on top of him. "okay tough girl" He said, just before pressing a long kiss into the side of your head.

taglist: @sturniozalt@mattslolita@shaquilles0atmeal@blahbel668@sleepysturniolo@le4hsblog @sarosfilms @joemamaaa42069 @2muchofaslvt @seluky10 @cherib3lla @jetaimevous @witchofthehour

[felassan]

New article from IGN: 'How Dragon Age: The Veilguard Used Lessons From The Sims to Craft Its Character Creator and More'

Inside the intricate systems that bring BioWare's RPG to life.

"Corinne Busche wasn’t looking for a job when she sat down for lunch with BioWare’s leadership team in 2019. She had been a fan of BioWare’s games since the days of Dragon Age: Origins, and she wanted to, in her words, “meet my heroes.” “So I went to lunch with a couple of folks in the leadership team at BioWare, and we started riffing about progression systems and skill trees and economies, and we just really resonated with one another,” Busche remembers. “And much to my surprise, they expressed an interest in me joining, and it was kind of the question you don't have to ask me twice. That was such a dream opportunity, and to be able to step in this space, visit the studio, see my favorite characters on display throughout the walls, I was immediately sold. Immediately.” Busche was coming off a stint at Maxis, where she helped design the systems on various The Sims projects. In taking the helm of Dragon Age: The Veilguard, she became part of a wider talent pipeline flowing from Maxis to other parts of the games industry. It’s a pipeline that includes the likes of Eric Holmberg-Weidler, who was credited with fine-tuning many of the systems that comprised The Sims 4 before spearheading the Professions revamp in World of Warcraft’s Dragonflight expansion. Justin Camden, who also worked on The Sims, is one of Dragon Age: The Veilguard’s technical designers."

"Systematic discovery At first blush, it might not seem like The Sims has much in common with an RPG like Dragon Age outside the fact that they both feature romance in some way. Going back to its release in 2000, The Sims has garnered a reputation as a casual, frequently silly lifestyle simulator; the game where you remove a ladder from a swimming pool and watch your poor little Sims drown. Under the hood, though, The Sims is a complex web of systems, progression and relationships. Sims have jobs. They gain skills. They fall in love. “Maxis is a great place for designers to hone their skills,” Busche says. “There are many projects across differing platforms and service models happening simultaneously which give a rare opportunity for a breadth of experience. What people may not realize about the Sims, given its playful outward nature, is the underlying systems and mechanics are deceptively deep – especially as a dev. One of the more interesting parts of coming up through Maxis as a designer is the experience you get with simulation, emergent gameplay, and emotionally relatable player experiences. It’s just a really unique opportunity being a part of these teams, and those are skillsets that can benefit a number of different games and genres.” Busche’s systems design background is evident throughout The Veilguard. It includes extensive skill trees, with sub-classes that are geared around different weapon types and styles of play, and the choices you make also resonate deeply throughout the story. It’s also possible to level up your relationship with individual factions and shopkeepers, which in turn opens up new possibilities for acquiring unique gear, and characters bear long-lasting scars depending on the choices you make. Systems are layered throughout Dragon Age, deepening the player’s intertwined connection with the world and the characters that inhabit it. “What's so wonderful about [The Sims] is there's so much autonomy in that game, and we find that RPG players are hungry for that same sense of autonomy, making decisions, influencing characters. And what you might not realize in the Sims is behind the scenes, there are some really robust progression systems, game economies, character behaviors for their own AI and autonomy… a lot of really fascinating parallels,” Busche says. “So in that regard, I'm very grateful to my time there, being able to take some of those learnings, whether it's about how to convey romantic progression to the player, or design skill progression, game pacing, a lot of really interesting transferable ideas that you might not think about on the surface." In The Sims, characters go through their daily lives in an idealized world filled with strange but charming characters like Bonehilda (Dragon Age, it should be mentioned, has its own living skeleton in Manfred). While Dragon Age’s characters are still bound by the demands of the story, BioWare goes out of its way to make them seem more alive. As we talk about in our hands-on preview that went up last week, Dragon Age is filled with little messages noting how, for instance, you “traded verbal jabs” with Solas. As we’ll go into in a future article, both platonic and romantic relationships are a big part of how characters grow in Dragon Age. And of course, as anyone who has played a BioWare or Sims game knows, both games have their share of woohooing."

"How Dragon Age learned from The Sims' character creator Ultimately, though, it’s the character creator where the resemblance between the two is the most apparent. Dragon Age’s character creator is extensive, allowing players to adjust physical characteristics including chest size, the crookedness of a character’s nose, and whether or not their eyes are bloodshot, among other features. While custom characters are a time-honored BioWare tradition going back to the days of Baldur’s Gate, The Veilguard draws from the lessons of The Sims in everything from body customization to the flow of the user interface. Cross-pollination like this is common within EA, and Dragon Age: The Veilguard borrows from plenty of other sources as well. That incredible hair technology, for example, got its start within EA’s sports games, meaning your Rook can have a luscious mane like Lionel Messi. But the character creator is perhaps the greatest inflection point between Dragon Age and The Sims. “Character creators are extremely complex, and in many ways even more personal. It’s so important that players feel they can be represented and feel pride in that representation as they go through the creation process,” Busche says. “In particular, I remember we were struggling with some of our iconography, and we turned to each other and said ‘how did The Sims 4 handle this?’ While the technology and UI is quite a bit different, the underlying goals and lessons were quite similar.” She adds that Maxis has a “tremendous wealth of knowledge when it comes to representing gender, identity, and the surprising number of localization issues that come along with that when you’re releasing in different regions and languages.” “It’s always nice when you can draw from that prior experience. See what worked, what didn’t, and how expectations have evolved. The fun part is now we get to pay that forward and have been sharing our knowledge with other teams,” Busche says. On a moment-to-moment basis, of course, The Sims and Dragon Age are two very different games with very different goals. One is a single-player action RPG, the other a lifestyle sim. As studios, too, BioWare and Maxis are in very different places right now. The Sims has been a powerhouse franchise for more than two decades, and EA is seeking to expand its reach with a new movie. BioWare, meanwhile, is seeking to rebuild after stumbling badly with Anthem and Mass Effect Andromeda. But when creator Will Wright first decided to focus on the people inhabiting his games, the world he crafted wasn’t too dissimilar from the one found in Dragon Age. Both use unique systems to create reactive, imaginative worlds full of interesting choices, filled with characters with their own inner lives. It’s a philosophy that’s always been part of BioWare’s legacy; now, in The Veilguard, it finally gets to be on full display once again. Dragon Age: The Veilguard will be on PC, PlayStation, and Xbox on October 31. Make sure to keep an eye on IGN all this month as our IGN First coverage continues."

[source]

[binniesbooks]

Ok ok soo lets start with Yeonjun SINCE i think you said unti palang sya sa acc mo SOOOOOOO.. thinking abt teaserdom!yeonjun x sub!reader

Scenario isss, reader is fucking horny, its 3am and shes still awake (she has insomnia like me) she suddenly had a wave of horniness and how did she deal with that??? She masturbates, trying so hard not to make a sound since yeonjun is sleeping so pretty beside her (he's awake and aware LMAO) anddd like its not enough for her so she slowly takes yeonjun's hand and uses it to pleasure herself 👹 ( and we all know what happend after that👀 to be more detailed, yeonjun is a tease and edges reader ahhweibaiw ) the rest is yours to write fayee💓

It may not be the best BUT i thought abt this last night and i just had to request it to someone AFGRHRBRBRBRB

ALSOOO THIS IS WHAT IM IMAGING WHAT YEONJUN LOOKS LIKE IN THIS REQUEST WJSJSJSJSJSJ just change the pants into shorts hehe

• A HELPING HAND

YJ 999 .F25 2024

wc 2.2k

pairings performerbf!Yeonjun x insomniac!reader

warnings teaserdom!Yeonjun, sub!reader, self-relieving, mentions of medication for insomnia, pornographic video clips(?), light somno if you squint, oral sex (f. receiving), unprotected sex, creampie (+ anything I've missed)

faye's note took me so long, mock board wracked my brain. So thankful classes got suspended so I took the chance to write lol. HAHAHAHAHA

special thanks to dear @aduh0308 i love you, hun.

"Goodnight, love, 'm sorry, too sleepy," Yeonjun muttered, lips pouty and voice sleepy.

"Goodnight, Jjunie, sleep tight," you answered, slowly combing your fingers through his hair.

With a low hum, you felt his hot breath against your neck. His little snores hinted that he drifted to sleep already, too tired from practicing all day.

Your eyes were so full of him today too, as you watched him repeatedly practice his dance performance, "Guilty". Yeonjun's figure was so sexy. His toned abs were revealed multiple times as he slid his hand under his shirt to hold his chin and cover his mouth.

Yeonjun is so particular in what he does, he wants everything to be perfect. So he always tries his best to get into the emotion of whatever he is doing. That’s the reason why he looks so extra sexy in the video he filmed for his performance, his white shirt riding off his abs.

Yeonjun nuzzled his face closer to your neck, unconsciously trying to find some warmth from you in your air-conditioned room.

It'd already been 4 hours since he fell asleep, however, you, on the other hand, weren't sleepy even for a bit. These past few days, you haven't had enough sleep, as your insomnia kicks every night. So when Yeonjun tossed and turned around lying flat on his back, you think of an idea to make yourself feel sleepy since your medication hasn't been helping. These past few days, you've been resorting to touching yourself to feel tired and fall asleep. But you thought, maybe tonight you should let it pass since your boyfriend was fast asleep next to you.

As you were scrolling on Yeonjun's phone, trying to find something to watch or read, you suddenly thought of opening his gallery.

You were met with an unfamiliar album entitled "for my pretty girl". The album quickly piques your interest as you open it. Your mouth hung open when you saw it was a compilation of videos where Yeonjun was clearly touching himself.

Your plan to abstain from self-relief for tonight? Revoked.

You opened one of the videos as you listened to his voice in the background.

"Mmhh... ngh... Love... Please, more..." Yeonjun's voice was so whiny, the camera kept on shaking as his abs kept on clenching. His huffs and pants got louder as the tip of his cock leaked. His shaky breath could be heard as he stopped stroking his cock, the full view made you notice how it harshly twitched, eager for touch.

"Fuck, love, I can't wait to feel you around me, I missed you," he huffs.

You opened a few more videos of Yeonjun desperately touching himself and whispering behind the camera how he badly wanted to feel you squeeze him.

Until you found yourself with your hand slowly circling your clothed clit. "Jjun...." you whispered, biting your lip to prevent any loud noise that would come out of your mouth. You placed the phone beside your head as you listened to his voice in the video whimpering and whining.

You slipped off your pajamas, quickly tossing them on the floor as you pressed your head further against your pillow, trying to suppress your moans. Your slender fingers played with your arousal, and your other hand crept under your shirt, pinching your nipples. Your breathing was ragged and shaky as you tried to suppress it once again.

Feeling a little bit needy, you carefully slid your digits inside you, curling and pumping them inside, trying to reach the right spots. Your body shook from pleasure, your lips swollen from how hard you were biting them. The squelching sound made it so filthy as you pushed your fingers in and out. "Yeonjun..." You whispered his name once again, your voice coming out as a croak. You tried your best to stay quiet because you didn't want him to wake up from you trying to relieve yourself.

Suddenly, your slender fingers felt shorter than usual. Still unsatisfied, you grabbed his hand, intertwining his fingers with you first before settling it down on your pussy. You decided to use his pretty fingers to get off. You gasped loudly when you slid his finger inside you. You didn't pay much attention to it, losing the chance to notice that his fingers were a bit stiff as if he were controlling them. Holding his hand, you guide his fingers in and out of you, desperate to cum.

With a few more pumps, a little bit more of biting your lips, and a heart-pounding experience to suppress your moans, you were just about the edge. "A b-bit more," you muttered, bucking your hips up. "'m so close, 'm gonna cum," you huffed, eyes closed, head pressed on the pillow.

Then his hand stopped. No, you didn't get to cum yet. His hand came to a pause from moving, hell, it was even pulled away from you. You whined from the empty feeling until you heard a rustling sound from beside you.

"You're using my hand to get off? How dirty are you, pretty girl?" Yeonjun chuckled, turning to his side and using his elbow to support his body to face you, giving his fingers kitten licks.

Your eyes widened as you pulled the blanket over your body, stuttering your excuses, "N-no! I can explain love, p-please this is.. it's not w-what it looks like!"

"Hmm, fuck, you taste so sweet, love," Yeonjun moaned, still sucking on his slick-covered fingers.

"Yeonjun," you gulped.

Yeonjun laid on his back again, pushing his white shirt up, exposing his toned abs as he ran his hand under it. "Mhh..." he moaned teasingly, a smirk playing on his lips.

"Stop that," you pouted, quietly sliding your hand under the sheets, trying to relieve yourself again. You slipped your finger inside you again, though your silent gasp didn't go past Yeonjun without him noticing it.

"My desperate girlfriend," he cooed as he hovered above you, pulling the sheets away, catching you red-handed. He pulled your hand and sucked on your fingers as his moans vibrated through your skin.

You were too embarrassed to look at him, so you tried covering your eyes.

"What makes you so shy now that you weren't earlier?" he whispered, lowering his head on your tummy. The hem of your shirt was caught between his teeth as he pulled it up. He looked over you with his hooded eyes as he dipped his head down once again, planting a kiss on your upper abdomen.

You couldn't help but tangle your fingers on his hair as you watched him. Yeonjun pressed his tongue flat on your burning skin, licking a long stripe from your navel and up.

His kisses moved down to your waist, giving it a few splotchy red marks. Without tearing his gaze on you, his tongue grazed your clit, making you dig your heels on the bed and arch your back, too desperate to feel him.

Yeonjun held both sides of your waist, his thumb gently massaging your flushed skin, as he continuously teasingly grazed your clit with his tongue.

Just when you thought you could relax for a bit, he suddenly licked a long stripe on your folds, making your body shiver and your grip tighten against his soft locks. You lifted your hips up, trying to meet his lips and tongue again, but he just pushed you down, making you whine.

"No no no no, pretty. Have sum' patience," he cooed, landing a slap on your thigh and making you yelp.

Dipping his head down once again, his sharp tongue prodded at your hole. His hum resonated around the four corners of the room as he felt you tug his hair a little bit harder.

"Fuck, Yeonjun, please..." you whined, trying to lift your hips again.

He hoisted your legs on his shoulder, tucking his hand under your thighs as he started to lap on your wet folds.

"S-stop... Ahh!"

Your squirming and trembling figure made him pull you closer to his mouth as he ate you out. Your heels digging onto his back as you feel yourself getting wetter, your fingers clutching the sheets underneath you. The obscene sounds he made makingthe knot in your stomach tighten.

"Close... So close..." you whimpered, trying to grind on his mouth.

But to your disappointment, Yeonjun pulled away, his nose, mouth, and chin glistening with your arousal. "W-what the hell!" you exclaimed, eyes teary.

"You wanna cum that badly, sweetie?" Yeonjun smirked.

"Please, please, please," you pleaded, fat tears rolling down your cheeks as your pussy clenches around nothing.

Yeonjun swiftly removes his thin shirt, grabbing both of your hands and tying his shirt around your wrists. "Only if you become a good girl for me," he said, tightening the makeshift rope.

"I'll be good, love, please. P-please let me cum, l-let me cum," you whined.

"Really?" he taunts. "Even if I do this?" Yeonjun slid his two fingers inside you and immediately withdrew it.

Your thighs were shaking as you yelp, "Wanna cum, wanna cum, please!" you cried loudly.

Yeonjun could only chuckle at you as he watched you rub your thighs together.

"Aren't you too horny, pretty girl? My videos made you this horny? Hm?" His fingers crept up your body, twisting your nipples in the process.

"Fuck fuck fuck! Ahh! More... Hng!" You didn’t even know the words or noises coming out of your mouth, you just desperately wanted to cum right now.

"Look at you, you're such a mess. Still unsatisfied even after using my videos and fingers to get off," he snickered.

"You should be a little patient, darling. Just like this guy in here," he added, palming himself through his black shorts.

"D'you wanna get my dick wet?" he asked, kissing your temple. You nodded frantically, unsure of what you were agreeing to, but you just need him.

Yeonjun rose to his knees between your body, pulling his shorts down a little to expose his hardened cock, kissing his lower abdomen. You bit your lip as you watched him repeatedly pump his cock.

"Mhhmp, this feels nice, fuck," he smirked, closing his eyes as he looks up. His adams apple bobbed u p and down as his mouth opened and closed simultaneously from the pleasure.

"Want to feel you, Jjun," you pouted, rubbing your thighs together again.

"You wanna feel me? Wanna be my cocksleeve, baby?" he smirked. You nodded at him again, biting your lips as you imagined him fucking your brains out like he usually did.

"Patience, pretty," he giggled, pressing the tip of his cock on your swollen lips.

Just when you were about to open your mouth and suck him, he pulled away. "Nah-uh, you're a bad girl, so eager for a mere cock. What are you, a slut?" he frowned, making you feel embarrassed. You covered your face using your tied hands.

"Covering your face? Wanna miss the fun part?"

When you peeked between your fingers, you saw him stroking his cock as his pre-cum shines on the tip of his cock.

"Whenever I'm not with you, I touch myself. I made a compilation just for you to watch how I badly wanna fuck you. Fuck-- " His brows creased, feeling the hair on the back of his head stand up.

"Not wanting anything other than to fuck you when I'm stressed," he muttered, his grip on his cock tightening as you heard him grunt.

"J-junnie, please, wanna cum with you," you whimpered, not being able to watch him any further.

"Sure!" he smirked as he aligned himself against your throbbing core.

You felt the good stretch as you gasped and a guttural moan ripped through him.

Yeonjun started moving inside, strings of curses coming out of his mouth as he felt you clench. He made sure to thrust deep to reach the parts where you and his fingers couldn't. Yeonjun practically pressing his hips on yours just to make you feel full sent you reeling.

You looped your arms around his neck to pull him closer, your fingers tangled on his locks once again as you felt him raw inside you.

"B-bit more... I'm gonna cum--"

Yeonjun still inside you, edging himself at the same as his body trembled from the sudden halt . "Fuck," he whispered.

"No no no no please, please no baby, I'm so close, I'm so close please," you cried out loud.

"H-hah, you're so desperate, pretty girl," he huffed, pressing his hips against you once again.

He then lifted his hips up for a bit. "Fuck yourself on me, show me how desperate you are, " he taunted.

No need for him to say it twice. You started moving your hips, fucking yourself on his cock, and burying him inside you as deep as possible. Until he decided to meet your hips halfway, making you feel him on your throat. The shallow thrusts make you whimper, and your body trembles.

"Gonna fill you up, need to fill you," he muttered through gritted teeth, hair sticking to his sweaty forehead.

"Please, please, please!"

With a few more thrusts, your body convulsed, and strings of moans coming from you caused Yeonjun to bust.

"Fucking shit!" he hissed as he let his head fall against your chest. He slowly moved for a little while, letting the two of you ride out your high, draining himself inside you.

His body felt burning hot against your skin as your hearts thumped hard together. Your pants and huffs filled the room, which made it feel steamy even when the air- conditioning is on.

[steddiebang2024]

STEVE AND EDDIE MAKE A PORNO  |  Explicit  |  55k

Author: @hitlikehammers

Artist: @hagnoart

Beta Reader: @dontwasteyourchances

[Link to fic]  |  [Link to art]

Pairings: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson, (background Robin Buckley/Chrissy Cunningham, Nancy Wheeler/Barbara Holland, Jonathan Byers/Argyle; porn film scene pairings indicated in the relevant chapters)

Characters: Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson, Robin Buckley, Nancy Wheeler, Chrissy Cunningham, Jonathan Byers, Barbara Holland, Argyle

Tags: Friends to Lovers, Nay: oblivious!BEST friends to lovers, Romcom, Porn, Y’know because shooting a porno is the orienting plot device, Humor, General Shenanigans, Coffee-related Innuendos Abound, Platonic Stobin, Happy Ending (not THAT kind), (…okay also a lot of that kind because again: THEY ARE SHOOTING A PORNO)

Trigger Warnings: This fic is inspired by a film where the filming of a porno is a central plot device; sex positivity, orientation positivity, sex-and-pairings-for-aesthetic-appeal-NOT-for-endgame-purposes are the name of the game.

↳ Keep reading below for a summary!

Unlikely but inseparable best-friends-since-middle-school Steve Harrington and Eddie Munson move in together after graduation and, honestly? Lead a semi-stable if generally-uneventful life (or not-entirely uneventful, fine, because Eddie takes personal offense to that characterization of anything involving himself): but they make a decent living as minimum wage grunts and they never starve, which of course counts as a win in late-stage capitalism. So what if it’s always been paycheck to paycheck and they’ve only just made it outside their hometown: they still do earn their paychecks, Eddie’s booking more weekend shows to pad his kinda-pitiful record store wages, the cafe Steve works at is expanding and a promotion to senior manager isn’t wholly out of the question, and they did make it out of their back-assward hometown, no matter how far they got. Most of all, through better or worse, bound thicker than blood: they’ve got each other. It’s not the life Steve was raised to expect, but it’s not one he’s trade for anything in the world. 

Which is still true when, due to a very unfortunate lack of communication—with good intentions! It honestly was all above-board and stupidly well-intentioned—they may have entirely unwittingly paved their way into bills-so-overdue-the-utilities-are-canceled. Like: bye-bye-water-mid-shower-canceled. 

Which: fucking late-stage capitalism. Ruining everything. 

And it is ruined: it’s the holidays, which means there are extra hours but they’re being vied for Hunger Games style, and the lack-of-heating thing’s going to be a real problem with the Midwest winter that’s creeping up quick. Basically: ‘up shit creek without a paddle’ is an understatement. 

But then, opportunity presents itself in the most time-honored of professions when they run into the shocker (or: not-really-a-shocker, dude was hella repressed) partner of a straight-laced douchebag classmate at their ten-year-reunion: an adult film star who reveals $100k could be within their grasps—bills paid, debt cleared, money to spare for the first time in forever—if the form of...well.

Shooting their own porno. 

So umm...fucking late stage capitalism? 

And honestly it’s a solid plan, despite being absolute insanity (though that’s honestly unsurprising because, again: nothing’s uneventful when Eddie Munson’s your best friend), but the question that rears its head ultimately isn’t one of revenue, but one they probably should have thought through a little harder from the get-go: when budget’s tight, cast is limited, and promotional value is crucial—alongside everyone banging everyone? 

You’re also probably gonna have to fuck your best friend on camera for cash in the process.

(Goddamn previously unrealized and unacknowledged feelings late stage capitalism, man. Fucks up everything.)

[caplanbuckybarnes]

A Gotham Affair (Bruce Wayne)

Summary: Bruce marries you in front of Gotham's finest.

Warnings: fluff

WC: 950ish

Read on Ao3!

--

Gotham City had seen its fair share of lavish events, but nothing compared to this. The press had been buzzing for weeks—Bruce Wayne, Gotham’s elusive billionaire, was getting married. For a man as private as Bruce, the mere thought of such a public display was almost unimaginable. But he wanted this moment to be seen, to be shared with the world.

Because today, he was marrying you.

The Wayne Manor grounds had been transformed into a scene straight out of a fairy tale. Rows of white chairs lined the lush garden, surrounded by flowers, twinkling lights, and the glow of the setting sun. Gotham’s elite filled the seats, all murmuring with excitement and curiosity, but none could match the nervous flutter in your chest.

You stood just beyond the manor’s grand doors, your fingers gently smoothing the delicate fabric of your dress as you stared at your reflection in the mirror. You could hear the soft murmur of the guests outside, the soft clinks of champagne glasses, the hum of an orchestra playing in the background. It felt surreal—like you were dreaming.

But this wasn’t a dream. This was real.

Alfred stood beside you, his usual composed demeanor holding a softness reserved for only the most important moments. “You look radiant, miss,” he said with a gentle smile. “Master Wayne is a very lucky man.”

You smiled at him, your heart pounding with anticipation. “I think I’m the lucky one.”

Alfred’s eyes twinkled with quiet understanding. “You’ve both found something special in each other. It’s not every day that Master Wayne allows himself a moment of true happiness.”

Just then, the music shifted, signaling the start of the ceremony. Alfred offered his arm, and you took it with a deep breath, feeling the weight of the moment settle over you. As the doors opened, revealing the breathtaking garden and all the guests in attendance, your eyes immediately sought out the man at the end of the aisle.

Bruce.

He stood tall, dressed in a classic black tuxedo that seemed to fit him as effortlessly as the Batman cowl. But it wasn’t the suit that took your breath away—it was the look on his face. His normally stoic expression had softened, his eyes fixed solely on you, and for once, there was no mask. No walls. Just Bruce.

The world around you faded as you began your walk down the aisle. You could barely hear the gasps and murmurs from the guests, the flashing cameras, the whispers of disbelief that Bruce Wayne—the Bruce Wayne—was getting married. It didn’t matter. All you saw was him.

As you reached the end of the aisle, Bruce stepped forward, his hand reaching for yours. You felt the warmth of his touch, the steady reassurance he always gave you. You handed Alfred the bouquet and turned fully to Bruce, the weight of the moment finally settling into place.

“You look stunning,” he whispered, his voice low enough for only you to hear.

“And you look… unexpectedly calm,” you teased, smiling up at him.

He gave you a small smirk, one that you knew all too well. “For you, I’ll do anything. Even this.”

The officiant began to speak, but your attention was fully on Bruce. You could see the faint tension in his shoulders, the way he held your hand just a little tighter than usual. For someone who valued his privacy more than anything, standing here in front of Gotham’s elite, making such a public declaration—it wasn’t easy for him. But he was doing it for you.

Because he loved you.

When it came time for the vows, Bruce took a deep breath, turning fully toward you. His voice, though steady, was laced with an emotion he rarely showed to anyone but you.

“I never thought I’d find peace, not in a city like Gotham. But you…” he paused, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “You brought light into a life that’s been filled with shadows. You’ve seen the darkest parts of me, and yet, here you are. I vow to protect you, to stand by you, and to love you with everything I have, for as long as I’m able.”

You blinked back tears, your heart swelling with love as you whispered, “Bruce…”

“I’ve always had to wear masks,” he continued, his voice soft. “But with you, I don’t need one. You know me—all of me. And today, in front of everyone, I want them to know too. You are my greatest joy. My home.”

Tears welled in your eyes as you took a shaky breath, squeezing his hand. “Bruce, you’ve given me so much more than I ever thought possible. You’ve shown me love, patience, and a strength that I didn’t know I had. You are the man I want to stand beside, not just in the good moments, but through every challenge, every obstacle. I vow to love you with everything I am. Always.”

The officiant pronounced you husband and wife, and in that moment, all of Gotham faded into the background. Bruce leaned in, cupping your face gently in his hands, and kissed you softly. The crowd erupted in applause, but all you could focus on was the warmth of his lips against yours, the way his hand lingered on your cheek as if he never wanted to let you go.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead resting against yours, he whispered, “We did it.”

You smiled, tears of happiness slipping down your cheeks. “We did.”

As you turned to face the crowd, still hand-in-hand, the cameras flashed, and the world watched as Bruce Wayne—Gotham’s most guarded man—stood proudly beside the person who had stolen his heart.

[disciplined-cornfed]

🐃 Bucking Bronco 🐂

Jake slouched in his office chair, eyes glazed over from hours of staring at a computer screen. The city buzzed around him, but he felt numb to it. The relentless clamor, the towering buildings, the rush of people—it was draining. The city had once been exciting, but now it just felt like a cage.

He sighed, leaning back, wondering if this was it. His life had turned into a cycle: work, home, sleep, repeat. There had to be more. He longed for something simpler, something that felt real.

That evening, he found himself at a local dive bar, his usual escape. As he nursed his drink, a figure caught his eye—a man at the other end of the bar. Broad-shouldered, dressed in a worn flannel, cowboy boots tapping lightly against the floor, and a cowboy hat perched low on his head. He looked out of place in the city but completely at ease. The man’s presence radiated confidence, something Jake hadn’t felt in a long time.

Jake couldn’t help but stare. The man caught his gaze, raised an eyebrow, and motioned for Jake to come over.

“What’s eatin’ at ya?” the man asked in a low, easy drawl. His voice was calm, steady, like he had all the time in the world.

Jake chuckled nervously. “Life, I guess. Just feels like I’m stuck.”

The cowboy grinned, flashing a bit of understanding. “You look like you’re searching for something, son. I used to be in the same boat, till I figured out what I needed.”

Jake raised an eyebrow. “What was that?”

The cowboy reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out his phone, flipping through something until he found what he was looking for. “Here,” he said, sliding the phone across the table. “Watch this video. Changed my life, and it might just do the same for you.”

Jake hesitated, then grabbed the phone. It was a subliminal—the screen flashed with phrases like “strength,” “discipline,” “confidence,” and “cowboy.” He smirked. Subliminals? He didn’t buy into that kind of thing, but something about this man, his confidence, his calmness—it was intriguing.

“I’ll give it a shot,” Jake said, not fully convinced.

The cowboy tipped his hat. “Might be what you’re lookin’ for, son. Embrace it, and you’ll be surprised where it takes you.”

The next morning, Jake sat at his kitchen table, staring at his phone, his curiosity getting the better of him. He hit play on the video. The music was soft at first, but soon it picked up—a low hum of country tunes overlaid with affirmations. Phrases flashed on the screen: strength, discipline, focus, cowboy grit.

Jake scoffed at first but decided to let it play while he worked from home. The video rolled on in the background, and slowly, something inside him began to shift.

Over the next few days, Jake felt… different. It was subtle at first, almost like a shift in the background of his mind, but as the days went on, the change became undeniable. At work, where the constant hum of city life usually gnawed at him, something had shifted. The noise of the city—horns blaring, engines rumbling, people rushing past in a frenzy—had always felt like an attack on his senses. But now, it was like his mind had learned to filter it out. The overwhelming rush of coworkers demanding this and that suddenly felt less important, like background noise rather than a storm he had to weather. Jake wasn’t reacting to every little inconvenience like before. Instead, he felt… steady.

He couldn’t explain it, but it was as if something inside him had found its footing. Where there had been anxiety, there was now calm. Where there had been stress, there was a sense of grounded strength. It was almost as if nothing could shake him anymore, as if he had discovered a deeper part of himself that thrived on patience and discipline. The chaos of the city didn’t matter as much now, because somewhere inside him, he was becoming someone bigger, someone stronger than the noise around him.

Then there was the gym.

Jake had always been someone who dabbled in working out. He’d go for a jog every now and then, maybe hit the weights when he felt guilty about skipping too many days, but it had never been serious. Now, though, something inside him had woken up. There was an urge that hadn’t been there before, a desire to push himself that felt raw and real.

One evening after work, instead of heading straight home like usual, Jake found himself walking into the gym with a sense of purpose. Without even thinking about it, he made his way to the free weights, eyeing the barbell in front of him. He wasn’t sure why, but he felt compelled to load more weight than he ever had before. Maybe it was the subliminal taking effect, or maybe it was something deeper within him that had finally stirred awake.

He gripped the bar, feeling the strain as he hoisted it up. The weight was heavy—heavier than anything he’d lifted in a long time—but instead of stopping when his muscles began to ache, he pushed through it. There was a strange kind of satisfaction in the burn, in knowing that he was going beyond his limits. Strength and discipline became his mantras as he lifted, each rep feeling like a step toward something bigger, something stronger. It was no longer just about the physical challenge; it was about mastering himself.

By the time he left the gym, drenched in sweat, he felt something he hadn’t felt in years—pride. Not just in the effort he’d put in, but in the realization that he could be more. That night, as he showered and caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror, something else caught his attention. His shoulders—they looked broader. His arms seemed fuller, his chest tighter. He brushed it off as the post-workout pump, but the next morning, when he looked again, the change was still there.

As the days passed, the transformation continued. Jake’s body wasn’t just changing—it was growing. His shirts started to fit differently, snug across his chest and arms. He found himself flexing in front of the mirror after every gym session, admiring the way his muscles swelled under his skin. The pleasure he took from seeing his growing physiquewas undeniable, and with each flex, he felt a surge of confidence he hadn’t known he needed.

It was satisfying in a way he never anticipated. The bulky cowboy build he had admired on the man in the bar—the cowboy who had given him the video—was now becoming his own. He felt powerful in a way that was more than just physical. It was as if the strength he was building in the gym was seeping into his mind, reinforcing that calm, grounded feeling he’d been experiencing.

But it wasn’t just his body that was transforming—his mind was changing too.

Jake’s tastes began to shift in ways he hadn’t anticipated. He found himself taking an interest in things that had once seemed distant, even irrelevant. At first, it was subtle—a feeling, a slight tug when he passed a country station on the radio. He couldn’t quite place it, but there was something about the twang of the guitar and the way the lyrics captured a sense of simplicity, of life lived at a slower, more meaningful pace.

He resisted it at first, brushing it off as a fluke, but as the days passed, country music started to sneak its way into his playlists. It wasn’t long before he found himself actively seeking it out, drawn to the stories being told in the songs—the honesty, the grit, the appreciation for the small things. Lyrics about long dirt roads, endless skies, and working with your hands spoke to something deep within him, something that felt almost forgotten.

The more he listened, the more it felt like home—a place he had never been but somehow knew. The noise of the city, once his soundtrack, began to feel hollow, like it was missing something real. The lyrics in the songs reminded him of a life that was stripped down, pure, and authentic, and as he absorbed more, he felt a pull inside, something that whispered that this was the life he had been missing. It was as though the music was gently coaxing him to remember who he was meant to be.

It wasn’t just the music. Images of open fields, horses galloping, the simple joy of watching the sunset from a porch—all of it stirred something in him. It was like a veil had lifted, and he began to see the appeal of the cowboy lifestyle. The rush of city life, the constant pressure to move, to climb, to consume—it all started to feel like a distant memory, something that had once held meaning but now seemed meaningless.

One weekend, without much thought, Jake wandered into a western wear store. The smell of leather hit him as soon as he walked through the door, earthy and rich, filling the air with a sense of tradition and strength. For a moment, he hesitated, glancing around the store with a bit of uncertainty. This wasn’t him, he thought, or at least, not the version of himself he’d always known. The Jake who wore button-down shirts and polished shoes didn’t belong in a place like this.

But then, something shifted. He couldn’t explain it, but there was a pull. The smell of the leather, the rows of cowboy boots, the racks of flannel shirts—it all felt right. Like he had been here before, like he belonged. He found his feet moving almost automatically, drawn toward a pair of cowboy boots that caught his eye—classic, brown leather, with a worn-in look that spoke of adventure and resilience. Without much thought, he picked them up and tried them on. They fit perfectly.

The feeling didn’t stop there. His hands moved to a pair of jeans, thick and sturdy, built for work, not just for show. Next came the flannel shirt, its weight and warmth settling over his shoulders as if it was made for him. Each item felt like it was calling to him, like they were pieces of a puzzle he hadn’t realized he needed to complete.

When he stepped into the changing room and put them all on together—the boots, the jeans, the flannel—he felt something click. As he looked at himself in the mirror, his breath caught. The man staring back at him was different. The broad shoulders, the muscular arms that strained against the fabric of the flannel, the rugged look—he didn’t just see a reflection. He saw strength, capability, a man who was connected to the earth, to something primal and real. He looked like someone who worked with his hands, who knew how to take care of himself.

He flexed, watching his biceps swell under the fabric, the seams stretching with the movement. A grin spread across his face. He felt powerful, like he was stepping into the man he was always meant to be—one who was grounded, strong, and in control. There was a pleasure in it, a satisfaction that came not just from how he looked but from how it made him feel inside. The clothes were more than just clothes. They were a symbol of the change he was undergoing, a physical manifestation of the strength he had been building—both inside and out.

It wasn’t long before hunting and fishing became his weekend routine. Jake found himself rising with the sun, craving the stillness of early mornings by the lake or in the woods, rifle slung over his shoulder, or fishing rod in hand. There was something almost meditative about it—the way the world felt calm and silent, the only sound his breath, the crunch of dirt under his boots, the rustle of leaves in the wind. The quiet of nature was the opposite of the city, and it gave him something the city never could: peace.

But it was more than just peace. The patience required in hunting, the skill needed to wait for just the right moment—it all felt right. Every time he lined up his shot or cast his line, he felt connected to something ancient, something essential. The physical strength he had built in the gym had a purpose here. It wasn’t just for looks. It made him feel capable, in control, like he could handle anything the world threw at him.

The rest of his old life started to fade away. The noisy nights at crowded bars, the constant pressure to stay on top of things that didn’t really matter—it all started to seem so… irrelevant. Instead, Jake started watching videos made by cowboy content creators, following guys who lived the life he was slowly stepping into. They talked about rodeo, horse riding, and working on trucks. He found himself nodding along, absorbing every bit of their wisdom, eager to learn.

It wasn’t just learning—it was becoming. He was becoming something more, something truer to himself. One afternoon, as he got under his pickup truck to change the oil, his hands covered in grease, he couldn’t help but smile. This was real. The feel of the tools in his hands, the satisfaction of fixing something with his own strength—it was what he had been missing all along. Each turn of the wrench, each smear of grease on his skin felt like a connection to the life he was embracing.

For the first time in his life, Jake felt truly in control. Not just of his body, but of his mind, his life. He was becoming the man he was always meant to be—a cowboy, through and through.

Finally, after weeks of change, Jake found himself back at the same bar where it all started. The city lights flickered outside, but they seemed dull compared to the quiet strength he felt within himself. He walked into the bar, boots heavy against the wooden floor, his stride confident, his presence commanding. The weight of his broad shoulders, the bulkof his arms straining against his flannel, and the calm demeanor he now carried set him apart from the crowd. He felt more than just different—he felt like he belonged somewhere else, somewhere deeper.

The cowboy was there again, sitting at the counter, his hat tipped low. It felt like a full circle, like Jake had come back not as the man he had been but as the cowboy he had become. He slid onto the stool next to the man, a quiet confidence radiating from him.

The cowboy glanced up, a slow grin spreading across his face. “Well, look at you, partner. You’ve changed.”

Jake nodded. “More than I expected. I didn’t realize how far off track I’d gotten.”

The cowboy chuckled, his voice steady and warm. “That’s life. Sometimes you lose sight of what’s real, what’s true. But it looks like you found your way back.”

Jake looked down at his hands, calloused now from working on his truck, from hunting, fishing, and lifting at the gym. He didn’t need to say anything. He felt it in every fiber of his being. Strength, not just in his body, but in his mind and in the way he faced the world. He had become something more—grounded, disciplined, and powerful. He wasn’t just another city guy trying to fit in. He was a cowboy, inside and out.

But as Jake looked around the bar, he noticed something else. He saw others, the way they slouched in their chairs, glued to their phones, drowning their stress in drinks. It was the way he used to be, always chasing something but never feeling truly connected to anything real. Now, he could see it so clearly—the potential in them, untapped, waiting to be unleashed. They were like ponies, timid, lost, unaware of the strength they held inside, waiting to become bucking broncos—waiting for someone to show them the way.

Over the next few weeks, Jake couldn’t shake the feeling that he needed to do more, not just for himself, but for others. He had found something real, something powerful, and he wanted to share it. When he talked to his friends, his coworkers, even strangers he met at the gym, he could see it in their eyes—that same restlessness he once felt. The dissatisfaction with the grind, the search for something meaningful.

Jake started to subtly plant the seeds, talking about his transformation, about the cowboy code he had adopted, the simplicity of the country life. At first, they were skeptical—laughing off his suggestions, joking about his new flannel-and-boots look—but Jake didn’t mind. He could see beyond their reactions. He could see the potential in them, the part of them that craved the same thing he had craved—freedom, strength, and a sense of purpose.

“You’re chasing the wrong things,” he would tell them, his voice calm and confident. “You don’t need the city noise, the pressure, the constant distractions. What you need is something real. Something that makes you stronger—inside and out.”

Some brushed him off. But others… others listened. Slowly, they started to come to him for advice, curious about the changes they saw in him. Jake became a mentor, guiding them through the same steps he had taken. He showed them how to build physical strength, but more importantly, he showed them how to find mental strength. How to stay calm under pressure, how to live with honor and discipline, and how to embrace the cowboy lifestyle that had given him so much clarity.

He started taking a few of them to the gym, pushing them through workouts the way he had pushed himself, watching with pride as their bodies began to change. But it wasn’t just about the physical transformation. It was about helping them unlock that mental resilience, the calm strength that had become his foundation. He encouraged them to get out of the city, to take up hunting, fishing, and working with their hands. He knew that the more they embraced the cowboy code, the stronger they would become, not just in their bodies but in their minds and in the way they faced life.

For Jake, it was about more than just muscle or a new wardrobe. It was about turning ponies into broncos—guiding those who felt lost or weak into becoming the powerful, capable people he knew they could be. He could see the wild strength in them, the potential to break free from the chains of their old lives and ride through life with confidence, just as he had.

Each day, he watched them transform—slowly at first, then with more certainty. Their shoulders squared, their voices deepened, their confidence growing with each step they took toward the cowboy life. Jake felt a surge of pride with every person he helped, knowing he was giving them more than just advice. He was giving them the tools to become themselves, the strongest, most resilient versions of who they were meant to be.

One evening, after a long day of working with a few of his friends, Jake found himself back at the same bar where his journey had started. He leaned back against the bar, cowboy boots scuffed and dusty, his flannel rolled up to his elbows. He smiled as he glanced around the room, noticing the subtle changes in the people he’d helped. He’d started something—something bigger than himself.

The cowboy from that first night appeared again, almost like a figure of fate. He sidled up next to Jake at the bar, his familiar grin back in place. “Looks like you’ve been busy, partner.”

Jake nodded, his voice steady. “More than I thought I’d be. They’re coming around, one by one.”

The cowboy tipped his hat, looking around the bar, the room filled with people who were on the same path Jake had once walked. “That’s the thing about cowboys,” he said, voice low. “We don’t just ride for ourselves. We ride for others. Show them the way.”

Jake smiled, looking down at his hands. “Yeah,” he said. “We do.”

As he stood there, feeling the quiet satisfaction of not just his own transformation but the changes he had sparked in others, Jake realized that he had become more than just a cowboy. He had become a leader—someone who lived by the cowboy code, someone who helped others find their way back to what was real.

And as he looked around the bar, he knew he wasn’t done. There were still ponies out there—waiting to become broncos.

[writingoddess1125]

1999 Pt 6

Kurt Wagner x Fem Reader

Some Angst, Sad Topics, Mild Domestic Violence

Reader has Empath abilities and can feel others emotions, her mind can not be read either, and if she touches someone she can make them feel what feel what she feels.

Marvel Masterlist <<

Kofi

(Y/N) stood in her kitchen angrily chopping down on some vegetables. Her lips a thin tight line as she minced some onion like it had wronged her.

It had been a shit show to say the least.

Kurt's little stunt of immediately outing himself as Milo and Leon's father had turned her livingroom into what could only be described as a emotional battle ground... that turned into a physical one.

Sure the first few seconds may have been silently as it felt like a vacuum had sucked out all the air in the room.

It was then that Milo had been the first to take action breaking the still room, rolling up from his seat next to (Y/N) as he smoothed out invisible imperfections in his clothes like he was a professional. His face like stone making it unreadable as he looked to all the adults in the room and wished them a good evening, going as far as to shake Xaviers hand. His emotions which had been a rolling tirade seemed to have just shut off at the sight of Kurt-

Poor Xavier normally a rational man seemed just as surprised as he shook Milo's hand silently as the teen left the livingroom, shifting to his humanoid form and walking out of the house silently, the poor Professor hand still hanging in the air were Milo had left it.

(Y/N), Xavier, Jean, Logan and Kurt staring at the front door where Milo had just left- Before the adults eyes all shifted to Leon who was still standing there- His eyes staring at Kurt still as he seemed to be shaking a bit, so many emotions going across his face that it was overwhelming...

(Y/N) Just starting to come out of her own shock tried to reach out to her remaining son, but when her fingers touched him he recoiled like she had burned him, his eyes starting to shimmer with tears.

Stepping back once, then again as if they would all attack him if he moved too fast... Before his tail tucked between his legs, and he Bamf away in a second.

...

This lead to (Y/N) doing the first thing that came to her mind..

Throwing the nearest thing at Kurt- Aka a Table Lamp.

And try to jump over the coffee table to strangle the blue elf who had been dazed by the lamp...

Of course having several X-Men with two of the most powerful telepaths probably on earth it was fairly quick to get the now screaming women down- Kurt having not reacted fast enough to the lamp being thrown trying to recover as Jean and Xavier tried to get her calm. Logan knowing when it was a queue to leave- Helping Kurt up and out of the house.

It had been a bit of a blur after that, from the emotional unleash that (Y/N) displayed- To Jean also crying and asking for forgiveness in the part she played in this cluster fuck. Then (Y/N) kicking the two telepaths put of her home- Xavier apologizing of course and trying to ease the tension as he escorted Jean out of the home to leave (Y/N) to her own devices.

And now she was in the kitchen angrily cooking away, in her kitchen. Her mind racing with what part of her life she needed to deal with first.

Her Past coming back like a giant blue pimple on her ass- Her son's who had disapeared and possibly hate her? Or the own heart break that seemed to rear its ugly head again everytime she looked at the blue pimple asshole fucker fuck fuck!!..

She didn't know why cooking was what she decided would ease her brain- Most would think screaming, crying, stoically staring at a wall.. but nope- Chopping vegetables seemed to be it.

In the background the soft sound of a door opening and closing, and heavy steps coming towards her. Hearing the soft sound of padded feet hitting lamonated tile (Y/N) didn't need to look to know who it was- Kurt standing next to her awkwardly as he held a bag of frozen vegetables to his head were the lamp had oh so gracefully connected.

"...I... wish to apologize.. again" Kurt said softly, setting a box of beer on the counter not far from were she was cutting the vegetables-

It was definitely a risk to bring alcohol to a very angry Ex with a knife- However Kurt at this point didn't know what else to do... he felt like if he brought flowers (Y/N) may shove them in a place he really didn't want-

(Y/N) paused her actions taking a deep breath, setting the knife down and grabbed a can of beer which she silently opened, taking a sip of as Kurt grabbed one as well doing the same for his own drink.

Both adults now drinking beer in a partly destroyed house. Kurt couldn't help but be at least mildly impressed- She'd defiently caught him by surprise.

"...I threw a lamp at you"

(Y/N) finally said, seemingly finally coming to terms with the last few hours.

"Ja.. You did"

The two of them stood in silence again, Kurt pulling the homemade ice pack away and setting it next to him.

"I shouldn't have done.. many thing- Showing myself... leaving you... it was.. unfair to you" Kurt mumbled, glancing to (Y/N) as he watched her sip her beer once more, her face fairly unreadable.

"Yeah... I'm sorry for the Lamp-"

Kurt couldn't help but chuckle at this, for some reason finding it a bit funny. Even (Y/N) cracked a slight smile at this as she looked down at her beer can and nodded silently.

Silence again..

"Do you.. need help with dinner?" Kurt offered, Gesturing to the mess of vegetables. (Y/N) also looking at her minced masterpiece, drinking more of her beer and sighing heavily.

"Honestly- I have no idea what I was planning on making. I think I was just chopping stuff for the sake of it" She admitted, Kurt nodding understanding silently Thanking God that she had taken her anger on the vegetables.

"When do you think they will.. return?"

(Y/N) shrugged, clearly deflated at this point as she leaned against the counter top finishing her drink and grabbing another sadly.

"They can teleport farther then you and it can be a real pain to find them when they don't wanna be found.. so it's best to wait it out"

"How far?" He asked, curiosity getting the best of him. (Y/N) smiling at this as she shook her head once more-

"So far they have gone about 20 miles"

Oh how Kurt looked to (Y/N) with pure joy on his face, a boyish laugh bubbling through him.

"20 Miles!? That 32 Kilometers! Ha!" He said as he clapped his hands together excitedly, for a moment he forgot about the problems that weighed on him- He couldn't help but let pride bubble in his chest, his sons were already amazing!

"Mhm.." (Y/N) hummed, drinking more of her beer as she stared at nothing. Kurt realizing right now may not be the best time to be bubbling in joy at his new found sons, rubbing the back of his neck as he looked to his former lover.

Awkward silence again. (Y/N) finished her beer and sat up suddently, tossing her two cans in the trash.

"I'll order food... the boys will be back eventually and probably be hungry" She said rather matter of factly- turning away from Kurt as she went to find some take out menus

"Ja.. That sounds like a good idea..." He mumbled clasping his hands together infront of himself awkwardly.

Lord Help Me...

The two of them didn't speak again to each other- Not when food had been ordered, nor delivered or when the two of them awkwardly sat in the livingroom to eat.

The food was no better then ash in either of their mouths, silently chewing on the oily food. It was awkward.. so very very awkward-

However in a weird way Kurt felt like this awkward feeling (and the knot on his forehead) were little in the price of penance for leaving (Y/N) and his children... It was a small price after all he had done- or more correctly what his inaction had done.

He had so many questions.. He wanted to know what the twins were like, their interest, what their birthdays were, what (Y/N) had been through, if she had photos of those major events in their lives.

(Y/N) stopped eating as she rubbed her face with a heavy sigh.

"Ask Kurt.. You forget I can feel your emotions"

Kurt blushed a big, his cheeks turning purple at forgetting she could feel what he was.

"Leid (Sorry).."

At this small glimmer of what he hoped was forgiveness he asked away every question that came to his mind about his children.. Sitting there, intensely listening to (Y/N) as she told him everything- well everything involving the children, seemingly ignoring anything that had to do with herself.

From their favorite foods, colors, stories of their life, Kurt found himself pleasantly surpsied at how forthcoming she was with this information. Happy to know as much as he could, even chuckling at a few stories he had been told about his offsprings.

"Thank you (Y/N).. I do have to know, Why Milo and Leon? A Soilder and a Lion- Quite strong names"

"That I'll keep to myself-" (Y/N) said calmly, Kurt deciding not to pry any further and nodding. After that it went back to silence, Dinner was finished- Leftovers placed on the counter in hopes of enticing the teenagers. (Y/N) was even generous enough to allow Kurt to sleep on the couch that evening. Before she disapeared down the hallway into her own room- Doubting she was sleeping...

So now Kurt sat in the dark livingroom-

He couldn't sleep.. not in the fucking slightest.

Sitting up he rubbed his face, In times like this his faith felt like his only anchor.. Truly his Hail Mary.

His rosary in his hand as he counted the beads and prayed... He prayed for forgiveness... He prayed for his sons not to hate him... For (Y/N) for give him... Or just for his sons to return soon.

eins.. zwei... drei... vier... fünf

His mind went back to his boys however between his counting of the holy beads.

...Milo favorite color is Red like the Chicago Bulls... He loves Basketball, His favorite food is Strawberries...

sechs.. sieben... acht... neun... zeun..

He had good grades, likes to read a lot since he says it makes him relaxed and his favorite music is R & B.. He Likes the group Dru Hill ..

eins.. zwei... drei... vier... fünf

..Leon favorite color is Yellow because he thinks his eyes are cool.. He loves to skateboard, and his favorite food is spaghetti with extra cheese and ranch...

sechs.. sieben... acht... neun... zeun..

He is a terrible student since he can't sit still, he loves punk and rock music, his favorite band is Red Hot Chili Peppers..

Kurt's eyes began to grow heavy as he thought to himself and continue to count, his lids beginning to droop as darkness took in his vision.

eins.. zwei... drei...

As his eyes finally closed, as exhaustion of the emotional day wrapped around him-

Missing the kitchen window slowly sliding open..

Tag List:

@bruher @alexloveskii @hahaspoilhaha @coliflowerplants @nixonvandeleim @trinswhimsys @black-brained @alastorhazbin @slytherinmushu @i-am-iron-man-3000 @justarandomwriterwriting @allgonemad @sadslasher13 @bimboshaggy @koko-kiko @boywivlove @devotedlyshadowytheorist @newtonfinnigan @mad-grace-amber @bufaunfu @babyred7 @veronika272

[court-jobi]

Reheat

((banner by me! I don't own Horikoshi's work OR the mindblowing art of @gsony24))

Pairing: Midoriya x reader (support-hero!reader x teacher Izuku)

Words: 2.5k

Rating: G~

Warnings: comfort fic, tooth-rotting fluff here y'all, established relationship, work stress (livin' vicariously), talks of the future, a few fem pronouns used, but generally gender-neutral

Summary:

Izuku letting himself into your home after a long day has become comfortable background noise, and one you love to hear while you're bogged down. Work has been following you home all week. He's proud of you, without a doubt... But equally concerned when he sees your dinner half-eaten, your mind scatterbrained and racing faster than he can anchor you, and your angel eyes in desperate need of some TLC. He's cemented his place in your heart- and sees no reason he can't make himself at home here already.

A/N: do I have bigger fics in mind? Yes. Did I write this instead of sleeping bc I love soft, encouraging Deku? Also yes. Izuku Midoriya is a motivational speaker.

For my My Hero Academia Masterlist, check it out here!

Read on AO3

“Hey honey! I’m here!”

Over the tinny, background chatter of a podcast streaming from your phone, you call back to Izuku letting himself in.

“Hey you~” You throw interest into your voice, but still stayed tuned into your work.

“Ooo what’s this… What did you make here on the stove?”

“Risotto– it’s Italian~ has lots of veggies and good stuff in it,” you didn’t stop your typing pace, engrossed too heavily in getting an email out before you forget about it and Gmail has to ‘nudge’ you, again, “-gave it a Japanese spin with what I had in the house.”

“Oh wow– oh my gosh, honey– this is so good!”

You look up since your darling man has just appeared in your doorway, sparkly eyed to see you, but equally sated by what’s just graced his mouth. It was a meal you could babysit between taking a quick shower, getting ready for work, letting its flavors marry in the fridge throughout the day, and popping back on the stove that night.

“I’m glad, happy you like it~”

“D’you eat?” Izuku asks, midbite.

“Mhm. Little bit ago,” You motion to your bowl- but when he comes alongside you, he tuts over noting it's only half empty.

“You didn't finish- you feelin’ ok?”

Having circled back onto your screen, you double take again, this time caught by his perception check over you and feeling guilty. 

“Oh. Guess I didn't. I’ll nuke it up here in a bit.”

Izuku, setting down his bowl and starting the -normally alluring- task of rolling up his shirt sleeves to his forearms, comes to your side. However since you’re paying little mind to your peripherals, you missed the show the was making of it. A simple ask of ‘what’re you working on’ came from him, sounding no different than if he wasn't trying to make eyes at you; fact was, you just weren't paying attention.

“Just some stuff for the interns,” the sight of how many tabs are open on your split screen -and in your mind- make you sigh, “With this new role, I kinda feel like you some days. Lesson plans, processing their paperwork; it’s all the stuff you had to turn in as an intern– only now I'm the one dealing with it on the backend.”

Izuku sifted around though your training materials and your propped tablet making itself useful as a second screen. At your handwritten to-do list that’s one of the only things non-digitized nowadays, he makes an offhand comment that your handwriting is nice. It's the kind of cute, ‘blink-and-you’d-miss-it’ things he says that you just hum to, whether you were really listening or not.  

When you glance up to him again, you see he’s watching you with a caring gaze and feel caught.

 “What’re you looking at?” you tease, typing again to break the silence.

“A pretty girl…” Izuku teased lightly, “who doesn’t know when to take a break.”

You type away at his call out– the need for a night off at Izuku’s side is exactly why you've been working so hard at this. You figured you'd get some of this extra prep work under control now, so by the time he rolls around on Wednesday for your standing date n–

You freeze. 

Realizing what day it is in your planner.  It's Wednesday. For dinner.

“Oh my God- -you’re here.”

“Mhmmm~” Izuku really doesn't want to laugh, but his sucking in of a lip isn't hiding it well. 

“ohmygod imtheworst!!” you refresh your face in both hands, talking through the gaps.

“You are not!” Izuku chuckled, setting your notes down. “You just got busy with all the new tasks, because you’re just that good.” 

A faithful, scarred hand comes over to smooth over your back, pulling you over into a little half hug. You sink against him, relishing in his little forehead kiss. He can try all he likes to cure your embarrassment, but you look to him apologetically.

“I’ve never forgotten our dinner dates, ‘Zuku…”

Your darling shrugged unbothered, “Had to happen sometime. It’s no big deal.”

“Is to me,” you pressed- very much bothered.

“Honey,” Izuku chips your chin up, “You’re too hard on yourself. It’s ok, these things happen! I mean, you still made a delicious dinner; even if it was a bit of an oversight I would -in fact- be eating it.”

The pang of guilt hits you at forgetting. This was just a symptomatic sign that the brilliance of your taking on the additional role of Education Coordinator at the agency was perhaps an over-zealous one. Not only to be on-call for your base job as a linguistics quirk specialist, but to balance another full time role on the office hours end? Why did you convince Fatgum this was a good idea? It sounded like a stellar idea back at the beginning of the summer…

Now you’re forgetting not just who you’re supposed to be eating with- but also eating in general.

“I’m glad you did,” you boost Izuku’s elephant-like memory, “It feels so normal to have you here, it's not like I completely forgot I’d see you today. I just– maybe I… thought I was gonna take some to you, since I wouldn't see you till later in the week? I dunno.”

“C’mere- never got a real hug.” 

You rise at his hand’s insistence, and stretch up into his full, healing embrace. 

“Hi baby,” you cooed pitifully.

“Hi, my angel. Missed you today.”

You hummed at the affection, sinking into his neck more out of your residual misery.

Izuku simply took advantage of you being close to sway you in his wide stance- a dance, sans music.

“I appreciate you cooking so much for us,” he spoke gently from his perch over your shoulder, “I was looking forward to it all day, y’know? You’re always so thoughtful with everything you make.”

He’s pressing into you with compliments- against your hard wiring to accept…

“‘Zuku.”

“It’s true~ you’re generous! You remember what my favorites are, and leave out the stuff I don’t like; you even send me leftovers. And you make snacks and treats for when the midnight munchies strike– what can’t you do?”

“Zuku…”

“And you–” he runs a hand through your hair as he sways your shy self back and forth, “-- make for the most funny, beautiful, fascinating, most inspiring company I could ever hope to share a meal with.”

Head thunking onto his shoulder, you playfully land a closed fist on his chest with a muffled, whiny plea for him to stop.

He sighs, all in good humor.

“This streak of yours... I really have my work cut out for me, don’t I? Still can’t imagine how bad it must be in that brilliant mind that my incredible girlfriend has such a hard time accepting the tiniest compliment. Maybe it’s all that late night American comedy you watch...”

You exhale then fix him with your coolest look of sarcasm, anything to show that you have a modicum of having your shit together. So you cope with humor- who doesn't?

–shame that it looks too much like a pout and makes you decidedly not threatening at all, because Izuku just beams brightly at you in response.

“Oh! Now there’s my melty princess- I was wondering where she went.”

And at that, the aloofness was gone, and you snort into a laugh and hug him tighter around the neck. He even scoops you up and gives you one little twirl for good measure. 

When he set you down, Izuku cups your face in his hands and gifts you a few more forehead kisses before demanding your sights. 

“Now. We need to get you to finish eating first. Then, what can I do to help you tonight, hm? How can I make things easier for you?”

With a softer eye to your desk’s work, you sat back down staying connected to your ever doting Izuku by way of your hand in his. You tried again to focus back. You're newly refreshed by his affections and attempt for a more positive outlook, 

“Well, my goal of doing this tonight was so that I didn’t have to go in early tomorrow. Course, if I do run myself ragged tonight, I won't be any good to anyone there– or for you, here. But I think if I pare it down to just getting these e-sigs ready and getting their time-in checklists set up for their work study onboarding, that would give me a good enough start, and I can fill in the rest of their packets tomorrow. But that means I’d need -ugh- maybe… another hour of work tonight?” you looked to him for his approval, “I have a template, so it shouldn’t take me forever.”

“Alright! You’re the boss,” Izuku supported your plan with a smile, “How about I take care of the kitchen for you while you finish up?”

“You do not have to clean my kitchen!” you spouted back, offended– causing a laugh to burst from him, “It’s not funny! I didn’t ask you to come over after a day of work yourself to just slave away at my mess.”

Izuku fixed you a look, as if you knew better. 

“I think I can tidy up a kitchen, no matter how busy of a day I’ve had. Yours isn't even over yet- so when precisely were you going to have the energy to hammer at it? You’ll enjoy not having that mountain waiting for you.”

You huffed, but smiled gratefully all the same. 

“Besides, it’s just me- doing something nice for the woman I love; and I happen to like doing nice things for you. You deserve a clean space, hun.” 

He cleared off your previous bowl to reheat along with your empty water cup. Shaking the hollow straw inside to where it clinks, he knows exactly what you need and tells you so.

“You are getting a screenless break first, though. Something tells me you didn’t the first time around~”

Settled with a fist propping up your face, you swooned over this darling man. 

Trusting Autosave to have done its job, you shut the laptop down blindly, “Sure didn’t~” 

Izuku just rolled his eyes and stepped out of the study. 

You neaten up the collated stack of applications laid out by you and stepped over to the couch, taking a kneeling perch on the end while you sought out a new record for the player on the side table. Setting one on, it was able to fire up and fill some new life into the room with a movie score you haven’t listened to in a while. Everything just sounds better on vinyl.

When Izuku came back in the room, he’d found his houseshoes and returned with renewed interest to your music choice- and with a pleased expression seeing you actually lounging and taking things easier than how he found you. He traded your reheated meal in exchange for your blue-light glasses, which he’d then clean with a pocket square and set back on your desk once they were smudgeless.

“Now, that’s a better sight~ here you go, all set for later.”

You enjoyed Izuku’s company while finishing dinner, listening to him outline his workday while he cradled your legs in his lap. He'd had a pleasantly eventful one, with plenty to say about it. You’d play ‘two truths and a lie’ sometimes when he didn’t want to bore you with a particularly mind-numbing schedule, which pleased you just as well. You excelled at it, while he gave away his fictions every time- a terrible liar for the game, but great for a faithful partner, you reasoned.  You truly loved hearing him talk and talk, your love only growing at the domesticity of this feeling and never wanting that to change. 

Once you were done, you were honestly content to hear him continue his tangent, but it seems his inner discipline was stronger than yours. 

“Alright, now to attack that sink~”

You bemoaned again for his sake. But since you made such a small, affected noise, Izuku paused mid-rise, and sat back down a bit closer to you. He stretched an arm over the back of the couch, encouraging you to come closer and met you for a sweet kiss in the middle.

His mere presence reverted you to a younger self sometimes– one desperate for his attention, good or bad. It wasn't the loveliest impulse, but he clearly thinks it's all part of your charm seeing as he gives in every time, anyway.

“Thing is,” Izuku spoke softly while adoring the hand now placed in his, “If things keep going the way I think they’re going -the way I hope they’re going- it’s.. not hard to imagine that there’s gonna be both our dishes to clean up all the time. In our kitchen, in our home someday. So this is just practice, right? Seems perfectly normal to me. How it should be.”

That idea bloomed in your chest, the thought of sharing a home with him- where this exchange of chores and time together could be your new normal. Only it would be a future where he didn’t have to leave at the end of the night and go back to a bed with compact, collegiate-designed storage at the campus accommodations he stays in on the instructor's wing. He’s got enough to get him by, but he noticeably prefers your home here closer to downtown.

“And what happens when we both wanna ditch the dishes?” you countered sweetly.

Izuku smirked, “That’s what a dishwasher is for. Another thing we’d own together…”

“Forward thinking, there.” You relished that idea. 

Izuku nuzzled your forehead thoughtfully. 

“You’ve been doing things on your own for a long time– and it shows, sweetheart.”

His words came carefully, from a tender place spoken in confidence between you, referring to when you’ve spent other late nights like this one fueled with hot tea and a desire to keep ignoring the clock.

“And I know you’ve been used to that since you’ve been traveling so much, not even having roommates to help keep you company or lighten the load. I keep wishing I could have known you sooner, had more time with you before you had to learn some of those things the hard way… but I’m happy I get the chance to, now. I’m here now, and you’re not alone, so I hope you’ll let me take care of you when I can.”

With another happy sigh forcing your eyes shut, the mental will it took to not let the tears of a perpetual eldest daughter leave you was intense.

Izuku Midoriya never failed to hit the nail on the head when it came to pep talks; he does the same with his students. But why his ones aimed at you had to have a Full Cowling dash of heartfelt anecdotes in it, you don't know. But you're grateful. You're so grateful for him. 

“If you don’t quit talkin’ like that, Izuku, I will never let you leave this condo.”

He chuckled again, lifting your cheek for another kiss, “Twist my arm, love.”

Ultimately, he rose to quit distracting you, but not without you watching him leave with a hunger you’d never felt for another soul before.