#or did I just do a smashing job of making their characters clear?

[katnissdoesnotfollowback]

A thought…

Gotta say, I am strangely touched by how accurate some of y’all’s head canons and expectations are for Spellbound. As in, legitimately, several of the things you’ve all come up with are going to happen and/or exist in my notes. And the ones that weren’t already in the plans, weren’t something already in my notes, feel spot on to me in terms of the characterization I was aiming for… and I just don’t know what to think of that but it gives me warm fuzzy feelings.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

What did you think about Jade's role in the latest book 7 chapter? I found it hilarious how between the tweel's dreams his was more chaotic. It was also funny how they brought up Jade's motion sickness since I think the only moments it's been shown was in flight class and I think in Vil's playful land vignette after a rollercoaster ride. I'm really curious about your own highlights ^~^

Honestly, I felt pretty meh about Jade’s involvement in the Octavinelle update 😅

***Book 7 part 10 spoilers below the cut!!***

His own dream segment was alright, it got a few chuckles out of me (though as expected, we didn’t really learn anything significantly new about Jade because of the shallow nature of the dream). Jade’s crybaby dream!Azul was about what I expected, but his dream!Floyd certainly wasn’t. The goofy face on his twin… It made me wonder how Jade truly sees Floyd. Does that weird face mean Jade sees his brother—who comes off as imposing to many others—as cute and harmless? Or does that mean Jade actually looks down on Floyd and thinks of him as a simpleton who likes to eat…? It’s hard to tell (personally I like the former interpretation), but it’s been fun looking at the different perspectives of the same information.

Something I find interesting is that the twins’ moments of waking mirror each other’s usual approaches to a task. Floyd usually foregoes a plan and prefers to use his fists to get the job done. However, he is slowly roused by reminiscing about his memories at NRC and the promise of being presented with a challenge. The final blow that shocks him awake is the presentation of a dream!Azul and dream!Jade who attempt to lure him deeper into the dream. Floyd doesn’t fall for it; in fact, he gets mad instead, and that fury, so biting and clear, snaps him awake. The opposite is true for Jade. He is someone who meticulously plans before acting, and would rather control the circumstances and use other roundabout methods before resorting to violence. But ironically, the master manipulator Jade is the one who falls for his own dream’s manipulations—all because he trusts himself above all else. He only wakes up because of a very strong physical force (ie Sebek’s UM) striking him. Prior to this, Jade was putting up a very good fight and the blows be was taking were not sufficient to wake fully him. So… Floyd, the brother who prefers brawns, woke up after reflecting and experiencing strong cognitive dissonance between his fake reality and bis true reality. Jade, the brother who prefers brains, woke up after being smacked the right amount. They woke up after experiencing an intense shock related to what is essentially the opposite of their preferred problem solving strategies.

I liked seeing Jade and Floyd fight! Book 7 is showing us a lot of things that were brief off-handed mentions elsewhere (like how Rook used to be in Savanaclaw, how Lilia is a war vet, etc.). The twins having violent brawls was previously brought up in Floyd’s Beach Wear vignettes, and it’s nice to be able to view the full extent of it ourselves. Floyd was NOT joking when he said they got into serious fights…

I have mixed feelings about Jade’s behavior within Azul’s dream. I’m NOT saying any of this is out of character or that all of his moments were bad. There were lots of little standouts (like Jade’s motion sickness, the passive aggressive “Azul-san”, smashing up the restaurant, and, of course, him and Floyd grabbing onto Azul and then trusting him to make it out on his own before choosing to let him go). Unfortunately, there were just as many examples of Jade wasting time and meandering, which I was a little annoyed about. The world might be done for if y’all don’t hurry it up 😭 You do NOT have the time to casually smash plant pots or to sit idly by and go “…………” while you watch Azul act like an idiot. I know you have a bigger brain than THAT, Jade. If you already knew what Azul’s weak point was, then you should be acting on it much sooner, not wasting my time like this.

I can see the reasoning for some of this to an extent. Jade is the type of person to drag things out; he wants to enjoy the show as others struggle to attain what they desire. The problem is that this segment still feels… forced or artificially drawn out simply because of the already established pattern of “well we gotta dedicate more time to the OB boy, we have so many other novel assets and scenarios to show off!!” There continues to be so little urgency while prioritizing showing off new assets or even things that seem cool in concept but may be lacking in execution because of how fast new stuff is being thrown at us. It’s just so frustrating because it creates this domino effect where the implication is that Jade doesn’t seem to be taking the situation seriously even though he, as an individual who is skilled in reading others + pinpointing their weaknesses AND as one of Azul’s close aide, should automatically clock what would reasonably wake him. But nooooo, Jade doesn’t do it right away because HEY, we need to create contrived scenarios where he, Floyd, and Azul have to use their UMs once each. Why? Because we have to follow the patterns we’ve already established in the updates before theirs! No other reason, we’re not allowed to stray from the formula! This is even worse when you think about how Jade was somehow unable to deduce that Azul would have moved the contracts to his own room… Like shouldn’t that be the FIRST place you think of, Jade????? No??? Is this an excuse so you can waste time using your Mouse mandated UM on dream!Jade to get the location??? 🤡 Okay, I guess…

The one last thing I have to note is that I’m so glad his and Floyd’s Groovies don’t show them crying. I feel like a lot of people were anticipating that because we previously had Kalim and Rook breaking down… However, it would be remiss to equate all the characters as being as emotional as those latter two are. (Lilia, Sebek, and Ortho were also limited story cards and none of them featured crying.) That’s not to say that I think the twins are incapable of expressing intense sadness, it’s that I don’t think they’d shed tears while attacking each other or Azul. Not crying doesn’t make Jade and Floyd “worse” or “less emotionally available”. It, in fact, alludes to the strength of the trio’s bond. It means they trust the others to be strong enough to take the hits, to fight back and to survive. The same thing is demonstrated when Jade and Floyd willingly let go of Azul and allow him to sink into the darkness, even wishing him well before they do. And to that, Azul just says the same to them (in a smug tone). These three trust each other, and that is why the twins don’t shed tears; how can they cry when they fully believe the ones they’ve chosen to spend their time with are strong enough to make it out on their own?

Overall, I just 💦 do not like the rigid skeleton of these dreams… (which I’ve already expressed before here!) I’m so tired of the same thing back to back, and no matter how many details they try to change to make it cool or feel unique, it always comes at the cost of pacing or, in this case, some character integrity being removed. xbjsvskwjekw Maybe I’m just more sensitive about this since I hate it when a smart character has to actively be dumbed down in order to progress the plot in a certain way. This is a much more subtler of a dumbing down than what book 2 did with Leona, but… It still doesn’t leave me feeling very good 😔 If anyone has played the first Ace Attorney game, this feels a LOT like that part in case 2 where Phoenix is too dumb to check the back of a receipt until Mia literally tells him to. The character has to actively be made stupider because the scenario calls for it, and that really rubs me the wrong way.

[ladykailitha]

Never Hold Back Your Step... Part 9

Yay!! Another chapter of this lovely chronicle. I really do recommend going back and re-reading a bit since it's been so long.

But in this we have Harrington Sr. being an ass, the most epic confrontation I've ever written, and Dustin being sweet and asshole at the same time. The kid has range.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8

****

Late at night in the last days before the school ended, they would climb up on the roof of the trailer and talk about their hopes and dreams.

Eddie had told him that he was going to try third time lucky to graduate. And then if he didn’t make it next year, he’d take the GED and walk away, ready to join Steve wherever he was. Not that he wanted to leave Eddie behind or the kids. But if he was to go to college, he’d have to.

Steve walked across that stage to thunderous applause, all his friends, the kids, Eddie and Wayne all cheering for him. Even Nancy and Jonathan had been there to cheer him on. But there, in the stands frowning at the people Steve had surrounded himself with, were his parents.

Steve knew he should feel grateful that they came at all. But he knew it was more about image and appearing to be the perfect parents than any actual interest. He saw them clap politely and then his father pulled out a newspaper and his mother fussed with her hair and makeup the whole time.

They took pictures with him afterwards with fake smiles plastered on and took him out to dinner to talk about his future. Which was all about joining the company and getting his business degree. Two things that Steve had no interest in doing.

He had hoped to get scholarships for college based on his sports so that he wouldn’t have to rely on his dad’s money, but that fell through.

He had missed the early decision deadline, because he had had his head smashed in. So he had sent the applications off at the start of the new year. But by then his grades had slipped due to the concussion and the letters coming back weren’t a good sign.

He would just have to try and reason with his dad about college and keep his fingers crossed he’d get out of this town somehow.

****

“These are your grades?” Mr. Harrington bellowed. “How are you supposed to get into good colleges and universities with these?”

The first week of June was not a good week, ever, in Steve’s opinion. It was when grades were mailed out and he had to listen to the screaming for a full week.

“I had that concussion in the middle of the year, remember?” Steve asked. “That set my grades back a bit. But I thought I would take a year of community college and build my grades back up to get into the better schools.”

“No son of mine is going to a state school!” Mr. Harrington roared. “And you can forget about that summer internship at the company! I will not have tell others that you didn’t get into a proper school.”

Steve could feel his stomach sink to the base of spine. He didn’t like where this was going. At all.

“You will get a job,” Mr. Harrington continued to menace. “I don’t mean some cushy life guard bullshit where you sit in some high tower, looking pretty, either. A real job. Retail. Build character.”

“But I already told Mr. Jones at the community center that I would lifeguard again this summer,” Steve protested.

“You go back there and tell him you have better things to do with your time!” Mr. Harrington shouted. “That new mall opened up. Starcourt. You’ll find something there.” He leaned forward into Steve’s space. “Do I make myself clear?”

Steve gulped, but nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

“Good.”

Mr. Harrington turned on his heel and stormed back into his office. Mrs. Harrington stood at the edge of the room, almost swaying on her feet as she would move forward to comfort Steve, but then would change her mind. Back and forth.

Steve pinched his nose and rubbed the end. He looked up at her with dead eyes. “He’ll keep moving the goal posts. You know he will.”

This time she did surge forward. “You know it’s not like that. He only wants what’s best for you.”

“Best for me?” Steve murmured, barely holding back the tears. “Or what will make him look the best? Because I’m tired, Mom.”

“It’s hard,” Mrs. Harrington said, rubbing his arm gently. “But come autumn he’ll see how well you did and maybe he’ll let you try for the state school.”

Steve knew it was a lie or whatever that she was telling herself more than she was tell him.

He pinched and rubbed his nose, forcing back the tears. He wasn’t going to cry in front of either of his parents. It only enraged his father and prompted mocking from his mother.

Oh, she hid it under the guise of ‘tough love’ but it was all tough and no love.

He thought of Wayne and Eddie. Of how they didn’t have a lot of material possessions but they had each other and their love for each shone brightly.

Steve held up his chin and nodded. Then he grabbed his keys and wallet, forcing on his shoes.

“Where are you going?” his mother huffed. “Storming off like that after a fight with your father is so childish, Steven.”

Steve turned to her slowly and blinked. “To talk to Mr. Jones about not being able to lifeguard this year and go job hunting at the mall like Dad wants?”

She rolled her eyes. “You’re always so dramatic, Steven. I suppose that was why you took so well to it. Of course, if you had any real talent you would have gotten a more substantial role.”

He squeezed his hand around his keys, the ridges digging into his palm, as he fought down the bile that rose to his throat.

“I’ll be back for dinner,” Steve said through gritted teeth. He rushed out the door, careful not to slam it behind him.

He drove out to the community center and hit his steering wheel over and over as he cursed out his parents until he was exhausted.

He sighed and got out the car, making his way to front desk. “Hey, Janis, is Mr. Jones in today?”

Janis smiled at him. “Sure thing, sweetie. Just go on back.”

Steve caught Mr. Jones as he was coming back to his office.

“Hey, Steve!” Mr. Jones said cheerfully, coming up to him with a big smile. “You here for your schedule?”

Steve shook his head. “My dad didn’t like my grades and told me I had to get a real job. Sorry.”

“Shit, Steve, I’m sorry,” Mr. Jones said crumpling. “And there’s no chance he’ll let you do both?”

“No,” Steve said bitterly. “If he finds out I’m working here he’ll beat my ass. I wanted to come back, but I guess my dad had other plans.”

“Well, well,” a cruel voice said behind them, “it looks like you have an opening after all, Mr. Jones.”

Steve and Mr. Jones turned toward the voice slowly, knowing with complete dread who it was.

Billy Hargrove was leaning against the wall, arms folded and a giant smirk on his face.

“Looks like your loss is my gain, Harrington,” he said coolly.

Steve rolled his eyes. “Story of my life since you rolled into town, Hargrove. You stole my friends, the captain of the basketball team, hell you probably would have stolen my girl if she liked jocks instead of tortured artists or some shit. It ain’t new.”

“You’re just bitter that I’m the superior you in every way,” Billy said with a sneer. “The sooner you admit it, the less heartache you’ll have, pretty boy.”

Steve threw back his head and laughed. “I have other talents, asshole. I can draw, I can act, and I can fucking swim. While you were out there fucking anything with a pussy that would let your scaly ass, I was beating records and making it to nationals as part of our swim team. You are just some washed up surfer in desperate need a wave. I am a swimmer.”

He nodded to Mr. Jones who had a smug smile on his face.

Billy was taken aback. “So you do have a spine. Huh. I would have never guessed it. Not with Max and Munson doing your dirty work for you.”

Steve got right up in Billy’s face. “I didn’t go after you, dipshit,” his voice low and menacing. Quiet enough that only he could hear. “Because I just wanted to graduate. But now that I have that diploma, I’m more than ready throw hands with you. Plus we all know I had you against the ropes until you cheated by smashing a plate to my head.”

He patted Billy’s chest and waving goodbye to Mr. Jones, he walked out of there, chin held high.

****

Steve had gathered somewhere around a dozen or so applications to the stores that surrounded him and sat down in the food court to fill them out. His eyes were starting to go cross-eyed when Dustin came up to him and sat down across from him.

“Dude,” Dustin greeted. “What’s all this shit?”

Steve looked up at him and sighed. “Job applications. My dad wants me to get a summer job.”

“But you have a summer job,” Dustin replied with a frown. “The rec center. You’re a lifeguard.”

Steve sighed again and shook his head. “My dad was pissed that I only got into a couple of schools and not the good ones.”

Dustin frowned and tilted his head to the side. “Is that because of what happened with Billy?”

“That’s part of it,” Steve agreed. “But I was really counting on a sports scholarship and with how shitty everything got I didn’t get a single one.”

“But you went to nationals with your swimming though,” the gap-toothed kid grumbled.

Steve put down his pen and planted his hands on either side of his applications. “Look, bud, I get that you think you’re trying to help or whatever but my team came in last at nationals. In everything. No scout was going to give us so much as a passing glance. No sports scholarship plus missing the early acceptance deadline and having to wait for regular admissions means that I’m on a waiting list for most of the good schools, didn’t get in to the decent schools, and my dad won’t let me go to the community college. So here I am doing the best I can, okay?”

Dustin pouted but gave up on pushing the issue. He grabbed the applications and began looking through them.

“Hey!” Steve cried trying to get them back, but Dustin kept dodging him.

He set down three applications. “You can put in for all of if you want, but I’d focus on these three.” Scoops Ahoy, The Gap, and Shapiro’s.

Steve picked them and looked at them. “Why?”

“Those are going to be the ones that kids aren’t going to want to try for,” Dustin said. “And you have to get this job because of your dad. These are more likely to hire you.” He pointed to the ice cream shop. “That one is your best bet.”

Steve nodded. That was one he had been expecting to get too.

“So when are you leaving to nerd camp?” he asked, taking the applications from the kid.

“It’s called Camp Know Where,” Dustin scoffed. “Know as in k-n-o-w where. It’s really cool.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “That still doesn’t tell me when you’re going, dork.”

“Oh!” Dustin said, eyes wide. “Tomorrow. My mom is buying me the things I’ll need so I can leave bright and early.”

Steve’s expression softened. “I’m going to miss you, you know?”

Dustin nodded back. “I’m going to miss you, too.”

Someone called his name and he looked up. “It looks like my mom’s calling me. Good luck on the job search.”

Steve stood up and gave him a hug. “Have fun, okay?”

Dustin nodded and ran to catch up to his mom as Steve went back to his applications with a sigh. He really was going to miss that butthead.

****

Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16

Tag List: ELEVEN SLOTS OPEN

1- @mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @zerokrox-blog

2- @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @kultiras

3- @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

4- @justforthedead89 @irregular-child @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @blondie1006

5- @anne-bennett-cosplayer @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten @genderless-spoon

6- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @angels-of-hades

7- @mugloversonly @y4r3luv @greeniebean911 @birbsauce @acingthecounts

8- @cryptid-system @counting-dollars-counting-stars @ravenfrog @dreamercec

[herejusttosufferalong]

“As much as I love the content we got out of Ireland I think it was a HUGE misstep for the press tour.”

This is going to be long.

This made me think about the press tour strategy, which was certainly planned since the beginning, way before January, I would imagine. And I’m thinking about the days the cast spent in NY in January doing media training and tour prep. And things are starting to make more sense to me about how this whole thing went down.

So, their pre-part 1 press was all focused on the Friends to Lovers trope in all their interviews. They were playful, showing up their chemistry and talking about the parallels with Polin and their history.

Then Part 1 drops and Colin proposes. So then the strategy for press in the month between Part 1 and Part 2 became “Polin are engaged and we’re preparing for their wedding”. That’s where we started to get more “couple” focused press/interviews/shoots in Brazil (engagement shoots, day drinking, drunk red carpet, fuck me eyes at each other). Then after Brazil they started to make the “meet the family before the wedding/prepare for the wedding” rounds, and that’s where things started to really escalate in the progression from Toronto to Ireland to London.

In Toronto Luke and Nic literally met some of her family, and we got the Gosling jealousy interview, and other content where the vibe between them very much gave “couple”. The audience had seen the electricity of the carriage scene and the proposal so we were all primed to devour the content showing them be cute and affectionate with each other during Part 2 press.

In Dublin and Galway the promo threw gas on the fire and we all exploded. Their outfits started outright matching, they’re walking the Dublin red carpet like Royalty, and Nic/Pen had brought her fiancée home to show him her country. In Dublin we also started talking about Polin baby names and “meeting the family”. We got Luke/Colin showing a ton of enthusiasm, more than he’s shown at any point on the tour.

Galway was just next level with the “meet the family” and “were engaged!” (Colin voice) promo. We got the wrap up produced Netflix video, and a public “meet my mom” moment for Pen/Nicola that was heart warming and her family literally cheered at Luke’s hug with her mom. Galway was also where “the engagement ring” was introduced - Nicola’s Bridgerton inspired collaboration with Chupi.

So where are we now heading into the London premiere and the home stretch? Proposal, engagement shoots, meeting the extended family, showing ourselves off with matching outfits in front of hundreds of our friends/supporters, talking about baby names, picking up the engagement ring after our “swift” proposal, showing my fiancée around my hometown, and meeting the immediate family.

We’re ready for the wedding. Enter London premiere.

Nicola/Pen in an actual wedding dress with a veil wearing a ring on her ring finger, and Luke/Colin in a coordinating suit, holding hands and taking pics with the entire Bridgerton family and the rest of the ton, including the Queen. The optics couldn’t be more clear. The London premiere represented the culmination of the press tour strategy to show the progression of Polin from friends to lovers to engaged, to meeting the family, to preparing for the wedding, to the wedding.

And Nicola and Luke did their jobs very well. Too well in fact because there are real feelings there. And Shondaland/Netflix and everyone involved with Bridgerton knows that. The blurring of the lines was bound to happen, and I have to believe the press tour planners knew that. Given that the S3 directors intentionally blurred the lines between the actors and characters when trying to elicit authentic reactions from Luke. Hell, even Nicola did it when she said she wanted to get Luke’s/Colin’s authentic reaction to seeing her in her wedding dress for the first time.

So, as a press tour strategy, I don’t think anything was a misstep. I think the tour was a smashing success from a marketing perspective and achieved exactly what Netflix/Shondaland wanted and now I get why they were willing to invest millions into the tour - they knew Nic/Pen and Luke/Colin would deliver.

As a fan, though, and a Lukola shipper who loves both of them individually, I’m not sure how to feel. I think it’s safe to say Nic and Luke knew the strategy from the beginning and delivered elite press tour performances because they are amazing on-screen partners. As a pairing they create magic in everything they do (just look at the awestruck faces of some of the crowd in the backdrop of their Dublin red carpet). But how much of “the magic” was a performance and how much was genuine? I’m not even talking about their natural chemistry - I’m talking more about the heart eyes, and the longing stares, etc.

Now that all of this has happened since the literal day after the London premiere on June 13 and Luke has (maybe) returned to his pre-tour shenanigans, I’m questioning everything. And I think it’s just going to take a while to process. Thanks for reading 🫠

I really appreciate you sharing this anon 💜

I will recant my previous wording as you are right it was not a misstep but very much intentional.

Naturally my feelings turn to disgust to see this be the case.

As you said above, Shonda, Netflix, production team, etc know and have seen that there is clearly something more going on here between L and N.

Remove the idea that they have either admitted it, recognized it or even acted on it. People can see it, it's palpable at times.

Even though N and L went into this press tour knowing what would be expected of them it still feels like their genuine feelings were prostituted for ratings.

It also makes me wonder just what gimmick they will try for S4 press.

If there will be a world tour for it.

This one was clearly a success but would it have been without the underlying circumstances?

[jazzthatonewriterchick]

Like A Big Girl (Quirkless!Dabi x Black!Fem!Reader 18+ One Shot)

“Take all of me like a big girl, baby.”

Pairing: Quirkless!Touya “Dabi” Todoroki x Black!Fem!Reader 

Synopsis: In which you get the surprise of your life when your apartment neighbor and crush (who happens to be extremely anti-social) shows up at your housewarming party to celebrate your moving into your first-ever apartment after a breakup. 

Warnings: Smutty Smut; 18+ One Shot (MINORS GTFO); Non-Quirked; Disfigured!Dabi (he has burn scars); Alcohol Consumption; Marijuana Use; Flirting; Shotgunning; Foreplay; Exhibitionism; Fingering; Cunnilingus; Deepthroating; Loud Sex; Doggystyle; Scar Appreciation; Non-Protective PIV Sex; Creampie; Scent Play/Marking; Spanking; Mild Degradation; Aftercare

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters mentioned in this fic. However, as this is my writing, I do not give permission for my work to be reposted on any other sites that are not from my own accounts. Thank you!

Writer's Note: WE A COLLEGE GRADUATE BIH!!! I'm so so happy & so excited for the future. Even more for the summertime cuz now I'm free to write! I hope y'all like this one. I needed to write something smutty for my favorite crusty villain. Enjoy & fuck Enji!! -Jazz 💋💋💋

**********

You’ve never been so nervous before until you’re sitting on your couch with a lukewarm tequila sunrise, waiting for your guests of honor to arrive. 

Or rather one guest in particular. You know you shouldn’t be at all. You know you should be socializing and talking to the other guests currently occupying your brand-new apartment in celebration of your down payment and a new accomplishment in life.

You should be laughing, joking, and flirting with the fine-ass men that Rumi insisted on bringing with her to help with catering and cleaning before the party started. 

But you just can’t. The motivation to do so isn’t there, and the reason why is embarrassing.

Rumi, who sits next to you on the couch, looks you up and down. Her stark white hair is piled up into a messy bun on her head and the red bodycon dress she chose for tonight hugs her toned body and legs just right. If anyone could get a lay tonight, it’d be her. “You might wanna smile, babe. You’re scaring off your guests.” 

She gives you a cheeky grin as she sips her drink–a whiskey smash. You’re so glad you managed to find a bartender to make drinks for tonight thanks to Keigo knowing him from his job. You’re even happier that your job’s salary allows you to pay him $550 by the end of tonight. 

“Shut up,” you mumble, bumping her with your knee. But even her brash humor doesn’t make you smile an inch. Rumi rolls her eyes and turns to Nemuri, one of your other hot and longtime friends. “Nemuri, please get this girl another drink so she can get up out of this seat,” Rumi sighs. “I’m tired of seeing that face on her face.” 

Nemuri stands from her seat in her sundress and flats, looking like a sexy girl next door. “I’ll get you some water, honey.” She gives you a wink before making a dash to the snack table located in the kitchen, dodging between people and the wafts of marijuana smoke in the air. Just weed. No vapes or E-cigs are allowed tonight which you made clear in your invitations. 

“I don’t have a face,” you grumble, glaring at Rumi. “And I have gotten out of my seat. I’m the host, aren’t I?” 

“Exactly!” Rumi replies. “Which means you should be walkin’ around and hosting. Not sittin’ here, mopin’ about some dickhead and worryin’ if he’ll show up. Plus, you know how men are: they show up when they want to.” 

“Not true,” you scoff. “That’s a fact that is relevant to my ex, but not to every guy in existence.” Even referring to your ex as simply “your ex” is enough to make you want to down the rest of your drink. Not only did you decide to throw this party to celebrate your buying and moving into your first “big girl” apartment as the start of a new chapter of your life, but you also wanted to celebrate being free of the leech you called your boyfriend of three years. 

“And I’m not moping, okay?” you sharply tell Rumi. “I just wanna make sure there are enough champagne flutes and food. If I get new guests, that means I need more, right?” 

Rumi eyes you down, knowing damn well you’re lying through your teeth. “Whatever you say,” she sing-songs. Nemuri returns with the iced water, handing it to you. “Here you are, honey,” she coos. “What are we talking about?” 

Rumi is happy to fill her girlfriend in. “The fact that she’s ready to toss a wedding ring at this man who’s afraid of leavin’ his apartment for groceries. If she says that’s not why she’s got that sour face, she’s lying.” 

“Hey!” you gasp, kicking at her ankle with your heel. “It’s not a lie! It’s the truth! This is the first party I’m hosting and it’s a lot to worry about, especially since it’s my new apartment.” 

At the beginning of the year is when you found your dream apartment complex. It came with a pool, a tennis court, a gym, and a laundry mat along with central air, free wifi, and vending machines. The neighborhood surrounding the complex was quiet at night, noisy with kids in the morning, and nearby a hub of parks, restaurants, and public transportation. It was the perfect place to begin the new chapter of your life. 

And not to mention a man, in particular, you had a slight thing for lives here. So, after putting down a payment, signing papers, and getting help moving in, you were finally living on your own three months later. Only a party could really welcome you into your new four walls.  But so far, you aren’t enjoying it as much as you should be. 

And that’s all because someone you desperately want to see here tonight is missing. 

“And second, Dabi isn’t afraid of leavin’ his apartment, Rumi,” you criticize your friend. “He’s just not a people person.” At least, that’s what Keigo told you when you met Dabi for the first time. “According to him,” he scoffed. “It’s just an excuse to not socialize, really. But he’s always been like that since we were kids.” 

You caught that vibe from Dabi as soon as you met him several years ago before you met your ex. You met Dabi through Keigo when he dragged his friend to a club to meet up with you and Rumi one spring night for happy hour.

You had heard about Dabi many times before–that he’s a firefighter; that he has some dark humor; that he is kinda weird and awkward but still a pretty nice guy (according to Keigo). As soon as you got a look at that black hair, tight tee shirt, and buff arms roped his tattoos, you were entranced by him. Though he seemed somewhat out of place and like he didn’t want to be there, he carried with him an intoxicating aura, like he was your favorite cocktail drink. 

You were so taken aback at how hot he was that you barely noticed the burn scars. He only had them on his face, neck, and snaking up his arm from what you could see–healed yet puffy skin from second-degree burns coat the left side of his face, cascading down his neck to his upper torso and disappearing down his shirt. Though his arm is roped in tattoos, you can see burn scars there too beneath the dark ink. They aren’t as bad as Keigo said they’d be, but they’re not exactly unnoticeable either. 

But when he spoke, all of that went out the window. Keigo had sat him down across from you and Rumi, grinning. “Ladies, meet my friend, Dabi,” he said. “D, this is Rumi and Y/N.” 

“Nice to meet you,” you had politely said, sticking your hand out for him to shake. His crystal blue eyes, so intense yet mysteriously guarded, flitted up to meet yours. He stuck his hand out and took yours, causing your heart to jump at how warm and calloused his palm was. “You too,” he murmured. 

Lord, if you could have sex with a voice, it’d be his. Though it was raspy like he chain-smoked, it was also deep and traveled from your heart right down to your clit which jumped in your panties beneath your skirt. You had to cross your legs to avoid the feeling as Rumi and Keigo began to chat. Dabi would chime in here and there, but mostly just sipped his drink and looked around the club like a bored and lost puppy. 

He was fine as hell and kind of unintentionally funny, but that wasn’t what hooked you. It was two weeks before you moved into your new apartment when he randomly hit you up while you were organizing boxes for move-in day. You were sweaty and out of breath so when you answered the phone, you sounded less than happy. “Yes?” you snapped. 

“Uh…this a bad time?” Dabi had asked, his gravelly yet smooth-like-chocolate voice in your ear. Your eyes widened and your heart jumped into your throat. “Uh, no!” you immediately replied. “Sorry, I didn’t know it was you. The ID came up as a possible scam.” 

“That’s my fault,” Dabi said, actually sounding apologetic. “I never gave you my number. Listen, I didn’t wanna take up your time. I just wanted to ask if you needed help movin’ in.” 

“Huh?” you dumbly asked, your brain short-circuiting. “To where?” 

“....Your new apartment?” he said, just as confused as you. “You’re movin’ in this week, right?” 

A record scratched in your mind and you physically facepalmed yourself. ‘You dumb bitch!’ you thought. “Oh, yeah!” you backpedaled. “Sorry, I’ve been moving boxes since this morning.” 

“Well, lemme come up and I’ll help you,” Dabi replied. You blinked at his offer, shocked at how easily he volunteered. “No, it’s fine!” you said. “It’s just little stuff anyway! You don’t have to–” 

“I’ll be up in ten,” he interjected. “I’ve got nothin’ better to do anyhow. Stay there.” Then he hung up, leaving you open-mouthed and horrified at your appearance. Luckily, when he came over, you had dried off your sweat and fixed your hair so you didn’t look a total hot mess. 

Though you worked in silence most of the day, Dabi made sure to ask you what to put where and heaved heavier boxes for you, his muscles flexing as he did. When his job was done, he even offered to help you move your furniture around once you got it. Weeks later, he did so, helping Keigo lug your couch up the stairs and put together a table. 

He did it all in his free time without asking for a dollar. You knew from Keigo how he didn’t like going out much, so to see him do so for you did something to you. Since then, you’ve always had a slight thing for Dabi. You call it a “thing” because you’re not sure what it is. Even when you were dating your ex, he’d always be at the back of your mind and in your wettest dreams. Since he lives in the same apartment complex as you, you made it a point to say hi to him whenever you could after moving in. But the thing is you barely saw him. He lived on a whole other floor and had an entirely different schedule than you which made being nice a lot harder. That’s why you were hoping he’d come tonight: so you could get to know him more. 

“How he and Keigo are friends, I’ll never understand,” Nemuri scoffs. They’re complete opposites!” Rumi smirks up at her as she squeezes a hand on her girlfriend’s ass. “I guess opposites attract,” she teasingly says, pulling a giggling Nemuri close to her. 

You pretend to retch. “Ugh, can you two please stop?” you whine. “I don’t need to be reminded that I don’t have a fairytale romance or that I haven’t had sex in two months.” 

“Two months?!” Rumi and Nemuri exclaim in unison. You flush, adverting your eyes as you sip your drink. “That’s what I’m saying!” Rumi exasperatedly says. “You’re stressin’ over a guy as weird as Dabi when you should be out and about gettin’ your flirt on. With a body like yours, you’d find someone to keep you company tonight in no time. Someone better than that dickhead you left.” 

You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose as you begin to see your ex’s stupid face behind your eyelids. “Don’t remind me of him, Rumi.” 

It’s been three months since you moved out of your shared apartment with your ex and officially broke it off with him after catching him with another girl. After being together for a year and knowing in your heart that this was the man you were destined to be with, you threw caution to the wind and went half on an apartment with him in a nice part of Musutafu. 

The first five months were good, but then you started noticing how lazy he was. He barely cleaned, couldn’t cook, and argued about running errands when you asked him, even if it was just a grocery run. “You know I’m not good with groceries, babe,” he’d whine. “I always get the wrong shit and you yell at me about it!” 

What irked you most about him is that he never tried. Not with anything! Not with the cleaning, the cooking, or the sex. That was another thing you started noticing about him: the sex was boring. It used to be amazing between you two, but after moving in together, it started seriously lacking. Though you cut him some slack because of his busy work schedule and long hours, the same old position (that being doggy style) can get tiresome. 

But though you tried to spice things up with new lingerie, toys, or new kinks to enjoy, he never seemed to want to participate or be interested in them. Those nights of nothing leading into mornings where he left early for work and left you alone were devastating. You started suspecting something was up the third year of your relationship, but you never ever suspecting cheating. 

However, fate forced those rose-colored glasses off of you when you stepped into your apartment one afternoon after a yoga class with Rumi and found your boyfriend getting head from a woman you’ve never seen before. You were devastated, to say the least. Your first instinct was to leave and you found yourself crying to Rumi, Nemuri, and Keigo that night over wine. 

“I’m gonna fuck him up,” Keigo had growled, and you had to stop him from getting in his car to do so. “You’re telling me he cheated on you?” he asked incredulously. “You? He’s as dumb as he is a bitch.” 

“You can stay here as long as you want, babe,” Rumi cooed, stroking your hair away from your tear-soaked face. “Nemuri and I would be happy to have you…as long as you’re okay with the thin walls.” 

And you were (or at least you told yourself you were every time you’d hear Nemuri scream Rumi’s name to the heavens) because you did stay. After Keigo and Rumi helped you get your shit and tell off your boyfriend, you moved out of your shared apartment and bunked with Rumi and Nemuri while you saved up for a new home. 

Your ex called and texted you constantly throughout that time, begging you to come back and that he was sorry, but after you ignored each one, he stopped. It took a while to get over him. Even now, you still feel a lump in your throat over what happened–the lies; the betrayal; the utter disrespect to you and your home. But after a while, you managed to push through and finally began home hunting. 

Rumi stares at you now, pissed that you’re being so stubborn but also looking empathetic towards you. You don’t like either. “Fine, do what you want,” she sighs, “but I still say to get out of your funk and stop worryin’ about Dabi showin’ up. If he does, he does. If he doesn’t, it’s his loss and he needs to get his shit together.” 

You try to ignore her words by gulping down the rest of your drink. When it’s gone, your body craves more to replace your feelings of pure shittiness. “I’m gonna go get another tequila sunrise,” you mutter to Rumi and Nemuri. “Watch my spot.” 

You hurry away from your hands, not wanting to see their faces as you make a beeline for the kitchen. You plaster on a smile as you catch the eyes of your guests, wanting to assure them that everything is fine and you don’t feel like you just wallowed in a load of shit in your pretty yellow mini dress.

You finally make it to your kitchen, away from the music blasting from your portable speaker in your living room and the constant chatter. The snack table and counters still have snacks, plastic cups, and jello shots on them along with bottles of alcohol and soul food that you had catered from your favorite restaurant. 

You immediately for the fridge where a pitcher of pre-made tequila sunrise mix sits next to some sangria (which is all gone). ‘Damn drunkies,’ you think as you go to fill up your glass. Nemuri appears behind you, obviously following you from the couch. She silently watches you pour your drink before she decides to say something. “Don’t worry about Rumi, hon,” she comfortingly says. “You know how she is: she’s blunt, but she’s only that way because she loves you.” 

You lower the pitcher once your glass is full and place it back in the fridge. You don’t close the fridge though. The cool air feels good on your clammy skin. “I know,” you sigh, “but I don’t need to be reminded about how my recent relationship crashed and burned. Not to mention be lectured about Dabi. I’m not a kid.” 

“So you are worried he won’t come?” Nemuri asks curiously. 

“No!” you immediately protest, then pivot, fumbling with the straw in your drink. “I-I mean, not really. He just said he’d show up, so…I guess I was just hopin’ he’d stop by and congratulate me for the apartment since he helped me move in.” 

You had invited him, after all. This was last week on a very warm Saturday morning when the summer heat was starting to rise. It was laundry day and you were forced to lug a pillow sack of dirty clothes in an elevator, sweating in your biker shorts and Spongebob tee. You were prepared for no one to see you that morning, but fate had other plans when the elevator stopped on one of the lower apartment floors. You were headed for the basement where the laundry mat is. 

The doors opened, revealing the last person you wanted to see that morning. “O-Oh!” you stuttered, taken by surprise by his sudden appearance. And the fact that he looked so goddamn hot. Dabi stood at the elevator doors in his usual black attire, except he had on sweats instead of joggers. You had to force yourself not to stare at his crotch. “Hey, Dabi,” you greeted him, giving him a smile. 

Dabi only gave you a nod as he stepped inside the elevator. You didn’t take it negatively. That was just Dabi–he never said much. He pressed the button to the lobby before the doors closed, leaving you together in the small elevator cart. You could feel the four walls of the elevator closing in with him standing so near, especially when his scent was invading your senses. It was spicy yet sweet like cinnamon with a hint of cologne. It was turning you on badly. 

Dabi suddenly tilted his chin at the pillow sack. “What’s with the sack?” he muttered. “You got kids to deliver to or somethin’?” 

You quirked a smirk at his attempt at a joke. “Funny,” you chuckled. He smirked back, shrugging passively. “I try.” Just like that, the tension faded. “Just laundry,” you sighed. “About two weeks’ worth. I’ve been puttin’ it off since I’ve been still setting up my apartment.” 

He nodded and you both fell into silence again that swelled around you. “Sooo where are you off to so early?” you asked, desperate to fill the horrible silence. “Just the station,” he replied blandly. “Why they decided to have a meeting at the ass-crack of dawn is beyond me.” You nodded and giggled to yourself, only imagining the shit he had to put up with as a firefighter. Dabi has been working for the Musutafu fire department for three years now, commuting from the apartment to work every morning. 

You smile at him gratefully. “Thanks a lot for helpin’ me with the move-in process. It made things so much easier.” He once again shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal. “It’s whatever,” he mumbled. “And no, I don’t want your money, before you say anything. You need it more than I do.” 

“Ugh, you ain’t lyin’,” you groaned tiredly, your mind jumping from place to place. “I thought doing all the cleaning would be a lot, but I’m still gettin’ used to handlin’ the bills myself plus rent and groceries and…” You buttoned your lip and flushed embarrassingly, realizing you’d been talking for too long. “Sorry,” you giggled, embarrassed. “I’m rambling. Not a good way to start your morning. Just tell me to shut up.” 

Dabi shrugged, not looking perturbed by it. “You have nothin’ to be sorry for. Your ex was a dick, end of story. Plus, hearin’ you complain about him isn’t the worst thing I’ve heard in the morning.” He looked at you, looking deadass. “Try gettin’ an earful of that blonde bitch singin’ in the shower when he’s not laid up with somebody.” 

You laughed then, glad you didn’t have Keigo as a roommate. “How are your ears not bleeding?” you giggled. Dabi smiled at the sound of your laugh–a real, genuine smile that made him even more handsome to you. The moment quickly ended though when the elevator dinged and the doors opened to the lobby. “This is me,” Dabi muttered, his smile disappearing. 

He began to head out, not even giving you a goodbye or a “have a nice day” or a “you look fine as fuck in those shorts, lemme get your number”. Nothing! Your heart thundered in your chest, realizing this may be your one chance to interact with him for more than five seconds. 

Quickly, you jammed the button to hold the doors open. “H-Hey!” you abruptly called out. Dabi stopped and looked over his shoulder at you. “I meant to tell you: I’m havin’ this apartment warming party next Saturday night. It’s like a housewarming, but it’s for my apartment and uh…” 

‘You’re rambling! Just get to the point, bitch!’ 

“If you wanna come, you’re welcome to,” you continued. “Keigo is coming, so I figured I’d extend the invite.” Dabi had an unreadable expression on his face as he stared at you as if trying to make sense of you. “So…other people are gonna be there?” he carefully asks. 

You blinked at him. What a weird fucking question. “Well, yeah, but just some of my coworkers and people Rumi and I know. It’s just a small thing, nothing too big. You don’t have to come if you don’t want to, but there’s gonna be food, music, a little bit of weed…” You trailed off, hoping the weed would get him since he’s a smoker. 

Dabi shoves a hand into his pocket and leans back on his haunches. “I don’t really go to parties too much,” he admitted. “Not that I hate ‘em, but I’m not really a people person.” That definitely meant he wasn’t coming. “Oh,” you exhaled, disappointment blooming inside of you. “I get you. I just figured I’d–” 

“I mean, I’ll still stop by or whatever,” he interjected with a shrug. “Don’t I gotta bring a gift or somethin’?” You tried to stomp down the happiness flooding your chest, but you couldn’t help it. “If you want!” you chirped happily. “I like plants…wine…gift cards…Beyoncè tickets…just some ideas.” 

Dabi smirked humorously at your little witty joke. “Not sure about that other part, but I’ll see what I can do.” Then, without another word, he turned to leave. “I’ll see you later then!” you called after him to which he gave you a slight wave. Finally, you let the doors close on you, and though his goodbye was anti-climatic, you couldn’t get rid of your smile. 

Now here you are, two hours into the party, and he still isn’t here yet. Keigo isn’t either but he at least said he was coming straight from work as a bartender. “Don’t be upset if he doesn’t, Y/N,” Nemuri coos, putting a hand on your shoulder. “I haven’t heard of Dabi ever going against his word, he’s very…different.” 

‘Tell me about it,’ you think.

“He’s not a bad guy,” Nemuri continues, “but he’s not as much of a social butterfly as Keigo is, especially because of his accident. He might be afraid he’ll make people feel uncomfortable.” 

As soon as the words are out of her mouth, you freeze, your brain processing the meaning behind them. Dabi never talked about his accident, especially to you, but according to Keigo, he got those burn scars not from a firefighting mission gone wrong. He got them when he was a child after playing with matches one Christmas night and setting his home on fire. Supposedly, this was because he was angry that his father aka that redheaded bitch Enji Todoroki didn’t buy him, his siblings, or his wife any Christmas gifts. 

Little Dabi found the matches sitting up on the mantel above the fireplace and ultimately set a spark that engulfed their home. Dabi was never the same after that, especially after nearly dying from the flames. Luckily, he didn’t die from his severe burns, but they left the left side of his face and body with burn scars–reminders of what happened. “He blames himself a lot for that night,” Keigo said to you when he recounted the story. “Especially since his family lost so much stuff. To him, he feels responsible for the fact that his family could’ve died in that fire.” 

Though he has a great relationship with his family besides Enji, he’s always carried around the weight of that trauma. Literally speaking too, because of those burns on his body. He can never ever get rid of them. He’s forced to wear them and be scrutinized by the world because of his disfigurement. 

As soon as Nemuri’s words process, you feel sick to your stomach. “I never thought of it that way,” you confess, feeling horribly guilty. “Fuck, now I feel like a bitch! Here I am upset over him not comin’ to my party when he owes me nothing, and yet–” 

“Hey.” Like a light in the darkness, Nemuri emerges in front of you and firmly holds your shoulders. “Stop. You’ll ruin your makeup sweatin’ over this.” She then hands you a napkin and you begin to bloat your Fenty Beauty foundation, hoping your makeup didn’t slide.

“Just take a breath, get yourself another drink, and have some fun!” she encourages. “While I wouldn’t have said it as brazenly as Rumi did, I agree that you need a night to forget about your ex and meet somebody you can spend the night with so you can forget about your ex. Here, I’ll even help you! I’m great at matchmaking.” 

You quirk a smile at her volunteering to help you get laid. “Thanks, Nemuri, but I think I’ll pass on scouting for dick tonight. I don’t feel like hooking up.”

And you don’t. All you want to do is drink, dance, and celebrate your first big girl apartment. “But I do feel like having fun,” you say aloud before taking a jello shot and throwing it back. The taste of vodka and artificial orange immediately hits your tongue, just as your favorite Beyoncè song blasts from the living room. 

“Oh, this is my song!” you squeal, already moving your body to the beat. Nemuri moves with you, happy to see you happy. “That’s the spirit!” she cheers. You two dance in the kitchen for a while until the doorbell rings. “Looks like more people came to congratulate you,” Nemuri giggles, squeezing your hand. “Go get it quick before the song ends.” 

You nod and take your drink with you as you hurry out of the kitchen to your door. You already feel better after the quick dance session and some more alcohol. You feel like you could take on anything now. You swing open the door with enthusiasm, happy to have more guests. “Welcome to my…” you begin to shout, grinning at your guests standing at your door. 

But that smile fades when you get a look at not only Keigo but Dabi standing behind him, each with a bag in their hand. As soon as Dabi’s cobalt eyes meet yours, you’re a puddle. “Home,” you weakly finish. 

“Wow, what a welcome,” Keigo chuckles. “Thanks for havin’ us, babe. I wouldn’t have missed it for the world.” He leans in to give you a one-armed hug before releasing you. “Hope you don’t mind I bought the enigma along for the ride.” 

He nods at Dabi who looks oh-so uncomfortable and delicious in his black tee and jeans. His icy blue eyes flick to yours before looking away to somewhere beyond your face. “N-Not at all,” you reply softly. 

“And us too!” a familiar voice comes from behind Dabi. The voice belongs to his equally as fine brother, Natsuo Todoroki. “Long time no see, Y/N.” He grins at you, running a hand through his snow-white hair.

Another familiar face appears from around the corner though it is hidden behind shaggy, black hair that reaches his shoulders. Tenko, aka Shiggy, with his tattoos and gages. “That’s ‘cause you're deep in those nursing books,” he tells Natsuo before turning to you, dark circles under his eyes. “You got smokes in here, right? I’ve been tattooing people all day and I need a reliever.” 

“Yes, and come in,” you giggle, opening the door wider for your four muscular, tall, and fine-ass guests. They each walk in and you close the door behind them. As soon as they’re inside, Shiggy makes a beeline for the weed, leaving you, Dabi, Keigo, and Natsuo standing there. 

“Woooow, kid,” Keigo whistles. “Cute place you got here. I knew it was a good idea to put the TV over there.” He nods proudly at the TV in the living room. “So this is your very first place. I really can’t call you “kid” no more, can I?” He actually sounds upset about it. 

“Yep,” you laugh. “My first home, first real purchase. I feel like a big girl for real now.” 

“You should!” Natsuo chuckles, a smile growing on his handsome face. “Especially without that emotional vampire suckin’ the life outta you. Oh, before I forget…” He nudges Keigo who presents you with a paper bag “Housewarming gift number one,” the second oldest Todoroki kid says with a grin. “Dabi has the other. C’mon and give her the gift, D!” 

Dabi glares at his brother, but pulls a little bag from behind his back. You look into both, finding a bottle of wine, a bottle opener, and some cute, multi-colored wine glasses in them. “Thank you,” you giggle. “I’ll drink it all tonight.” 

“So where’s the food and the pretty people?” Keigo asks, a mischievous glint in his eye. You already knew the man would be getting his freak on tonight. “All in the living room. Rumi and Nemuri are somewhere around here if you want me to–” 

“Nah, kid, don’t worry your pretty head about it,” Keigo interjects, putting a hand on your shoulder. “I’ll definitely find them. You stay here and tend to your new guest…he’s gonna need it.” He nods at Dabi before giving you a wink. “C’mon, Natsuo!” he hollers, taking the white-haired man by the shoulder. 

Natsuo gives you an apologetic look as he’s dragged off. “Take care of him, please?” he softly pleads before heading off with Keigo to stop him from harassing people. You turn to Dabi who looks ready to strangle them both. “Fuckin’ bitches,” he growls under his breath. 

Standing among the music and the chatter, you realize that now you two are alone. Well, not completely, but enough that it feels awkward without someone starting the conversation. Nervously, you swallow, realizing you’ll have to throw in the towel. “I-I didn’t think you’d come,” you shakily begin. “You said you weren’t a people person.” 

“I’m not,” Dabi gruffly declares, “but I did owe you a gift.” Your heart leaps at his words despite his tone. “You really didn’t, but thanks anyway.” 

He nods once more his eyes flick up and down your form quickly. When you catch it, your entire body grows hot. Does he think you look good? If he does, will he say it? It doesn’t appear he’ll say anything at all. You clear your throat once more, attempting to break the ice that is quickly hardening. “Uh…so you want a drink or a tour of the place? I’d feel bad if you were just standin’ here.” 

“What’s wrong with just standin’?” he deadpans, but you can tell it’s a joke. “Everything, unless you’re a plant,” you tease. You earn a little smirk out of him, but that’s about all you get. So you start to ramble. “The drinks are really good. Keigo knows the bartender, so–” 

“What?” he cuts in, straining to hear you. You lean in toward him, placing a hand on his shoulder to get closer to him. “I said Keigo knows the bartender I hired for the party!” you exclaim into his ear. “I also catered soul food if you want to–” 

You’re rudely cut off when someone bumps into you. She’s one of your coworkers from the HR department, but because she’s so drunk, she barely recognizes you. “Sorry!” she hiccups. “Bathroom!” Quickly, she runs upstairs to your bathroom, holding her stomach as she does. You turn to Dabi who looks even more uncomfortable now. You keep your hand on his shoulder, wanting him to know you’re here for him. He doesn’t move your hand away. “I’m startin’ to think maybe you’re right about the standin’ thing,” he mumbles. “You got anywhere more private?” 

It takes a moment for his words to process, but when they do, you swear you could touch the moon. He’s really here for you. To talk to you. And you know exactly where to go for it. “I know a perfect place,” you giggle excitedly. “Get yourself a drink and I’ll get some smoke. Meet me back here in five minutes.” 

Dabi looks relieved that you agreed. Quickly, he moves to the kitchen to get himself a drink, earning some eyefucks in the process, regardless of his burns. Still holding your gifts, you make a beeline to the smoke section and force Shiggy to cough up the rest of the starburst-flavored papers (to which he whines about) and a little baggie of weed. 

The crew is sitting on the couch vibing to the music when you come over. Keigo and Natsuo are in awe at Dabi being up and about, pouring himself a drink. “So I see you got him to move!” Natsuo laughs. “It’s a miracle!” Rumi, currently holding Nemuri in her lap as she chats with someone next to her, gives you a smirk. “Where are you off to?” she asks suspiciously. 

You smile back at her, unable to hide your giddiness. “To show my guest around. Hold down the fort for a minute.” 

“Maybe more than a minute,” Keigo snickers knowingly. Rumi nudges him with her elbow as you flush to yourself. “You’ve got it, captain. Go enjoy yourself and your man.” You turn away, skin still on fire. “He’s not my man!” you call over your shoulder as you hurry to gather something to loosen you both up. “Yet,” you whisper to yourself. 

Dabi meets you back at your door like you ask him to with a red solo cup that smells of whiskey and apple in his hand. You motion for him to follow you out the door of your apartment and down the hallway. “It’s right up here,” you explain, pointing up the emergency staircase in case of a fire.

Dabi raises a quizzical eyebrow but follows you up the short flight of steps anyway. When at the top, you push open the door at the end of the staircase, revealing the rooftop to your apartment building. The roof is decorated with comfortable sofas, mini tables, and fair lights that hang among the rafters. The edges of the rooftop are blocked off by clear, plaster walls that serve as barriers between the inside and the outside. 

You shut the door behind you and turn to Dabi. “You know about this place?” you softly ask. 

He stares around the prettily-decorated rooftop, lips parted in awe. “Not at all,” he admits, bewildered. “I’ve been livin’ here longer than you and knew nothin’ about it, but then again, I barely come out of my apartment.” 

“I’m a sucker for rooftops,” you confess. “That’s what drew me to this complex.” You walk over to him, staring out at the view before you: glittering city lights and the sunset that isn’t anything but a line of fuschia that dips beneath the mountains far off into the distance. It truly is a beautiful sight. 

You suddenly feel warm as if someone’s eyes are on you and turn to see Dabi unabashedly staring at you. 

“Goddamn, you are short,” he snickers. 

You smack his arm, flushing. It’s not your fault you were cursed with short genes. “Hey!” you gasp, mock-offended. “Keep talkin’ like that and you’ll find yourself goin’ over this rooftop. Just for that, you’re rollin’ the blunt for us.” You plop down on one of the couches and pat the empty seat next to you twice, motioning him to sit next to you. 

Dabi looks hesitant at first but sits down next to you anyway. He still appears tall even though he’s sitting. 

“You sure your crib is gonna be okay?” he asks as he begins to set up shop. You wave off his concern, trusting your guests. “Rumi and Keigo won’t let anything happen to it. Especially Rumi; she scares people.” 

He smirks at your answer as he begins preparing a blunt for you, taking out a grinder and the little baggie of weed. You prepare the wine and glasses, pouring yourself one and leaving another empty for Dabi just in case. Once finished, you sit in silence and watch him work, sipping your wine as you do. You watch him intensely, your eyes hypnotized by his fingers expertly sprinkling the marijuana into the paper and then working on rolling the blunt to absolute perfection. 

He’s so good with his hands. 

Your eyes trail up his hands to his wrists to his arms, admiring the muscle beneath the dark ink on his skin. One tattoo, in particular, catches your attention: the number 58 with a green dragon slithering out of the eight. “Nice tatt.” 

“It’s my firefighter number,” he explains, eyes still trained on his hands. “The dragon is the symbol for the department. I designed and inked it myself.” You don’t notice that you’ve gotten closer to him, your legs aimed directly toward him. Your body is completely under his silent spell. “You do your own tattoos?” you ask, wanting to know more, anything more, about him. 

He nods, jetting his tongue out to lick the paper. It is pink with a glint of something in it. You realize that it’s a tongue piercing and your clit jumps. “Shiggy taught me when we were teens.” He suddenly stops rolling the blunt and points at a few words linked across his right collarbone. “This one is the first tatt I gave myself when I was sixteen. It’s Latin for ‘don’t let the past steal your present’.” 

He then begins to recite the words in Latin, his rolling tongue making the inside of your thighs feel warm. “I didn’t know you spoke Latin.” His eyes flicker over to yours, a softness to them. “There are a lot of things you don’t about me,” he murmurs, his tone low and sugary sweet to you. 

You don’t know if it’s the alcohol, the privacy, or him, but it allows you to be even bolder. You scoot next to him even farther, turning your body so that your hip presses against his. He doesn’t move away, but you do feel him tense. “Hopefully, there are some you’d be willing to share,” you softly reply, hoping he’ll read between the lines and see how much you want this. 

Alas, he doesn’t say anything, but you do notice that his knee begins touching yours. You don’t know if it’s accidental or intentional, but it has you feeling warm and tingly regardless. When he finally finishes the blunt, he lights the end of it and takes a smoke test before passing it to you. You take it gingerly between your forefinger and thumb and take a much-needed puff. 

The smoke fills your lungs instantly and you exhale peacefully, watching the wisps of smoke disappear into the starry night sky. “Nothin’ like a blunt to ease the nerves,” you sigh contently, already feeling more relaxed. 

“Are you nervous?” Dabi asks, actually sounding surprised by it. His arm is tossed over the back of the couch, right behind your head. “Around me?” You flush, passing the blunt back to him. “Well, kinda,” you laugh awkwardly. “You’re just so…” You grow quiet, trying to find the appropriate word. 

He takes a puff of the blunt. “Weird?” he finishes, quirking a brow at you as smoke billows from his mouth. He passes the blunt back to you. “I was gonna say ‘quiet’,” you reply. “I don’t think you’re weird.” 

Dabi shrugs, looking out into the city lights. “I just don’t have much to say, but you ain’t the only one who’s nervous. Like I said, I’m not much of a social butterfly; not even at work. That’s Keigo and my brother. They dragged me out here tonight.” His eyes, like twin pools of the bluest water in the farthest Carribean island, flick to yours. “But to be honest, I would’ve come anyway.” 

You suddenly forget you’re holding the blunt and quickly place it down on the ashtray on the mini table. “You would?” you ask, hating how breathless you sound. He shrugs like it should be obvious. “Well, yeah. I wouldn’t want that gift card goin’ to just anybody.” 

You scowl confusedly at him to which he smirks humorously. “Look at the bottom of the bag I gave you.” Slowly, you do so, and sure enough, you see a silver $150 Visa gift card glinting at the bottom of the bag. You take it out, staring at it. Dabi looks sheepish, planting his hand firmly in his lap as if he doesn’t know what to do with it. “It ain’t much and it definitely ain’t a Beyoncé ticket, but I hope you like it.” 

Suddenly, the alcohol, the weed, and the scent of him begin to work their magic on you. All of your inhibitions and all logic are gone as you stare at his gorgeous, scarred face. “I love it,” you whisper, and before you can stop yourself, you lean in and press a soft kiss to Dabi’s cheek. You feel his soft skin and the slight prickle of stubble there before pulling away. 

He stares at you, shocked, and you stare right back as reality sets in. ‘Oh, no…what the fuck did I do?’ 

“Y/N,” he says, your voice like a prayer on his lips. But before he can finish his thought, your phone rudely interrupts him. “Fuck,” you hiss. “I’m so sorry.” You scramble to pick it up and find your ex’s name flashing across the screen. “Dammit!” you snap. 

“Who is it?” he asks, his brows furrowed in confusion. You show him, groaning with dread. “It’s my ex. I thought he stopped callin’ me, but apparently not.” 

“He’s been callin’ you?” he asks, a bitter tone to his voice. He does not sound happy about this. You slowly nod to which he demands, “Put him on speaker.” You stare at him, wondering if he’s deadass, but he’s not looking like he’s bs-ing you about this. Despite your better judgment and confusion, you do as he says and put the call on speaker before answering your ex with a curt, “What do you want?” 

“Heeey, that’s no way to talk to your man,” your ex slurs into the phone. “What’s up with you?” You scowl in disgust at his tone. “What’s up with you?” you shoot back. “Are you drunk?” He snorts in response meaning he’s definitely drunk. “Not nearly enough. Just was thinkin’ ‘bout you bein’ alone in that big, empty apartment…but then I happened across your IG and saw your stories.” 

“Yeah, and?” you ask cooly. 

“You’re throwin’ a party at the expense of us?” he snaps at the flip of a switch. “You want everyone to know what happened to us?” You roll your eyes. Everything is always about him. “Only my friends know what happened because they’re my friends. And even if I tell people, it’s none of your business and you fuckin’ deserve it for cheating, lying dick.” 

He pauses, letting your insult process, but the longer he’s quiet the more tired you grow. “Is this what you called me for?” you demand. “To argue? ‘Cause I’m not in the mood.” He makes a sound over the phone between a sigh and a groan, sounding exhausted. “Can’t we just talk about this?” he asks. “I just don’t get why you had to leave. We had three years!” 

You scoff to yourself. The sheer audacity of this guy! Those are three years he decided to ruin; not you! 

“Can’t we just talk it out, Y/N?” he asks again, sounding absolutely broken.

Now it’s Dabi’s turn to respond. “There ain’t nothing to talk about,” he malevolently replies. “She already made it clear that she’s not interested in whatever you want.” 

Your ex is quiet for a moment, taken aback by the new voice. “Who the fuck are you?” he spits. “Y/N, who is that?” Your brain short circuits trying to find a legitimate answer. 

“Her new man,” Dabi growls, “and if I ever see you callin’ her again, I’m pullin’ up to make you see God early. You’re lucky I didn’t do that when I found out you stuck your dick inside someone else who wasn’t the woman you had. What are you, stupid?” You and your ex are silent, astounded by his words. 

“And if you even think about comin’ over here yourself, don’t,” Dabi continues. “Take that as my act of kindness to you even though you sure as hell don’t deserve it.” Your ex is enraged, cussing, and slurring into the speaker. “Who the fuck do you think you are?” he snaps. “You think you can just–” 

“Don’t call here again, whore,” Dabi growls before he gives you a slight nod and you end the call. 

As soon as the call ends, you set your phone down and voice the one question that is burning you alive: “Did you mean what you said?” you ask carefully. “That you’re my new man?” 

Before Dabi can even begin to explain himself, you softly, shyly, tell him, “Because I wouldn’t reject that offer.” 

Dabi gapes at you, obviously not believing your words. Then a hardened expression sets on his handsome face. “You’re not serious,” he scoffs with laughter. “You’re not.” You scowl at him, disappointed. That wasn’t the response you were expecting. “What do you mean?” you ask, confused. “You don’t think I want this?” 

“No, I don’t,” he replies sternly, suddenly standing up. You can see that wall that you’ve been all night trying to destroy building back up. “I think you think I’m a weird ass, introverted loser that you wanna take a ride on because it’ll be fun for the first few weeks while you’re gettin’ over your breakup.” He shakes his head, laughing to himself. “You could never want me.” 

You stare at him, dumbfounded. “Why would you think that?” you softly ask, hurt for him now more than yourself. Dabi chuckles dryly. “C’mon now, Y/N,” he scoffs. “Someone who looks like you with someone who looks like me?” He points to the scars on his face. “I’m not the man you think I am.” 

“I don’t think of you as anything, Dabi,” you passionately say, standing up now too. “I invited you here because I want to get to know you more. I always have, even when I was with my ex.” He turns to stare at you, shocked at your words. There it is: the truth, laid out in the open with only the stars as witnesses to it. 

You move closer to him, gently taking his wrist into your hand. His body feels tense in your grasp. “Your scars mean nothing to me; they never did. Would you believe me if I said I’ve always liked you too?” 

You take your other hand and place it on his chest, right above his heart which is beating as fast as a hummingbird’s wings. “Now that I know you’ve felt the same way, nothing is holding me back anymore.” 

You then stand up on your tiptoes and again press a kiss to his jawline, right on a burn scar there. “I can handle this, Dabi,” you murmur against his ear. “I like it rough.” That is all you needed to say to get Dabi to finally unravel. 

You can only let out a tiny gasp before he grabs you by the back of the neck and presses his lips against yours. His kiss isn’t soft or careful. His kiss his rough; hungry; slow as he draws moans and gasps out of you. He kisses you like he’s been dreaming of doing so for ages, and you have no doubt that he has. His lips are soft, the taste of whiskey, apple, and mint on his tongue. You let his hands move along your back and ass, squeezing the flesh there and making you moan. 

Taking advantage of your open mouth, he slides his tongue alongside your bottom lip before slipping his tongue inside of your mouth. He moans hungrily as your tongue begins to swirl with his, swapping spit and exchanging breath. The act makes your pussy clench impatiently in your panties, wanting to be touched and petted. By him. Dabi then pulls away enough to speak to you, his eyes hooded and dark. 

“How long have you felt his way about me?” he murmurs hotly against your lips. “Tell me.” 

His hand sneaks down underneath your dress to squeeze your ass. You let him, biting back a whimper in the process. You barely know him and yet you’re letting him touch you like this right in the open. “S-Since you helped me move,” you softly stutter. “But I’ve always been attracted to you since we met.” 

He begins to kiss you all over now: your neck; your jawline; your collarbone; your naked shoulders in your spaghetti straps. “Fuck,” he growls against your skin. “You’re too good to be fuckin’ true.” His hands roam up and down your hips and sides, squeezing and fondling. “I’ve been wantin’ your fine ass since we met.” 

“How come you never…?” The rest of your question doesn’t reach your lips as he grabs you by your hips and pulls you toward him, so close that air can’t even move between you. Your bodies are pressed flush against each other, so close that you can feel a bulge in his jeans that can only be his hardening dick. He’s turned on by you. The fact makes you delirious. 

His lips press against yours again, kissing them so much that your mouth becomes raw from it. He begins to walk backward to the couch, never breaking the kiss, and plops down onto the cushion. He then grips you by the hips and coaxes you on top of his lap where you begin to straddle him. His hands, so rough yet so warm, continue to fondle your thighs and ass, squeezing at the flesh there and making you whimper into his mouth. Instinctively, you grind down into his hardening dick, enlisting a moan from deep within his throat. It travels right down to your pussy. 

Suddenly, he pulls away with a soft gasp. His eyes are lust-blown, his lips pinker than usual. “Hang on…I wanna try something.” With one arm wrapped securely around your waist, he moves to pluck the blunt from the ashtray. “You ever shotgun before?” he asks. You blink dumbly at him, confused, and shake your head. “It’s easy. Lemme show you.” 

You watch with utter lust as he takes a long drag of the blunt, his eyes pinned on yours. Then, with one hand, he squeezes your cheeks, forcing you to form your mouth into an O shape. He leans in close as if he is about to kiss you again and, slowly, billows of marijuana smoke shoot out of his mouth and into yours. You’re trembling with need and anticipation as the smoke fills your senses along with the sight of Dabi’s crystal blue eyes staring you down. “Nice, right?” he chuckles. “Now try it with me.” 

You’re eager to try this new addictive activity as well as please him, so you pucker your lips and puff on the blunt that Dabi holds out for you. Then, after inhaling a good portion of smoke, you slowly blow it out into Dabi’s waiting lips. But you don’t stop there. You lean in toward him and devour his mouth, desperate to have him. At some point, he puts the blunt back down but you don’t notice. You’re too drunk and high off of him. You pull away, leaving him dazed. “I want you,” you whisper, wrapping your arms tightly around him.  

“Bedroom?” he asks, a suggestive glint in his eye. “And before you ask, no, I don’t think you’re easy or that I’m a rebound. We already established that we’re two idiots who’ve been pinin’ after each other for months now.” 

His words make you smile. Though you weren’t at all thinking about if he saw you as “easy” or if he was just a lay to get over your ex, it’s so nice to hear that all he wants is you. This only makes your need for him grow until it reaches an almost painful point. Your throbbing clit is a testimate to that. 

“No bedroom,” you say, giving him an excited, sexy smile. “I want you out here.” Dabi raises a brow, not expecting your request. “Please, Dabi,” you plead. “I-I don’t think I can wait.” To show him that you’re serious, you begin to take down the spaghetti straps to your dress to reveal your bra. You don’t care if anyone sees. You just want him so badly. 

The shock in his blue eyes is replaced with sheer hunger when he gets a look at those perfect tits in the pretty little bra you have on. “You little freak,” he chuckles. “Well, at least lemme get a feel of you if you want me that badly. Hop off me.” You listen to him and settle down next to him as he gets up to inspect you. 

You bite your lip and watch him as he kneels down in front of you and opens your legs. When he gets a look at your soaked little panties, he almost looks pained. “Goddamn, mama,” he hisses. “You’re so wet for me. You don’t even need these little panties anymore.” His eyes flick up to yours and his hands still at your thighs. ‘Okay?’ his eyes ask. 

Wordlessly, you nod, unable to speak. But he isn’t down for that. He begins to brush his fingers up and down your wet slit above your panties, paying close attention to your reactions. “Words, baby,” he growls. “Gimme words.” 

“Yes!” you moan, your toes curling in your heels at the feeling of his fingers brushing your wet cunt. “Please, Dabi…please touch me.” He gives you a wolfish grin at your pitiful reaction, but doesn’t keep you waiting. He loops his fingers through the waistband of your panties and pulls them down your legs you reveal your naked, sobbing wet pussy. “Shit!” he hisses, gaping at your sex. “You have the prettiest pussy, babe.” 

“Thank y–!” Your words are cut off by a sudden gasp as Dabi leans in and begins suckling on your clit and eating your pussy like a starving man. He is relentless with his tongue slashes, flicks, and long licks up and down your slit. He moves his tongue like he’s a master at eating pussy, paying close attention to your reaction every time he does something new. 

You’re loving it. You writhe and grind your hips against his mouth, trying to get him closer. Your pussy pushes around his pillowy-soft lips and wet tongue that writes shapes and nonsense words across your wet lips and needy little clit. “You’re so wet,” he mumbles into your pussy. “Does doin’ this shit out in the open turn you on that much, mama?” 

You moan in response to him, unable to form words, especially when he reaches one hand up to pay with your breast. You help him bring down the bra cup to expose your breast, hissing in pleasure as he begins gently pinching the hardened brown nipple. This is insane. You barely know this man and not only are you letting him do this to you, it’s all in public. Anyone could walk up the staircase and see you, or look across or up from the sidewalk to find you like this. 

It’s so shameful. So nasty. And so, so good. It feels even better when Dabi begins to tease your entrance with his middle finger, dipping the tip in and out of your wet pussy. “You want this?” he asks, his voice nothing but a low growl. You nod vigorously and he laughs. “So needy,” he teases as he begins to slowly slide his finger inside of you. “Your ex must’ve not be takin’ care of this pussy. He never made you feel like this, did he?” 

“N-No,” you gasp, eyes blown as you feel your pussy stretch slightly around his finger. He quickly begins to aim up to brush against your clit as he slides his finger in and out of you. Not only that, but he also begins to suck at your clit, sending waves upon waves of pleasure coursing through your body. This shit is crazy! He’s crazy! 

You can feel yourself quickly beginning to reach that peak to your climax. ‘No!’ you think stubbornly. You don’t want this to end. You want to make this moment last. “Wait, Dabi!” you shout, writhing against him. “Stop! Don’t make me cum!” He immediately ceases his movements and pulls away from you, glaring in confusion. “‘Scuse me?” he asks, not sounding happy with your protest. 

You nearly laugh at his reaction. “I wanna make this last,” you explain. “I wanna make you feel exactly how you must made me feel. So stand up.” Dabi still looks pissed he couldn’t make you cum, but listens to you anyway. He stands up, mouth and chin glistening from your juices, and you stand with him. Slowly, you begin to kiss and suck your essense off of his mouth, earning low moans from him. 

Your hands slide down to his broad chest and you grip his shirt collar. “Off please?” you ask, peering up at him through your lashes. You don’t even have to ask twice. In a flash, he’s stripping himself of his shirt and tossing it somewhere on the rooftop. 

You take a moment to admire his beautiful body–so hard and defined with muscle, ink, and burn scars that coat the left side of his body. His nipples, pink and hard, glint with two rings that hang from them and his lower stomach is sinewy with ink black hair. He’s so, so pretty. He must think your stares mean something else because he adverts his eyes from yours. “I know it ain’t picture perfect,” he mutters, sounding ashamed in himself. Your heart leaps with fear, hoping you didn’t ruin tonight for you both. Quickly, you try to fix things by gliding your hands up and down his hard body, admiring his well-defined pecs and abs. “You’re perfect,” you whisper before leaning in to peck his burn scars, running your lips softly over each. 

The low moans and “mmm”s Dabi lets leave his mouth are delicious to you. They only heighten your arousal along with the sound of the party still going on downstairs. The music and chatter are muffled, but the fact that it is still near is so exciting to you. You never pictured yourself one for exhibitonism, but you suppose it takes the right person to bring the freak out of you. 

And baby, do you want to be the freakiest bitch for Dabi. To prove that, you begin to lick and suck along his hardened nipples, tugging on the tiny silver rings hanging from them. “Fuck, baby,” he hums, watching you as you work. His lips are parted and his eyes are hooded. He is completely entranced by you. 

He hasn’t seen shit yet. You begin to kiss down his hardened stomach until you come to his jeans already hanging low on his hips. You stop, your hands at his fly, and look up at him. ‘Okay?’ you ask with your eyes. Slowly, he nods, giving you the green light to finally rid him of his pants. You pull them and his underwear down in one go, eager to see what’s underneath. 

You begin to think you bit off more than you can chew (or suck, rather) when you get a look at his cock for the first time. He is well endowed, thick, and curves upward so his dick slaps against his stomach when you finally release him from his trousers. Black hair curls around his stomach and pubic area, but it isn’t like a jungle. But that isn’t what gets you: it’s the cockhead piercing that glints from the head of his dick in the moonlight. 

You gape at his cock, not sure what to say or do. “You okay?” he asks, laughter in his voice at your silence. “Uh…” That’s all you can say. He’s just so, so big! How could you get him in your mouth? You’re lucky you can even fit one hand around him as you begin to stroke him softly from base to tip. 

Dabi cackles down at you, relishing your fear. “Don’t be scared of it, mama,” he purrs, taking his dick out of your hand and waving it in front of you. You watch, hypnotized…or dickmatized. “You said you wanted to make me feel the way I made you feel, right?” he asks teasingly. “C’mon now. You can do it. Open that pretty mouth.” 

Not wanting to disappoint him, you open your mouth and he slowly begins to slide his dick against your tongue. “There we go,” he coos. “Good girl…take it all in.” You try to do so, your jaw and mouth stretching to accompany his size. “I’m guessin’ I’m bigger than your mans, huh?” he chuckles lowly. 

“Mmm-hmm,” you hum around his cock, the vibrations causing him to moan. You relish the sounds, wanting more. So you begin to move your head back and forth, taking his cock in and out of your throat. You gag and spit all along his dick, causing saliva to drip down his balls and your chin, making your blowjob extra sloppy. Dabi is loving it. He tosses his head back and rolls his eyes to the back of his head, giving you a sight that is fit for only the finest of porn. He’s so, so sexy. And to be able to make him feel good gives you the motivation to fight against your aching jaw and burning throat as you continue to fuck him with your throat. 

“You’re doin’ so good, babe,” he grunts as he begins to roll his hips into your mouth. “So, so good. At this rate, you’ll make me cum.”

You nod your head, coaxing him to do so. You want him to cum. You want to taste all of him in your mouth. But he surprises you when he begins to slow down his hips and pulls his wet cock out of your mouth. “No,” he growls. “If I’m gonna cum, it either has to be on that pretty ass or those titties of yours.” 

You stare up at him then, drinking in his spectacular body and dick standing at attention for you. You then decide that if you are to finally cum, you want it to be wrapped around his cock.

‘Fuck it,’ you think. You don’t care that you barely know him. All of that “getting to know you” shit can wait until after you get him inside of you. “Why not inside of me then?” you purr, standing up to take his hands in yours. 

He blinks at you, dumbfounded. “Without a condom?” he asks. “I don’t have one on me.”

You shake your head, pecking his lips. “I’m on the pill.”

That’s all you need to say to get Dabi to smash his lips hungrily against yours. “Oh, thank fuck,” he sighs, relieved. “I don’t mind beatin’ my dick to the sight of you in front of me, but I’d be lyin’ if I said I didn’t want your pretty little pussy wrapped around me.” 

His dirty words send shivers up your spine. “And you’re okay with this? I mean, we barely know each other and–” 

“I don’t give a fuck,” he growls, already moving you back to the couch again. “I’ll take you out later to get to know you, but right now, I fuckin’ need all of you. Now choose how I’m doin’ you before I lose my fuckin’ mind.” 

You gape at him, dumbfounded and so, so horny. You’ve never had a man be so desperate for you before. You waste no time bending over the couch, presenting your ass and dripping pussy for him. You then look back at him, finding him standing there and stroking himself to the sight of you. “Like this,” you whisper. “Fuck me just like this, Dabi.” 

Dabi is going fucking feral behind you. It takes everything in him to not shove every single inch of his hard, thick cock inside of you as he moves closer to you and begins to stroke your pussy with his cock. “God, look at you, stainin’ up the couch,” he sighs as you twitch and quiver along his dick. “Anyone could look up and see you like this, about to get fucked by someone who is practically a stranger to you.” 

‘I don’t care,’ you want to scream. Anyone could watch if they want. All you want is that dick inside of you now. And then finally, he gives it to you.

He goes slow, taking his sweet time to allow you to get used to him. As soon as his cockhead enters you, your jaw is dropping open and your eyes are blown from how stretched you feel already. No toy could compare to how warm and solid Dabi feels snuggled up in your pussy. Not even your ex could make you feel this full or this good. 

Through it all, you breathe in and out, relaxing your body into the couch cushion. Though it doesn’t hurt, you’re feeling beyond stretched by Dabi and you almost collapse from the feeling. You’re so glad to have the back of the couch to grip as Dabi takes a hold of your hips and bottoms out inside of you. “F-Fuck, Dabi!” you whine, gripping the couch. You can’t believe how good you feel. Where the fuck has he been hiding all this time? 

He begins to bump his hips against your ass a little faster now, the sound of skin slapping filling the air as his heavy balls hit your clit. “Come on now, mama,” he huffs. “You wanna be a big girl, right? Take me just like one. Make me proud.” He begins to fuck you harder, taking a handful of your breasts and fondling them one at a time. 

The feeling is just too much. His dick strokes the most sensitive parts of you as your clit jumps with every slap of his balls against it. And he’s just so deep. He is making you see stars that don’t even compare to the ones coating the night sky above the beautiful view stretched before you. You have no chance to take it all in, too busy taking Dabi’s fat cock as he fucks you into oblivion in your little sundress and heels. 

“Feels good, don’t it?” he grunts into your ear. One hand moves to your ass to gently spank your ass, causing you to moan at the feeling. “Bet you’ve dreamed about this,” he growls to you. “Bet you wanted to get slutted out on my dick for so long. Bet you couldn’t wait for tonight. Bet you planned for this.”

He leans down toward you, his lips grazing your ear. “Bet you’ve wanted to be my good girl for so long,” he growls before his hand comes down on your ass a little harder. 

“God, Dabi, yes!” you scream out to the heavens, gripping the couch for dear life as he fucks you harder. You’ve never felt like this before: so gone. Your eyes are closed and your mind is completely blank from the blinding pleasure you feel, each wave much bigger than the one before and washing over you. 

The pleasure is just too good, and it’s starting to reach a deafening crescendo. You can feel it building in your core, threatening to snap at any moment. “Gonna cum!” you practically sob, your head thrown back. “Gonna cum for you Dabi!” 

Dabi cackles behind you, putting a foot up on the cushion to get a better angle as he continues to fuck your pussy into submission. “Me too,” he grunts. “Want you take it. Take all of me like a big girl, baby.” 

He presses his lips to your ear, leaning down so his dick is hitting that spot that has you seeing the entire galaxy behind your eyelids. “Fuckin’ cum for me, mama,” he demands. “Let me know how good I’m making you feel. Cream all over that dick.”  

And you do. Moans and gasps leave your lips like a chorus as that chord finally snaps. You unravel, cumming all over Dabi’s dick. “Oh, my God!” you scream, your voice reaching heights fit for a shower singing session when you think no one is listening. You cream all over Dabi’s cock buried deep inside of you as he talks you through it, telling you how good of a girl you are as he strokes your outer thighs. 

“Gonna cum too,” he grunts, his hips snapping against your ass again and again as he chases his high. “You gonna take all of it, baby, hm?” 

“Y-Yes!” you choke out. “Please, please cum for me!” You begin tossing your ass back to meet his thrusts, wanting to feel him burst inside of you. And that does it. He grips your hips for dear life and cums deep inside of you with a raspy, loud moan that makes your stomach leap and your pussy clench around his pulsing cock. 

You take every single ounce of his warm, creamy cum that shoots into your pussy, never once pulling away. You can feel it coating your walls, filling you up to the point where you curl your toes and gasp at the feeling coursing through your body. Finally, Dabi’s hips begin to slow until he is sloppily fucking you, chasing the rest of his high. Then with a soft groan, he pulls out, but it isn’t over for you yet. His cock is still hard as he begins to slide the head along your lower back and ass, coating your skin in his cum. “So you smell like me,” he softly says. “So no other man will even try.” 

You let out a weak moan as you feel his nut coat your skin and drip down your thighs, making them slick and wet. Finally, he releases you and you slump against the couch, exhausted and spent, but feeling so, so good. After giving you some time to compose yourself, Dabi helps you fix your dress (without the panties) and fishes a napkin out of his pocket to wipe his cum off of your thighs. ‘What a gentleman,’ you think, giggling to yourself. 

He seems sheepish and almost shy standing there, now in his briefs. “I didn’t…hurt you, did I?” he carefully asks as if afraid of the answer. You slowly shake your head, still in a daze. “That was amazing,” you sigh. “I’ve never been fucked like that before.” A proud smile stretches across Dabi’s face. “Just what you needed?” he asks. 

You wrap your arms around his neck, nuzzling your face into his shoulder. “Absolutely,” you hum contently. “I hope it’s what you needed too.” He hums in agreement, pressing a kiss to the crown of your forehead. “That and much more.” You smile happily into his chest, glad that it was just as good for him as it was for you. 

For a while, you two stay like that: hugging in the warm breeze. Finally, Dabi clears his throat. “So…now what?” he awkwardly asks. 

“Well, we can’t go back inside like this,” you giggle. You motion to your dress still hiked up on your thighs and his semi-nakedness, though you’re sure that his physique would be welcomed. “And I think we both need to recover after those mind-blowing orgasms,” you purr, your pussy still sensitive from his dick beating it up. You curl up on the sofa and poke your bottom lip out at him. “Cuddle with me?” you coo. 

Dabi chortles at you, rolling his clear, blue eyes. “Such a baby,” he chuckles. “You’re lucky I like feelin’ you in my arms.” His sweet words make you flush in the breeze as he settles down next to you. He scoops you into his lap and securely wraps his muscled arms around you, squeezing you to him as if he’s afraid you’ll disappear. 

You feel the same way. You loop your arms around his neck and cradle his head to your beating heart. “So is a date in order after this?” he curiously asks. “I’m not too familiar with this shit, so…” 

You can feel the awkwardness radiating off of him. A laugh bubbles in your chest. Leave it to him to feel awkward about dating even though he just fucked you doggystyle on a rooftop.

“Yes, Dabi,” you laugh. “I’d love to go on a date with you.” You feel him smile into your chest and he squeezes you closer to him, making you giggle. You want to stay like this forever, wrapped up in him. 

When your phone suddenly rings, you feel like shooting somebody. You whine as you grab your phone, Dabi keeping his arms wrapped around you to make sure you don’t fall. Keigo’s name flashes across the screen.

“That’s Keigo,” you sigh. I hope no one broke anything.” You answer the phone, going back to cuddling Dabi. “Yeah?” 

“So I’m guessin’ you made our guest feel welcomed?” Keigo immediately asks. “You two have been gone for, like, an hour.” 

“It hasn’t been that long, Keigo,” you scoff though you really don’t know what time it is. “How’s the party? Is my apartment still intact?” 

“Don’t you trust me?” he scoffs, but you don’t answer that question. “So you and Dabi are together now? I knew it was only a matter of time until he decided to pull up his big boy pants and tell you how he felt.” 

You scowl in confusion, your heart picking up speed. “How did you–?” 

“Know?” he finishes and gives a laugh. “Kid, I’ve known this shit for years! It just wasn’t my business to tell. However, you can thank yourselves because you saved time. Now everyone knows you two are an item.” 

Your eyes widen, hoping he doesn’t mean what you think he means. “Huh?” you dumbly ask, earning an eyebrow raise from Dabi. “Everybody totally heard you up there, sis!” Rumi yells in the background. “You ain’t slick!” You hear laughter from Shiggy and Natsuo in the background which embarrasses you even more. You feel like hiding in a hole and never coming out. Everyone heard you? Were you that loud? 

“We turned up the music, but it could only block out so much,” Keigo chuckles, humored at your embarrassment. “I didn’t know you could get that loud. You ever consider singing?” 

“Goodbye, Keigo,” you growl, cutting off his cackle by immediately hanging up. You toss your phone to the side but not before turning off your ringtone. You don’t want anything or anyone ruining this moment for you. “What’d he say?” Dabi curiously asks. 

“Nothing,” you quickly reply. You slide off of his lap so you’re sitting next to him and snuggle back into his chest, holding him close. “Just that he’s an asshole.” 

Dabi chuckles, wrapping an arm around you as he puffs on the rest of the blunt, smoke billowing into the starry night sky above. “Well, that’s just a fact, babe.”  

THE END.

[call-sign-shark]

Heaven In Your Eyes || Arthur Shelby x Reader!OC

Summary:  Beaten with guilt and shame after losing his temper again, Arthur's aimless wandering leads him to church. There she is and, after diving into her heavenly eyes, he is convinced God has sent him His sweetest angel to save his bastard soul.

Words: 2.6k

TW: Blood, a bit of angst, slight blasphemy and bad use of holy water, reckless x caretaker Inspired by the prompt "Where does it hurt? - Everywhere" by @the-three-whumpeteers

Notes:

✞ Timeline: between seasons 2 and 3

✞ Heaven is OP's original character but written with the use of « you » (Moodboard here). Heaven’s voice and song is linked, all you have to do is click on the lyrics.

NEXT CHAPTER || Masterlist

The stumbling tall silhouette of Arthur Shelby was crossing through the thick haunting mist of Birmingham. As unwelcoming the town was during the day, it was nothing compared to night time. When sun faded behind the horizon, chased by the pale glowing face of the moon, the whole city turned into a cut-throat area. Arthur brought the neck of the bottle he was holding to his chapped lips and gulped down a mouthful of pure Irish whisky. The fire trail the beverage left behind it as it went down his throat reminded him he was alive — he could still feel something, even though it was the alcohol’s burning. An animal growl escaped from his lips when the bottle left them only for him to lean his back against one of the church’s gigantic concrete walls. A loud raven’s croak torn the silent veil of the night, making him swears. The gravel in his voice answered to the dull bird, which was watching him from a tree with his tiny and beady eyes.

« Fooking bird, laughing at me like the rest of ‘em eh? »

The raven — which was rather large for a bird — tilted its head to the side and kept staring at the drunk man with a cunning interest. Its black eyes, shining under the moonlight, seemed filled with both a wise glare and a mocking sparkle. Soon, Arthur’s curiosity for the raven’s unusual behavior turned into a senseless anger when he understood why the bird was focusing on him, his explosive rage strengthened by the incredible amount of alcohol he had drunk a bit earlier.

« It’s the damn blood is it? Stop lookin’ at me like I’m — I’m some kind of monster, or a beast or I don’t fookin’ know what else! Go to Hell! »

The bottle flew towards the raven but it did not flicker, as if it knew Arthur was not in the shape of being quick nor particularly precise with aiming. As the glass smashed into the ground, Arthur hit the wall behind him with the back of his head and let out a frustrated scream. No more cocaine, no more auto destructive behavior nor suicide attempts for two years straight, and tonight he fucked it all up. He was convinced he could get better, and God knows he tried his best to do so. Got sober from every poison he used to take, got a religious wife that was trying to turn the wolf in him into a sheep… Hell, he even brought her flowers every damn day. But then came troubles, taking the shape of his little brother, Thomas Shelby.

He asked him to do the dirty job — again.

With his calloused hands, he took another man’s life. At first Arthur thought he would not be that disturbed at the idea of killing someone, after all he had done that almost his entire life. Just one last time, he told himself, just one last time and I’ll go back to my little peaceful life with me wife.

Yet, the guilt and the shame that struck him after bashing the lad’s head against the edge of a sink until his face became a pile of squishy flesh soon became too much to handle.

As the last spurt of blood spattered his face, Arthur’s clouded mind became suddenly crystal clear: it would never stop. After that epiphany, the older Shelby brother contemplated how everyone he deeply loved tended to use him. For Thomas and the rest of the family he was a mad dog, the combat brute whose only times he could enjoy life without a muzzle were when he had to rip someone’s throat apart. For his father, he had been nothing else than a poor naive hound that would have done anything to receive his respect. As for Linda, her love was a cruel mirage he wanted to believe with all his heart — but the illusion had vanished in smoke. Whether she considered him as her personal test subject for Christian brainwashing or as a tool to get what she wants, Arthur could not tell. What he could tell though was that he knew she did not really loved him. She wanted to mould him at her will, but he was no lamb. He was a wolf, a beaten and lonely wolf, but still one. And there was no love for rabid wolves, only a bullet through the brain to cure the madness.

As his skull buzzed with macabre thoughts, whose unpleasant noise reminded him of a furious beehive, a bewitching voice pulled him out of his auto-destructive spiraling. Standing at attention and listening carefully, he came to realize that someone was singing inside the church. Arthur’s eyelids fell on his steel blue eyes and the back of his head gently rested against the cold wall behind him, the same wall he had been previously smashing it with. A sighed escaped from his liquored lips as the angelic and hypnotizing voice, slightly muffled by the church’s heavy wooden doors, plunged him into a soft but oh-so-warm haze.

My heart is pierced by Cupid

I disdain all glittering gold…

Lulled by the sad melody carried away with Birmingham’s cold night breeze, the swarm of raging hornets in Arthur’s brain stopped crashing against the bony walls of his skull. Another sigh — one of relief this time, for the unbearable noisy thoughts and violent buzzing had vanished. His trembling fingers, numbed by the blows he had hit his target with one hour ago and still covered with half-dried blood, slid along his temples and slicked his hair back. The utter and feral anger he had felt was reduced to void, for even his old heart had slowed its pace down in his ribcage.

There is nothing can console me

But my jolly sailor bold…

The tune, embedded with melancholy, soothed his troubled mind and to be honest, he could barely believe it. When that switch in his brain flipped, God knew he was not in control anymore - even dear Linda, who still managed to hush down some of his tantrums, could not tame the beast inside when it broke free a bit more fiercely than usual. Yet, this voice did so. This stranger, faceless and nameless ghost of the night, brought him back to sanity with the sole power of her voice. The words she was singing, with her a juvenile and enchanting tone, were wrapping his heart. Arthur sniffed and fought hard against the dawning tears that were forming delicate crystal beads at the corner of his closed eyes.

If he had been the jolly sailor bold, he would have thrown himself out of the boat to join the siren that was singing.

My heart is pierced by Cupid

I disdain all glittering gold.

There is nothing can console me

But my jolly sailor bold…

She repeated, sadder than she previously sang.

Her song sipped through his heart and filled the cracks with molten gold. Arthur’s lips stretched in an almost invisible grin without even realizing it — By her voice, he was convinced she could repair the damaged creatures like him and make them even more beautiful than they were before they had been dragged through the trenches’ mud and shit. He had barely came to his senses, almost miraculously sobered up, when silent fell again in the church. Arthur reopened his eyes, and shook his head - Had he dreamt? Had it been the whiskey singing to him? No, he could not be that crazy right? Not quite sure if he was starting to hear voices and see things, Shelby decided that he had to found out who had been singing to his very own soul. He wanted to see her, the girl who soothed his foul heart and his twisted mind. He wanted to know, no, he HAD to know, even though his whole being was fragile like a flickering candle flame caught in a hurricane and would probably shatter in million of pieces if she turned out to be an illusion.

Gathering all his remaining strength, Arthur grabbed the handle and opened the church’s door.

[…]

A shiver ran down your delicate spine at the loud silence that floated in the gigantic and empty church. The peculiar sweet yet strong scent of myrrh, wood and frankincense filled your lungs with its holy fragrance. The vibrations of the last word you sang was still echoing in the room, swirling to the high and sculpted ceiling, from which marble angels were watching over you. If someone would have told you two years ago that the only place you would find comfort would be a church, you would not have believe it. You had never been particularly fervent about religion, but you did believe in higher forces whether they were good or bad. More than a matter of faith, the church itself was an old friend of yours. A gargantuan friend of stone, holy titan always welcoming you even in the darkest moments of your life. What you liked the most were these lonely moments at night, during which you could light up dozen of candles and sing your sorrow to the status and colorful stained-glass windows. No gossip from the parish, no believers swarming like ants within these mighty walls. There were just you, the candle lights and the soothing silence. For a few hours, you could finally find peace.

Brushing the varnished wood of the altar with your thin fingers and painted-red nails, you let your mind drift and, suddenly, the world around you vanished. You sunk so deep in the abyss of your thoughts that you did not hear the creaking sound of the heavy door opening, nor the footsteps that followed. All you could heard were the « Burn witch, burn! » that hundred of villagers screamed at you in the woeful remembrance of your past. And in spite of your immaculate porcelain skin, you bore the scars of their words deep in your soul.

[…]

Arthur made a few steps before freezing, his body refusing to come closer as if the aura around the creature that was standing back to him , right in front of the altar lightened up with dozen and dozen of small dancing flames, was too sanctified to be violated. Bathed in the soft and warm orange hue of candles, the long white hair of the woman fell down the small of her back like an ivory waterfall. Right above her the pale glow of the full moon coming through the stained-glass window formed a luminous halo around her head.

His breathing stopped, choking in his throat at such a divine vision. The gangster opened his mouth to speak but no words managed to come out. He had never been good with words anyway. Instead he moistened his lips and swallowed, his mouth dry. The white-haired girl had started to hum the same song she had been singing a bit earlier, not aware of his presence — and he did not dare to disturbing her as if he feared God’s punishment. He took another step, the wooden floor creaking under his sole.

This time the angel — because he was convinced it was one — jumped and turned around, an expression of utter surprise veiling her sweet face. Her fox eyes, adorned with two iris so fair it reminded him of aquamarine stones, scrutinized his slightest movements. She remained petrified for what felt eternity for her but, regarding him, time had stopped for good. Arthur finally inhaled sharply, coming back to life.

All those endless nights of crying, all those endless nights of praying in vain for something or someone to save him, and here you were… His salvation.

He had asked God to send him, the most desperate sinner of all, His most beautiful Angel and He had done so.

She was not just pretty. She was otherworldly and vaguely threatening. Almost ethereal in her short white dress whose cut let her naked back for the world to see.

« I waited for ya. » He whispered.

She blinked, her full and juicy lips opening with surprise.

He stuttered, looking down and decided it was better for you if he stopped talking. The gravel in his hoarse voice, as strong as it was, sounded indescribably frail. As if this tall and slightly threatening man could shatter at your single touch. Now he felt stupid, clumsy with words contrary to Tommy and his naturally eloquent and charismatic speech. In addition to the unpleasant impression of being a fool, Arthur’s own whisky-scented breath and the strong metallic smell of blood reminded him of his horrific appearance. Overcoming the awe you infused in him, panic started to kick.

You frowned, and all of sudden he did not look that impressive anymore. Swept away by the wind, your face relaxed and wrapped itself with a calm, almost placid expression. You exhaled through your nose and walked towards the gangster, who had brought his bloody hands to each side of his head and was now pulling his own hair in a desperate attempt to not lose track.

« Where does it hurt? » You asked with a quiet and soothing tone, for you were concerned about all the blood he was covered with.

Arthur raised his gaze toward the petite white-haired doll who had just pressed one of her cold little hands on his. Your ice against his fire made his legs weak and his heart missed a beat. How his breathing calmed down at your touch was a mystery, but it did. Not quite comprehending why you did not seem scared of him, he stuttered again, all flustered.

« Shhh, shhhh. Everything’s okay, take a deep breath and answer with all the time you need. » Your hand gently tightened its grip, willing to show him you were there and you were not going anywhere until he feels better.

« Where does it hurt? »

« Ev-Everywhere love. It hurts everywhere. »

His hands, his face, his body, his brain, his soul, his damn tortured soul… It all ached too much, and too constantly for him to bear anymore. E-ve-ry-where, that was all he could say because pain was all he could feel.

Without answering, you pulled him to the altar and invited him to sit on the marble stairs. The strong and fierce gangster followed you without the single physical resistance and gave in between your hands, as a rag doll. All he did was looking at you with his charming but oh-so-exhausted blue eyes as you tore the fabric of your dress near your thighs and soaked it in holy water.

« Let me wash away the blood. » Your voice echoed in the vastness of the church, enticing and haunting at the same time — enough to send a pleasant shiver down his spine. You had barely finished your sentence when you started rubbing the wet cloth against his hollow cheek to clean his pale skin from the dark red blood. Once again, he could not help watching you during the whole ordeal all the while enjoying the fresh sensation of the holy water cleansing the dirt of his soul. Not minding his stare filled with fascination, you focused on your task, brows slightly furrowed and fingers blessing him with the softest and most caring touch someone had given him.

« Yer an Angel. I swear you are eh. »

You quickly glanced at him, a sparkle of amusement shining in your cunning celeste blue eyes, before looking back at what you were doing. The weight of his gaze brought fire to your cheeks, for he looked at you like he had just realized what love was.

He looked at you, and to his greatest surprise, found Heaven in your eyes.

I'm super new in the Peaky Blinders fandom, so please bear with me... Especially since English is not my native language. To be honest I am kind of scared to post it so any comment, review, reblog or constructive criticism is welcome. Also, I'll be more than happy to meet people in the Peaky Blinders fandom! In the meantime, I hope you enjoyed some Arthur and Heaven. Still don’t know if I’ll write a full series or snipets of these two love birds.

Tags: @areyenotfondofmelobster

[creepy-friday]

Hi!!! I saw your fem! Proxy post and I was wondering if you could write a NSFW scenario/oneshot with a fem! Proxy with Hoodie? It just really got me thinking and the way you write the characters really intrigues me!

If not it's completely ok!!! I don't know if your requests are open or if you write NSFW but if you don't then feel free to ignore this!

The only specific thing I ask is if Y/N was a bit in the sweeter and innocent side when it comes to her personality, since i think the contrast between her human and naive natures contrasts with Hoodie's perveted one is really interesting, that's the only thing really.

I love your writing and hcs and remember that you don't have to write this if you don't want to!!

💗💗💗

Hii!! Thank you so much! I'm glad you enjoyed it! 💞 💞💞

NSFW|Hoodie x Female Proxy|

Warnings: heavy NSFW,hair pulling,orgasm denial,violence,blood and abuse mentions

Two years.It took you two years of working under a faceless creature to finally give in the loneliness almost every creep of the mansion drowned into

It was noticed by Brian who waited patiently for you to say the word that would bring the nights he spent jerking himself off to you to reality

On the occasions you were free to wander around, Brian followed you a couple of times. At first it was just his job,to make sure you aren't plotting to escape and to report to Slenderman if you would be on the run

To be honest he wouldn't have rat you out even if you thought you could escape the forest,but he would've blackmail you into various "services" to keep quiet. He isn't the most innocent after years of having blood on his hands

Missions with you along with Masky and Hoodie were going two ways. It was either Maksy smashing someone's brain across the room while you're distracted or having you knock out someone while the white masked man bitches about it.

It was funny to him,really,altough the hood's expression captures sadness he's finding himself smirking to how much you try to leave a scene with the least amount of blood possible

It was a dirty thought,but he was getting hard of the amount of fear or disgust your face portrayed whenever his teammate did something grotesque

He noticed how you reacted to the cruel things he did as well

Sometimes he wonderes if you would have the same expression if he would put a pistol to your head while pounding into you,or if the sweet girl he thinks you are would enjoy it

Of course he never tried to make a move on you or to harass you like Masky did.He was simply waiting for an opportunity to fuck you,one like today

There were feelings he wasn't aware of,but he never gave them much thought because a relationship between the two of you would be candalous

The dynamic among the proxies would be destroyed,but he wouldn't mind to be honest,the word "shame" is out of his vocabulary after all the time spent here

Today was one of the days you had a breakdown and needed to be out for a while,deep in the forest to the usual spot

"You keep on coming here." he approached you with slow steps,leaning on a tree while pulling his hood upwards.There was clear tension between the two of you from the mission last night

"Oh,yeah.. " you simply responded while rubbing your hands together.

"It was a nice thing." he mentioned from last night,when you soothed Toby who was on the verge of exploding into another violent outburst to Masky's constant bullying towards him.

You gave him a nod while playing with the crushed leaves on the ground

"I know how it was at first,in these woods." Brian stated while taking a few more steps towards you."You don't have to hide there.Confess to me." he demanded."Why you do it?"

You looked at him with a puzzled expression,deep bags under your eyes from the lack of sleep due to the stress from all the worked days

"I don't know." and you told him the truth,but to be honest,at this point you were exhausted.You kept on thinking about your life..before you ended up here.

The loneliness combined with the way of how hot his body felt right next to you made you make the first move to finally give Brian the start he longed for.

You looked up to him and he leaned in.You kissed him and he followed by with a deeper passionate approach while his hands traveled from your waist to your ass and finally to your pants

As you tried to get some air as well as some distance you gently pushed him by the chest. "We shouldn't do this."

"Why not?"

"I...I don't.." it felt guilty to be out with your teammate like this.It felt like a betrayal of some sort for some reason.

"You don't what?" he smirked while closing the distance yet again "you're a virgin? That's alright,I won't bite." Brian whispered while giving wet kisses to the crook of your neck "or maybe you aren't into this kind of stuff?"

His right hand traveled to your clothed sex after giving your ass a rough squeeze.He continued to rub your cunt while his left hand went up your shirt,pulling it upwards with your bra

The way your legs opened up,giving room for his hand to toy with your covered heat and the way his tongue circled your nipple made you moan in response

After giving your puffy nipples a final squeeze he grabbed you by the back of your neck and throwed you face down on the log he was previously sitting on making you yelp in surprise

Hoodie moved his hand from your neck to your hair,grabbing a fistful of it while undoing his pants and pushing your legs apart for more room

"You're not saying anything,huh?Use your voice for a bit',I might do it more often" he whispered as he lowered his body onto you

"I..I don't know what to-" you were interrupted by the cold wind biting at your skin as he pulled your pants to your ankles in a rush

"That's okay.I'll fuck the words out of you." he whispered as he plunged two fingers into your wet hole

He kept on hurrying the pace as you were driven closer and closer to the edge then suddenly went slower

"Please don't stop" you begged for him,your mind long gone into a hazy cloud as he gently lifted your head by the hair

He entered in without much effort as you arched your back followed by his grunts

He continued to slowly trace circles on your clit,patiently waiting for you to ask for more

A few squirms and your body was rocking against his hand,the nonverbal response made the intention clear and he followed suit

The sound of flesh on flesh combined with the muffled moans were enough to make your face red,further hurting your cheek in the rough surface of the log he previously sat on

"Are you disgusted with yourself?" he smirked while continuing to pound into you "of being with someone like me?" getting closer to your face he jerked your head upwards and licked your cheek "maybe you're getting off of that"

Making the pace slower again he hissed "respond."

"N-No!I'm not!"

"Atta girl"

The whole situation driven you drunk with lust as you tightened around him

After a minute of heavy breathing you both regained yourselves from the high.As Brian caressed your hair a wet pop was heard before as he stood up straight to adjust his clothes back on. "You alright?"

"Y-yeah.." you breathed out while hurrying to pull your pants back on,still shaken from the whole experience.

"Want some help with that?" you immediately responded with a quiet "no"  while ignoring any sort of eye contact with him.

"Aight'" Brian smiled to himself as he sat down on the same log,still watching you take deep breaths in and out while leaning on the tree next to him.

The faint sound of a click was heard as he lightened up a cigarette. "Take a break." Brian whispered with a different tone now,the teasing and mischievous one being long gone at this point. "You'll need it for tomorrow."

You finally looked in his direction, eyes fixated on yours as a soft smile appeared on his face

"Maybe you'll get lonely again.I'll be there"

[guav]

ᥫ᭡ for sanzu haruchiyo,

⠀⠀⠀⠀DISCIPLINE

what is sanzu to do when his waging rampage is met with a boot to the face? answer's simple: wag his tail.

⠀⠀⚠︎⠀⠀bordering on dark! graphic descriptions of blood, violence, suggestive themes, like one sex scene if u squint, y'know how it goes. ooc sanzu because idfk either. like 4.8k words.

“i’m not your superior, haruchiyo,” tensions rise with a simple roll of the tongue. the waters have been tested, they seem to be riddled with piranhas. “yet, i can’t say im loving this death stare of yours.”

if you’re not careful, he might just eat you alive. sanzu is not above murder, if your forerunner is anything to go by. his stare is cold, calculating, mapping out your body of weak points. 

“manjiro tasked me with you, but i’m not a babysitter.” that got half his attention, the mention of mikey piquing his interest. “my job is to make sure you’re useful to him.” 

like food thrown to a starving animal, his full focus now preys on you.

sanzu has beautiful eyes, you notice. they widen at your words in utter disbelief. perhaps he’s a sleeper agent, ‘sano manjiro’ being the only whisper necessary to kick him into overdrive.

sanzu is an exquisite asset, isn’t he?

ever the shrewd character, you’re quick to notice his change of nature isn’t desperate. sanzu haruchiyo is not some helpless schoolgirl chasing after manjiro. there’s layers, a bond that transcends time itself. 

he is loyal, just not valuable enough; and that breeds desperation.

“useful—” sanzu clears his throat, “useful how?”

he can’t remember the next minute very well.

the first two seconds he wastes time blinking, the fourth is spent in a panic—you’re no longer within his field of vision. mark the fifteenth second, you reappear. one moment you were staring him down, sitting on piled up boxes, the next you’re beside him.

at the twentieth, his instincts go into overdrive. there’s no escaping the inevitable now.

sanzu is agile. sufficiently lithe to brace for impact before you slam him into the wall. his ears ring, and there’s warm liquid seeping out of his ear. he’s agile enough to survive a hit from you, perhaps that’s better than most. 

the alleway starts to spin, and the remainder of the minute is spent trying to stay afloat. it’s useless though, soon enough his legs give out and he kisses the ground hello.

there’s a sizeable dent in the concrete where you absolutely smashed him into. it reeks of danger—thrill.

“am i gonna have to teach you manners, too?” you click your tongue. “you live up to the fame, aren’t you the cutest rabid mutt?”

sanzu feels your fingers on his chin. he can’t fight back against the grip, not when he can’t tell if there’s really two of you or if that’s the work of a concussion. “rule number one, haruchiyo. you only speak when it’s something worth wasting breath on.”

he’s going limp. “is that clear?”

in all the two minutes he’s known you for, sanzu’s learned better than to go against your word. or words, he’s starting to hear double.

“yes.”

you make a mental note of his impeccable survival instinct. “good.”

RULE NO. 2: do as you’re told.

“you’ve already ditched the mask once, i don’t know why you backtracked on it.” 

sanzu remains motionless. your voice may as well have been a specter the way it goes ignored. and yet, his actions (or lack thereof) are not countered with another pummel on the drywall.

your line of work dictates a healthy dose of studying enigmas. speech, actions—none speak louder than the subconscious fidgets that compose body language. sanzu’s straightened back, clasped hands behind, and distant, firm gaze communicate enough.

he’s awaiting approval to voice his thoughts.

and that earns him another mouthful of dirt.

“i’m not your superior, haruchiyo. did i really need to repeat myself?” he looks helpless on the ground, breathing a string of curses into existence at the strain of his muscles.

his hands curl into the ground below, nearly pulling out the grass within his grip in frustration.“no, there was no need.”

sanzu does try to get up, overworking the already-sore body left from your strenuous training. (why you were expecting him in his kitchen first thing in the morning, only to drag him out to do fucking burpees, he’ll never know). 

however, once again, his efforts are fruitless. muscles fail to respond, and sanzu is left to lay on the ground. pathetic. the sudden pressure on the back of his head doesn’t allow for much struggle either. it’s heavy, and it doesn’t take a genius to figure out that’s your boot on him.

“it appears you’re misunderstanding our relationship.”

there’s not much left for sanzu than to succumb to your weight. it’s not pleasant, not in the slightest. nothing about impotence is.

“i’m going to make you into the best right-hand man. you’ll follow some rules, but you’re free to act however you wish. i’m not-”

“my superior.”

that seems to please you.  

sanzu breathes a sigh of relief when your footing no longer uses him as floor. he dares peek at the sky, but your figure blocks the sun from blinding his eyes. so why does he squint, still? your sole presence burns just as fiery.

“this is the second rule. if you plan to become useful,” suddenly he’s listening closely, attentive. “then you best honor commands, right now they’ll come from me, soon they’ll be your precious king’s own.”

sanzu bites back a scoff, draws blood from his cheek to cut any rash thoughts short. he could do this all by himself. obedience runs deep within his veins, preaches every demand as a devoted knight would to a throne; no different than a sunflower in pursuit of sustenance light years away.

he doesn’t need you.

“i understand.” so why does he follow you, no second questions asked?

a smile blesses him from the depths of hell, though your eyes don’t squint in the slightest. scary. you raise a finger to your cheek, tapping the skin twice.

sanzu proceeds to discard the black face mask without a single word of protest. it makes your lips stretch farther up.

the same boot crushing his head mere minutes ago nudges his body, sanzu now lies on his back. there’s no escape from your words, stare ever so omnipotent. “the difference between mucho and i is simple.”

is it? you’re both equally sliceable, nothing more than cartilage and bone. maybe next time you make an appearance he’ll cut you into pieces.

regardless, you’re slippery (maybe the polarity lies in that, sanzu muses). you stood proud one second, the next make of his abdomen a seat, cold hands cupping his face like he’s fine china and you, an avid collector.

“i love my hounds as they come,” you get closer, dangerously so. “snarly, scarred—they’re all the same to me.”

turquoise eyes are left to watch his destiny play before him. snap his neck, take a bite out his neck and tear the skin apart, anything could go with you.

“let’s change the second rule, haruchiyo.”

sanzu‘s breathing rags, your hands increase the pressure, and you might go for the alternative of crushing his head like a can. effortlessly.

“rule number two, you do as you’re told, but my word comes above everyone else's.”

your fingers travel north past his cheekbones, resting just below his eyes. he’s alert. you wonder what kind of canine would quiver the same way he does right now.

“is that understood?”

woof. “yes.”

RULE NO. 17: if you’re not useful, you’re out.

“don’t you get fuckin’ tired?” sanzu all but groans, drop of sweat joining the hundreds more pooling down his shirt. “surely sittin’ around while i do all the damn work wears you out.”

his words are poison, the katana in his hands is deadly, and yet, you giggle. “nah, keep doing your thing.”

there’s a fleeting thought to ditch this fight and have your head instead. although admittedly, he’d rather learn some spanish before fleeing to nicaragua with your body in five different plastic bags.

another nameless thug lunges, and it makes for another squirming body on the ground. “when you said we’d be taking care of business i thought you meant toman business.”

you know, mikey business?

sanzu bites his tongue after the sentence rolls out his mouth. as much as you’d grown accustomed to his character, he’d be sure to join the rest of motionless, bleeding goons if he disrespects you.

“toman’s dead, lost cause.”

that makes him stop the slashing. “fuck’s that mean?”

you’re satisfied with the fight for the evening, glock in hand shooting the last of targets. one bullet per head, not a single wasted. “we’re here on business to make sure there’s a place for you in the close future. bills are also due this week, two birds, one stone, yeah?”

“elaborate, “ sanzu actually growls.

“haruchiyo.”

the calling of his name makes sanzu’s shoulders roll back, back straightening out. it’s reflex now, really.

“tokyo manji is child’s play, you can’t possibly think i’m training you for them, right?”

“no, of course not,” what are you hiding? what do you really know?

your boot steps on too many limbs to reach his position, fresh blood joins the old on your sole. “correct! you’re so smart!”

sanzu misses his face mask. with it, you would be oblivious to his sneer when your hand comes up to ruffle his hair. it’s demeaning, probably intentional on your end. makes him seriously reconsider whether you’d look best with a sword through your chest.

“if you complete your training well-enough you could rule tokyo.” your eyes bore holes into his own. “wouldn’t you say all of kantou is more appealing?”

“sure?” 

you turn away from him. sanzu can finally stop holding his breath. 

“you don’t sound too convinced, haruchiyo.” only a fool would fall for your fake distress and pouty face. you’ve lost your stoic facade—deep down you’re but a childish merc with enough brute force to rival an elephant.

two fingers are raised over your shoulder, follow.

“i’m only interested in-”

“manjiro, i know.” you’d heard this story a thousand times. mikey, mikey, mikey. “and what’s gonna happen when he starts going for bigger fish? delinquency is a slippery slope into the world of crime—a rich one, too.”

sanzu can hardly picture mikey, in all his glory, waving a gun around. “you don’t know anything about him.”

you stop in your tracks.

he stops too, a good meter from you. 

“this isn’t about tokyo manji, it’s about sano manjiro.”

“they’re one in the same,” sanzu bites back. you’re not his superior, he can do as he wishes.

“haruchiyo,” your gaze is cold. “sit.”

he kneels, swallows his pride for the hundredth time.

the abandoned warehouse breathes death and rot. there’s barely moonlight dropping from the ceiling to light his path of carnage. whatever job this was had nothing to do with mikey. it makes sanzu boil over with rage. you’re wasting his time.

“what good are you to toman if there’s no mikey?” you step closer, sanzu leans forward to meet your hands. they’re cold, caressing the diamonds carved by the latter. “how are you going to serve if you’re useless?”

he avoids your stare. “i am useful.”

one of your hands moves from his cheek to stroke his hair, gently freeing the locks from his ponytail. “you are, look around.”

sanzu can distinguish around four men crawling for their life, the rest a mess of broken bones and mangled slashes. “if mikey needs to take a life, you’ll be more than prepared to strike.”

he thinks back on mucho. the thrill that kill brought him made it hard to function the rest of the day. now it’s second nature; sanzu bites and rips apart with no hesitation, takes life as if it was never there to begin with.

“listen, haruchiyo,” your hands are clean from all ichor, and he hates how good they feel on his scalp. “think of it like a mechanism.”

eyelashes flutter prior to closing, isolating his sense of sight to fully indulge in the rest. the smell of blood, sound of your analogy, a gentle caress on his face making him wish he didn’t enjoy it as much. sanzu wishes you were dead.

“a machine with bolts, springs and wheels, synced together, with purpose.”

he pictures a shrine, lost in the midst of a sea of faceless pawns. fifth farthest from commander, or founder. he pictures kids playing; a toy plane; the first command he’s ever received—he knows things are meant to be. 

“those who can't be a cog in our wheels are just scraps.”

as with any commandment you dictate, sanzu engraves the saying in his mind. carves each letter, memorizes every syllable, savors all implications.

“are you scrap, haruchiyo?”

“never.”

“good,” you coo, leaning down to graze his forehead with a kiss. the devil’s touch. “good.”

RULE NO. 99: know your place.

sanzu has come to the conclusion you’re a fucking parasite.

autumn witnessed development from cowering at our very presence, winter tied a ribbon to the unlikely friendship, and spring arrived with you at his doorstep every other day. 

you’ve become the first thing he sees in the mornings (somehow you’re always dressed by the time his eyes flutter open, janking his blankets to drag him to train: “let’s go for a walk, haruchiyo!”)

every single evening would be devoid of any personal space. whether it’s his couch being invaded, to his kitchen becoming an absolute mess with whatever recipe you’re trying to put together. no, it’s not the thought that counts, even if the heart-shaped burnt cookies were for him anyway.

the nights were probably the worst.

sanzu had long-forgotten his closet being only halfway full, nor does he know when you had practically moved your entire wardrobe into his. there’s not enough space for the two of you, and he absolutely despises how everything smells like you now.

“haruchiyo, bathtub’s ready.”

you’ve somehow achieved the impossible by making bubble baths the worst thing he can come to think of. hates the thought of getting dragged to it, absolutely detests how he tosses and turns in bed whenever he doesn't have one with you.

there's a nice scented candle on the counter serving as the lone light source within his bathroom. an obscene amount of foam clings to your hand as you test the temperature. save for the swoosh of the water, it seems sanzu might be granted the miracle of having a relaxing moment of silence in his bubble bath.

you stand, "turn around, 'm taking these off."

never fucking mind.

begrudgingly, sanzu complies. he starts to discard of his own clothes, too. his hands barely make it to the hem of his shirt before a piece of fabric lands perfectly on his head. god, you're gonna make him pop a vein.

"i'd love for you to not throw your underwear at me," sanzu has half the mind not to throw them back at you, opting for hooking a finger in the undergarment and throwing it as far away as possible.

"my bad," you're not in the least sorry. the water is too perfect to dwell on past mistakes. "c'mon, chop chop."

soon his body enters the water too, bubbles parting way as his skin kisses the still water. sanzu leans back on your body, not minding in the slightest the feel of your naked skin against his own; your body warmth rivaling the water's own.

(okay, maybe he minds a little)

"isn't this nice?"

"no," sanzu doesn't miss a beat. "have i ever told you how much i hate you?"

a good amount of shampoo is combed through his scalp by your fingers, gently massaging the area. "a couple times, yes."

let's make it thrice then: "well, i really fuckin' hate you."

what's most thrilling about sanzu haruchiyo is the double-edged blade his persona holds. failure comes with crystal clear dangers of getting diced alive, success offers a never ending supply of amusement. 

you push his head further into the water to rinse the shampoo off. there's no struggle from sanzu, you could very well drown him right now and there'd probably be no fight coming from him.

"you're seriously useless, i don't need you tellin' me what to do to appease mikey."

"close your eyes for me."

he follows your demand without missing a beat, basking in the water you pour on his face to rid the last bits of foam. "i want you dead."

early are the mornings your movement would be restricted by a pair of arms, late are the nights you'd walk home from a hit only to see his room's lights go off as soon as you enter the building. 

"you gonna leave me to shrivel like i’m raisins? get on with it."

you reach for the soap, "aren't you needy, haruchiyo?"

sanzu groans, this would seem like the perfect moment for a meteor to strike his building. rather than feeding into your delusion he keeps quiet. it’s better than talking to the wall you are. teasing, threading the rope that is his patience for you. 

hands travel across his skin, tending to it with soap that’s gonna leave sanzu reeking of your strawberry soap. “you’re funny, haruchiyo.”

it’s a shame there’s no sharp objects within his reach. “can’t wait for the day you slip and die.”

his half-empty threat procures a giggle from you. “see!”

“or the long fuckin’ awaited night you get stabbed and dumped in an alleyway.”

your laughter reverberates and bounces off the walls, and yet sanzu can’t tell if it’s sincere or genuine. 

banter ends at that, and soon he is clean. though there’s no change in position to allow for sanzu to even attempt to wash you, too. strange as it is, the peace and quiet are both rare enough, perhaps the universe has been kind enough to grant him this one moment of silence.

“but really, you are funny — i get the impression you’re all bite no bark,” enough instances of carnage and gargling on metal could easily refute this observation. you don’t care. “you whine, cry, complain, and yet you never ask for anything.”

just this morning he asked you to do the dishes (which you never did: “can’t make me”). perhaps dementia was knocking on your door a good thirty years too early. however, it’s implied you're not referring to such superficial instances.

“haruchiyo,” your body draws him impossibly closer, “what is it you wish most for?”

he tilts his head back, leaning on your shoulder. the new position allows for a better view of your face. momentarily, perchance a slip of character, his eyes wander. glance at your lips, the bubbles hugging your body from his view, squint to see what the water hides. “hell if i know.”

a hum is enough reassurance that you won’t contest his blatant lie. “okay.”

a splish, splash, and overflowing water hitting the tile, sanzu is now the one kneading at your hair, soap lathering and cleaning. intimacy at its finest. delectable sweetness as you lean back, and take a nibble of his jugular. it earns you a pinch on your hip.

“say, you in the mood for a new addition to the rulebook?”

“not in the slightest.”

his honesty is met with a splash of water to his face, “too bad, take note.”

sanzu rolls his eyes, cost of opportunity heavy with regret since, of course, he forgot to carry a toaster into the bathroom to finally take you out.

“know your part wherever you are—learn when to be the hanged, and when to be executioner.”

it’s random. it’s ironic. “if we’re playin’ like that, then your authority’s worth jack shit to me.”

“is that so?”

once again, the question is left unanswered. hung and forgotten.

“i think your act and place should always be by my side” you muse. it’s custom you add a rule to the list and immediately reform it.

a phantom feeling tugs at his throat, like a collar being yanked. hands that operate under your every order move to rest on your thighs. underwater, there’s no hierarchy; nudity knows no ruler from subject. “and if i say no?”

“you won’t.”

a horrifying realization dawns on sanzu haruchiyo that night. as his fingers inch dangerously higher, and higher, as the water turns cold, carelessly splashing outside the bathtub. as his teeth sink everywhere and two become one, sanzu haruchiyo comes to a gut wrenching conclusion.

‘you won’t.’

it’s true. maybe words can’t ever describe what he wishes for, but it’s easy to cross out what he doesn’t want.

sanzu knows he doesn’t want to stop. doesn’t wish for your hand to ever release his bicep from that deathly grip, or for you to stop making those noises, nor does he want anything but your warmth once it’s all said and done.

sanzu knows he doesn’t wish for you to ever leave, and maybe that’s enough.

RULE NO. 275: forget everything i've taught you.

"..what?" sanzu is beyond confused.

"yeah, you're good to go, no need to follow anything i've said anymore."

the room was empty. manjiro had long since left, the eldest haitani had grown bored of your mongrel staring him down with every flirt he shot your way, and the rest of kantou manji had simply shown themselves out for their own various reasons that no one truly cares for.

the gears are still turning on his head, cerebrum working overtime to decipher the new mandate, or lack thereof? schrodinger's rulebook, perhaps?

“you look good in white, you know.” as if you hadn’t just nuked everything he’s ever known, you lean forward to adjust his collar. your favorite pretty boy, dearest psychopath. “let me tie your hair for you.”

“what the fuck do you mean?”

he hates the feigned confusion you present him with. hates the tilt of your head so much he actually unsheathes his katana, blade steady and barely a few inches from your neck. it further irritates him your obvious lack of response, not even a flinch.

any other day you’d play the clueless game, but there’s really no one paying you the hour anymore. “it was fun while it lasted, wasn’t it?”

“why are you acting like you’re,” sanzu bares his teeth, disgusted at just the thought of the word, “like you’re ditching?”

interesting phrasing. not ‘leaving,’ that would imply abandonment, a cry of weakness. ‘ditching’ pins blame from the moment it is vocalized, like whatever you’re doing, actions sanzu is still trying to decode, is irrevocably your fault.

steel kisses your neck, close enough to feel the cold, and the lack of wavering. you’re proud of haruchiyo, really. “gonna miss me?”

“you don’t leave a gang.” there’s the helpless child in disguise. 

“manjiro took you in as vice,” you don’t bother with swatting the katana away, instead moving close enough to feel his hitched breath on your lips. arms thrown over his shoulders, fingers combing and threading to jail his locks into a ponytail. “i’d say my work is done.”

triads of protest die in his throat. shackles finally dissipate into thin air, long were the solstices he prayed for this day to come. yet sanzu feels himself floating away at the lack of grounding. he’s gonna be sick. 

for once the silence is suffocating. overwhelming. unwelcome. the katana slowly scurries back into hiding, desperately like an animal rolling over to flaunt it’s belly; a last ditch effort of submission.

“aren’t you excited?”

he can finally kill you. he can finally roll over in bed and not find you there. he can finally return to being alone, and the strongest, and-

sanzu doesn’t do as he’s told. 

“you finally have what you want.”

sanzu isn’t useful.

“you’ve been acknowledged.”

sanzu doesn’t know his place.

“you’re finally free.”

sanzu shoves you with enough force to stumble back onto the wide table in the meeting room, it’s surprising how it doesn’t shatter. there’s not enough time in a second to allow a reaction, not when he overpowers you for the second time, back slamming against the wood, sanzu’s body nestling between your legs. you can let him have this.

sanzu is stiff. he’s not used to being the one to leap first when it comes down to your dynamics. it feels unnatural to cage you like this, for your legs to wrap and pull him closer, like you’re mocking him. “you’re not my superior.”

one of your hands trail up his arm. “that’s correct.”

“then you’re my enemy.”

you tug him down, lips finding themselves naturally drawn right under his jaw. there’s no verbal answer to his introspection. 

“then i’ve beat you — i’m stronger than you.”

sanzu most certainly did not miss the floating sensation your attacks give him. by all means, physically, he should be stronger. so, physically too, it’s odd when your hand pushes his weight effortlessly, and your leg locks on to successfully beat his ass and pin him down. it sucks feeling a concussion in the brewing. 

he’s always looked prettier under you. “now that you’re on your own, haruchiyo, prepare to make mistakes.” his hands instinctively fly to your waist, “learn from them.”

sanzu groans, he himself doesn’t know if it’s the pain speaking or the built up frustration, “‘s that a new rule?”

the juxtaposition of slamming sanzu on the table and the gentle hands that come to tilt his head is a little funny. his skin smells of strawberries as you ghost your lips across it. “they’re parting words.”

it’s by no means a new position he’s found himself in. and yet he feels stumped. helplessly watching as the fire crackles its last sparks, as the last train starts to close its doors. even your body starts to feel like a distant whisper.

"haruchiyo, i want you to remember me." you're positive even the idea is far-fetched. the way his muscles tense and eyes narrow at your every call is automatic now. "memorize how my fingers feel on your jaw."

sanzu nearly purrs at the contact, and it's pathetic. he could never forget the grip, your hand looks best when it's on his face. 

"memorize my voice, you must."

it goes without saying he already has. plenty were the nights he woke up in cold sweat, hallucinating you in every shadow and crevice; many more he’s coped by turning in bed and found the warmest embrace in your arms.

he can't live without you.

"haruchiyo, what else can i do for you to remember me, forever and always?"

'what is it you wish most for?'

he remembers the seventeenth rule, remembers the day you promised him a reward far beyond being an asset to mikey. sanzu had reflected on it far too long. what could he possibly ask from you?

power is all he ever wants. being of importance, too. both are things he could never have from you. 

you have it all. you best him in every way possible. 

maybe, in just one thing, he can overthrow you. "a kiss."

sanzu has come to the conclusion there's no healthy middle when it comes to you. his mind splits between wanting your head on a stick and fighting urges to leap and bite at your lip until blood is drawn. 

perhaps an impulse to prove himself useful so you stay. a test of courage, his mouth wherever you need it most, whatever it is that will make you forever forget the thought of leaving him to fend for himself like a mutt.

"a kiss?" you've never looked more inviting than now, leaning back to stare him down, slowly blinking, a stray lock of hair falling out of place.

you’re making him feel real stupid. a small fraction cringing at his request, as if he had been reading the mood wrong and just completely ruined the moment (as if you straddling and leaving a mark or two on his neck could mean anything else). 

eyes never once stray from his stare. sanzu really is funny.

you lean back down, unamused with the shit-eating grin that’s stretching across his face. first comes the corner of his lips, a fleeting brush of your lips, a ghost to acknowledge his diamonds. sanzu’s fingers dig onto your hips as, painfully slowly, you align with his lips. 

sanzu haruchiyo, akaashi haruchiyo, your pride and joy. only way to commemorate would be by taking a bite out of him, how could you not?

your teeth sink mercilessly on his bottom lip. sanzu fights a choked cry, it hurts, and you don’t pull away until he’s left bleeding, panting, and so very dissatisfied. unfulfilled. bested again. 

“find me again,” as a treat, you kiss the half of his lips, stealing the red drops for yourself.

“money,” you kiss his cheek. “power,” he seeks your lips again, struggling for his wish. “influence,” you pull back.

sanzu grumbles a protest or two, flailing in a last ditch effort to claim what was his. your hand on his neck kills any hope of that. 

a finger swipes his bottom lip, teasing the lack of prize right in his face. “become someone with all three under his sleeve and you’ll find me again.”

the frustration is building back up. murderous desires. the need to fight you for control.

“is that understood?”

nevertheless, you’ve disciplined him well. “yes.”

⠀⠀⠀⠀navi.⠀＆⠀m.list.⠀＆⠀send me an ask!

⠀⠀also hbd to my least favorite person @k9wa

[tmnttracks]

A Family Shield: The Ultimate Protector - TMNT (2024 -) Issue #1 Review

**Spoilers Ahead**

In Volume 1, Issue #141 of TMNT (2012 - 2024) Raphael was arrested and falsely accused of murdering someone in Mutant Town. Their sister Jenika had to bail him out of jail. Therefore, it was very interesting to see that the first issue of Volume 2 has Raphael in prison this time although we never know why he is in there.

He has been in trouble with the law twice, even though the first time he was cleared of all wrongdoing. For most casual fans, this wouldn't be surprising at all. Out of all the brothers, it would only make sense that an “angry bruiser who enjoys fighting” would end up being the one to eventually end up in prison. However, I tend to disagree. I have always stood firm behind my belief that Raphael is way more complicated than people give him credit for.

Raphael cares so much about those that he lets get close to him, that he is terrified of losing everyone and being all alone again. He is overprotective, fiercely loyal and when anyone he loves is in danger, his desire to protect and save everyone comes out in anger and rage because the feelings are so intense and overwhelming. His ex-girlfriend Alopex understands this perfectly. 

TMNT Volume 1 Issue #46

His anger and rage becomes even stronger when he feels like he failed to protect his family. Similar to Mikey who is constantly dealing with his own demons and self-loathing, Raphael also battles his own set of demons. He is extremely hard on himself and sees himself as weak; never strong enough to protect anyone as is made evident when his brother Donatello dies after being brutally smashed to pieces by BeBop and Rocksteady.  

Even with Donatello’s soul being transferred into Metalhead till Dr Honeycutt could make him a new shell, Raphael was not able to see this robot as his brother Donnie. To Rapahel, his brother was dead and he felt responsible because he wasn't there to help fight BeBop and Rocksteady. Even though he was fighting with his brothers elsewhere to help save the world.

TMNT Volume 1 Issue #46

This panel here shows just how much inner turmoil Raphael is feeling and it takes Mikey to call him out on his attitude and behavior. (Side note, in the comics Mikey is the only one who can call Raphael out on his anger without repercussions. Even though Casey Jones is Raphael's best friend, he has always been close with Mikey. They are the physical forms of yin and yang.)

In the last panel you can see Raphael realizing his brother is right and is regretting his anger, however being the stubborn teenager that he is, he refuses to let the others see his brief moment of weakness. He is the strong one; the family shield; the protector and showing any weakness negates his role in the family.

Now towards the end of Volume 1 we do see major growth from Raphael when the family decides together to pursue their own interests; the final cut in the only single thread that was still holding the family together.

In the final scenes of Issue #144, we see this beautiful image of Raphael riding his bike with tears in his eyes as he leaves everyone he loves behind.

So now we can get back to Volume 2 Issue #1 which from what I can gather a year or longer has passed since the separation. It would seem like whatever character growth Sophie Campbell wrote went to the wayside, but thanks to the great writing of Jason Aaron, who as I said earlier did a great job of getting inside Raphael's head, he isn't who he used to be anymore. Yes, he is still rough around the edges, but compared to who he was in the beginning, he has for the most part been able to control his anger and rage.

The few panels below aren't only beautifully drawn by Rafael Albuquerque and colored by Ronda Pattison, but were really emotional even with Jason Aaron only writing a few words. It almost broke me knowing just how much Rapahel used to love his brothers and now, due to whatever happened between them, he would much rather forget about his family.

Yea, that got me deep in the feels. As the issue continues, Jason continues to go into more depth of Raphael’s psyche. His writing continues to back up my views on who exactly Rapahel is and why it seems like anger is always his driving motivation while at the same time wishing he wasn't always so angry.

As he is being arrested by the prison guards after fighting the Foot, he comes to a realization that once again his family is in trouble. Despite stating previously he wanted to forget about his brothers and the good times they had before their family broke up, he instantly falls back into his role as being the family shield. He knows what he needs to do, even if it means having to come to terms with his past and possibly facing the anger of his brothers. His unwavering loyalty and love as always is what motivates him, even if it is shrouded in the image of anger.

Most people would think it would be Mikey who tries to bring the family together, especially after he was the lone survivor in The Last Ronin. However, in this universe it actually makes more sense for Rapahel to get the family back together. He needs the four of them to be together once more so he can not only fight alongside them when they are at their strongest, but to be there to protect them at all costs. Thus is the burden he bares being the family shield.

[dissvicious]

Gonna put your characters in a modernish au because an Au where Groar is a bit apprehensive because they are supposed to open for the rather notorious rockstar Buggy the Clown, who’s been known to be… difficult to work with, but they actually see their chance at getting somewhere trying to do this band thing more professionally, so they take the opportunity and… turns out that Buggy has mellowed out in the past years after his marriage to his bassist Red and the birth of their three kids.

Don’t get me wrong, he’s still an asshole, but him sitting them all down to tell them just EXACTLY what he expects from them and how he WILL not tolerate tardiness and how he WILL just get someone else to open for him is just a tad diminished by three toddlers being present and him very obviously just wanting to cut to the chase so he can get back to spending the Sunday with his wife.

Law watches him down an, non alcoholic, beer and set it down on the table, while one of his kids is drawing and the other is just bouncing around the couch next to him. „If you fuckers break ANY of my equipment you can haul your asses back home.“ he states, glaring as intimidating at them as a man who’s just opened a new box of crayons for his son can glare at someone. „I don’t care how punk you think you’ll look smashing guitars or dropping mics, every single floorboard on this stage is worth more money than all of your instruments combined and I - Blaze be careful.“ He sends a chopped hand after his son who was just about to tumble off the couch, catching him by the ankle and dragging him back to safety. The kid giggles and squeals in delight and the clowns lips quirk upwards for a second. „… Well?“ „huh?“ „DID I MAKE MYSELF CLEAR? GOD DID YOU SHIDIOTS NOT LISTEN TO ANYTHING I SAID?“ „We’re clear!“ Osha interjects hastily. „Of course!“ Killer turns his head over his shoulder to Bepo, who they planned to bring along as a sort of buffer / intimidation tactic. Just tell the Mink to stand behind them with his arms crossed and he doesn’t even have to say anything. Should have been an easy job. To bad Bepo had immediately been confiscated by the daughter of the triplets and is now too busy cooing over her and flipping trough various kids picture books detailing the sea creatures of the grandline while she babbles happily.

They are saved from this mildly uncomfortable and confusing situation when Red herself finally comes in and Buggy shoos them out, rattling the rest of his rules (Don’t out flashy him, don’t touch his instruments, no rotisserie chicken parties, don’t look at his wife, don’t smile at her, don’t even breathe in her general direction etc.) before slamming the door behind them.

All in all this could have gone much worse.

OK SO.

First of all : THANK YOU SO MUCH. I LOVE THIS. OMG. I love every single part of it. Even if I had to google what a rotisserie chicken partie and everything I found was kinda sexual

But ALSO hold my beer because I actually had something like this (crossing Redbomb & G.R.O.A.R in a kindof modern punk AU) in mind for a while and your message was the kick in the ass I needed to work on it.

SO

In this AU Buggy is a former rockstar and a producer (fit wells with the "I'm lazy but I go and look for treasure"), he met Red as she was singing in a bar and begged her to join his label. Also in this AU life isn't a bitch and parents don't die (well, except Law biological parents) so Corazon is still alive an he comes to. every. single. G.R.O.A.R concert. and has their merch.

[vampirepersay]

The afterlife of Pip Pirrip: old fic that I wrote back in 2022 it was finished but after I deleted the fic I lost the ending

CW: canon character death,religious imagery but it's the south park version of religion.

WC:1009

My name is Pip and I'd like it if you'd stop smashing our little town to bits".

That

was the last thing he said before he felt his body being crushed by mecha Streisand.

It felt like a

bad dream, like something that couldn't have happened.

But it wasn't a dream Pip was dead.

But if he had died why did he feel himself starting to wake up?

So it was just a bad dream Pip

thought to himself while rubbing the sleepiness out of his eyes but when the young

British boy opened his eyes he was not greeted by the familiar walls of his bedroom, but

instead, by blinding white light and calling out from that light pip heard an unfamiliar voice

despite having never heard the voice before for some strange reason he found it comforting but

before he even had a chance to hear what the voice said he felt himself starting to fall, it felt like

he was falling for an eternity, time seemed to be going slower if this was a dream then why did it

feel so real he thought. After what felt like a lifetime Pip stopped falling. And what he saw

confirmed what Pip was so terrified of not only was he dead but he was in hell.

There were no

other explanations for this;

everything as far as Pip could see was on fire, but Pip wasn't afraid.

A voice he would have recognized from anywhere could be heard Damien Thorn the one person

who was at least somewhat kind to him was standing in the flames unfazed by it all Like this

was something he saw every day before pip could take everything in or even ask for some kind

explanation a red figure appeared from what seemed out of nowhere.

"Damien, are you scaring the newcomers again?" said what pip could only assume was satan

himself, "Father, I know this person, why is he here?" asked

the young demon, the larger and much More intimidating demon replied with

clear sarcasm in his voice "for a nice vacation, he's dead, why else would he be here!

"you don't have to yell, I know that already what I meant was why is he here? he never struck

me as the type to end up here". "Look, Damien, you know I'm not the one who

decides who ends up where. If your little friend is here then he's here for A Reason". Before the

father-son conversation could continue Pip decided he was going to get the answers he so

desperately needed.

"I'm sorry to interrupt but where am I?, also hello

Damien I thought I'd never see you again.

"oh yeah I should probably explain,

thanks a lot Damien for getting me distracted so as you've probably already guessed your dead

crushed to death by a giant robot to be exact, and as for where you are if it wasn't obvious

you're in hell.

If you have any other questions feel

free to ask me. I'm not busy, also this whole hell thing is kinda my whole job".

Said satan who

was surprisingly nice. After his speech to pip, a loud buzz could be heard "ugh that better not be tom" after pulling his

phone out from who knows where the demon looked at his phone before saying "sorry pip I got

to take this Damien should be able to answer whatever questions you have".

"umm what just happened now I'm just more confused" said the British boy.

"don't worry he's always like that you'll get used to it". Said the raven-haired demon.

"thanks Damien there's something I must ask you if that's alright?"

"what is it?" replied Damien.

"when you asked why I was here you seemed surprised, why is that?"

"come on pip you know

why you're not a bad person". Said Damien with his usually fiery eyes with a hint of sorrow in

them.

"I'm sorry what, Damien do you actually think

I'm a good person, or are you just saying that to make me feel better".

said pip who was

shocked that someone would say something so kind to him

"Look pip I've come to realize that

you didn't deserve anything that happened to you, and I want to apologize because of me

wanting so desperately to be cool I hurt you, and that wasn't okay".

"You're apologizing, thanks no ones ever actually said sorry to me before," said pip.

"That's horrible but at the same time I'm not surprised",

Damien replied, who seemed to be the

first person to like pip.

"thank you Damien's That exactly what I needed to hear".

The British boy responded. "Damien, can I ask you a question?

it's a rather stupid one

but I just need to know" "sure I don't have anything else to do, and if I don't help you i'll definitely

get in trouble.

The demon replied. "I warned you it's dumb but you know how you went

to earth,

"yeah what about it"?.

"well that's the dumb part of the question is there any way for me

to do that". Said the blonde boy feeling like an idiot for even asking the question.

"No, I'm sorry

there is no way for a human, who has gone to hell to go back to earth.

Said the young demon

with sorrow in his voice.

Just as Damien finished his oddly sweet speech to pip a fall could be

heard and an oddly familiar muffled voice could be heard saying something pip couldn't make

out.

That was Until the source of the voice was in Pip's Vision, it was Pip's classmate Kenny

McCormick.

Pip was shocked to see one of his fellow classmates in hell, deciding to make

conversation with him Pip called out his name "KENNY!".

The young hooded boy looked Pips way

with disgust in his eyes before flipping him off, what happened next Pip could only describe as

some cruel joke from the Universe kenny's body began to glow with white light before he

teleported out of hell.

AN: I'm aware Damian is super ooc in this and I apologize, I wrote this fic back in 2022 so that's why so many things are out of character or just not accurate to canon Im not going to finish this because it had an ending originally and it's been so long since I wrote this I don't want to change the original ending.

[bhaalbaaby]

Title: Happiness in the Wrong Place (5078 words) Pairing: the dark urge/tav Warnings: dom/sub, original characters, pre-BG3, tiefling smut (hornjobs and tail stimulation), safe sex, explicit consent and rules A/N: friend fiction but it's me smashing Penelope against my friend's durge 🥺

Read on AO3 or Wattpad!

Penelope stares across the sea, the small waves lapping on the soft sand. She doesn't think such beauty exists in Baldur's Gate, but Kaine surprises her. She runs her fingers through her wet hair. She glances over her shoulder, clenching her teeth to stop her body from shivering. Kaine could remedy this affliction quickly. Tieflings do run hot. Her tail twitches as she walks towards the cottage, her arms wrapped around her sides.

"How did you find this place?" She asks when she sees him. She keeps her eyes on his face, ignoring his shirtless body. Kaine shrugs, a cheeky smile crossing his lips. "Exploring. You're welcome to come back to visit any time."

Penelope laughs, rolling her eyes as she takes one of the towels on the chair, and starts to dry her hair. His stare lingers starting with her eyes, her lips, lowering to the dress that clings to her full figure, her hard nipples poking through. She turns away slightly, her cheeks heating. Someone's stare rarely makes her nervous. "Thank you for the invitation," She says as she wraps the towel around her shoulders. She turns back around, her bright eyes searching his face for his true intentions.

"Of course," His smile is softer and she feels a caress on her tail. His hands are in front of him as he steps closer. Tail holding? Her heart skips beats. She feels so dumb as she returns the smile. Her only chances at this are only with her best friend Rhol and before that was her mother. Their tails intertwine, his tail cautious as it guides her closer. 

She clears her throat, laughing to herself. "If you wish to say something, you may speak your mind, Mr. Kaine." She's beside herself as she looks him over. The scars on his body show he's lived a life while the Tiefling marks reveal he's just like her. She runs her fingers over the raised skin and bone under his chest. It's rigged, the skin taut. She can feel his heartbeat beneath, quickening as she gets closer to the center of his chest. His tail slips higher, gently pushing up at the end of the short hem of her dress.

"You'll get a cold if you keep this on," Kaine finally says, resting his hands on her hips. Penelope rolls her eyes, letting her hands rest on his chest. "You just want me naked," She teases, slipping her tail from his grasp.

He smirks, "That's another perk." She steps away from his grasp.

"I suppose you're right though. I won't be any good if I'm sick." She doesn't see the slight dip of his eyebrows as she undoes her damp dress, letting it fall to the floor. She shivers, pulling her towel lower over her wet skin.

"If you get sick, you may blame me for not telling you we'd go for a swim ahead of time," Kaine says, stepping closer, his hands warm on her arms. She imagines they'll be warm on other places of her body as she glances up at him.

"You're sweet." She murmurs before resting her head on his chest. In another life, this could have been her reality, safe in someone's arms, not playing pretend for however much he paid. She waits for him to hug her, his arms slipping back to her waist and hips, but never pulling her closer.

"We can pretend here," She says as she pulls away, testing him. "We're no longer our titles and jobs. Within these walls at least." She adds the last part with a small eye roll. "Just Penelope and Kaine." He raises his eyebrow, his fingers still on her waist, kneading the towel. "Is that alright with you?" She asks, standing on her tiptoes, her mind with visions to kiss him.

He nods slowly, her tail tracing the curvature of his. "If that is what you wish." He tilts her head towards his, "Your wish is my command, Penelope."

She laughs, the anxiety taking over again. "I wish all clients were like you."

He pauses before laughing along. "We're supposed to be forgetting about those things," He reminds her.

Penelope scrunches up her nose, her arms wrapping around his neck. "Good thing you're here to remind me," She says as their lips brush. She inhales a shaky breath as she looks into his eyes. "You make me nervous," She confesses before burying her face in his neck. He hesitates again, she can feel it as his hands twitch on her sides.

"Nervous?" He asks, concern lacing his tone.

"Mmm," She hums in reply, pressing her lips on his neck.

Kaine takes a deep breath as he pulls her closer finally. "Why?" He asks, his fingers running up her spine and the bone spikes above them. She shrugs, deciding to focus on her mark. She opens her mouth slightly letting his hot skin in as she sucks, her teeth grazing the skin. His hand makes it to the nape of her neck, his fingers knitting in her hair as he gently pulls her from his neck. She moans involuntarily from the hair pulling, resting back on the soles of her feet. "We should put rules down if we should continue as Kaine and Penelope," He states, her impatience growing.

"Rules are made to be broken." She says with a small cackle, but he keeps her still in his grasp.

He continues, ignoring her small squirms in his arms. "One, if I cross a line or if you cross a line, we must let each other know." She relaxes as she nods. If only they all had rules as simple as that. "Two, since we're pretending, we won't refer to the realm outside of here." She would break that rule easily, but she nods as he massages her scalp. "Three, we are free here. You can speak your mind."

She smirks as she nods again. "Are those all the rules?" Penelope asks, dragging her nails across his sharp trapezius. Kaine nods as he lets her hair go, letting her sink back into his arms. "I think you're wearing too many clothes." She whispers against his neck as she drags her fingers down his back, enjoying the way the ridges feel against her fingers.

"Then so are you," He replies, picking her up.

"I'm just in my towel," Penelope says, trying to keep her giggles from bubbling up.

"Too much," Kaine repeats before pressing his lips against hers, giving in to temptation.

Her fingers get lost in Kaine's hair as he carries her to the bedroom, their lips crashing against each other. She drags her teeth along his bottom lip as he rests her on the soft bed. He pulls away, carefully pulling her towel free. Her breathing quickens as the towel loosens, slipping to her sides. She's been naked so many times before people so why is he different? He leans down, kissing her softly, as he tugs the towel from underneath her, throwing it on the floor. Her hands rest on his cheeks and jaw as she deepens the kiss, her tongue exploring his mouth. He breaks the kiss, making a trail of kisses on her jaw neck, and collarbone.

"You're still wearing too much." Penelope whines, feeling his warm breath on her breasts.

"Patience." He whispers before taking her breast in his mouth.

She squirms under him, her fingers finding a home in his dark hair again as his tongue rolls around her nipple. He groans, grinding against her. She closes her eyes, feeling him hard pressed on her thighs. He moves to the other one, repeating the same torture. His hand massages her chest, his tail running along her shins.

"Kaine..." She moans, frustration building. He holds himself above her as she says his name, "Are you alright?" She nods swallowing hard. "What about you?" She asks, letting her hands slip into his damp trousers. He growls as he leans back down, kissing her hard as her hand rubs along his hard-on.

"We'll get there." He says finally, this time pressing kisses down her sternum and stomach until he slips out of her reach, resting between her thighs. Enver would never. She sits up on her elbows as she watches, his lips pressing kisses on her soft thighs.

"Are you sure?" She asks, her tail rubbing his shoulder. His dark eyes cut to her face. Suddenly she's his prey and he's ready to pounce. "Very." He states, spreading her legs. "You will get your chance to please me, Pen... That I can promise." He says, as his eyes soften, kissing her lower stomach. 

She keeps her legs spread as he buries his mouth between her thighs, his tongue lithe against her folds. She slowly lies on her back arching her back, her hips pressing against his mouth. Penelope the whore would moan loudly, tell him how perfect he is, the best she's ever had. He would enjoy that she bets as she moans softly, her fingers running through her wet hair as she sighs. Penelope the woman closes her eyes, letting the sensations run through her, a shiver running up her back as he suckles on her clit.

Gods above.

She tries not to close her legs around his head as she writhes, her tail a giveaway of how she feels as it tenses, wrapping around his forearm. She covers her face as she breathes hard through her mouth, cursing. He pulls away, chuckling as he looks at her tail.

"More?" He cheekily inquires as he kisses her thigh, grazing her skin with his sharp teeth. She tenses as she whispers yes. His fingers prod her open as he tuts, "I can't hear you."

Penelope rolls her eyes, glad they were hidden by her arms as she laughs breathlessly. "Yes please."

His finger curls up as he thrusts, his mouth returning. She bites her lip as heat sweeps her skin. She should be paying him. She rocks her hips with his finger, the action bringing her closer to the edge. "I... I don't want to come yet." She whines, sitting up. Kaine pulls away, his eyebrows raised. "I-Alright." He sits up, holding her face between his fingers. "Why not?" He asks amused. She doesn't answer right away, tugging his pants down. "Because I won't have energy for you." She lies, punctuating her spaces with quick pecks on his lips.

Kaine sighs as he lets her take over. She settles back into her old ways, a seductive smile on her lips, wrapping her hands around his cock, pumping him. His breathing catches in his throat as she kisses his neck, sinking her teeth into his skin. He growls as his hands find her hair, pulling her back. "Too hard, dear." He says with a small chuckle.

"Too hard?" She asks as she slides out of his grip. He stands straighter as she lies on her stomach, her eyes on his cock, more bumps and ridges. For a moment she wonders if it'll hurt, but she pushes the thoughts away, running her tongue from his base to tip. She relishes in his groan as she sucks on his tip, his hand resting on her horn. He curses under his breath as she slowly takes him down her throat, more with each bob. It's easy for her to get lost in the action, so many of these she's given. She glances up at him as she rests his tip on her tongue before swallowing him again. Her fingers run up and down his hips as she throats him, gagging as he fills her mouth.

She pulls back, her eyes dazed. "Use me however you like," She purrs as she strokes him, perking up with a smile. He grips her horn, making up look up at him. "Is that what you want?" He asks, his jaw clenching as she still strokes him.

"Yes." She says, opening her mouth. "I want you to use me."

He raises his eyebrow as he leans down, his fingers returning between her thighs as his other holds her tail up and out of the way. She gasps, her hips seizing up. "Continue," He commands as she whimpers. "Yes sir." She says quickly, returning his cock to her mouth as he fingers her hard. He would force her hand whether he realized it or not. She closes her eyes as she moans around him. A whole weekend of this? She doesn't think she'll survive. Rule number four, plenty of breaks, Penelope thinks as he presses his hips against her mouth, his tip twitching and wet with saliva and precum.

His fingers pound into her, forcing her up on her knees as she tries to take it, the heat spreading throughout her body. She pulls her mouth off him, burying her face into the covers, clenching around his fingers. He laughs softly as she pants. "Ah, so you weren't lying," He teases as he removes his fingers. She curses him as he goes to his discarded pants pulling out a condom. She's secretly grateful as she pushes her ass back feeling him climb on the bed behind her.

"Please fuck me," She whines as his hands rest on her ass, slowly guiding her back. "If you promise not to come so quickly," Kaine replies, his fingertips playing with the base of her tail. She shivers, glad the covers hide her face. "I'm so close, Kaine." She confesses, shaking her head. She usually fakes it for her clients except for the rare times they catch her off guard like now.

He slowly thrusts, stretching her quivering hole. Their moans mix as he leans down, wrapping his hand around her neck as he pulls her up, pounding into her. She closes her eyes as he holds her against his body, their bodies moving in perfect rhythm with each other. His other hand returns between her thighs, rubbing her swollen clit. His teeth drag along her earlobe, his tongue teasing the sensitive skin. "You're doing such a good job, Penelope." He whispers as her stomach flips. She doesn't know how much more she can take, their bodies hot and sticky with sweat. She turns her head, sloppily kissing him as she presses her ass back against him. His hand slides up her stomach, keeping her pressed against him until he reaches her breasts, massaging the mound. His hand on her neck holds her face against his.

"You're going to make a mess," He says as he pulls away, her walls clenching around him. She falls forward, gripping the covers.

"Harder, please." She begs, her makeup smudging on the blanket. His fingers dig into her hips as he follows her wish, their skin reverberating each time their skin meets. Her tail runs along his chest, and neck as he pounds her, their moans filling the room. He leans down, pressing kisses up her back, until he sucks on the skin on her neck, grinding his hips, her squeals increasing in volume.

He pulls out, patting her legs. "I want to see your face as you come." He growls as he helps her roll to her back.

"I have an ugly orgasm face," Penelope lies as she whines, wrapping her legs around his waist.

"Liar," He whispers as he thrusts back in, holding his hips flush with hers.

Penelope whimpers, wrapping her arms around his shoulders as she brings his face closer to hers, her bright eyes shining. Their noses press against each other, their pants becoming one as he picks up his pace. Her legs squeeze tighter around his waist, her heels digging into the back of his thighs. He presses his lips against hers eliciting a soft moan from her lips as he gently grabs her arms from around him, pinning her wrists down on the bed. His tongue rolls with hers, grunting as he bottoms out. She pulls away, writhing.

"Like that?" He asks as she rocks her hips with him, letting him fuck her deeper. She nods frantically as she tries to escape his restraints. He carefully presses his head against her jaw, his torso holding her down to keep her from squirming. Imagine if all of her clients got her this excited... Another flush of heat covers her skin making her shiver. His teeth are a pleasant surprise as he nips her collarbone. She glances down at him as he sucks on the skin. Leaving his marks. She mewls as he comes back to her mouth, capturing it with his. She's getting closer with each thrust. Their eyes lock as he rests his forehead against hers, his grip sliding from her wrists to her hands. Interlacing their fingers feels more intimate than fucking in this bed, but Penelope allows it, gently squeezing his hands. Their lips meet momentarily, kisses as necessary as breathing.

"Kaine..." She whines against his mouth, her hips bearing down on the bed as his cock makes his claim with each thrust.

"Say it," He growls, letting go of her hand as he rests on her jawline, making her look at him. She flares in nostrils in defiance, looking away. His lips find her earlobe, soft wet kisses and licks making new goosebumps flash her skin, not helping stave off the pending orgasm. "You must ask for it," Kaine whispers as she clenches his cock.

She turns her head to face him again, her free hand resting on his jaw, his dark tattoos. "No," Penelope manages to say as she trembles, her resolve crumbling.

"No?" He repeats, the question punctuated by his sharp strokes. She nods as she sticks to her answer. He rolls his eyes, his red eye glowing as he sits up. She can tell he wants to retort, but instead, his hands leave her neck and hand, going to her hips. She curses as he uses the new angle as leverage, rolling his hips. She won't give in, not yet. He watches as her soft body bounces with each pound, her breasts knocking into each other. He lets go of her hips, dragging a hand between her thighs as he rubs her swelling clit. Her legs quickly unwrap from his waist, squeezing around his wrist. He smirks as her moans catch in her throat.

"Don't do it," Kaine whispers, her skin flushing with each stroke. There's only so much she can take. She sits up on her elbows as she glances up at him, her mouth open as she pants, gripping the covers hard.

"Gods, yes!" She lifts her leg, resting it on his shoulder as she tenses up, wetness and the hottest heat rushing her body, focusing on the culprit between her thighs. She feels his mouth on her heel, his hand on her thighs as he keeps her in place as she tries to run away from him, it is all too much.

He's irritated when her orgasm fades, slowing down. Her breathing is loud and ragged, and she rests her head back on the bed. He pulls out, shaking his head. "You were supposed to ask," Kaine admonishes, dragging her hips to the edge of the bed.

"I didn't want to," Penelope replies breathlessly, laughing.

"No remorse for your actions?" He asks, his hand covering still recovering cunt.

She sits up and shakes her head. "No sir," Her eyebrow quirks up, unafraid of whatever he has planned for her. His hand is hard and firm against her folds, a shocked gasp escaping her lips. Oh. It's a test she realizes as he waits before spanking her again. She gives him a consenting nod as he continues, her red skin blushing with each strike. She swallows hard as she cries out, trying to keep her legs open becoming a chore. Pleasure jolts to her brain, the hard spanks on her overstimulated clit and delicate folds making her spasm. After the tenth strike, he stops.

"Beg for forgiveness." She clenches her jaw as he lets go of her leg, stepping back. He looks painfully hard waiting for her to disobey him.

"I didn't do anything wrong," She teases, as she sits up, her eyes flicking to his face to his cock.

He rolls his eyes as he removes the condom, tossing it in the bin. "Didn't do anything wrong... On your knees, now." Penelope's legs barely can follow that order as she slips down, following his order.

"Do you boss people around often?" She asks him as he steps closer.

Kaine chuckles as he brings his hips to her naughty mouth. "Rule number two." She rolls her eyes as she lets him fuck her mouth, his fingers interlacing with her hair and gripping her horn. 

Her tongue rests flat against the bottom of his shaft as he pleases himself between her lips. She moans as he fills her to the brim, tears pricking her eyes. She can vaguely taste herself around him as he grunts. He holds his hips against her mouth, her nose pressed against his lower stomach and dark hair above his cock. He rocks his hips gently as she gags. He pulls himself out, squatting in front of her, his grip on her horn tight as he forces her to stare at him.

"Ready to apologize?" Kaine asks, taking in the wet sight of her mouth and saliva that drips down her chin and chest.

She smiles sweetly, "No."

He forces her up to her feet, holding her head just out of reach for much-needed kisses. He turns her around, leading her to the dresser. "Hold on. Do not let go," Kaine instructs, gently caressing her hips, his hands leading up to her hands as she obeys. His hands are warm on her skin as she holds the edge of the mahogany dresser. He pushes her long magenta hair to the side, kissing her exposed shoulder.

"Are you just going to fuck me into submission?" Penelope asks, her eyes cutting to him as she feels his teeth graze the sensitive top skin of her shoulder.

"Is that what you want?" He asks as he lifts his head, her tail caressing his legs.

"I wouldn't mind it," She giggles, his hands leaving hers and finding her breasts.

"I want fuck you until your legs can barely hold your weight until you only crave my cock." He tugs on her nipples, ignoring her soft moans and the way she grinds against him. "You will beg for relief, yes beg..." He laughs as she makes a face.

"Never..." She purrs as he leans back, another condom. She smiles as she watches him ready himself. "You don't have to. I'm covered." She says softly. His eyes flick up to her face, the sorrow behind his eyes.

"More for myself." He replies quietly. She wonders what he means by that, the question is short-lived as he returns, aligning himself with her. "You may want to obey this time." He says with a chuckle as she stands on her tiptoes, the dresser digging into her stomach.

"Why?" She whines, her brows furrowing as she tries to stare up at him.

"Because I do not like being spurned." She rolls her eyes, panting as his strokes are long and hard, keeping her in place. "Get... used to it..." She says in between moans, her fingers digging into the wood.

His fingers dig into her hips, bringing her back hard against him. He can see her struggle with each thrust, her toes barely touching the ground as he picks his pace. Her palms are slick with sweat as she tries her best to keep hold of the dresser, the corners digging into her hands.

"You can fuck me harder than that." Penelope goads, watching him from the corner of her eye, panting. It's hard to maintain her bratty facade, but she won't give up. His left-hand leaves her hip, coming up to her neck, slender fingers turning her head to face him. His index plays with her full lips as she sucks on the digit.

"You won't be able to handle it," He growls in her ear. She steels herself from another wave of shivers, her pink eyes round as she looks up at him.

"I'm a good girl. I can handle it," She whimpers as he rubs his wet finger around her lips before inserting it back.

"Good girl?" His right slips between her thighs, rubbing her clit as he pounds into her. She squeezes her legs together around his wrist, her feet off the floor. He holds her up with his thrusts, pushing her further over the dresser. Her mouth hangs open as she cries out, her toes curling.

"Ask me." He whispers in her ear, letting his teeth drag on the dangling skin. Gods help her. She wonders what her punishment would be if she defies him again. Another spanking? She could handle it. Anal? Easy. He lets go of her neck, returning his hand to her hips as she starts slipping.

"Stand." He commands, slowing down so she can get her bearings. She leans down, wanting to rest her head on the cool wood, but her breasts get in the way. She grimaces as he pounds her, her toes lifting from the ground again. "Don't." He growls, feeling her tremble under him.

"Please, please, please." The begging slips out before she can stop herself. Disappointment is an understatement, his laugh deep in her ear. "Good girl, Penelope. You can follow orders," Kaine teases. "Please what?" He asks, his fingers between her thighs adding too much friction, his cock filling at just the right angle. She fights the growing pressure in her lower stomach. "Please let me come, please!" She squeals, letting go of the dresser. Kaine pulls out, her moan disappointed as he tsks. "You let go of the dresser, little one." She flares her nostrils as she starts to reach for it again. Kaine is faster, turning her to face him. "But since you asked this time..."

He gets on his knees, his tongue eagerly swiping and finding her clit with ease. She can barely hold herself up, leaning into the dresser as she watches him. She curses as her stomach tenses. His hands rest on her ass, holding her closer to his hungry mouth. "You can come, I want you to," Kaine says in between sucks, her legs so close to giving out. There's antagonistic gnawing in the back of her mind as she gently rubs his horns. He pauses his lapping, dark eyes examining her as she continues to caress his horns. "I want to come with you," She says softly.

He pulls away, raising his eyebrow. "Is that so?"

She nods, their hands clasping as he leads her down to him. He lies back on the ground, guiding her hips to his. "Your wish is my command."

Her hands splay on his chest, the ridges on his chest perfect for her to run her fingers over. She slowly rides him, the angle already too much, his tip nestles too much to the front, pressing against every nerve ending inside of her. "Like that," He whispers as he helps guide her, his fingers resting on her hips.

"Kaine." She glances down at him, her breasts pressed together between her arms. He grunts as she starts to pick up her pace, lifting his hips ever so slightly to fuck her deeper. "Please come with me. Please." She whimpers, leaning back her hands resting on his shins. No more being shy. She is so close, chasing that high. He curses at the new position, taking in her sight as his cock gets buried between her folds.

He sits up, wrapping his arms around her waist, his mouth sucking on her breast, rolling her nipple with his tongue. She wraps her arms around his head, her fingers running along the length of his horn as she cries out. She only has a few more moments before she's putty in his hands. He groans as he takes over the pace, resting his face on her ample chest. "Keep rubbing my horn, please," Kaine whispers in between his moans, her other hand massaging his scalp. She does as he says, her senses awakening as she strokes his dark horn leaning forward, her tongue running along the length. He curses as she clenches around him, his breathing loud and ragged. "Gods below," He moans.

She whimpers. She loves it when she can tell they're close, the way they swell against her cervix, her walls sending shockwaves through her core. Filling her would have sent her over to Selûne she's sure, but she comes anyway, and hard. She tugs his hair, panting as her body spasms along with his. He leans up, kissing her passionately, his skin hot and sweaty. So is hers, but he seems more prominent. She lifts her hips as his now limp cock slips out. She sighs as she sits beside him on the floor, their tails intertwine once more. 

"I..." Penelope hesitates, unsure what to say. What could she say? It's early in the evening where sleep isn't an option, yet. When clients take her out on trips, they would fuck and either sleep or the client would fuck off until it was time for festivities. Kaine is not like that. She slowly gets up and climbs into the bed. Kaine stands, discarding the condom before following after.

"I've never been with another Tiefling," She whispers, making a face.

"You don't know what you're missing out on," Kaine replies, pulling her into an embrace. It feels natural. She regrets what she said earlier. They should keep their boundaries. Blurring them will only cause things to hurt later.

"I know now." She giggles, pecking his lips. Her stomach growls during the silence, embarrassment taking over. "We should probably head back," Penelope says, sitting up, and moving out of his arms.

"Why? Is something wrong?" Kaine asks as she slips from the bed.

"No food." She says, hands on her hips.

Kaine smiles, "There is food in the kitchen. I can cook for us." Another wave of embarrassment takes over as he gets up. "Come on now. Time to feed PenPen." Of course, he knows how to cook, and how to take care of her. She follows him to the kitchen. In another life, this could be their every day, making love and he makes dinner. How alien it feels to her. She hopes she never forgets this feeling.

taglist: @spacebarbarianweird @tragedybunny @astarionsbeloved @thedancingbun @razrogue @celestialomlette @rentheannihilator @rinmoon7

[inbarfink]

Really, I think the main thing I learned from my Deep Dive into independent stage adaptations of ‘Dr. Horrible’s Sing-Along Blog’ is that adapting DHSAB to the stage is, like… deceptively difficult. 

Because you know, in many ways DHSAB is a work that’s designed to work on a lower budget. The costumes are all pretty easily replicable, the props are either very basic or are easily replaceable with any sort of, like, toy ray guns, the superpowers are mostly stuff like ‘being really strong’ and ‘stopping time’ and ‘wet’ that don’t require a lot of special effects. Only really the van hijacking sequence in Act One can be kinda-hard to replicate. But I've seen productions get by with very clever use of sound effects or literally just putting a guy in a shirt that says 'VAN' in it.

But… while DHSAB is designed to work at low budgets… it’s also really really designed to work on video - rather than a live stage. 

Like, the reason why I have been reinfected with Doctor Horrible Brainworms right now is because my local ‘Rocky’ production did a Science Fiction Double Feature of DHSAB and RHPS. And even just watching these Shadow Casts, it was impossible to not notice the difference between ‘Rocky’, which despite some minor narrative alterations for the cinematic version, is still being a story created for a live performance on a stage - with clear considerations and workarounds for scene changes and how long it’ll take the cast to put on a new costume - and ‘Dr. Horrible’ being very much a story designed around the cuts and editing tricks of cinema and TV, where a character can switch an outfit and location in a split second

And there’s stuff like montages and expository close ups 

Not to mention how the cinematography is used to enhance the emotions of what's happening on the screen. Not just because of what the characters are doing but because of how they are placed within the camera.

And a lot of these support the big, important, recognizable moments that every DHSAB adaptation would want to preserve in their version. Hell, arguably the most iconic and emotionally impactful moment in the entire show is entirely based on a Smash Cut.

None of these are impossible challenges for a stage adaptation, but figuring out how to work around instant-scene-changes-via-cuts and how to convey information the original conveyed in a close up and how to indicate a montage is happening with minimal backdrops and how to sparce up a scene that was engaging due to it's cinematography but is kinda dull when viewed from the single angle of the stage and how to create a similar emotional impact on stage as a simple cut created on screen… 

Well, that’s actually kinda difficult. Especially considering these are all small-scale amateur productions (a lot of them high-school or college productions as well). Translating a work from the screen to the stage requires use some creativity and knowledge of what makes a scene impactful on the stage rather than on the screen. And, I'm not saying every single one of the stage versions I've seen did an excellent job, but it always makes me very delighted when I see them try different creative solutions!

[vulpiximisa]

Not me watching GoE again for the actual third time. Partly because I’m out of 4kota episodes to entertain me and the other half is because I want to see more of the boys (Tristan and Lance) and the other half is I want to see if I understand things a little bit more now that I’m a little more acquainted with the world/the characters.

Anyway, I don’t know everything entirely but a few things did clear up. I don’t know how much mind reading Lance could do but he’s able to read Deathpierce’s mind and that’s how he figured out his magic ability. I had thought before that he was just very observant and smart but this is just as OP, if not worse. Lance getting a message to (look towards the castle), was I’m assuming, Jericho kinda screaming in her mind to send a message because she knows he can read minds. 

I think the part where Tristan hesitates to tell Lance why he stormed head in to find the person that cursed his mom is supposed to just be how easy Lance can read Tristan without even having to read his mind. Tristan is a very simple character at this age, and I’m glad he’s matured by the time we see him again in 4kota. I wonder if it has to do with how he doesn’t have to hold back anymore because he can trust Lance. This really was Tristan’s Naruto phase and thank god we have Shippuden Tristan in 4kota.

Gowther mentions he needs friends like how Meliodas has the sins so I’m assuming that’s why Tristan has his own platoon squad. It’s probably just that, but the fact that Lance is the first person he can trust with his powers, with himself, has to mean something special. Imagine I actually only cared about those two and GoE didn’t exist, like, how hungry would I have been. GoE is such a feast.

I still don’t know what King Authur’s deal is. I don’t know how much of a presence he had in the 7Ds, but I’m assuming Lance is just going around smashing the staves that Authur keeps giving people. And Lance has his own agenda, but I still don’t know what that is.

The knight with the star helm is, obviously, Jericho. I’m assuming she’s one of Ban’s people and she’s kind of just babysitting Lance, but she’s not around in 4kota? Is that why Lance is looking for her?

It’s also a little weird to see Lance with a lance/spear now since he mostly sticks with the bow and arrows in 4kota, and even the majority of the first half of GoE. (Well, given he was in his fairy form.) Also we get to see Shining Road but his lance doesn’t break afterwards. I can only assume it’s because its not as strong as when he would use it against the villains in 4kota (where he’s trying to kill them, but he’s not trying to kill Tris) and/or his power level isn’t up to where he is in 4kota. I think it would have been cool to see the lance break in GoE and that’s why we don’t see him using it in 4kota. And so far he’s only been using Knives with Shining Road, so iunno.

Also about his fairy form in GoE, I wonder if his transforming powers weren’t as good, because his disguise could have looked a little less like him. (The red hoodie, the arrow armband, his swept hair.) I mean, because Sin is a total creature and gives nothing away aside from his favored red color. That or the design was intentional and made so the audience can assume he was Lance.

Anyway, things like this might probably be obvious to the people who actually watched the OG 7DS or read 4kota, but this is me going in completely blind and not even doing my homework. 

I like, forget that Sawano did the music for 7DS until what I’m assuming the theme for the Sins came up during that scene. The music in 4Kota was done by Kohta Yamato anyway, and I’m not familiar with it, so nothing to note.

Not sure if I “prefer” the GoE graphics because it’s literally my first experience with 7DS or because I prefer the character designs in it (GoE Trist design is peak to me), but I’m not as in love with the designs in 4kota. Or maybe it’s just the anime doing a really bad job (making Lance look like a Super Saiyan) at translating certain scenes while GoE has the same models and is “consistant”. 

[trollprincess]

Okay, NO. I cannot be expected to wait another four weeks to talk about Glass Onion. I CANNOT.

I’m angry about only one thing and that’s that it’s not still in the theater because my immediate goal after walking out was to walk right back in again and see it once again to catch all the stuff that went on that I missed. (Like Helen. Helen! I spent so much time at the end of the movie going, “Wow, she does such a great acting job being her sister!” Except it was *her* all along and … Jesus, seriously give that woman an Oscar nomination.)

I also thought SO MUCH about the whole “you see what he wanted you to see” part of the plot, because yes. YES. I wish more movies did this gaslighting outside of an abusive domestic situation, *and* acknowledged it as such.

I also hope that when Benoit said, “I’ve got a guy,” he meant Philip, and ten minutes later Philip was clearing stacks of books out of their bathroom grumbling about why they can’t go do this in his salon, *Blanc*, you always do this, I don’t know how we didn’t break up ages ago, now go check on dinner while I rummage through what supplies I’ve got on hand.

Okay, but that last sequence … look, I called it sexy for a reason. That shit was so *satisfying*. I’m not going to pretend that it didn’t help that Miles felt VERY Elon on multiple fronts, which made it even better. But Helen getting to destroy it ALL - not just physically by smashing and burning and doing everything some of us wish we could do to a billionaire’s home, but by doing it in such a way that his whole damn empire is about to *fall the fuck apart*.

I kept thinking about Marta in the first movie and Helen in this one, how they both go up against the rich and privileged, although they wouldn’t have done so if a murder didn’t spur them on. They’re both exceptionally brave. Marta’s bravery may be more understated in comparison (God knows she doesn’t blow the house up), but they’re both the real heroes in movie where the urge is to go, “Well, Benoit is the hero, of course.” Even he would go, “No, I do this all the time. But HER! She’s a marvel.” God, I could watch a hundred movies where Benoit Blanc does his detective work while a woman stands up to privileged bullshit and wins over and over. I hope we get so many more Benoit Blanc movies. He’s SO good, but the movies also give him the BEST characters to work with or against.

Ugh, I just want to rewatch ALL of Janelle Monae’s scenes from the start. She had a scarf around her head in that scene with the box at the beginning and of COURSE she did, she’s wearing a robe, she probably just got up, but of COURSE she did, because she’s *Helen*, and she’s got a different haircut. And what I love is that yes, she smashed that box with the hammer because she was good and pissed and good for her, but also she’s the sort of character where if she actually sat down and tried to figure it out, you *know* she could. She’s sharp, she’s a teacher, she’s quick on her feet. But goddamn it, that box NEEDED smashing, and I feel like I could watch two straight hours of Janelle Monae breaking stuff and that would be my porn.

But I love Benoit Blanc so goddamn much, too. I’m not a James Bond fan so I haven’t watch Daniel Craig’s run (that’s on the character, not him), but I’ve adored him in other stuff. Like, he’s so much fun in Logan Lucky, a movie that doesn’t nearly get enough play for being VERY good and for featuring Southern characters without making them the butt of the joke. Oh, but Benoit.

Also, kudos to writing in the pandemic as a plot point in a way that didn’t make me want to whack the screenwriter on the head with a newspaper. Like, Kate Hudson wearing that jeweled chain mask was both so in character and SO infuriating because *people actually did that shit*, a fact I will NEVER get over.

[justatalkingface]

Thanks for answering my ask! Just one thing though I probably should have worded it better, my bad, when I asked if ochako's goals conflicted, I was thinking something like she might be rejected by hero society despite everything she's done, in a more extreme sense. Like if ochako started advocating for better treatment for heroes and eventually villains, then hero society might literally try to get rid of her.

In the chapter with izuku and the civilian mob outside UA (main character's solution: bring it all back 😅), nagant and hawks with the commission (I know they're technically gone but with no safeguards preventing them from coming back, you know), the heroes and civilians have been shown to fight against and in many cases eliminate those who they feel are a threat to them or their way of life, no matter who they are. Maybe it's just overthinking on my part in hoping that ochako might really accomplish something in the end, but with what we've been shown in bnha on the 'heroes' side, it just never seems like a clear picture that'll turn out well. Does this make sense or no?

Oh, sure.

There's actually two questions here, whether you know it or not.

There's would this happen in a 'realistic' version of MHA, and would this happen in our MHA.

In reverse order, in our MHA? Not a chance. Ochako, the half assed love interest of The Main Character, if she was campaigning to do The Right Thing, after the story is over? There's no way she'd be shunned. It's just... not going to happen, because she's a hero and as I've said before, Hori is afraid of letting his heroes look wrong, or having problems where they're morally conflicted. If they're doing something, its right, therefore they'll do it successfully because it's right. At worst, there will be some minor protest from someone unimportant, solely to be shouted down and prove Ochako's point.

Granted, I'm not sure how much advocating for the villains would happen, what with this series's complete refusal to address the problems it brings up, but off screen there could easily be something done that 'fixes' things, somehow, about villains, when it's clearly a societal problem the heroes are having problems admitting even exist, because at the end of the day Hori has locked onto the basic story book ending here.

Also, this assumes that hero society and/or Quirks is still around post canon, which is actually up in the air at this point.

On a more realistic sense... that is where it could get interesting.

Assuming, for this, that after the story everything is the same, more or less, that there's still Quirks, heroes, ranked heroes, monetization, Japan hasn't been Dusted or SMASHED into oblivion....

Basically, Status Quo is God, and Ochiko wants to punt God into the sun, as is right and proper, yeah?

Then she could be having some problems, because while she would have a lot of good feelings going her way, as a hero of the... war(? whatever AFO's suppression get's labeled as), and probably with her classmates support, villains are probably going to be loathed by the general public, since, you know, they keep killing everyone and starting a war. It's the reason the League is so nonsensical; they're so extreme in their actions that the public can't have any sympathy for the causes they (theoretically) are fighting for.

Moreover, heroic society itself has serious inertia to it, and it is (theoretically) filled with heroes more concerned with money or fame than actually helping, and they wouldn't want their cushy jobs, after the the brief period of stress that is the war, to be messed up any more, or heroes who just hate villains or what not who honestly think these policies would be wrong. That's not even counting the HC's work with people like Lady Nagant and Hawks which is just... never acknowledged in story? Or presumably dealt with in any way? (Destro did kill some of them, yeah, but the structure is still there. It's relatively simple to just... slot some other people in there, since it's not actually gone) So yeah, that'd still be there as well, and that means there's actually a chance that Ochako would be assassinated for 'The Greater Good'.

In a 'Hori if he had put work into all this' kind of story, where he's attached to the characters, of course that'd never happen (or rather work), but in a just 'realistic' story Ochako using her influence like that to 'support' villains would be viewed as a threat to the industry (and I do mean industry) by the powers that be, and if she's the primary voice of it, an 'accident' could stop it from continuing on as much.

But that's an extreme option, and there's plenty of more reasonable options to use before then, by giving her worse jobs, having the media that would presumably be in their pocket work to discredit her and tar her image, and all the other petty bureaucratic shit that can be used against someone to try and make her life hell until they give up or quit.