#they just talk like normal people. can i call this pathologizing regular speech

[yelloworangesoda]

do not undersfand the obsession with giving human homestuck oc type characters typing quirks. none of the human characters in homestuck have typing quirks

[justatalkingface]

it is deeply infuriating to me how bakugou can say things like "[Izuku] never thinks of himself" with ZERO self-awareness about why he's like that

Yeah. It feels like Hori is trying to do the bullet points of a redemption arc, without putting the meat of it in between each point.

Like, if you looked a really simplified summary of MHA, you'd think he got better right? After all, he: learned not to look down on people, learned to work together with others, moved without thinking to protect Izuku, apologizing, and... I-

Alright. I can't figure out to dryly sum up 1A vs Izuku and his... speech to SFO while making them look actually positive, but the point is that Hori put up the framework of a redemption arc, but the key is the moments between those points:

When, right after learning not to look down on people, he promptly starts calling everyone extras again. When, before saving Izuku, he threatened him, and then shrugged off being impaled to make his 'sacrifice' empty basiclly seconds later because clearly it didn't do all that much, and then following up by going back to treating Izuku the same.

When his teamwork with his pseudo-friend group (composed of people he constantly insults) is largely him just barking orders.

When his apology is empty, one-sided, devoid of context, and in front of an audience, with Izuku physically and emotionally unable to reply and topped by him saying it won't change anything.

When he goes to 'heroically' rescue Izuku by hunting him down with a mob to start attacking him, ironically mirroring his completle lack of growth by repeating the scene from chapter one of him heading a mob to attack Izuku, only it's with his friends and classmates randomly somehow brainwashed to follow Bakugou and attack him, and it being portrayed as a good thing (and Bakugou looking ferally delighted at it, no less).

When his 'heroic speech' to SFO is just about himself, and doesn't nothing to actually address to societal concerns SFO brings up.

The piece of resistance: when he correctly identifies that Izuku has absolutely no self-worth, like you said, only to promptly blame All Might for it (and wow. All Might just isn't allowed to win anything, is he? Or to be able to do anything at all competently, really. God, why did Hori make this man so important if he just seems to hate him so much?), someone who, while influential to Izuku and others was not at all involved in his life until the beginning of the manga, even though said empty apology happens maybe two chapters later.

And all those time in-between those moments of development where he yells at everyone he sees, attacks Izuku for being happy or talking about his Quirk, insults dead heroes, and just in general acts like as much of an asshole as usual, only it's portrayed in a positive light, with everyone tolerating it like he's about to blush and call them 'baka', instead of... not doing that, attacking them, and continuing the behavior. The behavior that was shown, from the very beginning of the story, to be bad, but we all like Bakugou now, so it's fine!

Pro-tip, Hori (not that you'll ever read this): character development is more than a character showing just a few, scattered scenes of different behavior, only to revert back to normal afterwards. Just like in real life, it's a marathon of steady effort, not just a few preformative displays. Development means the character actually changes consistently, and shows said changes in their behavior on a regular basis, which increase in frequency as their development progresses until it has replaced the old behavior, not just sugar coated it for the audience, because then you'll only make your character seem like a pathological liar, actively deluding themselves, or an idiot.

[finelinesolo]

Rules are Rules - a Ben Solo One Shot (AU)

Rating: EXPLICIT (smut)

Summary: You work at the busiest bar in the city, and one night Ben Solo comes in. Small talk, small talk — you two end up in the bathroom.

Notes: thank you for 600 on twitter!! xo’s - Lizzie

Maybe it was the freezing New York City air or maybe the lack of caffeine in your system was finally getting to you, but goosebumps danced across your arms frantically – sending a chilling shiver down your spine. There was nothing you hated more than working the closing shift, especially on Fridays. Being a bartender was fun at times and the money was pretty good, but having to be the one to kick the drunks out after last call and listen to them bitch and groan about their wives hating them or their lives falling apart was a chore no one wanted to do.

As hard as you begged, no one seemed to want to cover your shift. You were halfway tempted to just call in sick, electing not to out of fear of your boss raising hell to fire you.

A groan slipped from your lips when you heard the banging speakers and screaming people pour out of the door, their legs barely keeping them afloat as they stumbled down the street. Did you bring your Advil today? Better yet, would the Advil be enough to get you through this? You knew the answer was no, but ignorance is bliss – and that would be the only thing to save you now.

Popping the medicine into your mouth, you step through the door – already counting the seconds until you could clock off.

You knew wiping down counters repeatedly was only fun for so long, but anything was better than making strawberry martinis and cosmos for the bridal party that came in tonight. The minute they entered, you tossed the main bar to your co-worker, electing to take over bottle service and the occasional table wipe down. The tasks irritated you to no end, but every time one of the girls released a shriek pitched high enough to break glass, you hugged the rag in your hand a little tighter.

Before you could start on another table, you felt the seat next to you pull out - and man with a mop of black hair and an electric smile plopping down. His eyes lingered on yours - the hazel color swallowing you whole. He was cute, you hated to admit. It was easier for you to pretend that everyone who came into this place was a slob, however you had never wanted to be wrong more in your life.

“Bottle girl tonight, I see.” He said, raising a hand at the waitress to put an order in. His eyes drifted down to your legs, sitting there for a second before flashing back to meet your gaze. “Nice legs, by the way. You’re always behind the bar, I’ve never seen them before.” He cocked a lazy smile at your co-worker, lazily ordering a whiskey neat. She glanced up at you before scurrying off, swaying her hips in the process. To impress this guy, you guessed. A small giggle fell from your lips, causing his eyes to fall back on you. You tried to suppress your laughter, but it came anyways.

“Something funny?” He asked, crossing his arms across his chest. The position drew attention to the muscles laced through his arms, your throat closing momentarily at the sight. “No, not at all. You enjoyed the show, I assume?” You ask, lifting your head to gesture at your co-worker. He rolled his eyes, leaning forward onto the table. “Every time I’m in here she does the same thing - maybe I should keep track, throw her a party when she hits 100.” Oh, so he had jokes. You rack your brain to remember who he was, drawing a blank after a few moments. “You’re a regular, I assume?” You ask, dropping your rag on his table to at least try to make it look like you are working so your boss didn't chew you out. He nodded; eyes steady on the bar to track his drink. “You don’t remember me? Ouch, that stings. I’ll remember that the next time I tip.” You knew he was kidding, his tone of voice said that much. He squinted his eyes at you, studying your expression. There wasn’t much to see, clearly - his gaze returning to the line of drinks forming on the counter.

“I’m Ben, Ben Solo. And you?” His voice was loud, the sound carrying through the booming music that busted your ear drums on the daily. “I’m Y/N - it’s nice to meet you, Ben.” It was a cute name, for a cute guy. You wondered if there was something deeper here - like maybe he was a serial killer and came here looking for girls to murder. You’d seen some creepy guys come through here, but he didn’t seem like one. Creepy guys don’t dress this well – his torso was framed tightly by a black dress top, his bottom half matched with plain jeans. Black boots sealed the look, and you couldn’t help but wonder what was hiding underneath all those buttons.

“So, Ben, what do you do?” You ask, throwing the rag over your shoulder so you could lean closer. He noticed, resting his chin on his palm to meet your distance. “I’m a pilot, but I live here. I have the next couple days off.” A pilot. This man was a rich, successful, pilot – so what was he doing in this part of town, getting drinks from the busiest dive bar in the city? “And what about you, bottle girl? Are you a full-time bartender or do you live a double life?” He smiled softly at you, the curve of his lips forcing you to return the grin. “I’m that predictable, huh? Yeah, Speech Pathology student by day, slave to the drink by night.”  He raised his eyebrow, the emotion behind it was unreadable. “Speech Pathology, huh? So, you’re an expert with mouth movement, huh?” His tone shifted towards the end, the weight of it growing stronger - like it was sitting on your chest. Yes, your major included those techniques - something your friends loved to tease you about. No one you’d slept with really cared, yet here was this man already using it to his favor. “Somewhat, yes. Why? Are you looking for a lesson?” A bold statement, you knew. Normally you’d never engage a customer, but in your eyes – this man didn’t count. His face shifted to glance back at the bar, his drink still not there. You hoped they forgot to make it - that maybe you’d be able to steal him before he got it. Before you could ask again, you felt his hand land on your thigh - his fingers drawing soft circles as they traveled up towards your hip. “How much time do you have?” He asked, the heat radiating from him warming your skin.

“As much as you're willing to give me.” The distance between you two grew smaller and smaller until you were practically sitting in his lap, your leg draped softly over his bottom half. Your face loomed over his, standing up having given you the high ground. The bar grew more crowded, the hoard of dancers covering you two from the judging glances of your co-workers – something you’d remember to thank God for later. He raised his jaw, gesturing towards the one family bathroom the building had. There wasn’t a line for it, something that rarely happens. Nodding in agreement, he snatches your hand to drag you forward. His legs carried him faster than you could keep up with, and it wasn’t until now that you realized how tall he was. No wonder he could make a b-line so quick, the man was easily 6’3.

Once inside the room, Ben wrapped his arms around your waist – turning you to press your back against the door as it shut. His lips softly brushed against yours’s, the hum of your chests reverberating against each other. He had big hands, another thing you didn’t notice until now. One sprawled against your hip, the other grasped the back of your neck tightly. The air was thick with the smell of spilt liquor and sweat from the dance floor - a trait you normally detested, but with Ben this close, you could faintly smell his cologne - a mix of sandalwood and mint fluttered in your nose. You wanted nothing more than for him to kiss you, but he wasn’t playing that game this evening. He wasn’t vanilla, clearly – your heart pounded at the thought of what he was capable of.

“Sweetheart,” his voice was sweet like candy, but was still coated with that same dark tone you enjoyed so much before. His breath was hot on your skin, the bottom of his lip tucked between his top teeth for just a second as he contemplated his next sentence. “How much are you willing to do?” The question was dumb, but you appreciated it, nonetheless. “In what way, Ben?” You asked, your lashes fluttering softly to not squirm away from his touch. It was driving you crazy, and he knew it too – his hands digging a little deeper into your skin. “I want all of you, every inch. But are you going to be good and let me take my time with you or can you not handle it?” His words dripped with intensity, and you fought the urge to audibly gasp. You were on the clock, but the idea of going back to work right now sounded like an unusual form of torture. You nod, slowly – watching that same grin you saw earlier form on his mouth. He loved this, clearly. And you did too, shockingly enough.  Normally you’d never hook up with someone in a bathroom, but it was just your luck that it had been deep cleaned before rush tonight.

“Any rules?” You asked, your arms wrapping around his neck. The gesture was so normal to you, yet he managed to reject it so fast – his hands grabbing yours to pin them above your head.

“Yes, a few.”

Whether it was shock or excitement that was heating your face, you didn’t care. The force behind his actions was electrifying, every move he made left you wondering what would come next. His eyes caught yours, silently asking to continue. You nod, maintaining eye contact as you twitched beneath him.

“You don’t do anything without asking. You even try to cum before I let you and I’ll pull away.” His voice got quiet as he nudged your head to get at your neck, placing soft kisses along your jaw. The pace was agonizing, his tongue dragging a small line across your skin. You groaned under your breath, the feeling causing your knees to wobble.

“You’re not allowed to touch me.” The rule was mind-boggling, and you weren’t sure how you’d be able to follow it. He was built like a marble statue, and the idea of not being able to drag your fingers across his figure seemed impossible.

“And what if I break it?” You ask, your voice faltering as he sucked on the skin below your earlobe. The soft laugh that escaped his lips sounded borderline threatening, his grip on your wrists only tightening. “Do you want me to leave you here to finish yourself?” No. No you did not.

“Rules are rules, sweetheart.” His voice carried through your ears like a melody.

Nodding, you mentally sign off on his rules. It’s not like what he was asking for was totally insane, you had seen much worse watching the people who came into this bar. His grip on your wrists changed, transferring both into one hand while he brought the other to grasp your hip. Your mouth released a soft moan at his touch, everything he did elicited a reaction from deep within you. It wasn’t long before you felt his lips on yours, the soft pillow-like texture clouding your thoughts. His kiss was unlike anything you’d felt before – like they were custom fit for yours’s, or that they had molded so quickly to fit your every movement. He turned his head to the side to angle deeper, swiping his tongue softly against your bottom lip to earn entry – and who were you to deny him that?

You wanted nothing more than to grab a fistful of his hair and pull it for strength, but that was clearly not an option now. He had open reign of your body, his free hand roaming up under your shirt to unclasp your bra.

With one hand? A talent.

Before you could realize it, your top half was exposed – he analyzed your every inch as if he was afraid, he’d miss a part. No one had ever taken in all of you like this, the nerves of being open to him causing you to shiver. He felt it, you assumed – releasing your wrists.

“Don’t move them - are we clear?” You nod, keeping your arms pressed against the door. His big hands slid up your side while he kissed down your collarbone and over the top of your chest. Hot air pounded against your forehead from the lack of AC that ever pumped into this room. You’d never had a fond memory here, but you were sure this would quickly top the list.

His lips clasped around your nipple fervently, as if he were in a rush – and maybe he was, you were at work and the risk of someone drunkenly stumbling through the door to puke was high. Your mind was racing, not able to place thoughts to actions as he dragged his tongue along your skin. The lights flickered softly, growing dimmer every passing second. It was like the further he got along your body, the darker it got. Ben didn’t seem to notice, focused on the task at hand. He stepped back momentarily, unbuttoning his shirt as fast as he could.  

“You just want me to stand here like this, huh?” You asked, your wrists resting against the cold metal of the door. A kink was a kink, you guessed – but this was the first you’d met someone who didn’t want you to touch them. You’d read about it time to time, and seen it in that 50 shades movie - but this was a real person with real rules, and you couldn’t help but wonder what would happen if you broke them.

A dash of courage races through your head, your hands working for you. Ben was so lost in unbuttoning his shirt, he didn’t notice you lurch forward to place your hands on his chest. His eyes flew open, shock splashed across his face. He didn’t stop you, his eyes intently staring at your every movement. As predicted, his body was stunning. The build of his torso was like something out of a dream, soft skin draped over toned muscle. His breath was shallow as your hand fell lower – a reaction that only encouraged you to go further. Oddly enough, he still wasn’t stopping you - he let you continue your exploration, watching your fingers fumble with the button of his pants. It popped open quietly, causing the hemline to drop slightly past his hip, exposing more skin. You raise your eyes to meet his gaze, hoping he’d let you continue.

The rules. You were doing a shit job at following them, and he was either playing a trick on you to see if you’d get back in line, or he didn’t care – and Ben didn’t seem like the kind of guy to forgive so easily.

Steadily, you raise your hands in defeat – stepping back against the door as he asked to stay before. Pride washed across his face, his frame towering over you as he pressed up against you again.

“Good girl.”

He returned his mouth to yours, an exhale of relief leaving lips in the process. Your stomach did 180 flips every time he touched you, and you couldn’t help but want to run your fingers through his hair and pull. This was the point, clearly – he knew that you not being able to touch him would drive you crazy, and he was right.

Ben slapped your legs softly, gesturing for you to jump into his arms. Wrapping your legs around his hips, you had assumed that meant the no touch rule was over – clearly not, because before you could finally touch his hair, he used one hand to catch them as he strode across the room to place you on the sink. You groan in frustration – desperate to feel his hot skin against your palm. He laughed softly under his breath, hiking your skirt up to let it pool at your hips. Ben stood in between your legs, his size keeping them spread far apart. The cold porcelain pressed into your thighs, goosebumps appearing in its place. The warmth from the man in front of you was enough to suppress them, his arms returning to their place around your hips. He softly kissed down your face, stopping at your lips.

“Do you want my mouth?”

Blunt, yes. You’ve noticed that he was straight to the point, a trait you’d normally detest. But it was hot on him. Everything was.

“Yes, yes please.”

Ben smirked, getting down on his knees to place a hand on your stomach – pressing you against the mirror. The glass chilled you to your spine, a small gasp escaping your lips from the contact. He either didn’t notice or didn’t care, placing soft kisses along your inner thigh to tease you.

“Ben, please.” You begged, swallowing your pride out of desperation to feel him. Nerves wracked your chest and you weren’t sure why. You’d hooked up with people before, even in public once or twice - but this was the first time you’d felt immobile in front of a man, as if your body only acted because he told it too. He noticed your trance, hooking a finger on your underwear to move it to the side. He let out a puff of cold air, the contact causing your legs to fly up. He didn’t care, leaning back a bit to prop your knees on his shoulders for a better angle.

It was a quick second before you felt his mouth on you, the pressure that was building up in your stomach immediately releasing at the feeling. Your hands found purchase on the side of the sink, the sudden thought of his rules reminding you to not grab at his hair. He licked in zig-zag formation, his tongue pressing in harder after landing on your clit. The air was sucked from your lungs, a moan forcing its way out. Ben wrapped his arms around your hips in return, holding you in place. His head rotated in small circles, mouthing at your center at a quicker pace. Every couple seconds he’d groan against you, the sound vibrating your clit in ways that made your head spin.

“You like that, huh?” He asked, pulling away shortly to press your buttons. All you could do was nod - his tongue pushing through your folds again taking away your ability to speak. He seemed to want words, his frame teetering backwards to blow cold air on your entrance. The feeling was electric, and you never wanted it to end. Shrieking, your knuckles went white from gripping the sink.

“Yes, god yes. Please don’t stop.” The words came out as more of a stutter.

“Please what? Tell me what you want, sweetheart.”

He knew. He wasn’t dumb. Why did he need vocals?

“Please, I need you to make me cum. Ben-” Your breath was hot as is exhaled, the words stumbling out in an incoherent mess. “I want your fingers, and your mouth – please.”

He raised an eyebrow, pleased with his effect on you. “Fingers too, huh? Greedy little thing.” Not that he cared, of course. Ben didn’t waste a second, raising his middle finger to your entrance and pushing in. The feeling was euphoric, his pace quickening to match the rise and fall of your chest. He murmured against your center, sucking your clit while his fingers curled deep inside of you. It was almost too much, and you knew you’d only last so long.

“Oh, god yes - daddy.”

Your eyes flew open, one of your hands coming up to slam over your mouth. Why? Why now?

“What did you just call me?” He asked, his grip on your hip tightening slightly.

“Nothing. I called you nothing.” You felt like an idiot, and you were an idiot. You’d always wanted to try calling someone that, but no one ever made you feel like they’d be okay with it. That, or they were boring to the point that you couldn’t get yourself to say it.  And here you were, naked on top of a sink – waiting for the one man you found that deserved the title, to decide if it was okay.

“Say it. What did you call me?” He said again, this time darker in tone.

“Daddy.” It came out weak, sheepish even. You swallowed your spit hoping it would make your speech clear up.

He smirked, the expression causing a wave of relief to wash over you. Returning to his place in between your legs, his lips kissed down your pussy – lapping softly at the skin just above your entrance. Fingers and all, this man knew what he was doing. Hunger for him raged on in your chest, and you weren’t sure how much longer you’d last like this.

“Oh, sweetheart – you taste so good. You like it when daddy does this, huh?” He said, his words pulsating against you. “Yes, yes.” You sigh, your legs starting to shake. The closer you got to finishing, the harder it was to focus. Your vision was blurring with every passing second.

“Ben -” you start, the pressure building in your stomach becoming unbearable. “Can I please cum? Please?” It came out as a plea, like your life depended on it. He looked up at you from his spot, the eye contact threatening to send you over the edge.

“Hm, not yet. Count to 10 and I’ll let you.” He says, staying close to you. You nod – confused with how 10 seconds would affect anything.

“1…”

He swirled his tongue around your clit, pushing his fingers in completely.

“2 … 3 …. 4 …”

Ben moaned against you, shaking his head from left to right to create friction.

“5 … 6 … 7 ... “

“I don’t know if I can do this Ben-” You gasp, sweat dripping from your brow as you try to hold your orgasm in. He dug his nails into your skin, signaling to continue.

“8… 9 … 10 …”

He sucked harshly, releasing your clit but continuing to push in and out of you at full force. “Cum, sweetheart. Cum for daddy.”

You felt your body wrack with shakes as you released, the power behind it causing your back to fly off the mirror – sitting straight up once again. You wanted to catch your breath, but Ben had better ideas. He stood to his feet, pulling you against his chest.

“I’m on the pill -” you whisper, his head resting on your shoulder. He nodded, leaning down to shuffle out of his pants. Pulling his boxers down, his cock was released from its hold. Your eyes flew open wide – the size of it taking away your ability to speak. This could hurt, and you almost wanted it to hurt.

He hooked one of his arms under your leg, lifting it slightly. You impulsively reached forward, grabbing his shoulders for support. This was breaking the rules, you knew that. Ben’s eyes traced your frame, nodding in approval at your position.

“You’ve been good, sweetheart – you can keep your hands there.”

You couldn’t help but feel relief, tightening your grip around his neck – your fingers finally trailing into his hair. It was just as soft as you hoped, the locks tangling around your grip. Ben groaned at the close contact, letting out a harsh breath before thrusting himself all the way inside you, filling you up. Your grip faltered, his arms catching you before you fell back against the mirror again. Pulling him closer after, your neck gave out – finding a resting spot on his shoulder. He closed his eyes, adjusting to the feeling of you around him.

“You’re so tight - damn, sweetheart.” You were, but mainly because of him - the man was stretching you as far as you could take. “You like how I fill you up, huh? Tell me how much you like it.”

Words were not coming out, an example of his effect on you. All you could manage were a few murmured words, flying out of your mouth in a haste.

“Yes - Yes, I love it, ugh.” That’s as good as it was going to get for you, his mouth curving into a smirk watching you come undone at his will. The sound of desperation in your voice only encouraged him further, picking up his pace. He holds you against him as he plunges his cock as deep as it would go, grunting and moaning obscenities along the way. Every move he made went straight to your core, the impact relentless. You wanted to scream or bang your arms against the wall – everything he did felt so damn good, and you didn’t know how else to express it. Your eyes begin to water, one hand coming in between you to rub vicious circles on your clit while the other finds purchase gently wrapped around your throat. You were fairly sure he was out to kill you, and the idea of going back to work after this was near impossible. He groans, elbowing your left leg, silently asking you to lift it just as he had it before. You oblige, the angle only sending him deeper. You make a mental note to thank your DJ for blasting the music so loud it was virtually impossible to hear anything, imagining a way to explain this to your coworkers if they caught you. His brain was on a different wavelength clearly, pounding into you relentlessly and enjoying every second.

“Don’t forget to tell me when you’re close.” He grunts, his fingers still rotating your clit deliciously. And you were, but you didn’t want this to end. How much longer could you drag this out for?

Your orgasm had other things in mind, creeping up on you quickly. You shriek, slapping his shoulder and shaking your head. “Ben, I’m so close, please-” He shook his head, slamming into you again but halting his movement, the length pressed against you causing your breath to catch in your throat.

“Cum now sweetheart, now.”

You scream into his shoulder, softly biting the skin to relieve the tension. His breath hitched quickly after yours, finishing inside of you while you continued shaking underneath his body. He slowly thrusts in and out of you to help you ride out your climax before slowing to a stop, his head leaning against yours. Your ragged breaths mixed with his, the air between you thin. The outline of the skin made your legs sore, a soft whimper of pain pushing past your lips. Ben assumed so, wrapping your legs around his hips tighter so he could lift you up, carrying you over to the small counter placed in the counter. The surface was less harsh, the surge of pain you felt before dissipating. He kissed your forehead, reaching to his left to grab some paper towels.

“Close your eyes, sweetheart.” Following his instructions, you feel him softly dab at your hairline - cleaning up the sweat forming. He did the same further down your body, wiping along your collarbone and your jaw. It was a sweet gesture compared to the way he was wrecking you earlier.

He finished, throwing the paper away and returning with your clothes. You dressed in silence, stealing a glance at him through the corner of your eye every couple seconds. Once everything was fastened, you stood on opposite sides of the bathroom, eyes glued to each other. His feet carried him in stride, his hands on either side of your face while he kissed you softly. You melted into his touch, wrapping your arms around his waist.

“What time do you get off tonight?” He asked, staring at your lips – waiting for an answer.

“I close, so around 2.” He flipped his wrist, glancing at his watch for time. It must have been around midnight at this point.

“I’ll wait for you, then you’re coming home with me.” He said with that same smirk crossing his face in the way you liked so much. That could be arranged, but you weren’t going to let him off that easily.

“Oh, really? And why is that?” You whisper against his jaw, placing soft kisses up until you reached just under his ear lobe, swirling your tongue there softly. He shuddered against you, pulling you away with his eyes squinted.

“Because I said so, and rules are rules.”