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palbabor-writes · 3 years

Note

OK so please consider typical Shig/reader where theres unspoken mutual attraction and they're not quite together but it's Post-kamino Shig, like IMMEDIATE post-kamino where he's still processing and incredibly vulnerable from just losing his sensei. I've had this in my head for a while but IDK how it would go and I think you'd do it justice (just ignore this if u don't wanna i just needed to put it out there 😌)

ugh, i loved this idea. where do you find them lydia? they just live in your mind rent free and i want to go to there. gosh, thank you for the ask.

Pairing: Shigaraki Tomura x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Adult language, SMUT, NSFW/18+ only, mild angst, pivotal life moments, TW: drinking/drug use, masturbation, blow jobs, face fucking, spanking/mild pain play, vaginal fingering, cunniliginus, overstimulation, switching, dirty talk, loss of virginity (if you squint), dominance, vaginal sex

Word Count: 11,800

Notes: oh man. so, if the word count didn’t give it away, this is plot, with a hefty dose of porn. in my mind, this is all part of the grieving process for shigaraki and he’s having a rough time coming to terms with what he’s needing to do. yeah, AFO supported him and enabled him to build a following, but he also hid all of the major pieces from him (i.e. the doctor & gigantomachia) so i can see him mourning for AFO as a teacher & as a psudo loved one, after all, at the end of that chapter he’s clutching those hands to him like he’ll fall apart without them.

Edited by the lovely Lydia: @kugutsuu. she is the best and if you’re not reading her works, all I have to say is: YOU SHOULD BE.

Mise en Place

/mē-ˌzäⁿ-ˈpläs/ noun or verb a French culinary phrase which means "putting in place" or "everything in its place.”

This has got to be the strangest, hole in the wall, bar you’ve ever worked at.

The patrons are touchy and most seem downright dangerous. The whole lot of them are more like mid level criminals than the usual haggard, overworked, regular, citizens you find in local watering holes. Meanwhile, the gentleman who runs the day to day operations shares more similarities with a will o’ the wisp than a man, and the bar itself is smack dab in one of the seediest parts of town.

The liquor selection, however, is top of the line. Some of the labels you haven’t seen outside of posh hotels or high class country clubs, and many of the older bottles are rarities. Honestly, there are so many of the high brow bottles that you’re not sure who to ask about the rail selection. There’s no real order to the place and it’s the most free reign you’ve ever been given with your mixology experiments. There’s not even a listing of drinks to go off of. But, if the disgruntled evening crowd is happy, then so is the upper management. All they ask is that you lock up before you leave.

No, nothing about this place makes sense. But, it does pay well and, right now, that’s the only thing you need to worry about.

There’s one other barkeep, a stogy man named Akio. He usually works the day shift, but late yesterday afternoon, he’d given you a call and asked if the two of you could swap for the duration of next week. At first, you’d balked, worried you’d need to schmooze with an unfamiliar bunch of regulars, who’d then decline to tip simply because you were new. But, Akio had sweetened the pot with the promise of $20,000 yen, so, you’d agreed.

“It’s fairly quiet in the afternoon,” Akio reassured you. “It’s really just putting away shipment and serving the odd customer who happens to pass by. The only thing...well, I’m sure you’ve met him. You’ve been working there for over a month, no way you could miss him.”

“Who?” you ask, twirling your spoon in your mid-morning coffee, curious, but not wanting to seem overly eager in your questioning. You like your night shift and you’re not wanting this to become a regular swap. You detest having to lug heavy boxes to and fro, pulling liquor and checking lot numbers, ick. Plus, if it really is that slow in the afternoons, it would only be a matter of time before Kurogiri would come after you with a duster and ask you to clean the upper shelves. Yeah, no, thanks. This would be a one week deal, ONLY.

“His name is Shigaraki. He’s, er, different. I suppose you’ll meet him soon, if you haven’t already.”

“Shigaraki? No, that name doesn’t ring a bell. Is he--”

“I have to go, my son is here. Thanks again for the swap and talk soon, (Y/N).”

The line clicks and you let your phone fall from your ear, clattering the metal and plastic along your kitchen table. Shigaraki, you think, taking a scalding sip of your coffee, no, that’s not a name you’ve heard before. Wonder what it is about him that has Akio so on edge. It’s not like him to give you, er, whatever that strange heads-up had been. Either way, it would take more than a vague descriptor like different, to spook you off.

******

Akio was right, on all counts, about the haze of monotony that permeated the afternoon shift at the bar.

Well, right on everything except a sighting of that elusive Shigaraki guy. No, the whole afternoon it’s just been you, Kurogiri, and one, rather sloshed old man, who you’ve long since cut off, and propped at the far end of the bartop. It’s been a dull, slow, day. Thank God you’d taken that extra cash from Akio, or this might not even turn out to be worth your while.

You’re slipping another bottle of whiskey on the lower shelf when you hear a barstool scrape back. You turn at the sound, your head already lifted and a small, friendly, smile lingering on your lips. There’s a lanky guy, dressed all in black with a mop of wavy white hair, working himself onto the small seat. His head is lowered and he hasn’t bothered to look up at you, not yet, anyway. He looks, not really young, but you can’t tell and you’re not about to let some underaged kid worm his way in here. You’ve had enough of those punks sneaking in in the evening, thank you.

“Gimme a shot of scotch,” the man says, his voice low, with a quiet rasp racing along the tone. It’s a strange timbre and it makes you pause, your eyes scanning those pearlescent strands of hair that are hiding his face from view.

“Hmph,” you snort, arching a brow at his attempts at concealment. He must be underage, who comes up to a barkeep with a ducked head and demands a scotch?

“Let me give you a piece of advice, don’t come into a bar and immediately refuse to make eye contact with the bartender. We’re like animals at the zoo, we startle easily and don’t like surprises. And, with your face tucked like that, I can’t gauge your age. So, before I get you that unnamed and unbranded scotch, I’m gonna to need to see some ID.”

The man lifts his head at your preamble and you feel your breath catch at the raw annoyance that’s etched across his scarred and cracked face. His eyes are a rich red, closer to ruby and they latch onto yours, insistent and sharp. It’s a deeply intense stare and you can’t seem to pull yourself away, your brow furrowing at his sudden shift in demeanor.

“I don’t have an ID,” he snaps, his lips lifting into a snarl, showing you the vivid whiteness of his teeth.

You lick your lips and his gaze follows the motion, eyes lowering, freeing you from that uneasy imprisonment he’d abruptly ensnared you in.

Your heart is beating rapidly against your throat and you shake your head, refocusing your bewildering reaction to this guy's presence. “I-I haven’t heard that one before,” you say, taking a few steadying breaths and tossing a dirty glass in the dishwasher, looking for any task that will let you step away from this strange interaction.

“You must be new,” he says, leaning back and hunching those dark shoulders. You watch him out of the corner of your eye and shut the dishwasher door, hitting the button to run a cycle.

“Nope,” you correct him, pulling out two fresh glasses and lining them up on the bartop, reaching for the rail scotch. “I’ve worked here for over a month.”

“Never seen you before.”

“That makes two of us,” you reply, flipping the bottle up and filling both glasses with four counts of the dark liquor. You press one to him and lift the other for yourself. The man narrows his eyes at you and looks pointedly at the glass in your hands.

“You supposed to drink on the clock?”

You laugh and he shifts back at the sound, his head bowing forward, another scowl lifting his lips. Realizing you must have made him uncomfortable, you step toward him and clumsily clink your glass against his, tilting your head at the surrealness of this whole conversation. “They don’t really care what I do. Come on, stranger who has no ID, bottoms up.”

He looks from you to the shot a few times before finally relenting and taking the vessel in a strange four fingered grip, his middle finger arched carefully away. Once you’re sure he’s actually going to toast with you, you sling your shot back, enjoying the sharp burn of the rich liquor.

You’re about to ask your new drinking companion another question when you hear his chair scrape back. By the time you’re stepping toward him, he’s already pacing down a back hallway, blending into the darkness and disappearing from your sight.

“Um! You can’t...I don’t think you can go back there. And you gotta pay, dude! Hey--”

“He doesn’t need to pay.”

You always hear Kurogiri before you see him and today is no exception. He’s standing at the entrance to the back of the bartop and he’s watching the path the strange young man took, his shifting face turned from you. You cock your head at his assertion and swiftly place your empty glass into the soapy water of the filled sink. He likely saw you take the shot, but you’re not about to leave evidence behind.

“What do you mean?” You ask, watching as the wisp like man turns and steps toward you, his amber slits watchful. It’s like he’s sizing you up and you shift on your feet, uncomfortable at the frank, open, assessment.

“He’s Tomura Shigaraki, and he owns this bar.”

******

You’re off for the next two days and the wait, the silence, is abjectly harrowing. You can’t sit down, can’t relax, can’t focus. The one time you decide to get overly familiar, of fucking course, it would be with the owner. But no one has called, and no one has sent you any messages. The empty static of your job's reticence doesn’t alleviate your nerves.

Who knows, they might want to act out the sick power play of having you show up for your shift, only be fired as soon as you darken the doorway.

The next afternoon, you take a familiar route to the bar, your feet tapping hollowly along the steps and alleyways that wind to the rusty entrance. You come in the front, blinking against the darkness, and lock the door behind you. Everything is quiet. But, in forty minutes, the open sign will switch on and you need to get your bar set up, plus slap on a little bit of makeup. You’re so lost in thought that you’re almost to the long bartop when you spot him.

It’s Tomura Shigaraki. He’s sitting at the same bar stool and his head turns as you approach, those unearthly red eyes lingering over you. It’s a different look, very, very removed from that harsh glare he’d given you the other day. He looks less hostile and more, well, curious.

You give him a cursory nod and pad behind the high counter, taking the final glasses out of the dishwasher and removing the stoppers from all the open liquor bottles. He’s still watching you and you can feel his gaze as it bores into your back, your side, your front. You attempt to ignore him, but the constant threat of those insistent red eyes is beginning to frustrate you. Finally, once you’ve replaced the cash drawer, you lift your gaze to his.

“What is it?” Your voice sounds waspish, but you don’t care.

“Nothing,” he replies, leaning forward and propping his chin on his palm, not breaking that unsettling leer.

“So stop staring at me,” you bristle, unsure why your heart is starting to beat a rapid tattoo against your ribs. You don’t know this guy. Sure, he’s mysterious and almost handsome, in a dark horse kinda way, but there’s no reason for him to give you this odd staredown. You’ve done absolutely nothing to warrant this attention, well, besides drinking on the job, but he could just fire you for that, if it was so troublesome. Either way, he should either speak up, or knock it off.

He smirks at your impudence and murmurs a raspy, “No,” back, his head tilting, waiting for your next move.

“You’re a real charmer, you know that?” You scoff, crossing your arms and jutting your chin defiantly.

“Whatever you say,” he breathes, that smile of his deepening, making his vermillion eyes shine. And, just like that, the two of you wander into a stilted game of give and take.

For the first few days, he makes sure he’s there before you arrive for the last of your afternoon shifts, his dark back already perched over the bartop as you shut the door behind you. Then, when you transition back to the evening shifts, he’s there too, sitting at that familiar perch, his eyes always, always watching, observing. You continue to ignore him and he seems to relish your agitated silence, flashing you dark smirks and quiet laughs.

Finally, two weeks into this stagnated stalemate, you make a point to strike up a real conversation with him. He’s obviously taken aback by your first few questions, his eyes wide and jaw tense, but he plays along.

Over time, the two of you carefully erect a haphazard friendship. And that chair of his? That center barstool? He used to not mind if another person was sitting in it when he arrived late, but recently that’s all changed. Now he guards it ferociously. Snapping and glaring at anyone who is stupid enough to drift into it.

Along with the lingering looks and burgeoning, almost flirty, dialogue you’ve pushed him into, he’s also gotten very demanding of your attention. If you spend too much time talking with another customer, or with Kurogiri, he pouts and darkens until you return, his tense form losing that sharpness. It's almost like he’s got a crush on you, but he’s not sure what to do with the newfound sensation, lost and confounded by your teases and grins.

Most people, you notice, give him a wide berth, but not you. No, you like his keen wit and heated musings. He’s fascinating and you want to see more. And in his flustered confusion, he lets you lean in, blinking and wide eyed at your open, flagrant interest in him.

******

As the weeks drift into summer, things start to change at the bar.

There’s some atypical deposit of power that’s been bestowed upon the place. People you’ve never seen before, begin to frequent the premises, sharing videos and whispered conversations about that man, Chizome Akaguro, better known to the general public as the Hero Killer.

Tomura flits between several, dark moods, clutching his newly injured shoulder and murmuring complaints about hero society, All Might and the Hero Killer. Apparently, there had been an altercation between the two of them and Tomura didn’t hide his ire, his agitation from you. No, he would vent to you, his voice gravel and ash as he snarled his rage.

Then, as if things couldn’t get any stranger, one evening a young girl begins to hang around, pestering you for a soda and prattling on and on about blood. Another new guy slips in a few hours later, his skin marred by thick, ragged burns and staples. He’s quiet, rudely demanding a shot and nursing it in a corner, his bright blue eyes flashing as he stares vacantly out at the crowd by the well.

A quiet man, called Spinner, asks you for a water, and you acquiesce, watching as his green hands wrap around the glass, downing the liquid in a quick gulp. Later, there’s a robust, loud, clearly confused guy, wearing a skin tight black bodysuit loitering by your bartop. He keeps entreating you for a drink, then tells you to buzz off seconds later. Exasperated, you plunk a whole bottle down beside his glass and continue on with your work, ignoring his chatter.

Finally, a man in a white mask and a top hat rounds out the strange posse and the group gathers together, hovering around Tomura, asking questions and listening to his rasping answers.

Thankfully, the rag-tag group leaves soon after closing, all of them shouldering their way back out into the night. You shake your head as the door closes behind them, gathering the collection of dirty glasses they left in their wake. Only Tomura remains, sipping meditatively on his drink, his red eyes foggy and unfocused. You know from experience that it’s not a good time to ask him questions, so you continue with your closing duties, keeping your eyes down.

Something is going on, that much is clear. But, unless you could worm the information out of Tomura, you’d likely never fully know all of the details. Part of you warns that it’s likely dangerous. Many of the people who haunt the bar are low level villains or brokers, not a winning combination if you’re wanting to stay out of the fray, and on the right side of the law.

You finish wiping everything down and return to Tomura, asking him softly if you can wash his empty glass. His eyes lift to yours and the expression that greets you almost makes you want to reach out and cup his cheek. He looks tired, worn thin and so, so needy. You’ve never seen him like this. It almost feels like he’s showing you something he’s never revealed to anyone else, a vulnerability that only you can see. He’s giving you access to a quiet secret that can hang between the two of you, safe in the knowledge that he can trust you with it. That urge to stroke a finger down his roughed brow rises again, but you shove the impulse away, rattled by your sudden, visceral, reaction to him.

To distract yourself, you snatch up his glass, and turn from the intensity of his stare, a slow prickle of gooseflesh trembling along your skin. As you run hot water and soap over the vessel, you feel your heart begin to pound and you chance another peek at Tomura’s quiet form. As usual, he’s watching you, but he looks unfocused again, that broken vulnerability tucked away. You want to ask him if he’s ok, but before you can croak the words out, he pushes his stool back and paces down the dark hallway, leaving you alone and bewildered.

******

A few days later, you ask Kurogiri if you can sneak away for a minute, you need a break. The bar has been packed since nine and you could use a quick breather. It’s the first night Tomura hasn’t stopped by and his absence has bothered you. You missed his grumpy quips and his persistent glances. All this time, you’d thought it was just him that was catching any kind of feelings, but it looks like he’s somehow managed to nag his way into your psyche, too.

You take the back stairs quietly and let yourself out onto the alleyway balcony, climbing the rickety fire escape to the rooftop. You’d found the access to the roof your second week and it’s still your favorite place in the whole bar. On a clear night, you can see all the way to downtown Tokyo. It’s always quiet this high up, tranquil and serene. You brace yourself against the concrete wall and watch the lights of the city glimmer, like distant jewels, in the darkness.

You pull a small joint from your pant pocket and flick your lighter on, setting the edge of the rolling paper alight and taking a slow drag. The inhale fills your lungs with a light pressure and you savor the feeling before blowing a thin line of smoke into the night. You get a few more hits in before you hear the fire escape stairs rattle, signaling that someone is coming your way. You debate dampening your roach, but you don’t want to waste it, so you tuck the smoldering paper in your other hand, maneuvering it out of sight.

The white shine of his hair always gives him away.

Tomura hops over the ledge and his eyes are already lifting, searching for yours as he stands. You arch an eyebrow at his tense stance and you can’t help your giddy smile. “Everything ok?”

“Kurogiri said you were taking a break,” he replies, dipping his long fingers into his pockets and sauntering over to the patch of concrete you’re braced against.

“Yeah,” you confirm, waiting until he’s closer to lift the joint back to your lips, taking a steadying pull and scooting over, so he can fit beside you on the wall. “It’s busy, and I’ve been slinging drinks all night. Just wanted to decompress for a bit.”

Tomura doesn’t reply, but he does slot himself close, the warmth of his broad shoulder radiating against yours. The two of you drift into a companionable silence, and the only sounds that greet you is the quiet hush of traffic below and your inhales and exhales of smoke.

“You got another meeting?” you ask, crossing your arms and pressing minutely closer, enjoying the distant shiver Tomura gifts you.

“No,” he murmurs, his voice low. You think that might be the end of the conversation but he continues a few seconds later, his head tilting toward yours, those red eyes scanning your upturned face. “They’re on a mission. I’m not able to participate. It will need to be like a SIM game. They are the pieces that I’ll move over the board, they’ll act to my battle plan.”

You turn to him, your eyes wide. “So, they’re just...pawns? Little NPC’s that don’t matter?”

Tomura laughs and his teeth gleam in the moonlight and distant shine of the neon lights. “Of course not. Do I look that heartless? No, they’re valuable players and if this goes right, we’ll be able to take on the next level with a decided edge.”

You let that last comment hover, pausing to take another huff, your eyes lowered, brooding over his words. “So, you’re their vanguard leader?”

“Sure,” Tomura nods, “We can’t keep grinding each mission, hoping to pick up any XP these heroes happen to drop. We need to make waves of our own.”

“Oh? Like the Hero Killer?”

“No,” Tomura snarls, his arm tensing beside yours, a hand rising to scritch at his scarred neck agitatedly. “Nothing like him. We’re looking past him. He was too short sighted, so busy following his own code of justice that he didn’t notice he was breeding more heroes, not putting them down.”

“Hmm,” you sigh, thumping your head lightly against the concrete behind you. “That is true. But, you can’t deny he’s brought up some serious divisions. It’s funny, really. It makes me think of this little hero toy I had when I was younger.

It was of an older hero, he prolly died long ago, but I loved that toy when I was a kid. Then, as I got older, it stopped mattering and one day, without me even realizing it, it lost its importance entirely. I wonder if hero society will ever shift to that. With the fractures that have been seen at UA and all over Japan, it could be a matter of time before real change starts to happen. Anyway, I wasn’t meaning to grill you on your, uh, projects. I was--”

“What toy?”

His question nonpluses you and you cock your head, blinking up at his peripheral stare. “Um, I think it was of that fast hero, O’clock. It was my older brothers originally, but he passed it down to me. No idea where it is now. It likely got lost in a move or accidentally left behind.”

Tomura lifts his eyes from yours, his jaw clenching and a slow gulp echoing down his lean throat. You watch the bob of his Adam’s apple, fascinated by the movement. That urge to touch him is back and you have to clench your fingers into your palms to quiet it.

You’re so distracted by your primal reaction to him, that you miss his question and he has to repeat it, his eyes slipping back to yours, the red dark.

“What?” you ask, blinking against the acuteness of his gaze.

“Can I take a hit of that?”

“Of what...oh.” You lift the half smoked joint and chuckle at yourself, pressing the smoldering paper toward him. “Sure. You had one before?”

“Does it matter?” He scoffs, carefully taking the white roach from you and raising it to his chapped lips.

“Go slow,” you warn as he begins to inhale, his eyes drifting to a half mast, concentrating.

“Don’t tell me what to do,” he grumbles, pulling a tentative, but heavy, drag into his lungs.

“Fine,” you scoff playfully, “do what you want. But don’t blame me when you’re coughing up a lung.”

He rolls his eyes, but doesn’t heed your advice and, seconds later, he’s clutching at his throat, dropping the joint onto the broken gravel and concrete as he heaves. Instinctively, you thump him on his back and run your palm soothingly over his lean shoulder blades, surprised by the corded muscle that greets you. For a relatively thin guy, he’s certainly packing some strength under that unassuming form of his.

Tomura startles at your touch and he yanks himself away from you, his head ducked, eyes fastening onto yours, the irises accusatory and bright, burning with some underlying emotion that you’re too nervous to name right now.

“Uh,” you begin, aghast that you’ve upset him, “m-my bad…”

But, he’s already leaving, his head firmly turned from you, clambering over the edge and back onto the fire escape, leaving you alone in the darkness.

******

After that night, you can’t slip him out of your mind. Even when you sleep, you can see those red eyes of his, gleaming and hungry. One evening, you’d even woken with your fingers firmly pressed to your throbbing clit, stumbling and gasping, shaking free of a dream of him. He’d felt so real, so in focus and you can’t catch your breath, fingers still rubbing a tight circle over your quivering bundle of nerves. You pant as you break yourself, sukling in the whites and reds that haze over your vision. Yeah, that crush of his definitely isn’t a one sided thing.

The next shift you work, he’s waiting for you, perched in his familiar seat, his shoulders curved and tight. You give him a glance, but he doesn’t meet your eyes. His hands are lowered, fiddling with something under the bartop. You begin to open your bar, trying to quiet your wandering thoughts, not wanting to perturb him again. You’re uncorking a red wine when he presses something across the mahogany wood of the bar, toward you.

It’s small, with dark colors and a tiny, familiar, upper half mask. You let the bottle of wine thud against the counter, abandoning the half opened bottle to move closer. It’s...it’s your-- No. It can’t be yours, but it is the same toy, the one you’d mentioned on the roof the other night. How did he?

You gulp and look up at him, your heart pulsing wildly against your ribs. For the first time, he looks away from you first, his white hair pillowing across his brow. His lips start to rise in an all too habitual scowl and his raspy voice lifts to your ears. “If you don’t want it,” he grouses, one hand pulling away from the offered toy, clearly flustered by your wondering gaze. Without thinking, you slip your fingertips over the top of his hand, prolonging the touch, sulking in the warmth of him.

His fingers curl, some unconscious tremor racing along his digits. He almost yanks himself away, but then he stops, sighing as his eyes lift to yours. For a long moment, the two of you watch the other. You can hear his breathing speed up and you can almost smell the shift in the air. All it would take is one, tiny push to break that delicious tension.

Tomura’s nostrils flare as you start to lean closer, your body curving toward his, fingers still pressing into his skin. Your tongue dips out, wetting your lower lip and pulling it into your mouth, sucking on the plush flesh. His eyelids have lowered and he’s mirroring your motions, his elbows assisting his lift, his face upturning, seeking, reaching.

With a bang, the front door is flung open and it breaks the spell that’s fallen over the two of you. Tomura leans away first, his eyes narrowed in agitation, sliding from your open face to the darkness of the entryway. You exhale a shaking breath and follow Tomura’s gaze. It’s that masked man, the one with the top hat and he’s already striding confidently forward, peppering Tomura with a series of questions.

Snagging up his gift to you, you walk back to your bottle of wine.

******

You don’t have a chance to see Tomura again until he tells you, one evening, that the bar is going to be closed for the next few days. Then, over his shoulder, you spot the blonde boy, strapped and bound into a stiff chair and you blanch, stunned, too overwrought to give him more than a one word acknowledgement before stumbling back outside. In all of your talks, he’d never mentioned anything like this. That boy looked like a kid, barely past middle school, his eyes wild and defiant, but also so, so frightened.

No, you think, pacing your apartment, it’s impossible to come to terms with this. You can’t stay there, can’t work there. It’s too dangerous, too close to a real criminal den for comfort. You have to look out for yourself, no matter your feelings for the man who’s wandering down some long, lost pathway, toward a future you can’t even comprehend, let alone see.

So, you hand in your written resignation.

Kurogiri is behind the bar when you bring it in, and you’re hoping that the early morning conversation will spare you from having to see him. The wispy, purple hand of Kurogiri is just about to take your letter when Tomura barges down the hallway. His eyes immediately land on you and he steps forward, a dark look passing over his palled features.

“Why?” he growls, fingers snatching the paper from Kurogiri and crumbling the parchment to bits, his quirk rendering your typed words to nothingness.

“I don’t want to be a part of any kidnapping. It…” you pause, looking toward Kurogiri and, to your surprise, he nods to Tomura and moves away, leaving the two of you alone in the vacant bar. Tomura is still glaring at you, but he’s waiting for you to finish your thought, his jaw grinding quietly.

“This doesn’t feel like you.”

“What the fuck does that mean?” Tomura scoffs, his chin jutting at the assertion.

“This doesn’t change society. This is just some petty attempt to get back at the UA staff. It’s like...It’s like you’re asking for trouble to seek you out. You’re smarter than this. Besides, what are you going to do with him?” you smart, crossing your arms and balling your fingers into your fists.

“What do you know about anything? That kid’s been oppressed by hero society, literally muzzled and bound--”

“As if you’re doing any better! He’s still muzzled and bound, Tomura! He’s just in a different location. This is insanity. Who put you up to doing--”

“That doesn’t matter. This conversation has nothing to do with that. You can’t leave,” Tomura snaps, his head lowering, soft white hair falling over his face. “Give it a few more days.”

“What? I can’t stay if the bar is raided and it’s prolly gonna be if you keep that kid. Besides, that’s not--”

“Just...just give me a few more days. I don’t want to beg you, I shouldn’t fucking need to beg you. It’s not an impossible request (Y/N). Just--”

“Fine,” you sigh, uncrossing your arms and watching him. He looks on edge, haggard and angry. Those emotions aren’t projected at you, you know that. Nevertheless, it doesn’t lessen the danger he’s asking you to stand with him in. But, you can give him a few days and you tell him so, trying to ignore the pattering of your heart when he looks at you and smiles.

******

Then, Kamino happens.

You weren’t there, thank God. But he was, and now, no matter what he’d asked of you, no matter what he’d hoped for, everything shifts apart. Days linger into weeks and you’re trying your best to reason that he’d made it out in one piece. Surely, you would have heard something. The capture of the leader of the League of Villains would have been a morsel that the media would have wanted to crow about, especially after the loss of All Might.

Late one evening, your phone rings.

It’s an unknown, blacked out number, but something tells you to answer, so you pick it up. You almost gasp when you hear that familiar rasp and you listen to what he tells you. You can’t get over how brittle and cracked his voice sounds but you write down the address he gives you. He cloaks his true motivations with a lie. Apparently, he has your last paycheck. Like that even matters to you. Honestly, you’re just glad he’s safe and whole. But, he’s gone to all this effort to build a bridge back to him, so of course you’re going to go.

You check and double check the directions, carefully maneuvering and weaving through bus stops and back streets. Somehow, you make it and find yourself pressing open a dilapidated door and stepping into a small room. Only darkness greets you, even though the bright midday sun is shining outside. The place he’s brought you to is on a dock, on the outskirts of town, close to the salty edge of a bay. You can hear the mournful cries of a seagull as you close the door behind you, sealing yourself inside and blinking into the gloom.

It takes you a minute to catch sight of him.

He’s lingering along the edges but you can make out the glow of his eyes, red and fierce. He looks different. It’s only been a few weeks, but it looks like the weight of years has crushed him under its unfeeling grind in that short amount of time. No, Kamino has changed him, rendering him unhinged and dangerous, drifting along the peripheral of your vision. Still, you haven’t come here to witness him falling to bits at your feet. No, you’d come here with another, darker motive.

Now, to work.

“What happened?” you ask, keeping your back firmly against the door. Watching him move closer, those red shoes of his glinting over the dark wooden floors.

“Sensei is...gone,” he replies, his voice hollow and faint. He’s mentioned his Sensei before and you’d heard the man’s strange voice echoing from that back television, like some distant, terrifying specter. But, you knew he was important to Tomura, more like a father than a teacher. However, you’d seen the news. You knew he was beaten to a pulp and captured, locked away and out of Tomura’s reach. Now, he can’t ask his Sensei for advice or support, not anymore. Even knowing what little you’ve gleaned about the strange man, Tomura must be devastated by his loss.

“I’m sorry,” you tell him, genuine in your sympathy.

Tomura nods and fishes for something in the pocket of his trench coat, lifting a thin slip of paper out and showing it to you. “Here,” he sighs, still not meeting your eyes directly.

“Oh,” you say, moving away from the door and taking a few steps toward him. “You really did ask me here for the check, huh?”

“What else did you want?” he grumbles, his voice regaining a small slice of that familiar rasping. The question lingers and you feel your pulse speed up, your palms itching at your sides. “Or, did you want to scold me again?” Tomura continues disgruntled, and you can see a grimace pass over his face.

“You deserved it,” you confirm, taking another step, only wavering when you’re a few feet from him. “You wouldn’t be in this mess if you hadn't kidnapped that UA student. Now, the kid, and your Sensei are gone and you’re stuck here. Wherever here is”

“Look at you, quite the oracle aren’t you? So, you did come here to berate me.” Tomura snaps, dropping your pay stub to the dusty floor.

“No,” you shake your head, not wanting this to spiral out of your control, not wanting him to simply shut you out, alone on that pier, left with all of your what ifs. “No, I didn’t come here to do that. I-I...it’s just that...well...that wasn’t you. That whole plan...it still doesn’t make sense”

“How the fuck would you know what is, or isn’t, me? You said that that morning, too. I didn’t like it then and I don’t like it now,” Tomura bristles, closing the distance and bowing up to you. You can feel the sheer heat of him radiating against your shirt and you shiver at the sensation. If you lift your hand you could touch him, you think distantly. He’s so close...He’s so...

You gulp, trying to quell your rising emotions. “I guess, I don’t know then.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Fine,” you say, biting your lip.

“Fine,” he repeats, no doubt thinking that will be the end of it, but you’re not finished.

“You’re better than this you know,” you tell him, eyes searching for his, not relenting your glare until he finally meets you halfway, his red eyes flashing.

“Better than what? Better than you? A half baked woman, slumming her way from mid range bar, to mid range bar. Hoping you’ll catch the eye of the right person, someone who can pluck you from all the muck and grime that you lift that pretty little nose of yours at.”

“What?” you breathe, a snarl of your own etching across your face.

“Don’t act like you didn’t know what you were doing. Fucking leading me on like that--”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“You thought I’d be your ticket out, or you could wager me later for a better piece, something stronger, someone that could do something for you.” Tomura is seething, his chest bumping against yours, the red of his eyes burning as he glowers at you.

“Tomura- I don’t know what you’re talk--”

“Stop saying that. You stupid, or something? And stop saying my name like that. Like it fucking matters. You could have had anything, you know? But...but you took it all for granted. You had the world...and then it...it’s...it’s just gone.”

He’s not talking about you anymore. Even though he’s growling and spitting rage at you, he’s not talking about you. “Shigaraki,” you begin, trying to see some way to reason with him. To bring him back to you.

“Don’t call me that,” he groans, his head dipping, almost resting against your shoulder. “I haven’t earned...that’s not me.”

“Alright. What am I supposed to call you?” you whisper, overwhelmed and trying to resist that urge to pull him into your arms. You’ve never seen him like this, and you don’t know, you don’t…

“There you go again, acting like you care.” Tomura scoffs, rolling his eyes.

“I do care, you ass,” you bite, turning your head toward him and letting your voice fall beside his ear. He snarls at the assertion and presses impossibly closer, trying his best to put on a show of wavering strength, knowing you might still be bullied into backing down, into denying him. But it’s not working, no you’ve come this far and you don’t want to leave him, not like this.

“I care,” you repeat, still murmuring next to his cheek, so near you can hear, and feel, his ragged breaths, hot against your skin.

“About what?” he grunts, moving his head from you, determined to not let you win.

“About, well, you.”

“Liar,” he spits, but his voice wavers, showing you a tiny, tiny sliver of hope.

“Am not,” you counter and watch as he leans back, those vermillion eyes searching for yours. One of his hands lifts and he ghosts the digits over the top of your shoulder, watching as you shift toward the distant touch, pulled to him, like a magnet.

“Such a liar,” he posits, fingers hovering beside your neck, twitching with want.

“No, I’m not,” you gasp, your voice so faint, you’re worried he might not hear it. But he does and he dips his head toward you, inches from your face, lips already parted and waiting.

“Prove it,” he challenges, his voice deepening, losing that sharpened edge at long last.

So, you shove him.

You’re not sure why that’s your first, instinctive reaction, but it’s too late to question your motives and it sparks a crazed response from the man in front of you, snapping him out of his head and refocusing him.

He fumbles backwards, caught off guard, his red shoes catching as he lumbers, trying to not fall. His eyes flash at you and he instantly rights himself, moving back to you. Through it all, you can hear yourself saying something. It sounds like it might have been another taunt, but you can’t focus, not when he’s pressing himself against you, his fingers finally, finally touching you.

Tomura can’t seem to settle now that he’s gotten ahold of you, his fingers tracing over your neck, your shoulders, your face, your sides. He’s panting and gasping, his fevered exhales fanning over your prickling skin.

“Get off me,” you moan, batting at his wandering hands.

“No,” he sighs, cupping your jaw and dragging you to his shaking lips. His kiss is clumsy, almost childlike. He lifts and leans, pressing halting smacks against you, grunting when you twist from him, fighting his hold.

“You don’t deserve it,” you tell him, wanting to lance that boil that’s festering in his mind, knowing he needs the pain before he can handle the sweetness of the pleasure. The last thing he needs is love. No, not right now. Hopefully, there will be time for that later. But for now, he needs something raw and shattered, something that will let him see that it’s not impossible to pick up the pieces, that he can be whole again, he just needs to try.

He drags his rough lips over yours and you lower your fingers into his snowy hair, pulling him closer, demanding that he give you more. He gasps at the sudden shift and you slip your tongue into his mouth, tangling it with his and yanking stammering moans from him. Your lips are slick now and you use the extra lubrication to slip down his neck, leaving him trembling above you.

You dip into each and every scar, laving over all those old hurts until he’s snarling. You leave a bruising bite against his pulse and he snatches your face between his palms, dragging you back to his lips.

“Stop squirming,” he complains, his forehead bumping against yours, trying to keep up with your rapid fire laps and sucks.

“No,” you laugh, fingers lacing into the lapels of his trench coat and using the leverage to drag your breasts over his hardened pectorals. He grunts at the sensation, one arm wrapping around your lower back, pinning you to him. When he finally manages to work his way free of your frantic presses, he lowers his lips to your neck, mimicking the same path you’d taken with him, his teeth nipping and pulling until your humming, giving him a thin cry of encouragement that spurs him on.

Tomura drags a canine over your pulse and you shiver, folding into his crumpled embrace. He’s almost having to hold you upright and he growls when you slip from his arms, annoyed you’re making this so fucking difficult.

“I said, keep still,” he reminds you, heaving you back up, lean forearms bracing you to him. You smile and lace your arms around his neck, wanting his lips again. He allows the pull, loving the contrast of your plush skin against his. He’s a fast learner and this time, it’s his tongue taps and maneuvers for entrance, swallowing down your needy pants. His nose presses into your cheek and you cup at his jaw, stroking the warm skin until he slows his frantic pace, meeting you halfway, and lingering in your wet softness.

Then, just as he’s getting comfortable, you dig your teeth into his lower lip, pulling until you bleed out a little taste of copper. He snarls and shoves you away, lifting the side of his hand to his injured mouth.

“What was that for?” He snaps, tapping his fingers against the wound, watching as they come back red. “The fuck is wrong with…” His ire stutters to a halt when he catches sight of you.

You’ve already slipped your shirt over your head and now your fingers are twisting until you unclasp your bra, sliding the lace down your arms. The cool air makes your nipples tighten but you don’t attempt to cover yourself from him. Instead, you arch an eyebrow at his abashed expression and begin to unbutton your pants, your fingers teasingly lingering over the button and zipper, before lowering the denim down the curve of your hips.

You don’t even hear him approach. No, you’re too distracted by your little show to notice him until you feel those warm fingers tracing over the newly bared swells of your skin. You lift your head and your eyes catch his, smiling at the hazy hunger that’s blazing out at you. His touch is tentative and you roll your eyes openly at him, lifting your own hands over his, pressing him until he’s digging those four digits into your sumptuous flesh.

His thumb rubs over your pebbled nipple and you reward him with a low moan, your eyes slipping behind your heavy eyelids. He cups at your other breast and lifts the weight of you into his palm, openly marveling at the feel of you. Still, it’s not enough and if you’re going to get your point across, you need him to give you more than these lazy strokes.

“Take off your jacket,” you tell him, stepping away from him, quaking minutely in the loss of his warmth.

“What?” he asks, clearly too overwrought to hear you. So, you help him along. Your fingers snatch the shoulders of his trench and you yank it off him, tossing the fabric down to the gritty floors. Then, you shove at him again. He isn’t as taken aback this time and he rallies immediately, snatching at you and dragging you against him, making you gasp at the harsh sensation of his dark clothes against your bare front.

“What do you want?” you ask him, licking your tongue along the underside of his jaw, listening to his shuddering breaths. “What do you want to do to me, Tomura? Come on, I know you’ve got some idea. Fucking show me. Don’t let me boss you around, unless that’s what you’re wanting today to be about. I can take those reigns from you. I’m better at this after all. Less...flustered,” you pause, sucking and nipping at his neck, enjoying the indecisive flex of his fingers on your upper arms.

He allows you one more bite and then he’s tossing you down, not caring where you land. Thankfully, you sprawl over his discarded jacket, the fabric sparing you from the neglected wooden floor. You’re trying to regain your bearings when you hear his belt clatter to the floor. You look up at him, watching as he flings that dark shirt away, showing you the lean muscles that you’ve wondered about for so long. God, for someone so lanky, he looks fucking good.

Tomura smirks at your expression and swiftly yanks his pants and boxers away too, revealing something even more mouthwatering. Fuck, fuck, you think, an involuntary gasp leaving your lips. His cock is thick, pulsing and absolutely dripping with his precum. The tip is a lovely pink, curving toward that chiseled stomach of his and damn, you want to suck on it until he’s putty in your hands.

As if he can read your mind, Tomura steps closer, giving himself a few tugs as he peers down on you, imperious and almost perfectly in control. “You want it?” He asks, trying to hide that sudden shift in his voice, wanting to show you that he understands what you’re expecting from him. You nod and bite your lip, looking up at him from feathery eyelashes.

“Come here,” he requests, slowing those pulls and letting his precum slip from his fist to the floor, tempting you with those tiny droplets of arousal. Obediently, you rise to your knees, fingers tracing up his thighs, smiling at the light buckling he gives you, his calves twitching and shaking.

You tease your way to the apex of his hips and pause, lingering along that dip of his stomach. “Can I taste you?” you question coquettishly and you adore the moan that falls from his lips.

Taking that as a yes, you slowly lower your mouth to him, ghosting the tip of him over you. Rubbing him back and forth, painting that thick precum over your lips until they’re glistening. Tiring of this little game, his fingers dip into your hair and he grips you, hard. With one pull, he’s burying that velvet heat of his length past the ring of your lips and into the sweet cavern of your mouth. His cock swells and throbs as you lap ravenous at the hefty weight of him.

He’s salty and earthy and you let your tongue swirl over his slit, lapping into that leaking gap until he’s murmuring nonsense over you. He’s almost too big for you to take, so one of your hands lifts and wraps around his base, easing your sucks and ensuring that none of him is left out of this gift of mind numbing ecstasy you’re bestowing upon him.

There are several veins, racing along the side of his cock and you tickle along each of them, pressing until you can feel the beat of his heart, frantic and fluttering. Soon, he begins to silently ask you for more, rutting his hips against your face, scraping himself along the back of your throat. When you heave around him he lets out a loud, elongated moan and digs in again, lingering until you’re nearly choking.

You chance a peek up at him and are surprised to see him gazing right back, those red eyes of his clouded and muddled. His hand keeps an insistent pressure against the back of your head, demanding that you keep going. So, you pick up the pace, lapping and sucking, hollowing your cheeks until a thin line of your drool begins to trickle along your chin, dripping onto your knees.

“Can...can I…” he begins, fingers starting to tremble, his knees buckling. No, that’s not what you want from him. You shake free of his hand, letting him slip from your mouth, and he stammers and sputters at the loss, his eyes narrowed and dark, glaring at you with a raw frustration.

“No,” you tell him, keeping one hand on him, stroking him, maintaining that steady pressure until he’s grunting, his hips instinctively canting into the tantalizing motion. “No, you don’t ask me for anything. Yeah, I can finish you off, if you need me to take control, but it’s not going to be on your terms. If you’re wanting something Tomura, you better fucking take it. Stop asking me for permission. I’m not-- mmph--”

He rips your hand off of his dick and his fingers curl beside your ears, forcing your mouth back, and impaling you on his length, immediately gagging you on his heady thrusts. You inhale sharply, your breath catching, failing as he keeps railing into you. More saliva slides out of your lips and you falter, a weak whimper echoing around him.

“Mmm,” he growls, holding your face as he presses against the back of your throat loving the clenching and mewls you give him. “That feels fucking good, (Y/N). Taking all of my cock, ah- fucking choking on it. You’re so fucking greedy. Don’t worry, I’ll give you more. Let’s see, what would make this even better, oh, I know. Saw it in a porn once. Put your hands behind your back and don’t move them unless I tell you to.”

Immediately, you clasp your fingers together, letting them rest against your lower back. The suspension knocks you off kilter, but Tomura braces your head with his other hand, pinning you between his palms. His dick is still lancing in and out of your mouth, scraping against your tonsils, making you swallow and open, trying to push yourself past that oppressive gagging sensation.

“Ahhh, such a good girl, now spread your legs and lift up, just a little bit, yes- right there. Better keep those hands still,” he taunts, pulling his cock out until it hangs against your lower lip, glimmering with the sheen of your ministrations. Then, he dives back in, thrusting and grinding until his balls are papping against your soaking chin. Your legs tremble as you hold yourself up and you can feel your own arousal, slipping down your inner thighs, splattering onto that dark trench coat of his.

You’re heaving under him, grunting and slobbering trying to not fucking choke on the girth that’s being pistoned into you. He’s gasping praise at you, his white head thrown back, and his lower abdomen is rippling, letting you know he’s so, so close to spilling down your abused throat. He bows over you as he cums, spewing thick ropes of his release into you. You gulp at him, determined to let every last drop slither down your waiting throat, longing to savor everything that he’s giving you.

True to your promise, you keep your hands clasped and you nearly topple over when he tugs free of your lips. Tomura takes pity on your wilted form and lowers himself to his knees, wrapping one hand around you and tapping twice on your shaking digits, letting you know you can relax your grip. You fall forward, and he waits above you, watching you with a mounting fascination. Once you catch your breath, you look up at him, not caring that you’re still covered in a mix of tears, spit and his cum. He smirks at your dishevelment, pleased by your open display of your wanton lust for him.

“See? It’s not hard to take what you want, to do what you want,” you pant, still trying to gulp down a few more rough intakes of air.

Tomura sucks his teeth at your bravado, but you notice he’s having a little bit of trouble steading his own breathing and his hands are twitching as they reach for you. You hum when he cups at your dips and curves, lingering over spots that make you moan for him. As he plucks at one of your puckered nipples his eyes lift to yours and he leans close, pressing a wet line of kisses against your collarbone.

“Lay back,” he rumbles, still sucking at the hollow of your throat. You do as he says, propping yourself on your elbows, curious and waiting. He’s slowed down now that he’s slaked that first brush of pent up aggression, but he’s still got a little more to burn. You can see it, lingering behind his vermillion eyes, gleaming under the carnal intrigue.

His fingers, so dangerous and deadly, race down your sides, falling to the juncture of your legs and dipping into the slick that he finds. He parts your folds, bracing himself over you, his lips sucking bruises into your skin. The gossamer threads of your leaking cunt run down his fingers and onto his open palm and he groans into your neck, nuzzling his nose to your skin and inhaling, deeply.

“Does that feel good?” He asks, his voice scraping, like sandpaper, hoarse and undone along your heated cheek. Ok, you think, arching as he dips one digit into you, you can let him have that one question, especially when your mind is fogging over like this, unable to think of anything but that ache that’s pounding through your core. You roll your hips again, urging that finger to slip further and he hisses as you pull him in, your walls trembling at the intrusion.

“Fuck,” he grunts, lifting himself to look down at you, his eyes wide with an awed marvel. “You’re so…”

“Mmm, so what?” you ask, wanting him to keep talking to you, loving rasp of his tone as it tells you such sinful things.

“So soft and warm and...God...so wet,” he replies, adding another finger, watching as you whine for him, your lower lips parting and welcoming him. He pumps the digits, in and out, at a steady rate, waiting for each quiver and ripple, trying to feel his way along, wanting to please you.

“Can--” he stops himself, flushing as your eyes open and snap to his, a rough displeasure written over your face. He tears his gaze from yours and scowls, letting his fingers press a rougher rhythm into you, sucking his teeth at his unspoken inexperience.

“This feels good,” you reassure him, not wanting to completely leave him adrift, knowing that he does need a little piece of guidance, for this part, at least. “Why don’t you get a closer look?”

Tomura looks back to you and nods before sliding down your body, lowering himself until he’s face to face with his prize. His mouth drops and he licks at his chapped lips, painting a few, warm, exhales against your sensitive folds. You squirm at the sensation and he grins, leaning closer, his free hand spreading you for his inspection.

“Is this…” his voice trails off and you can feel him wandering his way to just the right spot. When he lifts the fleshy hood of your clit and thumbs the distended pearl you gasp and shiver, your head falling back against his jacket, thumping against the floor.

He laughs and you can feel him getting ready to swipe at you again, his thumb already slippery and near, the heat of it radiating against that sensitive bundle. “You like that,” he crows, repeating the motion until you’re writhing. “But—” he ponders, moving so his lips are pressed against you, resting on those sopping folds, waiting for you to look up at him. Once your head lifts and your eyes meet his, he lowers his mouth, sliding his tongue over you.

“Oh,” you whisper, your hands automatically lifting and curling into his hair, threading the white tendrils along your palms. His tongue is rough and bumpy as it glides along, pausing to lap at some of your arousal. He smacks his lips at the taste, savoring the flavor before voraciously pressing back into you for more. When he pauses his explorations to give your clit a soft suck, you can’t help but flail, your back bowing and thighs tightening around his head.

Tomura grunts at the rough treatment, prying your legs apart but not letting up on that suction, pleased he’s found something that makes you tremble to pieces in his hands. He’s always liked working you up, so it makes sense that, in this instance, he’s no different.

His long digits are scraping into you, dragging along your quivering walls and spreading your cunt apart, leaking your arousal all over his jacket and onto his chin. He’s not satisfied yet, you’re not satisfied yet, so he keeps going, listening and watching, catching on to what makes you cry out his name, learning and adapting at an alarming speed.

“T-Tomura,” you keen, your hips lifting, grinding yourself against his face, begging him to not stop. You feel a smirk lift his lips and his tongue begins to circle and lick over your clit, maintaining a steady pressure. Meanwhile, his fingers have latched onto something delicate and spongy within your pussy, repeating an arched gesture, curling and uncurling as they stroke your budding flames higher.

“So good…” you murmur, hardly able to form the words as you feel that all encompassing tingle race along your bloodstream. “You’re doing so f-fucking good.”

In response, he begins to suckle on your clit, lightly tracing a canine over the pulsing bundle and that’s all that it takes. Your head dips back, pressing into the floor so hard that your neck arches with your back and your legs wrap around him, holding him to you as you quiver and shake under him. You can feel your heartbeat as you return to yourself, thumping a rapid beat over your breastbone and radiating out to your fingers and toes.

Tomura, for his part, hadn’t stopped lapping at you, his tongue replacing his fingers as he pushes the wet appendage into you, soaking up each wave of your release. Even when you’d dropped your death grip, your legs and arms flopping away from him, boneless and shaking, he’d kept on. After a few minutes of this, his lips suddenly feel a little too ragged, the chapped skin scratching against your sensitive, overstimulated, flushed lower lips. You do your best to wriggle away, but he stills your movements, not quite finished.

“Ah- that...it’s starting to hurt,” you grouse, pushing a hand against his bowed head. That declaration seems to get through and, finally placated, he gives you one last lick and lifts his head, his eyes glinting down on you, dark and mischievous.

“I want to fuck you,” he tells you, wiping a hand across his mouth, dragging the last of your essence away. You tilt your head and grin up at him. “So fuck me,” you reply, spreading your legs again, making room for his trim hips.

“Not like this,” he qualifies, his eyes hooded as he runs a hand along your leg, enjoying your skin, warm and pliant under his palm.

“Then how?” you ask, a little bewildered by this shift in attitude. Tomura leans up, resting on his haunches, leering at your nakedness, another smirk lifting his lips, arching that scar.

“Stand up,” he instructs.

You pull your legs away and slowly rise to your feet, waiting for him to do the same. Once the two of you are eye level again, he tugs you to him, his lips pulling and nipping at yours. You can’t help but melt into his persistent touch and when he feels you slacken against him, he starts to push you backwards. He walks you slowly, carefully, but once your back touches the cold wall, his caresses become rougher, more insistent.

He’s lifting your chin and his teeth are doing more biting than nipping, pulling at your lips until you’re gasping and swollen. He begins to lift away and you protest the movement, but his hand presses into your chest, shoving you back to the wall. You freeze at the forceful treatment, your eyes opening and fastening onto his. Waiting for his next move.

Tomura’s regained that wild look, his eyes hardening, sharpening like ruby slips of flint as they linger over you. “Turn around and brace your hands against the wall,” he commands and, for an instant, you debate pushing back, challenging his order, but that’s not what you’re here for. No, you’d come here with one thought in mind.

To see if you could show him what choices, what strong inner drive, wholly independent of his Sensei, he did have.

You’d watched that kidnapping debacle and all you could think about was how much better, how much stronger he’d be if he could just get out from under the thumb of that man, that voice on the tv. Even with this informal exercise of your own, Tomura had taken to your carnal lessons like a fish to water. He had always been a natural born leader, someone who cultivated and demanded change, he just needs a chance to try. A chance to prove that he didn’t need to ask permission, to ask questions. No, he only needed to act and he could make his aspirations a reality.

So, you turn, splaying your fingers against the wall and waiting for his next move, tilting your head, wanting to see him. He runs a calloused hand over the plush swell of your ass, kneading the skin and stepping closer. Once his hips are flush with your posterior, he ruts his newly re-hardened cock against you, his ever copious precum aiding his motion, letting him glide between your cheeks, easing into that cleft. You groan and press back, wordlessly asking for him to keep going.

Suddenly, his palm smacks against your ass, stinging the flesh and sending a sharp crack around the barren room. “I said, push out more. How am I supposed to fuck you when you’re plastered to the wall like that?” Tomura questions, his voice deep and guttural. You brace your hands against the peeling wallpaper and jut your ass out, presenting yourself to him, quietly hoping he’ll reward you with another spank. Pleased, Tomura does just that, his other hand lifting and smarting against your other, neglected cheek, imprinting his mark on you, even if it’s only for a brief moment, and his fingers linger on the warmth he’s raised from your skin.

“Good girl,” he groans, taking his cock in his hand and searching for that weeping entrance to your waiting pussy. You aid him as best as you can, arching your hips until he finally, finally slips into you. Tomura lets out a deep sigh as your cunt devours his cock, slicking him into the heat of your rippling channel. “Oh, fuck,” he moans, pressing until his hips are flush with your ass, grinding his bony hipbone into your supple softness.

He gives you a brief second to adjust before he bows his head over your shoulder, panting and grunting. “Hold on,” he gasps, slowly pulling his hips back and then ramming his straining cock back into you. You mewl at the sudden ferocity of his thrusts, your head dipping against the steady weight of the wall.

He offers you no reprieve as he pounds into you, his teeth latching onto your skin, sucking and drooling, losing himself in you. His balls tap against your swelled ass and you moan when he traces one hand around you, his fingers seeking your clit and pinching at the nub.

Your teeth begin to chatter, but he doesn’t let up, maintaining that mind numbing pace, pressing and grinding until you can’t fucking think straight. He’s completely untethered and he slakes out all of those pent up questions, feelings, hurts and wants against you. After a time, he begins to murmur things to you, finally sucking up his loose tongue and resting his chin on the mess he’s left on your skin.

He’s worried he can’t do it.

He’s never been alone, not like this.

Sure, he has the others, he has Kurogiri, but it’s not the fucking same.

He needs to see this through.

He wants to, he has to.

Where do you go, when there’s no one else to turn to?

It’s like a confessional, this rutting he’s doing and it’s bleeding all of those thoughts away, letting them pool against the front of his mind and then, pop, they shift away.

Oh this helps, he thinks, loving how you’re fucking taking him, how much you fucking need him. He can’t let you go. He can’t, he won’t. You’re all he has left. After all this, he can’t lose anything else. No, you were right, he’s gotta start taking things, snatching up pieces until he becomes this unstoppable force, greater than his Sensei, greater than All Might, greater than all of them. Yes, yes, yes, when he has you like this, everything else feels so fucking simple.

He’s slowing, his hips beginning to stutter and press erratically against you. There’s no need to worry about you cumming for him, not when you’ve already broken around him so many times in the last few minutes. No, the second he started panting all of those thoughts against you, you were lost, your cunt gripping him so tightly you were worried it might never let go.

Finally, with one last thrust, Tomura grinds his hips against you, his cock swelling and pulsing as he spills himself into you. The sensation of his cum splashing against your walls hurtles you over that edge one last time and you almost collapse, your legs shaking so badly you can't support your own weight. The only thing that prevents you from falling is Tomura. His arms snake around your waist and he holds you to him, his forehead resting heavily against your shoulder, sticking to your skin.

After a long beat, Tomura pulls himself out of you, grunting at the loss of your warmth and sinks to the floor, dragging you with him. Naked and gasping, the two of you cling to the other, waiting for the world to stop spinning as you come back to yourselves. Tomura recovers first, tugging you to his chest and wrapping himself around you, his chin perched on the familiar slope of your shoulder.

“You didn’t...you didn’t need to do this, but...” Tomura halts, his voice soft as his lips press rough kisses to your skin, silently saying what he really means, what you mean to him.

“That’s not true,” you counter, turning your head toward him. “You deserve to make a choice for yourself. You’re your own boss now. Now all you have to do is act like it. Don’t make those mistakes again. You call the shots, not your Sensei, not anyone else in the League, just you. You’ll have other choices soon, so don’t doubt yourself, it’s not like you.”

He huffs out a laugh and buries his nose in your neck, inhaling your scent as he licks at a rising bruise. “I don’t think you’ll like my next choice,” he rumbles, one hand drifting over your side and cupping the soft mound of your breast.

“That depends on what it is,” you smile, your eyes closing at the tempting touch.

“Mmm, do me a favor,” he begins, nipping at your earlobe. “Get on your knees and open your mouth. You looked so fucking pretty when you were sucking on my cock, I wanna see it, one more time.”

“What?” you question, absolutely incredulous, “again?”

“Do as I say (Y/N),” he replies, rubbing his rising length along your ass.

“God,” you gasp, bucking at the sensation, “what have I done? At this rate, I won’t be able to walk for a week.”

“You’ll like it,” Tomura promises, his voice dark, “I’ll make sure that you do.”

Notes: never have i ever liked that kidnapping bullshit. i guess it lets AFO face off with All Might, but for Tomura’s development? it makes no sense and he’s never done anything like that again, in canon. so, uh, yeah. booo kidnapping scheme.

Tags: @spicy-skull, @xwildskullx, @yixxes, @ghstmthr, @rekoii, @diaouranask, @bat-eclecticwolfbouquet-love

#asks #answered asks #pal muses #on Tomura’s dick #and his trauma #shigaraki tomura #tomura shigaraki #shigaraki x y/n #shigaraki x you #shigaraki x reader #tomura x reader #tomura x y/n #tomura x you #tenko shimura #shimura tenko #reader insert

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the--descension · 3 years

Note

i would die for a "how to use html and css to format ao3" lesson from you 👀 no pressure but i'm genuinely in awe :)

Hello! So sorry it’s taken me ages to get to this.

It's no pressure at all! I have tried to cover the basics of HTML/CSS on AO3 here, and instead of writing very extensively about the syntax which is very Google-able, I have tried to include little tips and tricks that have come in handy for me.

This, by no means, is a complete guide but I hope it can get you started with HTML and CSS on AO3!

It got pretty long, so the answer’s below the cut.

Okay, so let’s start at the very beginning, shall we?

What is HTML and CSS?

Well, HTML is Hyper Text Markup Language and CSS is Cascading Style Sheets.

But that is something that probably doesn’t help a lot, so to put it very simply, HTML provides the structure of a webpage while CSS does the styling, that is, fixing how and where the elements should exist, how to shape them, how to space them, all so that the webpage looks great.

Something to keep in mind is that all web pages can run only on HTML but the end result is not going to be something that’s nice to look at. In fact, without CSS, the page might not even make a lot of sense. Here, take a look at Tumblr itself with all CSS disabled (there’s a very useful extension called Web Developer that allows you to do this):

Not very nice to look at, but all the elements of the page are here only with the help of HTML.

And look, this is what the above section looks like with CSS enabled:

This was just a brief visual walkthrough to show what HTML and CSS really do, but let’s move on to HTML and CSS in the world of AO3.

Where does the HTML and CSS go on AO3?

The HTML part of the code is put into the text box when you post a new story/new chapter. You must have noticed the two options — Rich Text and HTML — and it’s important to have HTML selected for AO3 to identify the HTML tags that you’ll be using.

All your content goes into this textbox. Whatever text you may be writing, whatever images you may be hosting, whatever links you might want to add— everything goes here.

Now, for styling all the content that you’ve put into the textbox, you need CSS, and that happens through work skins. It’s super simple, and all you have to do is go to Skins on your AO3 panel and then to My Work Skins, and then create a new work skin where you can dump all of your CSS code.

Okay, so onward we go.

How to HTML and CSS?

I’m no expert in web design and my knowledge mostly comes from Coursera, one summer internship, one class in college, and extensive online searching. And, I’ll tell you this, the most I have learnt is from extensive online searching.

Because at the very heart of it, web design is not so much about understanding and applying concepts (as with other coding languages) but more about visualizing elements and testing them out. I must add that this is completely my opinion as a person who rather enjoys data structures and algorithms as compared to web dev, and I’m certain that seasoned web developers will disagree with my views here.

Right, so the online searching. The best in the business when it comes to explaining HTML/CSS is www.w3schools.com. They have sample code, short and sweet explanations, and an online IDE to test your code. Really, it’s a win-win situation.

Alrighty, so now you know where to look for your HTML tags and CSS properties but how do you figure out which ones to use?

HTML Tags

I’ll talk about the HTML that’s required for coding on AO3 exclusively.

But before that— every HTML document has two main parts: the <head> and the <body>. But here on AO3, we only code the <body> which, as its name suggests, holds the content that’s going to appear on the browser. The <head> part is not required for AO3 work skins at all.

Okay, so how to code HTML on AO3? Well, your best friends are going to be the container tags such as <div> and <span>, and the paragraph tag <p>. What these tags do is they create areas on your browser — you can imagine them as small rectangles and squares — where you can put in your content via HTML, and then later style using CSS.

See this? The entire shaded area belongs to a <div> which is styled by a CSS class called “tumblr” (to keep things simple, we’ll only focus on CSS classes, and not id’s. It won’t really hamper developing a workskin in any way.)

This above belongs to a <p> that is styled by a CSS class “tumblrbody”. And, this <p> exists within the <div> mentioned above.

Here’s a <span> styled using the CSS class “tumblrtags”, which comes within the <div> and <p> we just discussed.

Basically, the idea is that the entire page will have to be divided into all these subsections, nested within each other if required, so that they can then be styled using CSS.

Other HTML tags that come in handy are the <a> and <img> tags.

The <a> or anchor tag is used to embed links. Want your reader to be led to a separate page while they’re reading your story? This is it. (This one’s quite common, and authors use them quite frequently in their notes to link to their Twitter/Tumblr etc.)

The <img> tag is used to embed images as the name suggests.

See how the picture is within an <img> tag styled by a CSS class “tumblrimg”?

Again, I’m not talking about the syntax of these tags or how they have to be written because that’s something which can very easily be found on w3schools or any other web dev tutorial website.

So, that’s pretty much about HTML. Now, CSS.

CSS Properties

So, when I talk about how most of my web dev happens through thorough internet searching, I’m mostly talking about CSS. Because HTML tags aren’t difficult to remember, they stay in memory when you keep designing web pages, but CSS properties... ugh.

But before we begin, a short note on CSS classes. To simplify matters you can look at them as labels given to your HTML container tags (<div> for example). Once you assign the label to your HTML element, you can then style that label in your CSS, and introduce properties to it which you want to see in your HTML. It basically forms the link between your HTML and CSS.

Say, I have a <div> that I want to style, then I’ll give it a label like this: <div class=”mongoosesurprise”>Your code</div>. The class name is mongoosesurprise, and when I have to style that particular <div>, I’ll have CSS code that looks like this:

Now, about CSS properties.

You see all the words in white followed by a colon? max-width? border? background-image? That’s it— CSS properties. I can never remember if it is maxwidth or max-width, whether it’s margin-right or right-margin, whether it’s padding-right or right-padding, and that’s where the Googling comes in.

Again, like with HTML, I’ll only talk about CSS on AO3. Unlike regular CSS, CSS here always has to start with #workskin. And then, #workskin can be followed by our class name. (The class name must be preceded by a fullstop though, like in the picture above.)

My CSS design procedure is all over the place. I entirely work on the basis of trial and error. I keep adjusting properties like max-width and padding and margin to see how the elements fit best. (It doesn’t take me as long as it did four-five years ago to estimate these values and I’d attribute that to practice and inspecting a lot of web pages. On a related note, it’s great to learn web design by inspecting other pages.)

I realize this isn’t great advice but like I said, it’s always been about trial and error when it comes to CSS. What I can say conclusively is that with properties width, height, display, position, padding, and margin most of your HTML tags will be placed properly. But when it comes to styling, the list is really quite endless. From a number of font-related properties to border, there’s a lot— and, thus, Google.

And, finally, what you must know for HTML/CSS on AO3 is how to host images.

Hosting Images

If you want your work to contain images, it’s best to host them somewhere online. Imgur is a great option; it’s free and really simple to use. Once the image is uploaded, you can get the share links and put it in your HTML <img> tag (under the src attribute— again, very syntactical so I’m not getting into that), or if you want you can put it in your CSS as an attribute for the property “background-image” (like in the code above).

You’ll have to make minor changes to the share link though, that is, add the image extension (.png or .jpg) to the end of the link. Also, sometimes the image doesn’t render if there’s no ‘i’ preceding ‘imgur.com’. Here’s a sample link that works perfectly: http://i.imgur.com/aSMSztl.png.

And, I think that’s pretty much it.

This covers the absolute basics of how to code HTML/CSS on AO3. But I’d like to repeat that by no means is this everything. If there’s a particular area you’d want me to explain, please feel to drop in an ask!

Happy coding!

#antarcticasx #html/css #ao3 #workskins #i'll tag this as #zutara #in case anyone else reading 'it would have been you' wants to know

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jaehyunspeachparty · 3 years

Text

9. If Santa would know this… (m)

"Are we really supposed to go in there?" You stood with Johanna in front of the sex shop and look at the shop in disbelief. It didn't look like a real sex shop, but you had never really visited one in Korea. "Yes! I'm single now and my vibrator has stopped working." Johanna quickly pulled you into the shop and you try to meet her quickly. "Thank God the twins are with Mia. I couldn't have taken them with me," you say and Johanna rolled her eyes. "This is a child-free zone, which means that we are not talk about the children here too." Johanna went straight to the shelf where there is a large selection of vibrators. You had a massager, but somehow you never dared use a vibrator. "Wow okay, they actually look really pretty," you say and stroke the dark red silicone with the gold handle. "This is our luxury model. It can be easily charged via USB and lasts up to 30 hours." Suddenly there was a saleswoman with you and she smiled friendly. "And it's waterproof. So perfect for the bathtub," she said with a wink. You look at the dildo and you don't quite know what to think of it. "It looks so abstract," you say and Johanna laughed. "Where do you live, Y/N? Have you never seen a vibrator?" "Well, yes ..." You got kind of shy. You never really bothered with it. "No worries. We have women who don't come to us until they are 60 years old. It's never too late to start." The saleswoman was really cute. She looked so innocent and never thought she would work in a sex shop. "When I had toys, I got them as a present. But I've never had anything like that. I don't know how to use it." You look at the dildo again and it fascinated you. "This is a rabbit vibrator. It can be inserted very gently vaginally while the smaller stimulation arm lies on the clitoris. This can also be massaged with the thicker end of the shaft before insertion. If you want, you can use a water-based lubricant that makes things easier There are 2 motors that are controlled independently of each other. After just one push of a button, 7 varied vibration programs give you new feelings and intense orgasms. " "Okay wow. That sounds intense," you say and you're close to buying this. "Yes, intensive is the right word. I think I'll take that," says Johanna and immediately took a pack. "It sounds good, but I'm not sure ..." you confess, and it irritates you. "Why? It's just for fun." Johanna laughed and shrugged her shoulders. "Well, my sex life is actually very good. I only used my massager during the time when Jaehyun wasn't there that often," you whisper and Johanna laughed. "That has nothing to do with it. It's just self-love, like a face mask. Even if Johnny fucked me good all night, I satisfied myself. It's more about that there is a time for myself and for me to relax." Johanna was right about what she said. This would be a nice change in the bathtub. So you decide to buy it. You also buy a lubricant. "Perfect. I am sure that you will have a lot of fun with it. And because it is Christmas now, all of our customers will get a present." The saleswoman packed your things and took out another small box. "What is that?" You ask and she smiled. "These are anal plugs in three different sizes. They fit really perfectly and enable stretching and training by wearing them. This not only simplifies anal intercourse, but also make sex much nicer and more intense. In there are the sizes S and M and you can wear them for as long as you want - whether shortly before anal intercourse to relax and stretch the anus, or longer to train." The cute little saleswoman smiled innocently and you never really know how to react in front of her. "Oh perfect ... thanks," you say uncertainly. "You can make your husband happy, because he loves anal so much." Johanna grinned and you blushed. You once told her that Jaehyun was sometimes really crazy about anal sex. "Well then it's perfect," says the saleswoman and smiled. "Okay these are my things." Johanna put the things on the table and took out her wallet. "If you buy something small, you will also get the butt plugs for free," said the saleswoman again. "No, I'm just divorced. That's enough for me." Johanna winked and the saleswoman nodded and packed the things.

When you came back, you put the dildo in a drawer. But in the next moment Jaehyun was already there. "Hey ..." He hugged you from behind and kissed your neck. "What do you have there?" He asked and you quickly close the drawer. "Johanna took me to the sex shop," you say and turn to him. "And you bought us something nice?" He asked, pointing to the bag in your hands. You nod and open the bag. Jaehyun pulled out the first part. "Lubricant ... always good," he said, grinning. Then he took the next box out of the bag and this time his eyes widened. "Wow. Is that my Christmas present?" Jaehyun grinned and looked at the butt plugs. "Well, we can try something different." You shrug your shoulders. Jaehyun was totally fascinated and barely took his eyes off. "Do you have any idea what we can do with it?" You ask and look up at him with wide eyes. Jaehyun nodded and came very close to your ear and whispered his dirtiest fantasy in your ear. He was really honest but you liked this. "Do you want to? It could be a lot," he said, but you didn't mind. "You stop when I want to, don't you?" You ask and you stroke his chest. Jaehyun nodded and kissed you gently. "Of course."

Jaehyun's plan was wild and you had never done anything like this before. But you were excited and wanted to try it. Jaehyun was even more excited because it had long been his fantasy. He didn't know why, but he was always obsessed with this. First you sleep in the day, because this was hardly possible with children. But as soon as you were awake, Jaehyun snuggled against your back. "Good morning," he whispered while his hands were already on your body. "Good morning," you say and smile. "Do we want to start right away?" He asked and you immediately raise your eyebrows. "Now?" "Well, I've just got my morning boner and I always need breaks to regenerate." You turn around and look at Jaehyun. "Okay, if you like, we can start." Jaehyun then kissed your shoulder and smiled. "You're the best." Then he reached on the small table next to his side of the bed and picked up the lubricant and the butt plug in the size small. He squeezed some lubricant out of the tube and rubbed it over the plug, but also over his length. Then he spread something over your back entrance. "Stay relaxed, I'm very careful." He continued to run his fingers and then gently pressed them into your ass. As always, it was a little uncomfortable, but over time your body relaxed and got used to the stretch. Then he took the plug and pushed it all the way in. Your eyes widened for a moment from the pressure, but then everything was okay. He then turned you around and leaned over you. "Now the pleasant one for you." He took his fingers again and began to massage your clit and Jaehyun was very good at this game. The length of his fingers, their thinness, everything was perfect. He pampered you with one hand and massaged himself with the other. You start to moan and Jaehyun had to let go of his length again and again so that he didn't cum immediately on you. It didn't take long to reach your orgasm. And when you moan and lift your upper body, Jaehyun watched you cuming and pleased himself at the sight. And after you were done, he took your body and lay himself behind you again. "I can't wait to cum inside you," he moaned into your ear and carefully pulled the plug out of you. Then he took lube again and spread it on his dick again. You push your asscheeks aside with your hands and Jaehyun groaned again when seeing that. "Shit, I'm so close." And he immediately pressed his length into it. He was careful, but it didn't take long anyway. He were so close that it happened to him in a moment. As soon as he was completely inside you, he already filled you with his cum. He quickly pulled out its length and put the anal plug back in. "And you think nothing is coming out?" You ask him and it was a strange feeling. "No, and if so, then we have to take the next size," he said with a wink and then kissed you.

Jaehyun stared at you during breakfast. He was curious about how you were feeling and it turns him on. "What do you want to know?" You ask him and you can already guess it. "How does it feel?" He asked, leaning closer to you. You sip your coffee and shrug your shoulders. "Can I see it?" He asked curiously and you had to laugh. You take off your panties and toss them aside, then sit on Jaehyun's lap. He then took a deep breath and stroked your thigh. His hand moved back and forth until he touched plug. "Everything is still tight," he said and bit on his lower lip. "I know," you breath and stroke his collarbone. "You know ..." he breathed and looked up. "The table is the perfect height," he said, grinning. "For what?" You ask and suddenly the Jaehyun picked you up and pushed the plates back. "You know that." He took your clothes off completely and pulled his pants down. "We just had...How can you ..." You couldn't say more, his lips were already on your neck. "You turn me on like that." He stroked your middle and tried as fast as possible to stimulate your clit. He was so ambitious that it even worked pretty quickly for you. And so you end up fucking on your breakfast. In the end he turned you around, pulled the plug out again and came in your ass. He made sure that not too much came out and then he put the plug back in you.

Jaehyun turned up the heat, because he actually liked the idea that you would run around naked all day. Since the children were with your sister and Xiao Jun, you had the whole weekend just to yourself. And it made his plan easier too. But you have to say it was nice walking around naked all day. You love to feel Jaehyun's body on you, even if it's just cuddling. You watch a bit of TV, but Jaehyun is slowly starting to prepare for the next round. He puts his hand on your pearl and massages it very gently, just so that you are stimulated very easily. After all, he still needed time to regenerate himself. He had already done two rounds. "Tomorrow everything will hurt me," you say with a sigh and Jaehyun smiled. "I'll take care of you. We'll take a bath, I'll make you coffee, I cook what you want to eat. How does that sound?" He whispered this in your ear and you smile. "Yes, that sounds very nice," you say and enjoy it as you feel his lips touch your skin. You can see a little further, but you could not concentrate more and more and after the time you come to your climax. "Oh nice. You are so hot when you cum," he breathed and now he started to play with himself. "Wait, I'll help you," you say and sit up. Jaehyun looked at you and watched what you do next. You bend down and start giving him a blowjob. "OH SHIT!" He got loud and buried his fingers in your hair. You press your lips together and do your best, but just before he climaxed, he stopped you. He sat up, turned and pushed your upper body down so that only your ass was up. He pulled the plug out and finished his orgasm again in your ass. He groaned loudly and you were surprised he liked it so much. Over the years, you have always been able to find out more about him. “I think I have to put now the bigger one inside you. Is this okay?” You nood and feel the pressure. "Are you still okay? You can always say it if it's too much for you," he asked carefully, but you didn't mind yet. "Everything's fine," you say with a smile and then kiss him.” "You know, I think that's so nice right now," said Jaehyun and put the blanket over your body. "The sex?" "No, I mean the time with you here. We're alone in the house ... we can do what we want ..." Jaehyun gently caressed your body and it was so relaxing to feel him that way. "Yeah, it feels a bit freer", you say and close your eyes for a moment. "We never had freedom in our relationship. Either we were in the dorm or we already had children," said Jaehyun then and kissed your shoulder. "Well, we had my little apartment." You now turn over to him and smile. "That's right. The time there was very nice." Jaehyun looked deep into your eyes and now begins to gently caress your stomach. "Do you miss it?" You ask him curiously. "Sometimes I miss the time alone with you..." He kissed the base of your chest and you start to stroke his hair. "Do you sometimes regret becoming a father so early?" You ask him and give him a worried look. But he shook his head. "No, definitely not. I have to say that I miss the sound of their footsteps on the floor." He had to laugh and so did you. "But since the twins, I think the time between us has been falling short. Which is clear because I work and we have four children. I just want to say that I am enjoying the time with you today very much." He then lays his head on your chest and somehow you had to agree to him. Four children were a lot of work and Jaehyun also worked a lot. You had a little time for each other, but never that much. "Maybe we should take a weekend like this from time to time, like now. The children can also visit your parents from time to time. Now the twins are no longer that strenuous and they can be kept busy." You especially didn't want to give the babies to them because it was exhausting because they were very hungry and always needed something. Since Jaehyun's mother was still not quite fit, you didn't want to overwhelm her with the children. "I think that's a good idea," he said, closing his eyes.

You didn't know how it happened. But you talked, watched TV and at some point you sat on Jaehyun's lap and rode him. The plug in you gave you a new kind of stimulation. The saleswoman was right, sex is more interesting with such a plug. Jaehyun, who had already cum in you three times, now had more stamina. "Yesss, that's good," you moan and get closer to your next climax. You liked the feeling and how much time Jaehyun took for you. The longer he fucked you intensely, the better your orgasm was. When the children were in the house, you were always quick because you could be interrupted at any moment. After you cum, Jaehyun did the same thing as before. He stuck the plug out, just stuck his tip in, spread his cum inside you and put the plug back in. Meanwhile, his previous orgasm ran a little out of you. Jaehyun cleaned you up and then kissed your ass. "What do you do in the end when everything has to go." To be completely honest, you didn't quite understand what he thought about it. "I don't know, the thought of all of my cum inside you just makes me hard." He grinned and you kiss him. Well, it was kind of a Christmas present for him and it was kind of satisfying for you too. But after a while it did hurt you.

In the course of the day it cum again a few more times in you and at some point it was enough for you. "Jaehyun, please take it out", you say and already feel the pressure. "Does it hurt?" He asked and you nod. "Come on," he lifted you up in his arms and carried you up to the next floor in your bed. He then placed a large black towel under you and kissed you gently before spreading your legs. He looked at the plug and could see his cum already leak. Jaehyun groaned at the sight of it and you could already see his length starting to grow. How could he still get hard so quickly? "I see, you're already red," he said then and stroked beside the spot. "Can I still fuck you or is it too painful?" He asked and his dark eyes looked up at you. "Yes, fuck me." You grin and Jaehyun was excited like a little kid. He pulled the plug out and you can feel a surge coming out. You can also feel how Jaehyun got louder and he began to massage himself. The result turned him on and you had rarely seen him like this. "Can I then take a picture of it at the end?" He asked excitedly and you hadn't expected it at all. "WHAT?" You look up, startled. "Without your face. I would love to have it as a template for lonely hours." Jaehyun was really fascinated by his result and also kind of proud. "Okay good. But be careful that nobody sees it. Especially not the children!" "I promise it. I keep it safe just like the sex tape we made when you were pregnant," Jaehyun winked, and you had almost forgotten about it. "Okay ..." You lean back and Jaehyun just kept going. He pushed his length into your ass and immediately his eyes turned inward. He got loud, louder than usual. He let go of his inhibitions and he was just himself. You have to admit, you liked that. Because Jaehyun felt it so strongly and the tension between you was more intense than it had been for a long time, even you were really turned on. Hearing Jaehyun so loud was something new. He just let himself go and could now live out his most secret sexual fantasies on you. And so it came about that he cum loudly too. He sounded so satisfied, so fulfilled, and he stared at his result. Immediately he took his phone and photographed everything between your legs while his cock was still hard. Then he took the towel and cleaned you up. But you twitch a little, because in some places you were sore. "I'm sorry," he said then, looking a bit embarrassed. You sit up and take his face in your hands. "You should feel sorry for nothing. Everything is fine. If it had bothered me, I would have said something." You smile and Jaehyun looked up relieved. "I made quite a mess. What if we take a bath and I take care of you?" He looked at you with his puppy eyes and you nod. "That would be great." You kiss him and you only spent the rest of the evening with gentle kisses and tender touches. Just cuddle and be together.

daddy jaehyun masterlist

naughty & nice 2020 masterlist

naughty & nice 2019 masterlist

#jaehyun #jaehyun smut #daddy jaehyun #jaehyun scenarios #jaehyun imagines #jaehyun jung #nct #nct smut #nct 127 #nct 127 smut #nct u #nct u smut #nct 2020 #nct 2020 smut #naughty and nice christmas stories

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cheri-translates · 3 years

Text

[CN] Kiro’s Inspiration Date (Eng Translation)

🍒 Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers for a date, 灵感之约, which has not been released in English servers! 🍒

An early birthday gift to the embodiment of sunshine, @moondusks :>

[ This date was released in CN on 7 December 2020 ]

A pleasantly warm and light breeze lifts the muslin curtains, bringing with it the fresh atmosphere of early winter.

Lemon yellow sunlight filters lazily through the trees, casting shadows on the window and carrying the scent of peppermint.

It’s an incomparably ordinary, and incomparably comfortable afternoon.

It’s very suitable for heading out and casting aside one’s cares - laying down on a grass patch, basking in the warm sunlight.

Or perhaps taking a stroll along the street, and sitting down in a cafe one has been longing to visit.

That’s what Kiro and I originally planned to do.

However, the cruel reality is...

MC: Why does this proposal have to be done by next week ahhhh--

Kiro: Why can’t I write this song properly--

MC: Why do people need to be exploited by work--

Kiro: [sighs] And why are people constrained by inspiration--

Because of a sudden program, I have no choice but to work overtime.

And Kiro, who is about to record a new album, has remained dissatisfied towards the title track.

Due to the pressures of reality, we have to give up our original plans of having a fulfilling and happy date.

The both of us are working overtime at home.

Kiro: [groans] Farewell, my rosy weekend. Goodbye, my donuts and soup dumplings which have vanished into thin air.

MC: And brown sugar milk coffee, taro pies, and lava cakes...

Even though we sing the same tune, complaining dejectedly about not being able to go out, the both of us work non-stop on our tasks.

I can hear the crisp sound of Kiro tapping his pen rhythmically against the music stand. Occasionally, his soft humming can also be heard.

Seeing him working hard and struggling with himself, the corners of my lips lift upwards.

Even though we’re unable to head outside to do something interesting, it isn’t a bad thing to be together at home like this, channelling effort into our differing goals.

In some way, this should also count as a type of date.

I smile, adjusting my posture on the bean bag so that it’s more comfortable for typing, then continue immersing myself in the battle against the program proposal.

The proposal I’m working on is extremely urgent, and has to be settled by next week.

Not only that, but this sudden program has an importance accompanied by a non-proportional preparation timing.

And during such a period of high stress, the goddess of inspiration, who typically shows concern for me, has gone on a faraway vacation, and has completely vanished.

I have trouble writing. When I completely lose my train of thought, I exchange helpless glances with the few words on the screen.

In the end, I give up and pause the hands which have been maltreating the keyboard, preparing to pour myself a glass of water, and attempt to change my mood.

Lifting my head, I subconsciously glance in Kiro’s direction.

The curtains separate the room from sunlight, casting Kiro in a faint shadow as he leans against the window while composing a song.

Busy writing the new song, he hasn’t had time to maintain the state of his hair.

Finding stray hairs a hindrance as they block his vision, Kiro holds a rubber band in his mouth, combing his hair to the back, and ties it into a small ponytail.

Those azure eyes stare at the music score in concentration. They are as clear and bright as always, but lack the flash of light he usually has when inspiration strikes.

Reference materials and abandoned drafts are scattered all over, which seem to isolate him on a higher platform which I’m unable to reach.

Completely engrossed in creating his work, even his languid sitting posture exudes a cold and lonely feeling for some reason.

For a moment, I feel slightly dazed.

Kiro: Let me guess. Is Miss Chips lacking inspiration, and having trouble writing the proposal?

Kiro suddenly removes his earplugs, turning his head to look at me.

He shows me a brilliant smile, and the room is once again filled with sunlight.

MC: How did you know?

He stands up as well, stretching himself, turning back into the him that I’m most familiar with.

It’s as though the him of just a few seconds ago was simply an illusion surfacing from work-induced stress.

Kiro: Hmm... since just now, the sound of your keyboard has been intermittent, unlike how smooth it usually is.

While he speaks, Kiro walks to the snack cabinet and rifles through it carefully, as though he’s a small squirrel searching for a pine cone from the hole of a tree in winter.

Kiro: So I thought - Miss Chips is probably just like me, entering a bottleneck at work.

He splits the low-fat and sugar-free healthy snack into half, placing it into my hand.

Kiro: A little reward for the hardworking you. Now, do you feel more motivated?

MC: It sounds quite embarrassing... but I don’t think I can work any harder.

I munch on the snack which gives me absolutely no happiness, saying this with a sullen expression.

MC: The presentation is next week, but I still have no idea how to go about writing the proposal. Right now, I just want to turn into an ostrich and curl up into a ball, avoiding the presentation meeting in a few days... and also avoiding my unmotivated self.

I turn the laptop towards him, letting him see the lonely and piteous 235 words in the document.

MC: I even want to knock on my brain forcefully, checking to see if new ideas will appear.

Kiro: Hmm... I see...

Kiro curls his finger, tapping it gently against my forehead. He leans closer to my ear and asks a question.

Kiro: Nice to meet you, Miss Chips’ inspiration. May I know if you’re at home?

Following his action, I close my eyes and sense it carefully.

After a short silence, I furrow my brows and lift my head, looking at him bitterly.

MC: Hello, the user you’re calling is not in service...

Kiro reaches out to rub the area between my eyebrows, smoothening out the creases on my face.

After ensuring that I’m no longer a “bun”, he sighs, laying down next to me.

[Note] Chinese buns (包子 - “bao zi”) look like this i.e. they look like wrinkles:

Kiro: [sighs] Actually, I’m the same as you. There’s a song I especially wish to write, and I really like the concept and composition. I want to try writing a song on understanding and interpreting the theme of “love” from my own perspective.

He pauses, lifting his fringe with a wry smile. After give it a forceful rub, he causes his originally tidy hairstyle to become fuzzy.

Kiro: But no matter how I change it, I’m not satisfied. I keep feeling as though something is missing from the music. There’s no soul.

I untie the string, using a hand to smoothen his hair, helping him tie it up properly again.

MC: Whether it’s “My Treasure” or the song we wrote together last Christmas, aren’t they very incredible? They’re tender and sweet - it’s as though they can be sung into the hearts of every listener, enabling them to recollect the best memories.

Kiro: That won’t do.

Kiro flips over and sits up, his eyes serious.

Kiro: Those songs write about us. They write about you. I have several thousand ways to write about how adorable you are, but I don’t know which timbre I should use to face myself.

Not realising how potent his words are in causing one to blush, Kiro sighs once again after speaking, laying back down.

Kiro: [sighs] Looks like this time, we’ve both chosen subjects which are very difficult for us.

Kiro: Since we’ve both sunk into a major crisis--

Kiro: Want to try Kiro’s special, secret recipe and see if it can sort out our thinking?

Kiro shoots me a wink.

MC: Sure. Do I need to do anything?

Kiro: At this stage, all you have to do is sit here.

While Kiro speaks, he picks up the abandoned drafts he had casually thrown on the floor earlier, using them to enclose us within a square frame.

Kiro: This is the thinking box that we’re trying to escape from.

He sets down the final sheet of paper, completing this “box”, his tone light.

Kiro: Right now, we’re both locked in it.

MC: In that case, will the superhero help me break this box, so we can have a breakthrough together?

Kiro: Nope.

Kiro steps out of the square frame made out of drafts, reaching out to seize Cello, who is sleeping soundly on the cat climbing shelf. Then, he places it in my arms.

Cello: Meow?

Kiro nods in satisfaction, then jogs over to the kitchen, bringing over some fruits.

Under the confused gaze of both me and Cello, he makes several trips in and out, bringing over soft cushions, comfortable blankets, and two cups of sugar-free hot chocolate.

Finally, Kiro shifts another bean bag over, and sits down beside me.

Kiro: I’m incredibly sorry to tell you that even a superhero can’t find a way to jump out of this box.

Somewhat pleased with himself, he takes me into his arms with one hand, letting me lean on him.

Kiro: But at the very least, I can keep you company in this box. And together, we can see what exactly in this box has left us so bewildered that we’re unable to get out even after such a long time.

As he speaks, he tousles Cello’s fuzzy head, and it releases a comfortable meow.

Kiro: We can also decorate it a little, so the box is more comfortable.

MC: Pfft...

I can’t help but laugh. The sense of dejectedness due to work earlier seems to be cleared up with his actions.

I reach out, pointing at a corner of the ceiling in a joking manner.

MC: See that? Over there, there’s an MC who just can’t write a proposal, and she’s currently curled up and for waiting for mushrooms to sprout on her... I don’t know how to deal with it.

Kiro nods in understanding, pointing at a corner of the room.

Kiro: Ladies and gentlemen, look here. Here is a Kiro whose inspiration is stuck, and is currently drawing circles.

MC: When you put it like that, it sounds pretty cute...

While he speaks, I more or less understand why Kiro went to such trouble to do this.

Kiro: That’s right. To me, whether it’s that ostrich-like MC, or that MC who has mushrooms growing on her, I want to hug all of them properly.

Kiro: And then tell her solemnly - that you’re already very amazing. Even if you don’t think you’re good enough, I still like you very much.

Kiro: Just as much as a little bear in winter liking the warm blue sky and green grass.

As he speaks, he tightens his grip on my hand, leaning his chin on top of my head.

Surrounding me are soft blankets and cushions. In my arms is a cat which has gone back to sleep.

Behind me, Kiro’s body temperature and scent encase me tenderly, making me feel so contented that I want to release a joyful sound together with Cello.

I close my eyes in happiness, nuzzling the crook of Kiro’s neck.

The things that were bothering me just a second ago, weighing me down with stress and emotions and leaving me unable to breathe, vanish like smoke and disperse like clouds.

It’s as though I’ve awakened from an incredibly long nightmare, discovering that sunlight is illuminating my surroundings, and that a cup of hot chocolate is waiting at the bedside.

MC: Kiro, why do you always know of such ingenious methods?

I lift my head to look at him, gazing at that blue colour which seeps into one’s heart, and the golden colour traced by sunlight.

Our foreheads lean against each other, and he smiles as he responds.

Kiro: You were the one who taught me these things. Why are you asking me instead?

MC: Me?

Kiro: Last time, there were numerous occasions when I felt I couldn’t create works that were good enough, and I’d start to doubt myself. I’d lock myself in a corner, and start having internal fights with myself.

Along with his words, it’s as though I see the Kiro I was barely acquainted with back then, and how he had endured several days and nights of work.

He had locked himself up in a room, helpless and frantic, not leaving any space for himself to breathe.

Kiro: But during those times, you were always by my side. You told me that no matter how I was, you’d like me all the same.

As he speaks, he taps on my laptop.

Kiro: Actually, it’s the same today.

Kiro: Don’t just look at how I appear now. Actually, I’m in a terrible state.

Kiro: On one hand, I’m forcing myself to finish this work quickly. On the other hand, I’m so irritated and annoyed at myself, who lacks creativity.

Kiro: There were many times when I wanted to just give up.

Kiro: But...

He lifts a strand of my hair, twirling it around his fingertip. In the end, he pulls it to his lips, giving it a gentle kiss.

Kiro: Each time I heard your intermittent yet continuous typing sounds, I’d tell myself that next to me, you’re still working hard.

Kiro: My Miss Chips is also feeling perplexed, but she’s still persevering in work.

Kiro: So I told myself - how could I give up before you did?

Kiro: I must definitely persevere a little longer, so you see how dashing I am.

Kiro relates this softly at my ear. His tone, which harbours a smile, sounds as though he’s depicting a treasure.

I indulge myself in his arms, greedily enjoying the present tranquility and warm atmosphere for a while longer.

I always feel that Kiro is a star whenever I go off course. He always illuminates the pathway, pointing the way forward for me.

Actually, without even realising it, it’s because we’ve seen each others’ light that we could press on.

Encouraging each other, and feeling the way forward in the darkness.

Until we break through the predicament together.

MC: Thank you, my superhero. I think I’ve regained the ability to fight a little more.

A soft chuckle brushes my ear. Then, a warm and gentle touch is planted on my lower jaw.

Reminiscent of the whiskers of a kitten brushing past, spreading into a plain of sweetness.

Kiro: At your service anytime, my Miss Chips.

With that, Kiro and I sit in the “box” together, resuming our work.

He lays on the ground, scribbling and drawing on the music sheet, while I hug the laptop to myself, working hard to squeeze out a proposal.

The typing sounds on the laptop remain intermittent as before, but no longer have the sense of repression and frustration from earlier.

With his presence, I actually manage to complete a draft of the proposal without realising it.

It isn’t excellent, and there are many areas which require editing. Nevertheless, I’ve already tided over the most difficult period.

I move my neck and shoulders, then shift a little closer to Kiro.

Same as before, Kiro is wholly absorbed in the music sheet in his hands.

Even though I can’t tell his current progress, based on his expression and posture, he should be the same as me, breaking free from the lowest point of production.

I observe him quietly for a long time. In the end, my playfulness triumphs, and I think of pulling a tiny prank on him.

Lifting Kiro’s right hand, I burrow into his arms.

MC: Surprise~

Probably not expecting me to do this, Kiro is left dumbfounded. However, he subconsciously props himself up and hugs me.

Kiro: Miss Chips?

MC: A little reward for the hardworking musician.

Saying this, I tilt my head upwards and give him a light peck on the chin.

My sudden attack and the closing of distance between us enables me to successfully capture the faint redness on Kiro’s face.

Kiro: ...mm, how’s your proposal doing?

MC: At the moment, there are positive prospects.

Just like this, I wrap my arms around his neck, tousling his soft, golden coloured hair.

Because of my action, the ponytail is now in disarray.

I simply hook my fingers underneath Kiro’s rubber band, untying it, feeling the softness of his hair in between my fingers.

MC: How’s your song doing?

Kiro: At the moment, there are positive prospects.

He mimics my words, inserting one earplug into my ear.

A somewhat rough demo occupies my hearing.

I close my eyes, immersed in the music he has given to me. My fingers twirl the wire of the earpiece, tracing the rhythm.

Kiro: Although it isn’t done yet, the overall main key won’t change.

It’s a somewhat slow tune.

It's quiet, and even brings with it a heavy and melancholic melody. It’s reminiscent of a self-reflection, and also like a careful recount.

Kiro: Even though this tune is a little sombre, I still wrote it.

Kiro: Because I know you’d definitely say that you like such songs too.

MC: Of course.

I say this with certainty. He smiles and lowers his head, the tips of our noses gently touching.

MC: Kiro, I came across a saying once.

MC: The process of writing a song is actually a writer’s conversation with himself.

MC: Although I don’t know what you said to yourself, if this melody is your answer, I like it very much.

Our drifting breaths channel a temperature slightly higher than the sunlight.

MC: Including these slightly heavy portions - I like them very much.

Saying this, I crinkle my eyes, humming along with the melody from the earpiece.

Kiro releases a sigh, hugging me tightly.

Kiro: [sighs] Why does this song become so sweet when you hum it?

Before I can respond, Kiro continues.

Kiro: [laughs] It must be because MC is a jar of honey.

He nods with force, seeming to be very satisfied with this answer. Then, it’s as though something occurs to him, and he plants a kiss on my forehead.

Kiro: See? It’s very sweet.

MC: What...

I laugh, pretending to push at his chest.

MC: Looks like I have to stay a little further away from you next time, so you won’t become overweight.

Kiro: Hehe, it’s already too late! My feelings come in large portions, so it’s too late to say that.

Kiro presses me against the woollen blanket, embracing me with even more strength than before.

Kiro: Miss Chips has already been firmly held onto by me.

Kiro: I’ll leave a stamp.

While he says this, he nibbles the side of my neck half-jokingly, and half-declaratory.

He doesn’t use strength, but the electric-like sensation makes me forget how to breathe for a moment.

The charmingly tepid air leaves my cheeks burning crimson.

Kiro’s hug is tight, yet very careful. It’s as though he’s embracing the one and only treasure in the entire world.

MC: It’s not like I can really run away...

Not minding my soft mumbling, another kiss descends on the shell of my ear, as though seeking a confirmation.

His breaths lift up strands of stray hair near my ear. They brush against my earlobe, as scorching as his lips.

Kiro: MC, I’m actually timid and a little childish.

Kiro buries his head in my shoulder, speaking softly.

Kiro: When it comes to things I don’t like, I’ll always think of hiding them and locking them up. I won’t see them, and I won’t let other people see them.

Kiro: But if it’s you...

I secretly take a few deep breaths, cradling his face a little stiffly yet carefully, tilting my head upwards.

MC: Thank you for trusting me.

Kiro: ...

Kiro’s eyes widen slightly, and his lips part and close. It’s as though he wants to say something, but returns to a blank.

At the end of a short silence, Kiro speaks solemnly.

Kiro: I’ll definitely finish this song.

He lowers his voice slightly. Even though this sentence is as light as a feather, I know that he’s as serious as making a vow.

Kiro: I’ll definitely finish this song, and sing various versions of myself to you in the future.

Kiro: Even the parts which are heavier, and the parts I’m unwilling to face myself.

MC: Mm. I’ll definitely listen earnestly.

Following the trail of his spine, I stroke his back lightly, giving him my promise.

Kiro: I know.

Kiro: It’s precisely because no matter what melody it is, you’ll definitely sing it into a song akin to honey.

Kiro: Which is why I have such courage.

I no longer speak, only giving him a serious nod.

Both his breathing and heart beats can be heard, regular and steady.

Kiro: Since we’ve reached an agreement, should I leave another stamp?

Kiro’s voice is once again light-hearted, even carrying with it a twinge of slyness.

MC: Wait! The most important thing now should be noting down the hard-earned inspiration before it goes away!

I grip several music sheets at the side, pressing them against his chest, attempting to flee from his arms.

MC: Get to work quickly!

Kiro: Why are you like this?

Kiro pouts, showing me his signature, puppy-eyed expression of dejection.

MC: I won’t be duped by your gaze again. I’m going to become a merciless supervisor, so you can finish your work before the deadline!

Seeing that his plan has been foiled, Kiro simply gives up “pretending”. With a smile, he grips my struggling wrist, pressing it to the side.

MC: Where’s your professionalism? Could it...

A prolonged kiss seals up the words I haven’t spoken.

Kiro: It’s exactly because of my professionalism that I can say with certainty...

Kiro smiles, his sapphire-like eyes radiating an azure colour even more eye-catching than the clear skies of winter.

Perhaps he hasn’t realised it himself, but he looks at me with the most burning and clear gaze, sticking out the tip of his tongue. Like a dragonfly flitting across water, he wets his lower lip.

Kiro: Before my inspiration vanishes, there’s still time to act coquettishly with my favourite Miss Chips.

Phone calls: First // Second

#mlqc #mlqc cn #mlqc spoilers #mlqc kiro

156 notes · View notes

catharrington · 3 years

Text

I surrender, I surrender to you. (T, 2.9k words)

@harringroveweekoflove day 4: TEACHER AU, SCHOOL DANCE. Featuring aged up, and friends in love seriously pining. Lame flirting and lame dancing. Please listen to the song Surrender by Suicide on repeat 🖤thanks.

***

The door to the roof was emergency access only. If you opened it, a silent alarm would go off in half a minute if you didn’t have the code to disarm it. This kept all the students from wandering. But the code that sat readily available on a bulletin board in the teachers lounge, didn’t stop them from wandering.

It was the best place to come for a smoke break. Hands down. Sure beat sneaking around the bushes in the back of school, and way more space than the janitors closet. Didn’t feel haunted like the basement did with all its rustling, moaning furnaces.

Billy pushed the door open and punched in the alarm code with his middle finger. Using the rest to clutch a reliable zippo lighter to his palm.

As soon as the door closed with a metallic hiss, and the light above the flat plastic box on the handle flicked to green, Billy was reaching into his suit’s inner pockets. Felt along the silk inside until he found the crinkled pack of smokes he kept.

Inside, the school’s prom was raging just fine. Billy had spent all night watching over it from the edge of the dance floor. Looking the other way as some dancers let their hands wander, as scared lips searched out for a romantic first kiss.

He had been to all his own back in sunny California, spent them doing a lot more than cute kisses pressed to shoulders.

The night brought back lots of memories of bruised wrists hidden by satin shirts, fast cars with wide back seats.

Billy lit his cigarette quickly, pulling until his lungs were filled to the brim with ash. With burning and black and red things that messed him up inside.

He exhaled the day from his lungs, but kept the ash. Let his eyes drift closed as he savored it.

From the other side of the roof he didn’t notice he wasn’t alone until it was far too apparently late. As his eyes fluttered back open, Billy followed the heated gaze on his skin. Turned until he found the farthest corner of the roof and the brick half-wall edge.

Firstly, he noticed the black suit jacket thrown over the brick. As if it weren’t expensive and the texture could ruin it. As if he didn’t care if it were to tumble off the edge to the ground.

Then Billy’s eyes drifted up along a smoke trail that wafted just above the suit jacket. A thin line of white smoke that lead back from over the edge towards a pair of pretty lips.

“Mr. Harrington,” Billy greeted.

The man just smiled. His lips holding that damn smoke curled around it like some blue-collared Cheshire Cat.

Steve, Steve Harrington, was the resident music teacher. His class room was underfunded and made of things he mostly brought in on donation. The children loved him, even if he was hardly over their own age, self-taught, and said crazy things like he didn’t believe in homework.

A large grand piano sat in the middle of his classroom. And Steve usually sat at it. At least, he did when Billy would find some excuse to come in and steal a glance.

Billy couldn’t get over those long legs kicked out, his dress slacks lifting up to show off his ankles. The sweater he wore that day, because he always complained about the old building being too drafty, pushed up to his elbows. And his moles. All the moles dotting up and down the back of his arms. Over his skinny, vein covered hands as they danced across the ivory keys of his grand piano.

Billy wasn’t blind. He knew he lingered too long and too obviously at Steve’s door for his own liking, but he couldn’t help it.

Between his melted chocolate colored sexy mess of a hairstyle and his vintage movie star good looks, Steve was something else. Effortlessly funny, and gentle with the firm understanding of a father. He was amazing to watch or simply be around.

And that smile, that wide real smile that reached up all the way to create crows feet next to his pretty brown eyes.

It took Billy’s breath away. It was, something else.

“Didn’t think you of all people would be skippin’ out on that shindig down there?” Billy kept his voice low. As quiet as the fading night around them. But his throat couldn’t help the gravel laughter that joined his words.

Steve shrugged. Lifting his arms to around his elbows so his whole body moved.

Steve turned and Billy noticed then that he must had been worrying at his long, coffee brown hair all night long. It had gone oily under his fingers. There were some strands coming free of how he had it pushed back. Mostly on the sides, right behind his ear, some were springing free. Reaching out for those mole covered cheeks like vines wanting to kiss. Curls of feather soft hair just out on display, and tempting billy to his edge.

The view off the side of the school roof was pretty, long lines of Indiana forests stretching below them. And the colors of the nights was a water color swirl of navy blue and royal purple twinkling with stars as they turned on one by one.

But, Billy was looking at the curly pieces of hair behind Steve’s ears.

“Just needed a break,” Steve spoke softly. “Headache. I don’t do well with lights and loud, loud music. I’ve had one too many concussions as a teenager.” And as he explained he chuckled. Like it was simply life and didn’t make Billy’s blood boil in his veins at the idea of Steve getting hurt.

But Steve just shrugged again. Flicking the butt of his spent smoke off the edge before he lit up another one. Trying to chain smoke away a headache.

“What about you, Hargrove? Thought you were enjoying enabling all those troublemakers down there?”

Billy whistled low. His shoes kicked up the tiny pieces of gravel across the roof as he walked closer to the edge. “That obvious?” He asked.

“Might of well have spiked the punch yourself,” Steve smiled, wonderfully wide and real, it made Billy’s heart swell up into his throat.

“Damn, I might get in trouble then,” Billy said in a laugh and an exhale of smoke. Mostly about the comment. Mostly about that damn smile.

He pressed his hip to the edge of the brick wall. Steve was standing a bit back away from it. His body turned to look out over the view. Billy didn’t want all that. Leaned back casually on the wall facing inwards as if they best view was Steve’s pretty face itself.

A minute of comfortable relaxation ticked by. Their senses going dark and black and burnt as they created a designs of clouds around their heads. Watching them gather and fade as the smoke cloud was too weak to carry rain. So it drifted up into the night sky to join the hidden mass of starlight under all the polluting lights of the school building.

Billy was stealing glances at Steve. Trying to make it not obvious.

Finally, Billy thinks he’s supposed to be the one to talk. He wipes his cigarette across the brick to make a line of black. Watches it for a second as he mutters, “What is he going to do? Fire me? Who else is going to teach these pipsqueaks how to understand poetry?”

“Good point, no one in their right mind actually enjoys poetry,” Steve shoots back.

Billy’s laugher from that is from deep in his chest. Rolling out through his ribs in a way he hasn’t felt tonight. In a way he wants to bottle and keep forever.

“Ya'know,” he starts slowly. Thinking about his words carefully. “I’ve got a bottle of aspirin in my desk. If that headache is still bothering you, Harrington?”

And Steve’s eyes flick towards him quickly. Searching the space between for any meaning to those words other than kindness. There’s a worry etched into Steve’s brows. And again, Billy’s griped with a certain anger for whoever put it there.

He gives himself a moment to think about it. Looking from between Billy’s face to the ground below them. Kicking his fancy brown dress shoe into the dirt.

“We’ve been away for a while. Really should be getting back?” Steve’s whisper is so quiet. Even he must know that ain’t an option.

Reaching forward, across the little space left between them, Billy brushes his hand across the slumped fabric of Steve’s jacket. He pets it once, twice, his fingers lingering on the well-loved softness that’s been put into the expensive suit, before he gathers it up in his fist. Lifting it from the brick so he can drape it over his arm.

He’s watching Steve the whole time. Wondering what the pretty boy is going to do about it.

“Mr. Hargrove,” Steve talks around the last puff of his cigarette. It’s tobacco burning bright orange to the filter before he flicks that one too over the side of the building.

Turning then to level a playful glare towards Billy.

“What’s another minute?” Billy scoffs. “Well, another 30 minutes?”

“We’ve got to get back!” Steve hisses. “If the principal notices they are down two chaperones then he will crucify us!”

“That’s a pretty poetic way of saying we’re dead if we get caught.” Billy laid his hand over Steve’s jacket. Pulling it so that it was on the other side of his body from Steve. So that if he had to leave, if he really didn’t want to take Billy up on his so generous offer of aspirin, he’d have to brush up along Billy’s side to fetch his jacket.

Crossing his arms back over his chest, Steve worried his bottom lip. Thinking, gears turning, under that head of perfectly disheveled hair.

Billy couldn’t help but follow the motion of his worrying. Swiping his tongue over his own bottom lip as he thought about how Steve’s teeth worked. How they brought the blood to the top layer of skin. How it looked cherry red and wet, as if it were stained from the punch bowl at the prom still dancing below their feet.

“20 minutes,” Steve haggled. His eyebrow quirking up in a challenge.

Billy shook his head. “Says right on the bottle takes 30 minutes to kick in. Wouldn’t want to take you back to the party still hurting, pretty boy.”

And he let that slip. That wasn’t supposed to come out. Billy’s eyes widened in reflex at his old behavior. If he could reach out and pluck those words out of the air he would. It wasn’t poetic, it wasn’t romantic, it wasn’t the best way to flirt with the music teacher he has been silently crushing on for the past year.

But then, he noticed that Steve didn’t pull back. Or sneer, or draw his sword in a one on one combat for the disgrace of his honor.

He kept standing on the roof of their school. Kept his arms crossed over his chest to combat the cold. His button up shirt pulled tightly across his broad shoulders.

Kept smiling under the glow of the moon and the artificial yellow lights dotting around them. And just like his Cupid bow shaped lips, his cheeks were flushed a brilliant red blush.

“Okay, yeah. Sure, Hargrove,” he stuttered out. Lifting one hand to wave towards the door.

Billy’s smirk was wide and wolffish, brilliant and happy.

He followed where Steve was gesturing. Opening the heavy metal door with a creaking groan of the hinges. Stepping aside to let him pass. Steve’s shoulder brushed along the fatty part of Billy’s bicep as he went

Down the steps they start picking up the quiet notes of the prom music still going on. Now that it was later on into the night, starting to become too late to be out, the music has mellowed out to softer love songs.

The staircase to the roof wasn’t decorated like the rest of the school. None of the red steamers or sweetheart pink balloons.

But as the gentle rhythm trickled up the steps, it sure felt like Billy was right back on that floor. And he had never felt it before the way he had now. When he was a kid he was a rebel without a cause. Driving fast cars and leaving hearts broken behind him.

Valentine’s days were always something to get done. To get to the end of so he could jump in bed with his prize.

Now, as the melody of the song so slowly so softly floated by, he finally was felling those butterflies.

Was thinking this is how it felt being a kid and timidly kissing the shoulder of your dance partner. Your heart so swollen and raw just wishing they feel the same way. That they will smile at your lame attempt to get their attention, and bend down to give you a real kiss.

Billy felt his feet stop at a halfway platform. A shiny metal thing that groaned dangerously under them. It wasn’t a dance floor. Wasn’t painted wood of a basket ball court either, but it felt like it. Gods, did it feel like it.

The song echoes all around them. Distorting the voices and pianos and making it ethereal in a way he didn’t want to ever end. A spell he never wanted broken.

Then, so gently it was almost startling. Almost made him jump from his vibrating skin. Steve sipped his hand into the one Billy was using to hold his coat.

Billy jerked to watch him. Thinking this was it, Steve had changed his mind and was going back to play babysitter for the rest of night like a responsible teacher.

But, he instead wrapped those gorgeous piano player fingers around Billy’s own and claimed them. Moved them so they were wrapped up too busy to hold the jacket anymore.

It tumbled down to the metal floor below them.

“Tell me if I’m reading the room wrong,” Steve whispered. Trying not to be louder than the song. Trying to stay in the moment of the reverberating chorus. “I’m not good with poetry, but I know a romantic moment when it plays on the radio.”

And he lead Billy’s hand to his waist. Leaving his hand touching ever so softly on the sensitive skin of the back of Billy’s hand.

And he used his other hand to cradle the back of Billy’s neck. Those fingers playing over the shaved short hairs there like ivory. As skilled as he is in every instrument he touches.

Making Billy completely breathless. Making him an audience to the way Steve begins to sway to the song. Following along as their teacher’s dress shoes click against the floor.

“I think you’re better at reading than you let on, Harrington,” he breaths. So low, so gentle, just like his hands as he wills up the courage to rest them on Steve’s hips.

His thumbs find the brown leather belt Steve wears all the time. And he worries circles into the leather. Round and round.

The same circle that Steve’s leading them in. Swaying back and forth to the music so damn easily it’s mesmerizing. It’s easy to follow right along where he’s lead.

Steve’s hands come up to wrap around Billy’s shoulders. Takes a step even closer.

His face is handsome in the low light of the staircase to the rooftop. His whole face, from his hair to the tip of his thin nose, is sparkling more than even the sky they just left behind. His eyes are intoxicating to watch. Half lidded and dark.

Billy feels his fingers grip harder on Steve’s belt as he dips close to his face to talk right into the blushing parts of his cheek.

“You’ve cured my headache,” his breath is warm across Billy’s skin. It makes him shiver.

Steve leans back to watch for a reaction. A playful quirk that makes his nose scrunch up.

Billy swoops forward the inches between them to catch those perfect lips in a kiss.

It’s slow, and soft, and it takes every damn thing Billy’s got in his whole body not to melt into the floor right there. Not to give into the way Steve’s lips are so warm pressed to his own. How he tastes like a more expensive brand of cigarettes. And how Billy can feel the way Steve’s smiling still into his kiss.

It makes him whimper low, a pleading thing that sounds much more broken than he feels.

Billy actually feels a lot more whole than he has in a long time. Like a piece of him he’s been ignoring has finally come to dance. Feels like a side of him he wants to look in the mirror and see. Not the rebel, or the self assured ass who’s got so many walls up he can’t see what’s in front of him.

No, this was a kid who’s gotten his first kiss at a school dance. And, to make it perfect, from the guy he’s been crushing on all year long. From the prom king himself.

They part with a smile and a low laugh. Listen as the song switches to something just as slow and perfect for another cheek to cheek dance.

Billy lays his head down on Steve’s shoulder. Pulls him in even closer. But leaving enough space for their feet to keep swaying back and forth to the music.

#harringrove #billy hargrove #steve harrington #harringrove fic #my fic #steve/billy #harringrove fanfic #harringroveweekoflove #harringrove week of love

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bookofmariokingofmaiami · 3 years

Text

Took about a week but here we have it

CHAPTER 2 NOTES!

Sooo, chapter 2

398 IMAGES

this is gonna take a few days

Even more because we just moved so I didn't do shit for 2 days

Oh well, here's some info

No symbols = main comment/ theory about the image

[ ] = transcription of the image into text form

( ) = Small comment

{ } = side notes

□ [n°] not important

■ [n°] important

Also, I didn't say it before but the guy of the great book of mario for some reason cuts the the video in a way that the text boxes doesn't fully load before he cuts, so some sentences will - because he cut before they could finish the sentence

Well, let's go

Also Also, I'll stack some images

SUPER BOOK OF MARIO

1□ did he just call maria his "honey"? [Merlon:why, honey? Have you succeeded a clean heart?]

2□ no I don't think the heart is part of the brain, also what's that about cleansing the world? [merlon:as clean, this is the cleansing of the world, part of your brain?]

3□ your father and what? [Merlon:wh-what!? Merlumina sir?! Well, my father and]

4□ ????? What, morton? [screaming citizen:1000-1000-MASTER-1000, MORTON! NEWS B-B-B ]

5□ take your children? What children? And to where? [Merlon: wich is?!, take your children…]

6□ it's raining girls! Hallelujah it's raining girls! [Screaming citizens:About this…..girls falling from the sky!]

7□ yeah, who in the world are you? [Merlon:what? The girl fell from the sky, but you? Who in the world?]

8□ turn off the girl! [Screaming citizen:I do not know!, just, please! Set up the lift and turn it off]

9□ little princess fishing, now that's a name [merlon:little princess fishing!? Is that a princess kidnaped by count bleck?]

10□ excuse me what? Who? [Merlon:and he shakes uncontrollably, what could be the problem]

11■? sooo saffron is the name of the chef? also why did he say Aristotle? [Merlon:Aristotle, and if once in the head saffron flipsid]

12□ so princess peach is bad and hot? [Merlon:I'm sure you know the recipe for hot and bad girls alive]

13□ uhhh what? Isn't saffron the chef? [Merlon:chef and i are sure he knows the recipe for the poor saffron….]

14□ burned soup, my favorite [saffron:I only need fire to make soup burned early]

15■ EXCUSE ME THEY SELL WHAT?!? [Saffon: Some shops sell explosives, check the shelf you want to buy]

16□ that does not sound tasty [saffron: spicy soup made of sugar!]

17□ 1 seafood, 2 SPOONFULL OF FIRE [item: you have the best seafood!; clean with a spoonful of Fire! complete complete 8 hp and deal with]

18□ get what? [Saffron: get as soon as possible]

19□ why are you disappointed? [Merlon: oh...apparently it worked]

20□ and apparently she liked the soup made of fire/explosive [peach:Mmmm… I ate the best things]

21□ enable what? [Tippi: enable…..]

22□ no you're not tippi, you're merlon [merlon:Kara, merlon. And called pixl, I'm called tippi]

23□ in what way can it be successful? [Merlon:well…. This is the most successful story about Rage and poverty]

24□ I don't know [peach: de mario…..what do you think about luigi and bowser] {why did she say to non translation names?}

25□ what do you mean they can not be identified?? [Peach:Mm. I think you're right… they can not be identified]

26□ what is happening? What language is that? [Tippi:elfosado entre masgalsn…..what do we do for us?]

27■ I think this may insinuate an attack, I have to check if Qatar is part of the persian empire or not [merlon:"Qatar will cross the other…." So it's written]

28■ so merlee or bestovio (or both) are cousins of merlon [merlon:meerlee is like bestovius, and it's like the oldest….. we are cousins who have lost a lot of time]

29□ do not hesitate to do so, it I dangerous [merlon:do not hesitate, just a break…… and... it's dangerous ]

30□ yes [peach: i can't be anywhere and everyone can be saved from the world and now I am?]

31■ 1 OH SHE WANTS TO REMOVE ATMOSPHERE (either as in modd or planetary, both are evil) , 2 who the fuck is scanner? [Peach:finally, the lack of atmosphere is my fault, mine and scanner's]

32□ NO NO NO [Narrator:PEACH ATTRACTS YOU]

33□ why can't we control maria? [Narrator:NOW YOU CAN'T CONTROL MARIO, BUT ALSO THE PEACH PRINCESS]

34□ cover the city with what? [Item:you have the best senior foundation!; cover the city]

35■ wait one sec grandpa, what does the European union not know? [Merlon:this is not a secret in this city, the EU does not know…..]

36□ TRUE TRUTH! [Merlon:it can be one of the key to searching, TRUE TRUTH!]

37□ that's one way to call the bad guy plans [merlon:now, mario, prince of peach….do everything to stop the wrong plans]

38□ consult what? [Peach:come on,mario! Go, consult]

39■ HOLY SHIT THE SHADOW QUEEN IS FUCKING BACK [narrarator:when you play as princess peach, you can use your shadow in diferent ways]

40■ okey so, the shadow queen is technically here, however, it's less it controlling peach, but peach being a greater evil and controlling the shadow [narrarator: also click on down to use your shadow to get hold of your enemy] {okey, now I want to see peach using the shadows to yeet a goomba}

41□ the guy in the video read pad as pan, sooo yeah [peach description:HIDE IN TIN PAD]

42□ press the key [Thoreau description:press the key]

43□ this is the second time someone called maria a monsters, that's fair, she did help a group of gods with their plan of killing all non believers, but she was possessed sooo yeah [sign:it's on the edge of the page, tips for the monster]

44□ rate of pain drops to 0 [sign:HELLO!, HERO, pain? Try otherwise! It's pretty easy!]

45■ THE HEART OF THE FUTURE PILLAR, now that's a cool name [sign:the heart of the future pillar → , the best way to search? CONTINUE!]

46□ compliments for the persian language [narrarator: marius, who is part ofthis guide and comments on these words, complements to the persian empire]

47□ what do you mean a long term secret? [Narrator:do not risk it, but add a long-term merlee secret]

48□ uhhhh what? [Narrator:he knows that knowledge is a small reward for poor understanding]

49□ that's one chapter name [chapter 2-1?: I smoke at merlee]

50□ tippi does not like this adventure [tippi:it was not clear before. Sooo…… however, no way]

51□ the best change the door [item: you have the best change the door; key door to glass]

52□ yes, go to merlee castle [slave:go for walk! Go to merlee castle right?]

53□ Ali? What do you mean Ali? [Slave: ALI ATRACTIVE GIRL]

54□ one second hand calls peach and the next he calls her stupid [slave: do this? It's stupid, sorry….but you must be together]

55□ yeah, times does slow down while studying [narrarator:flowers slowly! This decreases during the study]

56□ did he just boo us? [Boomer: booooooo i-faq ]

57□ do you wish to explode? [Boomer:well! I push the pulse detector! Want to explode? QUEST POW!]

58□ I won't poo you [boomer:the perforation doesn't feel good...l1500 years! FAQ-POO ME!]

59□ he may be high on Crack, and also offering it to us [boomer:you have to look closer! FAQ-CRAAACK!]

60□ wait it's Christmas? [Boomer:stay awake and ask if someone has a Santa gift.] [1:if! / 2:Totally!]

61□ what test? What are thse questions? [Boomer:for some reason, it is necessary to clean the room before performing the test] [1:Totally! / 2:uh huh]

62□ oh no, anyway [boomer:when someone says "where just friends" you think "yes, anyway"] [1: and how / 2:certainly!]

63□ yeah, me neither [boomer: I do not understand why I've created all these unique questions] [1:you are right! / 2: actually, more than true! ]

64□ these questions make no sense, and I love it [boomer:you will sleep when you are awake, but when you get sick you want up] [1:that's all! / 2:always]

65□ here, Have a good mood :) Also is the sss a name or is he a snake?[boomer:have a good mood, BLAME, SSS]

66□ you can, I DESERVE [boomer:how is the mind ready, SAP BLAPPOW!, you can….. I deserve]

67■ that's the Brazilian name of Satan, wait, ARE PIXL'S DEMON'S? [Narrator: pixl boomer called Satanas, did it]

68,69,70■■■ first triple! Anyway, boomer is called satanas, I'll call him Satan for short, and he bombed a wedding [description: click 1 to go back to the bombing and 1!. The wedding. Turn, with the head head, the enemy, or the dust]

71□ so they got a house now [narrarator:unlike the animal group, mario and his company have chosen a home]

72■ woah, fish king [narrarator: "merlee must be the city" the fish of the fish kings shouted]

73□ when mario will ever be easy[narrarator:but when will mario be easy?]

74□ YEET [narrarator: hope color, our brave heroes are thrown into merlee]

75■ what is FoB? Fist of balls? Fascist of bomb? Faction of BANANAS? [Narrator:CHAPTER 2-2, FoB training]

76□ shoot the clock [item: you have the best mix startup! ; shoot the clock that prevents roadside enemies]

77□ Marco? Who is Marco? Is it Marc? Probably not [mimi:Marco did it, mimi, man's!]

78□ does maria know how to mime? I think not [mimi: you know how to mime!]

79□ the place doesn't matter, why does it not matter? [Mimi: THE PLACE DOESN'T MATTER!]

80□ what is a fucken hemnyckel? [Item:you have the best hemnyckel; key to the house at merlee headquarters]

81■ the desert I gone? [Tippi:I don't know why the desert is gone and we don't give ideas...]

82■ wait, are you talking about mimi? If so, i don't like where this is going [tippi:I think it's very tasty...what is what?]

83□ the interpretation is different, it could be romantic as in recognizing the love, or bloody as a disembodied heart sent in the mail as a threat [narrarator: "Oh, maybe...it seems" said tippi, trying to recognize his heart]

84□ even I didn't understand [narrarator: in some couples, as a broken chandelier, out hero teaches aisles]

85■ payday in a nutshell [narrarator: chapter 2-3, go to bank]

86□ don't you nya on me [mimi:NYAAAAAAH!]

87■ that's the Brazilian word for vase, also what's is this sentence? [Mimi:vazo i love everything more than anything! Did you destroy it? NYAAAAAARG]

88■ so where in the uk? Is that the one where the money is called pounds? [Mimi:vazo is worth 1.000.000 pounds!....]

89□ not sure what that means? [Mimi:so free the money now on! Or are you ready?]

90□ only now you realized how money works [tippi:red? It seems that marius is not specific to me…...ooooh money is taken]

91□ no its not cash back [tippi:it's not like money back, right? ]

92□ mony! [Mimi:currency?! Of them, no one can not use money for farmers? Mony, don't you lose it]

93□ THATS MY BROTHER'S NAME, WHY IS MY LITTLE BROTHER'S NAME HERE? [Mimi: in this way, the generator's authority can only go away from Pedro's place]

94□ a million gums? Wasn't it pounds? [Mimi:when you pay a million gums, you come to the room after him]

95■ maria has a million rights and none of them are respected [narrarator: mario already gives a million rights! EH!]

96□ SEXUAL MUSTACHE [Mimi:first, rubee for a special loan! What can I do for you?] [1: pay rube! / 2:check my status! / 3:sexual mustache! / 4:I love you!]

97■ very dead [mimi:yes, how is God? I HAVE A JOB!]

98□ I think is the result of selecting "I love you" so yeah, that's correct [mimi:yes thats not true,you know I'm thinking about rube right?]

99□ SOUTHERN MALLET! [slave:drag 100 blocks, I'm telling you right, trust, this is the most important information] [1:southern mallet / 2: definitely not]

100□ racism [slaver: I hate black an black hat! So let's work!]

101□ who is rubin? And why did he win? [Slaver:yes, it's a room generator,shooting box, energy, rubin wins! UNH!

102□ ladies and gentlemen, welcome to rubber world [slaver:the rubber world up and down! Do you want to work here?] [1:it's really something! / 2:not at all!]

103□ why does he wants us to fart? ARE WE USING FARTS TO MAKE ENERGY? WHAT DRUGS DID MIMI TAKE TO THINK OF THAT? [Slaver: a new day a new Ruby! Intact? Red live! Intact? Jump to fart! Jump to fart!]

104□ whats a professional ethic?? [Slaver:does the day work?! WOW. It's allways bad. Professional advice: take professional ethic]

105□ what? [Slave:your mother taught you to trust visitor's, right? Yes, the parents insist more]

106□ did he give peach 5963 germs? That's a lot of disease [slave:why are they used? its a secret! Spirit! See 5963, germs, thank you latter]

107□ poor man, Cant see his girlfriend no more because slavery [slave:but I do not know merlee,and now i do not see my girlfriend anymore]

108□ once again I have no idea what that means [slave: glass can accumulate faster than the market]

109□ what is this, YouTube? [Slave:the problem is: you must have an access code to subscribe and meet members]

110□ 1 I think these are dance moves, 2 CONTROLLED CORN [Slave:check all walls,check both sides! Bye! Get down! To the left! Go to! Leave a controlled corn!]

111□ 10.000 rocks, that's certainly a price [slave:rubees are not enough,lips! Visit 10000 rocks! I agre with this price]

112□ that's a lot of traffic [slaver: traffic and traffic and traffic! I'll work, no one knows]

113□ MIMI BACON? FEET? WHAT??? [Slaver:big boss hates darker than old mimi bacon! Then take your feet]

114□ serve crazy rubees, okey? [Slaver:yes, a great break in the other room, here you serve crazy rubees! Uhm]

115■ did he try to emotionally attack maria? [Slaver: very good, sit in the dark and weep when there is a baby, what is important to me]

116□ African animal species, this chapter is very racist [slaver:want to work hard? Very good, I want to cry? Very good, I do not care about me, African animal species]

117□ I think this slaver may be drunk, or high, probably both [slaver:so I do not know what caused 1….but is it simple is it alive? Is it ready?] [1:love / 2: good0

118□ ARRESTED GERBILL [Slaver:arrested, gerbil] [1:I / 2:I]

119□ C4.0.3 [slaver:i think you have to pay, C4.0.3, draw rubees gerbil]

120□ maria is a musician I guess [narrator:you have 60 songs!]

121□ whats that word? [Slaver: uh… all stars are not nitzhilx, but they are not bad]

122□ why did you need to specify that it's not wet? [Slaver: C'4.0.3 the jerjali rubees are no wet, but not clear]

123□ I don't think Maria's is a sailor [slaver:God! You're a sailor right? I called gerbils]

124□ your this slave got some girls phone number! [Slave:think about a girls phone number or what]

125■ where is the world? It's gone [sin:looks good...and has problems….the world is gone]

126□ biggest excitement! That's certainly a word [sin: why not just the biggest excitement]

127□ more of that weird language, flowerq was it? [Sin:OBDACIVANJE HA!?!!]

128■ wait wait wait, does he have like psychic powers? Not in moving stuff but as in brain messages [sin:my head told you that you are a hero, where………..good]

129□ do what at the table? [Sin:so do it at the table! After 30 seconds, the handkerchief left]

130□ iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii [sin: I! Iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiviv!]

131□ why may? [Sin:may!]

132□??? [Narrator: you can use energy to drop the thin side and avoid enemies or enemies]

133□ how can you be ugly from far away but okey up close? [Narrator:and if you're somehow, you're not bad…..up close]

134■ mario is a millionaire, hooray! [Narrator: mario has 1000000 rubles]

135□ give me what? [Mimi: I WILL GIVE YOU!!!!]

136□ when you take figuring out the lore of a game series translated by Google translate as a hobby there are gonna be a lot of moments you have absolutely no idea what it means [tippi: so this little girl who came to the curse of this house… but what is it?] {Maybe mimi is cursed? Actually that makes sense,like I don't think a non-cursed person can become a spider, so my monologue about not knowing what this means is useless? Cause now I know what it means}

137■ oh, so okey, some of these slaves are from an army, and according to this guy some army veterans died here, also now he's learning a new gerbil code, hmmmm interesting backstory of random npc [I've lost veterans, I'm studying a new gerbid code…...but it's over]

138□ yeah I don't like corks either [slave: I don't like,e this cork]

139■ wait, is the Generator powered by emotions? And a sudden change in emotion crashes the system, interesting science [door?:unexpected fear should stop the generator]

140□ good fan [door:good fan: today VIP is the last payday]

141□ hairy millions, I don't think peach has that many hairs [slave:I, behind this horrible story, tell your blonde hairy millions]

142□ kangaroo? [Slave:yes, the password is 5963. I did it as kangaroo dang did it…….]

143□ spooky numbers! Oooooooooh [slave:5963…. Spooky numbers]

144■ that's a very interesting question, if you're wasting your life, does it matter WHERE you are when you're doing so [slave:when you are wasting your life, is it important where you are? ]

145□ ah yes, this safe protected by a laser is a theater [slave:thanks, this secret…. theater distance, turn it off]

146□ this is kinda normal [narrarator: mimi's mysterious servant disappears in a strange explosion]

147□ wait, we tried to save him? [Narrator:what was your real plan and why did mario and his friends try to save him?]

148□ peach ladder, okey [narrarator:after the event, the prince saw a peach ladder, "YOU were here!" He says]

149□ why did they think merlee has a problem with us? [Narrator: "Maybe if merlee is here" our hero thought he had problems with us]

150□ incorrect, it's not in front of us, where IN it [narrarator: chapter 2-4, the basement in front of us]

151□ HELP! IM BEING COMPRESSED! [Tippi:Clean heart….I think compression is stronger]

152□ huuuu what? Is merlee married to merlee? [Merlee:merlee is beautiful, mysterious!, wife at home, here she is,you are very happy to see it]

153■ are maria and merlee roommates? [Merlee:I live with you, your arrival is better]

154■ oh no, she's dying, [merlee:I'm angry and can't survive]

155■ milk roots? IS SHE SURVIVING WITH MILK THAT COMES FROM ROOTS? FOR HOW LONG WAS SHE IN THE TOILET? [Merlee:in the basement, the milk roots are my cells, I can not stay….]

156□ huuuuuuu okey [merlee: and...but if….look….what's…..wrong….I do not…..think or…..anything….in]

157□ carry what? [Merlee: yes….I cannot…..carry it...it started…...when…...there…..where many…..an….incrediblespace…..]

158□ that's certainly a name [area name:Kav merlee]

159□ certainly that's one hell of a flirt, little bee [fake merlee:i know that soon we see each other, little bee! He will do it! ♡]

160■ 1 for who? 2 gold? Wait does she own like a gold mine? If you have slaves and gold of course there's slaves mining gold somewhere [fake merlee:for him, pure gold is a pure movement of gold, and I want to mention it]

161□ if you don't want to make a deal, give up [fake merlee:so, if you are sad, signed this line here and hieghek, free and clear] [1: signature / 2:give up]

162■ okay so, the deal they're doing seems to be a house dealership, sure, it's far from darkness, wich I think means it's outside the range of the black hole evilmabop thingy, and has a big room, seems like a good deal [fake merlee:order a loan and a boom! Free donation! Far from darkness! Enhanced mega room]

163□ why is she giving us a recipe? [Fake merlee:you work hard, breadward, corn and bacon]

164□ last argument?, rejection! [Fake merlee:and how it works; your last argument! See now] [1:signature/ 2:rejection]

165□ yeah this merlee is false [merlee:good choice, good….. this is false…]

166□ I leave [merlee:do not listen to us! I leave!]

167□ uhhhh okey? [Mimi:look here! The girl tought she was a scandal merlee]

168□ what lawyer? Also who is "he" [mimi: he is a faithful clerk in count bleck, a helpful lawyer] {is count bleck the lawyer?}

169□ I don't think maria wants to make it ugly, I don't even know what "it" is [mimi:oh, you want to make it ugly right? That's good or ugly]

170■ once again, tippi just wants to leave, she does not want to be in this adventure [tippi: IM GOING!]

171■ protect my fence? IS JEFF HERE? [Merlee: please be careful! Protect your fence, completely everywhere]

172□ I think tippi may have brain damage, 1st she recently realized how money works, and now weighting only realized that mimi is gonna attack moments before the attack [tippi:they attack? Uh……...what are we doing?]

173□ mario has a million rights, and merlee wants them [merlee:I had to flee...come on with my rights, I hide, see and see]

174■ oh, I don't know what's a cornea but merlee can conquer it [merlee:if you know, I can hurt and conquer the cornea! Hurry, fast, late!]

175□ not enough graphics! [Bathroom writing: stop writing graphics! Stop, not enough!]

176■ so she has control on the fate of the day? But only in the morning [Merlee:in the morning, it's my game, control the fate of the day….]

177□ your grandmother is terrible and "i" what? [Merlee:my mother's mum is terrible and i]

178□ yes mimi is horrible [merlee: but now you are here: live! This growth is changing today! Soon, mimi was horrible….]

179□ uh okey [merlee: do not compare me like me! Everyone knows that you are mimi! ]

180□ war! [Merlee: come on, man! War! We can come back!]

181□ merlee 2 just blocked merlee 1 on Twitter, [merlee2:what are you talking about? You bastard! And block!]

182□ do not get disappointed [merlee2: do not be disappointed! Get it now! Now! War!]

183□ the worst person is possible [merlee1:she speaks to us well, we have true beauty…..and the worst person is possible]

184□ who is the manufacturer of swimming pools? [Merlee1:however! What is the manufacturer of swimming pools? You are very good!]

185□ lost in the ear? What? [Merlee2: i come, it's delicious! You are lost in the ears! I worry that breathing is very commendable]

186□ that's certainly an Insult [merlee1:COWS!]

187□ snake? What snake? Bolivia? [Merlee2:and they answered that they too…..what are you doing? We know that the snake!]

188□ I dont know, how do I live [quiz bot:third anniversary - 66….. "here's the merlee program!", how do you live]

189■ oh! If marco is Marc, so Mar is making the questions! That's neat [quiz bot:should we have to move? Marcus summarizes two questions!]

190□ insects making pants? Okey that's an unusual work force [quiz bot:oh, but not all, pants, from perhaps, insects and SAS, choose us out!]

191□ every single one of these questions are funny [1:when Is your anniversary / 2:what is the best food / 3:what is your type / 4:what I the best animal / 5:what is the best fragrance / 6:what are you entering / 7: what else do you want / 8: what is your Nickname/ 9: what to wash first / 10: what is your best function]

192■ oh, hot and cold succes? Okey so she succeeded on 2 temperatures in 2 floors [merlee2: I started with a hot and cold succes on 2 floors0

193□ absolutely no carrots [quiz bot:no, carrots, verria]

194■ quiz bot said no carrots, also merlee is a Gardner [merlee1:my ears, my work with work has been coordinated for years]

195□ wait wait wait, what's that about last race? [Merlee1:crystal specialist, the last race! Hard to see him]

196■ oh, merlee 2 aka mimi is lesbian [merlee2:I want a girl, thanks! I want you to shake!]

197□ depression? WHEN? [quizbot: now! time for the last question, mankind! Depression? When?]

198□ oh, what [quizbot: this problem can cause more trauma for the children!]

199□ operation? As in the board game or do you want to do surgery? [Fake merlee:and now, if I doubt , it's really a shame! Get ready for operation!]

200□ rah rah Rasputin America's greatest uwu bean [merlee: rah! Rah! Chi Bing trial! Release your password! But what if?…..]

201□ explain what? [Mimi:bleck failed to explain!]

202■ rah rah Rasputin 2 electric Boogaloo, the horny'ing [merlee:rah! Rah! Huss-pa you! Now you can beat me, baby! This is normal]

203□ nonononononono please no [mimi:EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEETSS! I was completely naked! How do you know?]

204□ what are frozen? The farmers? [Merlee?:did you know that are frozen for 1500 years! Farmers can wait]

205□ what? [Merlee:light inasomewa, do not you? ]

206□ why did you need to specify that your grandfather isn't a clean heart? Or are you just saying he's evil [merlee:my grandfather was not a clean heart and spicy….]

207□ heart disease [merlee:there is another prophecy,heart disease can only be a heart disease]

208□ we are desperate and wise for death [merlee:here we are in a desperate, choihubiri wise to death]

209□ she does not want maria in here [merlee:no! Get off here! Here are the heroes! Clean the heart!]

210■ blek console? Is blek a video game console manufacturer? Also he made a trap for mimi? [Narrator: the blek console has created an unpleasant trap for mime, Mary and her friends]

211□ now the real adventure can finally begin [narrarator:mario, who still has 5 clean heart, knew this adventure had begun]

212■ who the hell is June fiberglass? Is it the dust hole? [Earl blek:June fiberglass…..ancestor of an ancient tribe…..his power grows]

213■ okey they're running an illegal whale selling operation, NOW we know they're evil [o'kunks:i wonder, look at the Beauty of the whales I this wonderful package!]

214□ how do you stretch a mustache? YOU DONT EVEN HAVE A MUSTACHE [o'kunks:I'll stretch my mustache, wich is worse for me, I will do it]

215□ I'm confused? What [o'kunks:deley of the collar! And take the girl! It has 1000 pages!]

216□ that's an N-word, like the guy censored it but still [earl blek:no! Come on N_ _ _ _, greve blel]

217□ rainy picnic, they just oversimplified the sentence [Dimension:then suddenly, a rainy picnic!]

218□ whats a chord? [???:green chord?]

219□ yeah it is bad [lewis:yes…..OK this is bad, even if it is bad]

220□ it's fun to see you, thats one way to say it [goomba:it's fun to see you! (I think…..seems to be better than anyone)]

221□ very rude, also web browser pog, I'm tired [lewis:so yes very annoying…….I'm looking for princess and web browser]

222□ download in mouth, thats nice I guess [goomba:I hope both are good, (download it in your mouth! Who cares about your friends!?)]

223□ atleast these goombas are educated [goomba:almost well known assistants, many are educated]

224□ it's lewis not lugi [goomba: home… wow, this unexpectedly, all the stories of the extraordinary work Lugi….]

225□ defenseless defenders, so body shields? Is luaigi {I messed up but I keeping it in} a human shield? [Goomna:we hear you are defenseless defenders! We all do!]

226■ done what? An scape? Actually yeah makes sense, he has never scaped an evil dungeon [lewis:then I have no choice! Luigi hasn't done it yet! I need my fans!]

227□ very simple [goomba:oh, you're the BEST! (Personally very simple, what a fool!)]

228□ is this fucken Garfield? Also March is the worst month confirmed [goomba:were right after you! (Monday, March is bad, we're still the same) ]

229□ 100-army-army? What does that mean? [Goomba:great luigi is a 100-army-army! (Its better than anything) ]

230□ the first one trips! Also thanks captain obvious we know it's open [goomba: hello! This door opens! You're going! (The first trips!) ]

231□ this goomba is having a stroke, don't just stand there [goomba:we are lucky to have a bad person like you! (I ……..stroke…….i) ]

232□ once again, what are we doing? [Lewis: that boi….. looks like you're right, what are we doing?]

WELL THEN I GUESS 398 NOTES WOULD REACH THE TEXT CAP BEFORE THE END OF THE FIRST SECTION WOULDN'T IT?

#funny #paper mario #book of mario #mario #bolivia #mary #barbie the bob omb #1000 infernal air sleeves #lore #part one #not even finished the first segment

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