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chocochipsushi · 7 months

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𝑮𝒐𝒏𝒏𝒂 𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒌 𝒔𝒐 𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒚, 𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒄𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒆𝒅 𝒊𝒏 𝑼𝒏𝒄𝒍𝒆 𝑻𝒐𝒋𝒊’𝒔 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆

NSFW! minors do not interact! 18+ only!

🌸Word count: 5.3K

🌸AU: Toji as your father’s best friend, consoling you with his cock after a fight with your dad

🌸CW: cockwarming, toji calling reader all sorts of pretty names, fucking while reader's dad is around, unprotected sex, fluff

🌸A/N: Hello... I am here to clarify some things. I found out recently that I got a pretty established and amazing fanartist on Twitter into a situation where they received backlash for recreating one of my Uncle Toji scenes. I felt so bad because antis were giving the artist shit for something I wrote. So I am here to let all of you know that:

1) reader's age was never specifically spelled out bc I wanted everyone to be able to relate to the reader's age and not be restrained by a number in the story. If I knew that there was a rule where we had to indicate ages of every character in stories, I would have done so... Anyway, if I were to be asked what the OC's age was, I would say she is within the age range of 26-28yo.

2) It will be clear in the last chapter as I tried to give a short back story (before I even saw those mean tweets) but I will let you all know now - Toji was out of the reader's life from age 9 to 24, reader's dad had her at 21, and Toji is a few years younger than the dad. So the math is that the age gap between Toji and the reader is ~18 years.

3) Reader hardly calls Toji by his name because she feels awkward doing that since she's always known him as Uncle Toji. but if you notice, she has been getting braver through the chapters. And she calls him 'Uncle Toji' during sex most of the time coz they like to roleplay??

Anyway, I am only explaining bc I really do not wish to hurt anyone, and I hope the fanartist know that the hate should be directed at me, not at them.

Next chapter will be the last. thank you all for supporting my Uncle Toji series.

<< Part 1 🔞, Part 2 🔞, Part 3 🔞 || Epilogue 🔞 >>

I am surprised when Toji’s hand on the small of my back gently guides me to the side, away from guests trying to lure us into their conversations. I look up at him in confusion and worry, only to be met with a concerned look on his face.

He dips his head so that I can hear him when he murmurs, “You alright, baby? Wanna go home?”

Oh.

I’d had a fight with my dad before coming to the gala dinner. Toji was caught in the crossfire when he came to pick me up. I was initially supposed to meet him at the dinner with my parents, where I would be handed over to Toji since each guest could only bring a Plus One. However, once my dad and I started raising our voices at each other, my mother called Toji right away and got him to come over to take me.

I was glad for it, and I’m sure my parents were, too. I haven’t been in the best of moods since then and Toji knows me way too well to have me engage in any conversation. I am still a good guest in the way I politely respond to questions asked, yet at the same time cutting the conversation short. But Toji understands that I am being civil only for the sake of it.

I give Toji a small smile and shake my head. “No, I’m fine.”

He observes me for a few seconds. Finally, he rubs his thumb on my back and nods. “Okay. But I’ll bring you home early. Let me just talk to Dr. Hung.”

I have no objection to that, so Toji slides his engulfing hand down to take hold of mine and starts walking towards Dr. Hung. I try to listen politely and take mental notes of their conversation, since I am also here to make connections that might benefit my father’s company when I eventually take over. Toji, being my father’s best friend and longest business partner, knows of this and even tries to bring up our company’s name.

By the time they were done talking business, I had Dr. Hung’s name card and a promise to have a business lunch, all thanks to Toji. And finally, when it is just us again, Toji rests a comforting hand on my back and leans down so that his lips are by my ear.

“Let’s bring you home now, shall we?”

I look up and nod my head, to which he returns a nod at. Before we leave, however, Toji looks around to locate my parents, who are engaged in a conversation with a few other notable people in the industry. Not wanting to interrupt them, Toji guides me straight out of the ballroom and walks me to his car where his driver is already waiting.

“Careful,” he murmurs with his big palm resting on top of my head as I get into the car.

He gets his driver to bring me back and only when he has walked me back to my room, I face him and hold onto his calloused hand with both of mine.

“Stay for a bit, Toji?”

He stares at me for a long moment, not saying anything. I know that he is debating whether he should, since my parents might come home and see him here. But I give him a small pout that I know he can never resist, and he eventually squeezes my fingers — his non-verbal way of saying yes.

When I let go of his hand, Toji undoes the knot on his tie, ready to get comfortable. By the time I am out of the shower, I find Toji already laying on my bed, tie off and blazer-less. He has the top few buttons of his shirt undone, his arm resting behind his head widening the plackets of his top and allowing me to see more skin. He is on his phone, probably going through some soccer news.

Cuddling up to him seems so inviting that I rush through my nightly routine just to jump into bed with him. Toji fully expects it, having experienced this too many times for him not to be ready for it. He spreads his arm out just in time for me to burrow into his side.

“Ugh, what a terrible day,” I groan into his armpit.

Toji pats my crown and rests his palm on the swell of my hips. “Your dad only means well, you know that, baby.”

I lift myself up on my elbow, my hand on his chest to keep me steady, as I glare at him. Toji returns a levelled gaze. “He thinks that I’m not focused and that I am not trying hard enough to learn about taking over the company!”

Toji locks his phone and puts it aside just so he can give me more attention. But when I hear his response, I suddenly wish he didn’t give me any at all, or that I even asked him to stay.

“Well, do you think you really have been giving your all in the handover?” I simply gape at him, in disbelief that he would say something like that. Toji taps my hip. “Look at it this way, Princess, from your father’s point of view. You complain when you have business meetings, when they are actually good for your business. You hate the small talk and show an attitude, which I can’t say gives off a good impression. You hang back and passively stand there and look pretty at the networking events your father brings you to, that are really for you to broaden your connections.”

Toji could probably see the look of incredulity and betrayal on my face, because he sighs and strokes my chin with his free hand. Being the petty me that I am, I turn my head away with a pout.

“You know that I am always fair and logical, Princess. I’m not just taking your dad’s side because he is my best friend,” Toji murmurs.

I stay quiet, trying to rationalise his explanation. But the longer I do, the more heated I get. So, instead of answering him, I get up, tear the sheets off my bed to get under it, and reach out to turn the lights off, plunging us into darkness. I lie on my side, facing away from Toji even though he can’t see me in the darkness anyway. He doesn’t move or say anything for a while but a few seconds later, I hear movement and in the next few seconds, the nightlight next to my bed turns on. I feel Toji getting under the blanket behind me where he rests his heavy hand on my hip. He comes closer until his lips are hovering over my ear.

“Although…” he murmurs huskily, quietly. “Of course I will be there to help you. How can Uncle Toji leave his baby girl to be eaten by the wolves?” While my heart flutters at his words, I make sure not to react. Toji rubs his rough palm up and down the side of thigh now. “Together, we’ll dominate the playing field. I’ll guide and bring success to you.”

I know that he always keeps his promises and he never promises anything he can’t do. But I still won’t respond, so Toji nudges my earlobe with his lips. I can feel the scruff on his chin that is already growing.

“It’s all for your own good, Princess. Your dad just doesn’t want you to fail. Neither do I.”

I turn my head slightly and grumble, “I thought you said you’d help me succeed.”

The tip of Toji’s nose now brushes my cheek. He rubs my side gently, at the same time causing my night dress to ride up. “Oh, that’s not negotiable, baby. Of course I will. But you’ve got to try and make it out on your own too.”

“But I am trying,” I whine, now twisting my body a little more so that I am facing him.

He is staring down at me with the softest gaze — one that he only reserves for me. “Of course you are,” Toji almost coos. This only makes me pout instinctively. He leans down to press his scarred lips to mine. “But try harder.”

Immediately, I pull away with a loud whine and slap his broad shoulder. Toji’s chuckle is low and husky, so warm and familiar that I am already melting before he kisses me again. This time, he nips on my bottom lip, his palm on my hip now moving in sensual strokes. Little moans and mewls escape me as some sort of resistance, not wanting to be played into his hands like that. But we both know that I am enjoying this, especially when I clench my fist on the material of his shirt, pulling him closer. Toji hooks his fingers under the hem of my night dress and drags them up along my thigh, pulling my dress up.

He is toying with the band of my panties when he breaks the kiss and murmurs against my lips, “Still mad at Uncle Toji?” My teeth pull on my bottom lip as I nod my head. The corners of Toji’s lips turn down. “Can’t have that now, can we?” he hums before burying his face into my nape. He trails the faintest of kisses along my neck, his fingers now tugging and flicking at the thin elastic of my underwear. “You’re not tired, are you, baby? I don’t think you’ll be getting any sleep yet.”

And with that, Toji lifts himself up on his elbow as he pulls my g-string down as far as he can. He kisses me on the shoulder just as he hovers his hand over my crotch, the tip of his finger drawing shapes on my sensitive skin, making my hair stand on ends. I hold my breath as he gets closer to my clit, dipping his finger between my thighs so that the length of his digit rubs on my pussy lips.

I can feel his erection growing hard against my ass, especially when he starts thrusting his hips slowly in tandem with the rhythm of his finger sliding between my labia. The tip of his finger teases my entrance. Pushing just an inch of his digit into my hole, he slides out and spreads my slick along my lips. I swallow and turn my head so that I could at least see him a little. Almost at once, Toji leans in to kiss the corner of my lips.

His lips are still on me when he mumbles, “You’re so cute when you act like you’re mad at me.”

I let out a whine and reach out to thump my fist on his shoulder. Toji merely chuckles against my lips. He gives me one last kiss and pulls away, now moving to lay on his back. I turn my head to take a look at what he’s doing and see that he is undoing his pants. Knowing that he is actually going to finish what he started, I return to face the front.

His strong arm snakes around my waist again and this time, I can feel his member poking my ass, excited and hard. The expensive material of his pants brush against the back of my thigh, adjusting my position so that my legs are scissored. Scooching closer to me, Toji holds his cock in his hand just for him to rub it against my flaps. I bite my bottom lip in an effort to try not to stick my ass out. But it is useless because my hips start to move and grind against his cockhead, allowing him to spread his precum and my wetness along my slit.

Toji wraps his arm across my chest and brings me inevitably closer so that his lips are pressing against my ear. As he continues to thrust his hips, letting the length of his cock slide along my pussy lips, he lets out the sexiest grunts and the lowest of moans. At this point, I just want him to put it in me already. And he knows, because I arch my back to the point I am pressing my ass against his hips.

Reaching his hand down, Toji tactically spreads my cheeks apart and positions his cockhead at the entrance of my wet pussy. Thrusting his hips forward, he stretches out my hole, making me whine and moan in pain and pleasure. Once he has his tip in, he returns to hugging me tight against his body. Toji’s nose is at the back of my ear, his lips on my earlobe. I can hear his shaky breathing as he enters me deeper.

“Fuck…” he groans quietly. “You feel so good, baby.”

Toji is slow as he sheathes himself inside of me, trying to savour the moment he first slides into me. Only when he is balls deep inside of me, he pauses and groans into my ear while he enjoys the pulsing, warm cocksleeve around his meat. My jaw goes slack when he finally pulls out several seconds later, only to thrust back into me again. His strokes start out slow before building up to a passionate rhythm of fucking.

Toji growls into my ear and I just know that he isn’t going to last very long tonight. Especially when he brings his hand to wrap around my throat, his thick fingers lightly gripping the sides of my neck. My pussy is getting wetter. The sounds of Toji’s hips slamming against my ass and the squelching of my sopping pussy are almost too loud in my quiet room. It doesn’t help that Toji releases the chokehold around my neck, only to bring his hand down to my clit, his fingers already rubbing the nub in circles.

“Ah, Daddy…” I mewl breathily, my body already trembling at his ministrations.

Toji grunts. “God. You’re so tight and warm around me, Princess.” He lets out a long groan. “Daddy’s going to cum.”

By the sound of his irregular breathing, I just know that he is so close. Just a few more thrusts and he is going to explode inside of me.

Which is why I have to be the one to stop him with my hand against his hips, giving him a squeeze in warning, when I hear the door creaking open. My heart is racing with fear and anxiety. Toji curses under his breath but immediately ceases his movements. He tries very hard to regulate his breathing quietly. He taps my thigh and I just know what he wants me to do. I shut my eyes and pretend to sleep.

Someone takes a few steps into the room. Toji twists his body so that he appears to be lying on his back. I hear him groan, like how a tired person would.

“Oh, you’re with her.”

I really hope the thumping of my heart against my chest is not as loud as it sounds like to me. Because my father is here, speaking quietly to Toji.

“We had a little talk before she fell asleep,” Toji mumbles. I am impressed that he doesn’t sound at all out of breath.

My father lets out a loud sigh. Instinctively, my entire body clenches with anxiety, even down to my pussy walls squeezing Toji’s swollen cock. Toji chokes on a grunt and reactively moves his hand that is under the blanket to squeeze my arm lightly in warning.

“Yeah, I might have been too harsh on her,” my father reflects. He sounds a little regretful.

Toji clears his throat. He knows that I am listening and will very well treat him according to his reply. He pauses for a second before saying, “Good you know that. She really is trying, you know. She’s a good girl.”

As a reward for Toji sticking up for me, I pretend to shift in my sleep so that I press my ass against his hips, fully taking in his cock. Toji lets out a short hiss, which he covers up by clearing his throat.

“She can be a brat,” he comments, making sure that I hear the edge in his tone. The corner of my lip lifts slightly. “But she is a good kid.”

“I know.” My father sighs. “I feel terrible. We never have fights.”

Toji scoffs. “Obviously. You’re a sucker for your daughter.”

I could almost hear my father rolling his eyes. “You’re not one to talk. I’ve never seen you fuss over anyone like you do with her. She can’t even meet boys with the way you’re always hovering around her.”

Toji shifts his leg, at the same time angling his cock and driving his meat deeper inside of me. I bite down on my bottom lip to stop myself from moaning. He is almost growling when he answers, “Boys can’t take care of her.”

“You know, I agree with you. But then who will?”

I wish I had my eyes open to watch the non-verbal interaction between my father and Toji. Because the tension in the air intensifies and my dad almost sounds interrogative now.

“You? You want to take care of my daughter?”

“Just ‘cause she’s a brat and a princess, you think I can’t handle her?” Toji may sound like he is joking but I just know that he is being defensive.

The tension breaks when my father laughs. “Oh, I know for sure you can handle her, Toji. I’m just not confident she can take care of you, ya grumpy old geezer.”

Toji’s body relaxes behind me. He scoffs and says, “Like I need anyone taking care of me.”

“Hmm. True.” A moment of silence passes, putting an end to the short distraction from their original conversation. My father sighs and asks, “Are you staying?” Without waiting for Toji to answer though, he quickly changes his question to an instruction, “Stay the night and talk to her in the morning before breakfast. She listens to you better. Then we’ll go for brunch at Fordeux.”

Toji chuckles under his breath. “Bribing me with a meal at my favourite place, huh?” My father doesn’t answer but I know he must be grinning. Toji flips to the side and pats my hip over the blanket. “Alright. I’ll make sure she’s talking to you again tomorrow.”

“Good ni—”

“But,” Toji stops him in his tracks. My father pauses. “You need to cut her some slack too. Let her do things at her pace.”

It takes a while for my father to respond but when he does, my heart lightens so much that I feel like I might float. “Fine.” I can almost hear him roll his eyes. “Can’t say shit about me when you’re as big of a sucker for her.”

“Shut up, dickhead.”

My father’s laughter is getting further and further until I hear the door open again. The moment it closes behind him and we are back in the silence of my room, I open my eyes. I wait a couple more seconds before turning my head around to face Toji. He turns to look at me. I keep staring at him, not saying anything, probably scaring him because he opens his mouth to say something. Before he could even get a word out though, I reach my arm behind me and grab his neck, pulling him close. Toji’s fingers tighten around my hip when my lips touch his, so possessive and full of yearning that I can only respond in a sensual swirl of my hips.

Hearing him moan into my mouth, I am motivated to give him more. Arching my back to press my ass against his groin, I rock my hips at a steady pace, sliding his cock in and out of my tight hole. Toji kisses me back sloppily, his jaw slack at the pleasure my wet pussy is giving him.

I pull away from his lips, which only makes Toji’s eyes flutter open as he stares at me in a lovestruck daze. It makes me grin. I am usually the one with that expression. Circling my fingers around his wrist, I pull his hand away from my hip and move away from him. His brows draw together for a moment before he realises what I am about to do as I push him back and climb on top of him, straddling his hips.

Toji licks his lips and bites down on the bottom one as he watches me steady myself with a hand on his chest and my hand wrapped around his dick. I lift myself up so that I am hovering over his thick cock. Sliding his cockhead up and down my wet lips, I glance up at him, finding him already in position with his arms behind his head, ready to watch me ride him.

Lowering myself as I rub his mushroom head along my slit, the wet smacking of my pussy lips becomes louder and almost more elaborate. Toji’s teeth are tugging on his bottom lip and I can just tell that his restraint is almost breaking at my teasing. He is probably just two seconds away from flipping us around and completely obliterating me when I finally sink down on his dick, slowly letting his wide girth stretch me out.

Toji’s hip spasms at the immense pleasure my sopping cunt is giving him and his face contorts into one of agony and bliss, all at the same time. Placing both hands on his chest now, I hold myself stable as I continue taking in his cock, all the way down until he is balls deep inside of me. I let out the breath I had been holding in and lift my head to find Toji with his eyes barely open. He always enjoys the first time his cock slides into my pussy.

As I slide my palm up his smooth chest, I tease, “You alright there, Uncle Toji?”

It takes him a few seconds but Toji finally blinks the haze away. He is already glaring at me. Taking a hand away from the back of his head, his palm meets my ass with a resounding smack. “What’s gotten into you, huh? Thought you were mad at Uncle Toji?”

As I lean forward with a grin, I lift my ass so that his cock slides out of my tight snatch. “How could I stay mad at you?” Toji flickers his eyes down to my lips, looking so mesmerised by the way my bottom lip is caught between my teeth. “You stood up for me.”

Toji’s hand cups my chin and pulls me closer. “If I don’t, who will?”

My heart flutters at his words, sending a ripple down south that massages his meat. Toji’s warm breath hits my lips in a soft moan before taking my mouth in his. He kisses me deep and slow. Readjusting my hands to hold myself up on the bed beside him, I slowly start to move again, sliding my wet cunt up and down his hard dick. He could still kiss me until I started going faster, slapping my ass down to meet the base of his cock each time. Letting out a low, deep moan, Toji breaks the kiss and tilts his head up slightly, trying to get more air into his lungs.

I stop for a moment, only to change my position so that I have my palms flat on my headboard, completely hovering above him now. I move my hips again, fast and powerful that I have the bed rocking slightly, my tits swinging in Toji’s face, my perked nipples just grazing his stubble and his sharp nose. The man below me lets rip a growl and grabs a handful of my breast, latching his mouth on my tit. I throw my head back at the sensation of his tongue flicking over my stiff bud. My pussy is only getting wetter, making me glide up and down his thick cock easily.

Toji’s other hand slides down to my body, finding my ass. I mewl when he slaps my mound before giving it a squeeze, his grunts only letting me know that he enjoys my reaction. I know that Toji is enjoying this, but he always wants to finish with him on top. And I am slowly losing my strength as I start to slow down. He gives me one last slap and squeeze to my ass before unlatching from my breast. With his hands on my hips, he stops me from moving, holding me up with his hands now cupping my ass.

“Oh, fuck, Daddy…” I whine when he starts rutting his hips, impaling me over and over with his thick meat.

“Mm…” he groans. “Baby.” He cannot stop himself from giving my flesh another squeeze. “Princess.” At that petname, I fall forward and melt into his chest completely, letting him hold me up with pure brute strength. Toji’s grunt in my ear is low and guttural. “My pretty girl,” he moans. My cunt grips tighter around his cock. He knows what this does to me.

Sliding a hand up to my head, he pushes my hair away from my face so that I can feel his warm murmur on my cheek when he says, “My darling little kitten.” I shut my eyes and let out a mewl. “Daddy made you so wet, pretty baby.” Toji squeezes a handful of my ass. “Gonna cum for Daddy, sweetheart?” I can only whine and nod my head dumbly. stops with his cock entirely sheathed inside of me and circles his hips, enjoying the sticky sound of our juices mixing together. He groans at my pussy pulsing around him.

He tilts his head so that his cheek is resting on my temple and murmurs, “Daddy’s going to cum, baby doll. And I’m going to ruin your pretty little body when I do.” I can only mewl in response, my walls fluttering around his sheathed cock. My head is buzzing from my unexpected orgasm, my body already reacting involuntarily at his words. Toji nudges my temple as he moves to whisper in my ear, still gyrating his hips with his cock inside of me, “My cum all over your stomach and your tits, baby. Gonna look so pretty, all covered in Uncle Toji’s love.”

I gasp when he flips us around suddenly, his dick slipping out of me at the movement. I am lying on the bed staring up at him now. He cages me under his big, strong build, his eyes dark and lustful as he watches me. Licking his fingers, he reaches between us and gives my sopping wet pussy a slap, causing me to jerk in surprise. A corner of his lip pulls up. He does this again, and this time I whine.

Toji takes hold of his cock now, positioning it at the entrance of my parted pussy. He lets out a deep exhale as he slides into me again. I like being in this position where I am able to watch Toji’s expression as he fucks me. His eyebrows would be furrowed, his dark, green eyes would be piercing mine, the ends of his hair just slightly wet from the physical exertion. I smile and reach up to give him a peck on his lips.

It is meant to be a sweet gesture, but Toji lets out a low growl. He drops his head to kiss me hard while he speeds up his pace. I move in tandem with his fucking, meeting the base of his cock with every hip thrust. I make a conscious effort to squeeze my walls, my pussy gripping so tightly onto his cock that Toji quickly pulls out like he has been burnt, just to keep stroking his meat furiously. He cums on me like he said he would, the white liquid painting my stomach with some droplets staining my night dress.

He takes a while to recover from his heaving but when he does, he gets up slowly and starts unbuttoning his shirt. He keeps his eyes entirely on me the whole time he strips from his clothes. The moment he is done, he scoops me up carefully and walks me to the bathroom where he brings me to the shower stall with him once he takes the dress off me.

“I’m going to do something stupid tomorrow,” Toji suddenly announces in the middle of our clean-up.

My heart stops for a second. I look up at him shampooing his hair. “What?” When he only stares at me, not saying anything, I laugh and joke, “Gonna have another cheat day and eat all the carbs you want?”

Toji rolls his eyes. “Everyday is a cheat day when your girlfriend always leaves you with her unfinished food.”

I click my tongue and reach out to land a wet slap on his bicep. He grins at me and closes his eyes to wash out the shampoo on his hair. Finishing up my rinse, I get out of the shower before him and dry myself. I have to change into a new set of nightwear and when I am dressed, I snuggle back into bed, waiting for Toji.

He takes a while so I try to stay up. But when I hear the hairdryer going off, I decide that I can always spend time with him in the morning before the brunch, since he is staying over.

I am already half-asleep when Toji finally crawls into bed and cuddles me, bringing me closer to him. I wonder if I had been dreaming when he murmured in my ear, “I’m going to talk to your dad about us, baby.”

At brunch the next day, I am sat next to Toji, both of us across the table from my parents. He takes care of me the entire time like he always does, even going to the extent of cutting up my waffles for me while he talks to my father.

“You’re spoiling her, Toji,” my dad finally comments as he watches his best friend cutting up my food for me. “She’s not a baby, you know.”

My father glances at me but I merely shrug at him and grin up at Toji. “I like being spoiled.”

“Of course you do,” my father quips.

Toji makes one last cut of my waffle and sets the cutlery down. I thank him and start eating. As he reaches out to have a sip of his wine, he leans back in his chair comfortably to address my father.

“Do you think it’s weird that I spoil her?”

My dad laughs as he reaches for his wine glass too. “Not weird. But definitely bad.”

But Toji is serious as he continues, “Then do you think it’s weird if I say I want to take care of her?”

My father pauses for a moment. He looks at me looking lost and uncomfortable at where this conversation is headed, then glances at his similarly confused wife, and finally back at Toji.

“No… You’ve always been taking care of her even when she was younger.”

“I mean as a man.”

The man across him frowns and leans forward to put his wine down. “You mean… like…” My father is at a loss for words.

Even I am, too. All of us are just gaping stupidly at Toji now, waiting for some sort of explanation, or even him laughing to tell us he is joking. But he only clears his throat and sits with his elbows on his arm rests, his hands resting on his torso with his fingers interlocked.

“Like I want to commit my life to her.”

<< Part 1 🔞, Part 2 🔞, Part 3 🔞 || Epilogue 🔞 >>

#toji fushiguro #toji #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jujutsu kaisen x reader #toji x reader #toji x you #jjk x oc #jujutsu kaisen fic #fushiguro toji #toji x reader smut #smut #jjk smut #toji x y/n #toji x oc #jjk toji #toji smut #uncle toji

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iovevrse · 3 months

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broken clocks, p. bueckers pt. 1

pairings: paige bueckers x fem reader

synopsis: when you met paige, you thought the two of you would have one of those cheesy high school love stories that lasted for years. you were wrong.

cw: timeskip from hopkins p to uconn p, a little bit sad, 2?? part seriess

Chemistry had to be one of the most pointless subjects you’d ever have to endure. It especially didn’t help that you were a senior in chemistry. Because of some silly counselors never getting the bright idea to put you in the class your sophomore year you were stuck for 45 minutes every other day in chemistry. It wasn’t just you, though. Two other people had gotten just as unlucky as you, Mia Thompson and Paige Bueckers. Despite four years of going to the same school as Mia, you’d never really talked to her, and as for Paige, she seemed all too unapproachable. You’d noticed over the years at Hopkins it was rare to see her hang out with anyone who was not one of her teammates. Her unapproachability wasn’t just because she was an athlete. She was more than one of those high school athletes that wasn’t going anywhere. She was the number one player in the country. You’d probably only spoken to her once or twice over the years. Chem class didn’t change that.

Today wasn’t any different. You’d gone through your regular schedule and dreaded being in chemistry as always. Your teacher had spent a good 20 minutes rambling about something you didn’t bother to pay attention to. Before you knew it, you were standing up, looking for a partner for an assignment you had no clue about. You’d stood there for about 2 minutes and watched the underclassman pairs form until you felt a tap on your shoulder. When your head had whipped around, you were met with a soft smile and a tall, blue-eyed girl with a blonde ponytail. Surprisingly, it was Paige. “Hi,” you said, confusion written all over your face as you awkwardly looked at the girl. “Hey, do you need a partner for the assignment,” asked Paige shyly. Her shyness and the light pink blush on her face had confused you. From what you’d seen, she was outgoing and extroverted.

Nonetheless, you agreed and asked her to explain the assignment to you. You sighed when she told you there was math involved since you hated math, but luckily, Paige claimed she was good at it. For the remaining 20 minutes of class, you’d worked on the, in your opinion, pointless assignment, and you’d learned a lot about Paige. She was funny, sweet, and smart, which contrasted everything you’d assumed she’d be. As you packed up a few minutes before the bell rang, Paige turned around and spoke again. “Not to be weird or whatever, but do you wanna come to my game tonight?” asked the blonde, licking her lips and biting them nervously. She stood there patiently waiting for your response. “Sure, I’ll come,” you responded, smiling a little, and you could tell Paige’s nervousness blew over when you agreed.

That night, Hopkins won, and Paige invited you to get pizza with her afterward. You both drove separately and met each other in the parking lot. You talked for an hour about random things, simply getting to know each other. You learned about her family and how boring she thought meat lovers' pizza was. Soon enough, the conversation shifted to college. Paige told you about how she was thinking of going to Minnesota to play basketball, and you listened to her ramble about the offers she'd gotten. Even though time was running out, you hated the topic of college. You had no clue where you wanted to go or who you wanted to be. You didn’t even know if you could live on your own away from your parents without going insane. You thought getting accepted and rejected by certain schools would make it easier, but it didn’t.

Your final months of high school had been the worst months you’d ever experienced. You and Paige had gotten extremely close. Close meaning, she was your first time. The two of you weren’t open about your feelings for each other, but it wasn’t necessarily a secret either. Everyone that was close to you knew that you were seeing each other. You guys were practically attached at the hip until it just stopped. If anyone had asked, you’d say it wasn’t your fault. Paige was the one who decided to stop talking to you without a reason or explanation. You didn’t even get a text. Regardless, you pushed through and committed to the University of Connecticut. A week after you committed, Paige announced that she’d also be committing to UConn and playing basketball for the women’s team. You were forced to hear about it all up until graduation.

#paige bueckers x reader #paige bueckers #uconn wbb #uconn women’s basketball #iovevrse🌿

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flwrshee · 9 months

Text

✉️ TUTOR

duo ﹒ heeseung x fmr genre fluff and slightly suggestive wc 1,4k warnings nicknames , kissing , cursing ( tune in while reading )

clicking your pen, you stare at heeseung’s hands gripping on the pencil as he writes down the answer to a hard equation.

if you had told yourself that you would be helping the lee heeseung with his chemistry and maths homework every wednesday you would have laughed at yourself.

tutoring wasn’t something on your list, ever. even though you considered yourself smart compared to your class, tutoring people didn’t suit you. dealing with people who weren’t up to your level disgusted you.

it happened when your teacher suggested you to heeseung because his grades were not very great. he was the epitome of a classic, cliche frat boy. he always skipped lessons and you often spotted him with bruises or in the middle of hallway fights.

at first you didn’t wanted to accept the offer and thought of multiple ways to kindly decline the offer but seeing your teacher recommended you over and over again to him made you feel bad. the only reason you chose to tutor him was because your teacher would love you more than she hated you. you were such a try hard despite yourself knowing that already.

“you want to be with heeseung so bad.” yunjin says while teasing you for the nth time today, you were sick of it.

“i already told you, i do not like him.” you emphasise the last five words as you turn around ignoring her teasing face.

“who don’t you like park yn?” a voice whispers in your ear.

fuck. lee heeseung.

“none of your business lee, go back to your table” you shoo him away with your hands. “yes miss yn, see you after school!” he says in a high voice while waving his hands and giving you a stupid wink.

a stupid wink. you hated it.

it was right that you accepted your teacher’s offer to work with him, only for your benefit but as time flew by heeseung started becoming close to you. your small smiles and hand waves became long conversations about things that weren’t about the topic you taught him. he slowly started seeping in your life and you didn’t even realise.

“see it’s that simple!” you say to heeseung while finish explaining the question. the maths problem he had found confusing was a piece of cake for you. “ugh why do you find everything easy?” he mumbles under his breath just enough so you can hear the irritated tone in his voice.

“lee, just accept the fact that i'm better than you in every way possible” you tell him with implied arrogance to piss him off even more. "i kind of forgot that your a miss know-it-all thats ready to do anything to make me mad." he utters leaning closely to your face just so you could feel his hot breath surrounding your face.

"what the hell lee, get out of my face." you say while turning around hiding the pink tint entering your cheeks, why does he make you feel this way? your phone beeps making you get of your thoughts, realising that your tutor session with him had ended. finally, you think. no more covering your face from him until another 24 hours.

"class finished! you can now leave my room lee." you tell him while signalling at the entrance of your doorway. "yn," he speaks while making an abrupt pause, "see you soon." while waving his hands and giving you a smug smile. what was he up to now?

to be honest, you couldn’t sleep, no matter how hard you tried. all your attempts from sleeping with a eye mask to listening to music, failed. looking at your bright screen, you read the numbers 1:03. it was one in the morning and your eyes were still as wide as a bat’s.

just as you were about to turn around and try a different technique to make yourself sleep, you hear the rattling sound of your window opening, with a gust of cold wind entering your room. looking at the silhouette trying to get into your room, your defensive mind grabs the lamp by your table as you jump over your bed and hit the person’s head.

ouch.

when they turn around, you see them holding a hand to their head while the other one gives you the middle finger. must have hurt them bad. you can’t see them very clearly, however you can define the neat jawline, unkept hair and distinct fashion tense. why were they in your room? not a kidnapper right?

“look first and then react, park yn” a low voice says as the light in your room switches on as you can see the person in front of you. lee heeseung. “what are you doing h-” before you could finish your sentence his large hand covers your mouth as the other one grabs your waist. he places his hand on his lips while making a shh sound.

“can you not be quiet for a second?” while rolling his eyes, “how can i not when you trespassed into my room lee, i can report you for thi-” he interrupts you again “don’t you understand the meaning of quiet?” while leaving barely any space between your faces. “for gods sake lee, why are you here ?!” you utter with irritation laced in your voice, wanting answers, not him stalling your time.

“well…” he says while looking at you, “i need help with one of my math’s questions, i have a test tomorrow.” his hands still on your waist.

“so your telling me, you came all the way from your house, climbed up to my window, broke into my room just for a maths question?” tilting your head to the side, you ask him not very impressed.

“yes, i did all of that just for a maths question” he shamelessly replies while maintaining the eye contact between the two of you. you didn’t believe him one bit.

“i don’t believe you lee”

“then don’t”

“your not going to convince me?”

“have you always been this stupid?”

goddamn it. this man was getting on your nerves, your ego was getting crushed from each word he spat of his mouth. or were you really that slow? does lee heeseung make everyone feel this way?

“what if i said yes, just fucking tell me” you whisper-scream not wanting to wake up anyone in your house. “she’s so oblivious” a mutter rolls of his tongue just loud enough for him to hear himself.

“did you really think i came all the way for a maths question? you tell me miss-know-it-all.”

“i don’t have an answer”

“fuck it”

all that happened next was a blur to you. your lips and his lips were together, moulded perfectly like they were made for each other. both his hands were on your waist while your hands went automatically to his neck.

heeseung kissed you like it was the end of the world, kissing you so you would remember this for a lifetime. you couldn’t admit to yourself that you genuinely enjoyed it.

breaking it, you catch your breath while staring at his plump lips. “is this was what you wanted to tell me heeseung?”embarrassed to even look and talk to his pretty face.

“heeseung? thats new”

you lightly hit his chest and held you face with your two hands. he takes them away and cups your cheeks with his hands and gently kisses your forehead.

“you finally got it.” while bopping his nose with yours, “after you made out with me, yes i did heeseung”

“you know what, you should call me heeseung often,” he tells you while slightly stroking your hair looking at brown strands glow under the dim light, “ok, hee”

“hee?” he says flustered, the tables had turned, “hee suits you better.” you say while giving him his signature smug smile, now it was his time to be shy.

“so hee, what are we now?”

“do i need to kiss you again to remind you?”

“maybe?”

the kiss was a short as a peck — sadly, but you could hear footsteps approaching you room and a voice calling your name. it was your mum, “yn, are you asleep?”

“yes mum im fine” you hurriedly say while pushing heeseung towards the window indicating him to get out. before leaving your room, he sends you a flying kiss and a cheesy wink.

rushing to your window, you spot him at the bottom while waving his hands for you to see him, “see you tomorrow girlfriend!” you signal him to be quiet while whispering, “me too boyfriend.”

as you watch him leave, you sink into the warm sheets of your bed wondering what happened in the last hour. everything felt too unreal to be true, but it was, and you were glad it was.

it was a dream that came to life.

note 💬 thank you my love @yeokii for proofreading this, this has been in my drafts for way too long and sorry @seongclb for making you wait so long. hoping it turned out well 😁

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wolfiesmoon · 7 months

Text

Chip bag

Itadori x fem!reader

So today on the train ride home me and my classmates were talking about boys...

(This is inspired by real life events in case u couldnt tell lmaooo)

"How did you guys meet?" Your friend asked your classmate sat across from you. You reached into your bag of chips absentmindedly, also curious to hear her story.

"Me and my boyfriend met for the first time at the park. Sometimes I go biking there, you see. He saw me one day and really wanted to ask for my number." She started, your friend and another classmate nodding along. "He ended up getting scared and not doing it, but he waited in the park every day, hoping I would show up again until I did!" your classmates made an "awww" noise at her little story.

"How about yours?" She passed on the question to her friend. "Ohhh, you guys know that summer camp that everyone here goes to?" everyone nodded along again, your chip bag making a crumpling noise as you pulled out another chip.

"I met him there, basically. What about you?" She asked your friend, sat next to you. "Oh, we started talking over social media because we had mutual friends and it kind of evolved from there."

You couldn't really add much to the conversation, considering you have no boyfriend, but if there's one thing you can say...

"Hey, why don't you guys set me up with someone?" You said jokingly, nudging your friend's shoulder. "Hahah, I can do that easily." Your friend smiled back at you.

"But, then again..." you took out another chip, "I kind of want to just, meet someone on my own, I guess. Like you know how in those romantic comedies, they bump into eachother and then it all escalates from there? Like that."

"How often does that actually happen to people, though?" The girl sat across you questioned. You shrugged, smiling to yourself.

The conversation continued, with you listening in, when suddenly-

"Hey, can I have one, please?" You were surprised to hear a guy's voice by your side, looking up from your seat to get a better look at him.

He had salmon colored hair and two strange creases under his wide brown eyes. You immediately got the vibe of "cheerful, approachable guy" from him.

"Ah, oh, sure." You realise you were probably staring at him for a little too long, raising your bag higher so he can take out a few chips. He did so, thanking you and going back to his seat, where two people wearing the same uniform were waiting for him.

Huh, must be his classmates.

Wait, why are you even still looking at him? You quickly look away to find your classmates trying to supress their giggles. "What...?" You ask, slightly confused.

"Hahaha, speaking of romantic comedy encounters..." one of them half-whispered. Oh. Oh.

"Imagine your kids ask you "Hey mom, how did you meet dad?" And then you just say "He asked me for chips one time", hahahah..." another added.

"Hey, we're basically strangers, don't marry us and give us kids in your head." You scolded, crossing your arms. But you couldn't lie, even though you barely exchanged any words, he did have a charm about him. You glanced at him again, thinking about what just happened.

"So, the math professor freaking LOST it." You snapped out of it, putting your focus back on your classmates. Your classmates have already stopped giggling by now, moving on to the next daily topic.

You tried not to keep looking to him, secretly hoping that this might not be your first and final interaction.

"You couldn't ask her for her number, could you?" Nobara crossed her arms, raising an eyebrow at Yuuji's defeated expression.

He simply shook his head no. "This is exactly why you can't get a girlfriend." Nobara huffed, looking out the window.

"Listen, you'll get another chance, you'll meet her again soon enough. I'm only saying this so you won't be all sad and heartbroken on our mission, by the way." Megumi leaned on his palm, sighing.

"Just say you care, you idiot." Nobara also sighed.

"I hope I do meet her again." He said after a bit of silence, glancing back at you as you stood at the train doors, about to exit on your stop.

Hopefully you go on this train every day.

#˗ˏˋ ★ ♡ 「Wolfie’s other works」 ♡ ★ ˎˊ˗#jjk x reader #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #yuji itadori #jjk itadori #itadori x reader #itadori x you #itadori yuuji x reader #itadori yuuji x you #fem reader

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stariikis · 3 months

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𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐰𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐤 | 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐧 | 𝐛𝐨𝐧𝐮𝐬 01

synopsis ; when riki's having a hard time with his school work, you decide to buy him strawberry milk. not knowing that it's the milk flavour (and the colour) he despises most. if you're wondering, yes, this is in the same world as my chaptered fic, 'you in the rain', and is one of the bonus chapters i have planned. you can check out the fic here.

Perhaps your presence, a constant voice peeping up from across the library table, disturbs Riki more than he would dare to admit.

Because the way he briefly glances up at you before groaning and pinching his nose-bridge… it’s probably not a good sign, is it? He frowns in concentration, starting to do his anxious tick you’ve recently noticed is a bad habit of his, clicking and unclicking his 0.5 ballpoint pen. Loudly. And then he twirls the pen over all four of his fingers, confusion evident over all his features.

“I don’t get it,” he huffs, looking mildly annoyed with himself. Opposite of him, you watch as his stare on the Math worksheet threatens to combust it into flames. You should be used to this, after accompanying him here so many times just to watch him get frustrated over the questions he can’t do.

Okay, maybe it’s only been a few days, but it feels like a lifetime of awkwardly sitting around, unable to help him because you can’t be asked to solve for x even if your life depends on it. Perhaps you’re just not cut out to be Nishimura Riki’s study companion. Your eyes trail back up from the worksheet (that looks like utter gibberish to you), and analyse your friend’s face instead.

And then a wave of sadness washes over you. He’s in the advanced Maths class, filling out an advanced Maths worksheet. The fact that he’s able to understand at least half of the foreign language of algebra is already stunning to you. Anything above a C would please you, in fact. But you understand. You understand him with all the hours you spent revising the new vocabulary in English class. You understand with the blood, sweat and tears you poured out over a difficult type of sentence structure you just could not grasp.

It always hurts to be practically terrible at things you’re supposed to be the best at.

“I wish I could help,” you say uneasily, taking another glance at the problem Riki’s stuck at, and wishing you didn’t. It’s a humbling experience, to say the least. “But, um, I can’t even understand what the question is asking for.”

The cogs in Riki’s brain seem to churn for a while, before the fire goes out once more and the light leaves his eyes. “Nope. I really don’t get it.”

You tilt your head at him, trying to exude as much comforting empathy as you can. Apparently the kind look in your eyes must be either terrifying or out-of-character, and Riki just lets his eyes travel around your face in judgement. You’d like to believe it’s the friendly type of judgement and not the, you actually look really stupid kind of judgement.

But it’s Riki, so who knows? He could very well still be lost in his own world of complicated formulas and mental equations, numbers of different universes coming together into his mind like they’re meant to be. That’s at least how it sounds like when Riki talks about Maths.

Wanting to leave him alone to his own thoughts, you pack up your things and head out to the nearby convenience store. Riki doesn’t bat an eyelid, he’s pretty used to you quitting halfway through a study session as well, and he probably needs you out of the way anyway. To solve the biggest mystery of the universe on that piece of paper.

Once you step foot into the store, you make an instant beeline for the chilled drinks section, gracing your eyes with the marvellous selection of flavoured packet drinks and plastic milk bottles. Perhaps Riki would like one of those to drink on while he studies. You always seem to focus better with a sweet drink in one hand and a pen twirling around in the other.

The array of choices stuns you for a moment, though, and with a pang you realise you don’t know Riki’s favourite milk flavour. He’s never mentioned it before. In fact he doesn’t talk much about himself to you. Or, according to Jungwon, to anyone. You’re not sure if he’s closed off on purpose, or he’s just quiet in nature. To you, they’re two very, very different things.

Well, it wouldn’t hurt to buy Riki your favourite flavour, would it? Anyway, it would give you a chance to find out what he really likes, and conversation could possibly start to flow from there. It’s like a mastermind plan, the way you grin mischievously to yourself and snag the cheapest bottle of strawberry milk you see. Because, unfortunately for you, you’re a student. Fashionably broke.

When you get back to the library, Riki stares at you in bewilderment as you walk back to his study corner and proceed to dump a singular plastic bag with two bottles of strawberry milk sitting inside it. Lips pursed together in curiosity (another one of his cute little habits that you can’t help but to notice because they’re literally right in front of your face), Riki leans over and peers into the bag.

He raises his eyebrows, sits back down, and pulls one of his legs over the other.

“How did you know I like pink things?” he whispers, eyes the widest you’ve ever seen them. “And that strawberry milk’s my favourite milk flavour?”

“Really?” You cannot believe, by lucky chance, you’ve actually guessed it right. And you’re matching with him, and you guys can go buy more strawberry milk together in the future… and…

”What’s strawberry milk in Chinese?”

You snap out of your thoughts and watch intently as he unwraps one of the plastic straws and pokes it carefully into his drink.

“草莓牛奶”

“你喜欢，是吗?” (you like it, right?) Riki smiles slightly and takes a sip. For some reason his facial features stiffen for a second and he looks like he’s trying not to make a face.

You chuckle softly at his expression. “是. 哇，你的中文真棒!” (Yes. Wow, your Chinese is so good!)

“因为我在喝…” (because I’m drinking…) He pauses for a while, trying to recall the words. “你最喜欢的草莓牛奶.” (your favourite strawberry milk).

Your cheeks heat up almost immediately and the hot feeling doesn’t fade for a good long while, even as the librarian scolds the both of you for bringing food and drink into the library and as you walk back home alone after Riki claims with an urgent look that he has somewhere to be, dumping his half-full strawberry milk in the trash.

It’s not until a week later you find out from an astonished and very bemused Jungwon that Riki absolutely hates strawberry milk and the colour pink, even though the boy has been gifting you the pinkest of milks every day since that day, claiming he loves it; claiming it’s the most refreshing drink he’s ever tasted.

That afternoon, when you walk back into class after lunch, you see a bottle of banana milk sitting atop your desk, and you can’t help but to laugh to yourself.

if you're not here from 'you in the rain', pleasee go give it a read if you're a taylor fan or when i fly towards you lover! tysm for reading - stariikis ☆

synopsis ; based on the Chinese Drama, 'When I Fly Towards You', in which you, a going-on-high-school English genius named Huang Yuting meets the Mathematics genius of the 10th grade, Nishimura Riki, underneath the rain.

taglist (open)

@laylasmother @seunnimg @natalunae @enwonz @tomomorin

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artificial-transmutations · 8 months

Text

Transformation Letter: Dian

Hello. My name is Dian and I wouldn't mind transforming into anything or anyone. I'm an single 38 bisexual teacher, whom works out twice per week. My students would most likely describe me as the boring brown math teacher with the medium length black hair.

It wouldn't be right to say that today it is your favorite day of the year. To be honest, it's not even clear if you even have a favorite day of the year, at least regarding to your job.

Not anymore, at least. With your 38 years, you are teaching math for over ten years now. Ten years of reiterating the same and same again to your students. It is what people describe one of the biggest boons of teaching math: The subject never changes. While your colleagues have to integrate some new events or discoveries into their lessons every now and then, math never changes.

So, why is today one of the days you look most forward to? Because it's time for curve sketching again. This is both the subject you discovered your passion for math with and the point in the curriculum where you can see clearly which students are able to grasp the concepts of math - and which are too dumb.

Still, calling that one of your highlights sheds a sorry light on your academic career. Becoming a teacher *seemed* like a good idea, but the truth is that the endless repetitions are mind-numbingly dumb. You could have gotten a research job at university, but you decided to become a teacher. Ever since, every day is the same, every week, every year. Everything is on repeat. Teaching, driving home, working out twice a week, like a clockwork, summer holidays, winter holidays, one and the same.

You shake away the thought and sigh before entering your classroom and begin your lesson. You have the feeling you will lose half of your students today, intellectually, but you can hardly feel sorry. Math in school isn't hard. There is no reason for anyone not to get it.

So, you drone on and slowly approach one of the central milestones of the subject.

"And, as h approaches zero, we narrow in to the slope of the curve on that singular value for x. That is what we call a dancing quotient."

You look into the confused faces of your students. What did you just say? No, this is wrong. You try again.

"Sorry. The diffuse quo..." You trail off. Something is not quite right with you. You should know the word for that... thing. You look at the blackboard again. A big line with letters above and below, some arrows and a drawing of some curve. If you are honest, you don't understand fuck about all that. Weren't you supposed to teach math? Where are the numbers? What are letters doing in math.

"Is everything alright, Sir?" one of your students asks. Something else is wrong. When you look at your hand holding the chalk, it is way darker than it is supposed to look.

"Excuse me..." you mumble, surprised how deep your voice sounds. You exit the classroom and head towards the nearest bathroom, almost running.

The world seems wrong, too. It's like you’re looking at it from way too high. When you finally arrive and look at the mirror, you notice that your clothes are tight and constricting. Looking back from the mirror is another man, not the 38 year old math teacher you are used seeing every morning. The face looking back at you is younger, twenty-something. And it is Black, African American heritage, definitely. You can see your medium length black hair receding into your scalp, leaving you with the shortest buzz cut, as your nostrils become wider.

Not just your face changed! Your muscles grow and your shoulders expand, bringing your clothes that are riding high close to the breaking point. They don't break, however, but reform into a simple work uniform, covering your massive black body. At your groin, you can see the ample bulge of your dick and it makes you smile contently. You might not be the smartest, but you sure are both the strongest and best endowed man around here.

You give the mirror one last wipe and begin to clean the toilets with the janitorial equipment in your cart. Being a janitor in school is good work and doesn't require much of an education. That's why you even clean the toilets happily. However, it doesn't really pay well, either, so, recently you have gotten a second job as a bouncer in front of a gay club.

You don't mind the club visitors ogling your body or touching it from time to time, so the combination of both jobs makes for a diverse and eventful life! The strange letter you sent two weeks ago is already well forgotten.

Another one of those Transformation Letters. You, too can send one, over at my riot page!

#TransformationLetter #male transformation #muscle transformation #racial transformation

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agendercrisisx · 1 year

Note

I arrive. But TWIST- Iida thoughts! This man is so gentle in bed, terrified to hurt you because he’s so tall and muscular and his quirk could hurt if used in bed, but one day his AMAB partner asks to experiment, to try something new in bed. Iida agrees and is talked into rough sex and ever since then he has been OBSESSED. Shows up to class after the first time with his shirt wrinkled and the top few buttons undone and while he still has the straight man attitude in class, he can unwind and take all his frustration out at night-

I am obsessed with Iida and Denki. My favs.

The best way to let off steam

Iida x gn!reader (amab)

Characters are aged up, everybody is 18+

Summary: Iida is pent up and you show him a way to let go.

Words: 1,5 k

Iida the class president, the perfect student. Or that's what everybody thinks. He is horny as fuck when he is around you. Always wanting to get his dick wet in your ass or maybe your mouth if he is feeling bossy. The only thing you could maybe complain about is how careful he is. It's like you are made of glass. He's always afraid to hurt you. Scared that the wrong move could make you disappear between his hands. Like water in a desert.

It had been a rough week, between the villain attack and exams, everybody is on edge. Especially Iida he has been trying the whole week to keep the class in order. Make sure nobody steps too far out of line. But with everybody wanting to be the best, control is not the class's strong suit.

You are sitting in your room trying to study for the last exam of the week. Math had never been your specialty, so while you are trying to memorize the numbers and weird algorithms you don't notice Iida walking into your room.

As he sits down and as the bed dips you let out a yelp. He looks at you concerned for a moment but you just brush him off. "You scared me. Everything cool?" He nods slowly, but you have known him long enough to know when he is holding back information.

A single hair strand is out of place in his always perfect hair, you quietly brush it behind his ear, and a small grateful smile plays on his lips. "You know you can tell me anything, right?" He nods again, not letting a word leave his lips. It has you worried. Normally he explains everything in detail, but this silent Iida has you anxious.

You place a hand on his cheek, you move up on your knees so you can plant a kiss on his forehead. A single tear falls down his cheek and his perfect demeanor crumbles. You have never seen him cry before, he is always so perfect. Maybe that's the problem. Everyone has so many expectations for him, but he doesn't get a chance to breathe and let go.

You move around him so you're sitting in his lap. His head is hanging low, and as you try to make him look at you more tears well in his eyes. You hug him tightly not knowing precisely what is gonna help, but right now it's the best you can do.

He takes a deep breath and you wait for the words to come. "It has been a stressful week, and I... I need... a way to... emh... relax?"

A smile is spreading across your face, you have an idea. Maybe a bad idea. But an idea non the less. You kiss his jaw and down his neck. Slowly unbuttoning his shirt as you kiss down his chest. His breathing stills and for a second you're scared you crossed a line.

A breathless groan escapes his lips and that's all you need to continue. You grind your ass against his cock and you can already feel him harden against you. You continue your exploration of his body with kisses. You push him down so he is laying on his back and you can get his shirt open.

You smirk down at his toned body, he is so hot. You bend down to his abs, and teasingly slowly lick the outline of his toned muscles. He takes a hold of your hair, for a second guiding your head. He embarrassedly let go sitting back up.

"What's wrong?" You're confused, for a second you don't understand your boyfriend. He shakes his head and moves farther down the bed. Away from you. "Well, something is wrong!" You're getting annoyed, you talk things through. You are both good at communicating, this new donøt wanna talk Iida is getting on your nerves.

"Tell me at once... please." The last is almost whispered, you just want to talk about it. "I don't wanna hurt you." He mumbles making you grip his face and turn him in your direction.

"Speak up buddy." You're almost yelling, not on purpose, but this conversation is pissing you off. "I DON'T WANNA HURT YOU!" He screams back, taking you by surprise, he never yells. You can see it in his eyes, he needs this. He needs to get it all out, he is pent up. Mentally and physically.

"Continue." You say gently, just wanting him to tell you what's going on. "I'm afraid I'll hurt you accidentally, crush you, or... idk... maybe I'll accidentally use my quirk in bed, cause you feel so fucking good, and I'll fucking kill you." The room goes quiet, thoughts twirling inside your head trying to come up with a good answer.

"Maybe that wouldn't be so bad." You laugh but he is not on board looking at you like you are insane. "You know, it wouldn't be a bad way to go. Killed by fucking my amazing boyfriend. Sounds good to me." He doesn't think you are funny, but you mean it. He would never hurt you even if he tried, he doesn't have to be so afraid.

"So you're telling me to let go." He looks at you awaiting your answer. "Exactly, let go. You know what, can we try something new?" He nods his approval and you pull him up so you're face to face.

"I want you to be rough." You whisper in his ear. He shivers but isn't opposed to the idea. He as always starts carefully, removing your clothes and kissing your most sensitive spots. He runs a hand down your spine gripping your waist tightly and places you on top of his clothed cock. Grinding you down against him, have you moaning and him breathlessly kissing you.

The kiss is sloppy and rough. Tongues in a fight for dominance, not that anybody is in doubt who the top is in your relationship. He grabs your ass and pulls you as close to him as possible. You break the kiss in search of air, groaning as he presses you down against him.

He finds your asshole and something cold is spread against your ass. He is lubing you up before he presses three fingers into your awaiting hole. You moan into his mouth as he fingers your asshole preparing you for his cock.

"That's the best you can do." You say teasingly, but it quickly turns into a moan as he slams his fingers into you. You can feel yourself building towards a climax and as your body tightens ready to spill he pulls his finger back. You whimper at the loss already so lovely spent.

"You come on my cock or you don't come." He whispers into your ear as he turns you so you sit with your back toward his. He presses the tip of his cock into you making you moan loudly. He doesn't move for too long so you slam yourself down on him and he groans just as loudly as you. Breathing heavily in your ear.

He pounds up into you at an inhuman pace, gripping your cock tightly. Keeping you from cumming as he continues his assault on your body. "Is this what you wanted?" He whispers in your ear as he groans. You're milking his cock as you scream, and you can't understand why you haven't tried this before. It's fucking heaven.

He stands up holding you up and not interrupting his pounding of your hole. He smashes you against the desk and bends you down so your torse is against the table. He holds your body down as he pounds your hips into the table. Making you cry out in a mix of pain and pleasure.

Your whole body is tightening as you can feel your climax approaching. Iida's rhythm doesn't falter as he himself nears his high. You come screaming into the desk as he continues his brutal pace, not letting you catch a break before he himself has buried his seed in your ass. He grips your hair and pulls you against him as he cums. Groaning into your ear and pulling your ass as close to his pelvis as humanly possible. Burying himself in you until he comes down from his high.

He lays down with you spooning, still with his cock buried in you. Keeping all his cum from leaking from your pretty hole. "We should definitely do that again." You say breathlessly.

And let's just say you did. You were his new favorite way to let off steam, and as you said he didn't hurt you so there was nothing to be afraid of, to begin with.

On the last day of the week, the class president had for the first time arrived in class with his shirt buttoned wrong, messy hair, and a messed up uniform. And maybe it was your fault.

#samx|oneshot|#smut #bnha smut #mha smut #iida tenya #iida smut #tenya iida #iida x you #iida x gnreader #gn reader #x gn reader #gn!reader #tenya iida x reader #gender neutral y/n #gender neutral reader #amab reader #amab

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bugboysgf · 11 months

Text

Hate + Love

Chapter 2

series masterlist

Previous chapter

Summary: There is a thin line between love and hate but what if it's way thinner than you thought?

“Hi, im suppose to be tutoring somebody.” you told the lady at the front desk. The last 2 weeks had been stressful but out of extreme luck you managed to get all A’s but that also meant you had to tutor the people that were not doing so well in school.

“Oh yes, you must be Y/n.”

“I am.” you confirmed.

“Min Ho.” The lady calls his name and he jumps out of his seat.

“You gotta be kidding me.” you look at Min ho and he seems just as surprised as you are. “There has to be some sort of mistake, I can't tutor him.” the lady looks at her computer for a second and looks back at you.

“Sorry but there is a specific note from the teacher saying you can't switch.”

“What? Who wrote that.” you asked.

“It was your math teacher. Take a seat and get started.”

“I can't believe this.” you said sitting down.

“Do you think I want to do this? I have no choice.” Min ho rolled his eyes.

“Whatever can we just get started.”

After two hours tutoring you were done but to you i feel like 5 hours because every 10 minutes you and Min ho were arguing about something different.

“Thank you.” Min Ho says. You look at him in shock, you were never expecting those words to come out of his mouth.

“You have manners, I see. Can I get an apology too?” you asked hopefully.

“It happened almost 3 weeks ago, get over it.”

“God you're such a bitch.”

“Takes one to know one.”

—-

“We have Alex next.” Kitty said. “Oh my god we still have to walk up the stairs.” you said, you were tired already and it was only your 2 period.

“Do you want to go to a ramen place after the 5th period?” Kitty asked.

“Im Pretty sure I don't have to tutor today, so yes.”

“How is it? By the way, you are still not getting along.”

“Nope now i have to sit with him in alex class, because he wont let me change seats.” you rolled your eyes.

“Dude you have 4 months left until winter break, at least try to stop hating each other.”

“He's the problem, not me, he won't apologize. He said thank you yesterday when i tutored him but that's it.” you explained to Kitty. You honestly don't think that you and Minho would get along every chance he gets to make fun of you. He's gonna take it and you're tired of it.

“The problem is that you are both stubborn.” Kitty grabs the handle of the door and lets you into the class, she gives you a ‘be nice look’ and takes a seat.

You walked over to your seat and to your surprise Min Ho was already sitting down, he was always late. You take a seat and don't say a word to him.

“No greeting?” he asked

“What do you want?” you say in a cold tone.

“Woah, somebody woke up on the wrong side of the bed today.” he smirks.

“I just don't have time for your bullshit today.”

Lucky Alex didn't have you guys do anything with your partner work today you didnt think you could handle it anyways.

You grabbed your things and stuffed them into your backpack.

“y/n?” you stopped in your tracks and looked at the guy that called your name. Minho also stopped and looks at him.

“Yes?” you look at him confused. You've never seen this guy in your life and you had no idea why he was talking to you.

“I'm Derek, I was just trying to see if i can get your number.” you look around to see if anybody was watching and behind him were his friends waiting to see your next move. You didn't want to seem stuck up or anything, so you just smiled and typed your number into his phone.

“Great, I'll text you.”

“Cool” you watch him walk away and turn to Min ho. “And why did you stay?”

“What does he want with you?” “What do you mean?”you asked, confused.

“His dad is literally a millionaire.”

“I honestly dont give two fuck about that.” you said.

“It had to be a dare.” Min ho shook his head.

“Oh really? Just because an attractive guy asked for my number that means it has to be a dare?” you said offended. Min ho knew he messed up, he always jokes around but he knew that what he said really affected you.

“That's not-”

“Save it.” you walked away.

—

For the next few weeks you continue talking to Derek, you thought he would be a jerk but turns out he wasn't. He was really nice and listened.

“Where are you going?” Min ho asked Q. “Oh the nature club is having a hike today.” Q said, putting on his shoes.

“Great i'll come” Min ho got up from the couch. “You can't.” Q said.

“Why?” “Club members only.” “Dude i went last time.” Q stayed silent and didn't say anything. “Unless you don't want me to go for some reason?” “It's not that I don't want you to go, it's just that y/n and Derek are going to be there and I don't want you messing it up for her. She told me what you said when he asked for her number.” Q confessed.

“That's not what I meant, I tried to tell her that.”

“You should have said it in the first place, are you jealous or something?” Q asked.

“What no… no”

“Yup that sounds so convincing.”

“I don't like her, I hate her.”

“You know, you can hate and love somebody at the same time.” Q said shutting the door.

Min ho stood there thinking there's no way that he loves y/n? He hates her too much.

#minho #min ho x reader #min ho x y/n #min ho x kitty #min ho #short story #neflix #Netflix x reader #xo kitty x reader #xo kitty #xo kitty fanfic #to all the boys trilogy #to all the boys series #sang heon lee x reader #sang heon lee

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yamameta-inc · 2 months

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Why do we talk like that about Gintama?

So this is something I've already talked about a lot here and there, but I thought I would condense my thoughts on the topic in its own post.

We've joked a lot about math zeitgeist, but why in the world are we furiously mathposting about Gintama? Why did I write 28 pages of actual essay for it? Where does kraniumet get all those images from? (I've always wondered this.) Essentially, what's driving us to analyze these themes and motifs over and over again... and why can they be analyzed over and over again?

When I first wrote My Orochi Stood Up, I made it clear that this was an original framework made for the same purpose as all analytical frameworks and models: to enable me to gain certain key insights about the series, to account for all of its innumerable bits and pieces, and to arrange their relationships to one another in a cohesive, legible way. In short, as I wrote in my essay, it provides me with symbolic technology.

In the same vein, when I wrote my spontaneous math post, I said that so much of math is about things that don’t exist and yet become real, not just because they help you articulate something but because they help you arrive at a solution. This is the purpose of things like imaginary numbers--or negative numbers for that matter.

I know that we should never live life in accordance with the fake hater in our heads that we imagine saying stupid things to us so that we can respond to them in smart, cool ways. I'm sure Zura lives like that though, and we all think he's charming, so maybe we should reconsider this idea. What I mean to get at is that I've never once tried to claim that Sorachi literally intended any of what I describe in my ouroboros framework. I don't think he sat down one day and planned to make his motifs compatible with western alchemy, I don't think he had the creation myth of the island of Japan in mind, and I don't actually think he read Barthes.

But what's undeniable is that there is something so bizarrely consistent, coherent, and plentiful about Gintama's thematic flourishes--even though in many, many ways, Gintama is filled with bad, and worse, mediocre, writing. What sets Gintama apart from other series isn't the inherent quality of its writing (which has stark ups and downs). If you'll forgive the confusing and somewhat contradictory wording, what makes Gintama distinct isn't a quantitative difference (as in, more goodness), but a qualitative difference. What does this qualitative difference boil down to?

First is structure. This part we've gone over a lot, so I'll try to keep it brief (or novel?). Gintama is a series with basically just one favoured literary technique, and it uses it again. and again. and again. and again. and again. Parallels upon parallels upon parallels--and there are only a few key thematic ideas that Sorachi is interested in exploring. You can describe it as consistency, or, if you want to be uncharitable, repetitiveness. But it is, frankly, absurd the amount of parallels--or rather, the degree of parallelism--this series contains. What's interesting about it is its effects on how we engage with the story.

By making it obvious that this is a conscious and explicit writing decision (through various means, mainly dialogue), any characters with suitable parallelism to a prototypical character A are all connected to one other--let's call these the A-sided characters. This holds even if they're all a bit different from each other. Imagine all these A-sided characters spread out in line, like hostages tied to each track of a train track or the rungs on a ladder. They lose similarity with each rung, like loss of clarity in a game of telephone--let's call this "reflection lossiness." Even though characters in the top rung and the bottom rung may not have much in common, they may both be within "lossiness range" (<- I just made this up) of a character in a middle rung, and therefore able to communicate indirectly with one another.

Moreover, because the prototypical character A has a foil in prototypical character B, all A-sided characters are also connected not only to any individual foils they may have, but potentially to all other B-sided characters. Since it's easier to identify characters' thematic affiliations through their interactions and dynamics with other characters, the consistency of the A-B foil formula, when combined with the fact that animanga foils are generally made very obvious, helps us perceive these diagonal relationships. Thus, the reader can squint at the interactions of almost the entirety of Gintama's enormous cast with valid suspicion, with less difficulty than in other works with more complex structures. The series' sheer length also ensures that there is an abundance of material to comb through, so much so in fact that this careful inspection, through rereading again and again, becomes necessary.

For instance, the interactions between any given pair of characters may not seem directly relevant to our protagonist at first glance, but once you know the magic A | B schema, you may notice that that pair's interactions resonate with that of a different pair, one involving an A-sided character with less reflection lossiness from the top and who therefore reflects much more of what happens to them onto Gintoki. In this way, the original pair, who are probably just a couple of minor side characters who appear once in a weird arc and then never show up again, can make you go, "hey wait a minute. what if?"

What if?

Let's look at a concrete example. Housen and Utsuro don't seem to have much to do with each other at first glance. However, because we know that he parallels Kamui, and that Kamui | Kagura parallel Takasugi | Gintoki, who in turn can be mapped onto Utsuro | Shouyou, we can arrive at a Housen-Utsuro connection that wasn't previously obvious. What is the utility of this connection? For one, it sharpens our ability to articulate how the hole-sided flee from the things they fear and yearn for by adding Housen's infamous avoidance of the sun into the analysis. It also provides new ground for exploring potential ideas comparing, say, Kamui choosing to leave with the Harusame and walk in Housen's footsteps, with Oboro's resigned embrace of the Naraku and Utsuro. Additionally, since Housen was defeated in Hinowa's lap, this also helps us draw a Hinowa -> Kagura connection, which helps us arrive at a Hinowa-Shouyou connection, which helps to reify that Shouyou is a milf.

By inserting one or two blatant instances of foreshadowing and parallelism early on in the series, instances that are impossible to pass off as coincidence, Gintama primes the reader to suspect that similar nuggets might be hiding anywhere, to check every garbage can we encounter from there on out like in the Pokemon games.

Whoops. In attempting to explain the math zeitgeist I succumbed to using math in my explanation. It's irresistible.

But that's structure. Let's move on now to something arguably even more important: motifs.

It's undeniable that for a shounen series that's half gag-manga, Gintama has a strange amount of analyzable motifs, and a clear loyalty to them. Regardless of how extravagantly people on tumblr dot com may want to overanalyze their favourite Shounen Jump series, their efforts are usually restrained to theme and characterization. Their ravings do not usually resemble the ravings of the Gintama Salon. If you've read this far, I don't think I need to explain this to you, or what Gintama's most prominent motifs are. But why is Gintama so motif-ful? The sword's importance is obvious, expected even, but what differentiates Gintama from, say, Bleach, where the characters' swords also literally represent their souls in a way?

In the end the answer is what I already discussed in My Orochi Stood Up, the foundation of my entire framework, in fact its very title: the dick joke.

Sorachi's immature sense of humour is the glue holding the entire thematic and narrative structure of Gintama together. Why do we search obsessively for meaning in the flotsam of Gintama's less narratively charged moments? Because, quite frankly, many things are phallic. The sword is no longer simply a sword--by being imbued with the spirit of the dick joke, it becomes not only valid but textual to associate it with the head of the nation (shadow juice squirt), the motif of the dragon (thank you Elizabeth), and castration. What I mean is not whether the sword can be read as a dick--obviously, phallic logic has been prominent through all of human history--but the way in which Gintama's sexual humour gives us--and itself--an impetus to equate motifs in the first place.

Comparing very serious things to dicks is funny--the more abrupt, the more shocking, the more mood whiplash, the funnier is. Therefore, for Gintama's toilet humour to be as effective as possible, tone dissonance is ideal, pushing it towards the intermingling of comedy and tragedy that we know it so well for today. This in turn validates and reinforces the meaning-making role that these phallic jokes play in the story as a hole. It is not only that we cannot separate the dick jokes from the serious delivery of the plot, but that in many arcs important information is given to us through ridiculous gag devices (ball gags?).

The logic of basic sex jokes is extremely simple, intuitive, and easy to understand. The prominence of the pole necessarily implies the presence of the hole. I've talked about that enough in my essays, so I won't go into detail here, but the reason that I wrote my essays in the first place is because of how easy it is to map a procreative framework onto a series filled from beginning to end with phallic gags. As much as I may joke about it, the underlying logic of "the pole and the hole" is powerful and compelling, providing connective tissue to seemingly disparate motifs with ease. When combined with the "sorting" power of the A | B structure, the ability to associate any particular character with any particular motif easily gives us the ability to analyze how a given set of characters interacts with a motif; equally, where the motif sits in Gintama's playing ground of phallicism can inform a given character's dynamic with others.

I've already written at length about the role that wordplay plays in this as well. To save on time, I'll just quote from My Orochi Stood Up:

Gintama’s insistence on wordplay enables interesting meaning to be derived from these dirty jokes and their interaction with other motifs in the story. After all, the name of the series itself elevates the spirit of the balls joke, even if unintentionally, to the same level as the other metaphor in the title: “silver."

But perhaps the singularly most important example is the -tama in Gintama, with its plethora of potential meanings, each of them just silly and dirty enough that you have to take it seriously. Beyond the obvious joke on kintama (balls) and the “silver soul” meaning, we’ve seen that tama is also easily conflated with atama (head), and even with tamago (egg). This is clearly demonstrated with the series’ fixation on beheading leading to the salvation of the soul, and the bodyswap arc hinging on the pun between soul and egg.

In short, it is the comedic aspect of Gintama that fuels the series' own willingness to conflate and play with its motifs, and that validates--provokes--our mad efforts as readers to draw unlikely connections and dig through dirt. Though it may seem more ridiculous on the surface to be taking such a magnifying glass to such a profoundly silly series, it is in fact more justified for Gintama than it would likely be for a more serious series, one where the paths between motifs are not pre-paved, let alone lubricated with shadow squirt juice.

I was recently introduced to a theory of comedy where comedy was posited as an interplay between excess and lack. How this maps on to Gintama is obvious; but one thing that comes to mind now is how easy it would be to characterize our scholarly efforts in examining Gintama, a series one could humorously characterize as "lacking", as a kind of excess. Which is to say, I think Gintama has pulled its penultimate trick on us (because it's still coming out with more stuff for the anniversary. I believe it.) by making us part of its comedy.

#gintama

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thoughtsforsoob · 2 months

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Hiiii!This is for your event<3

Soobin + Helping Y/N with maths

Ngl,I thought he was genuinely bad at maths until I saw him help Hyuka with his homework.

I hope that you have a wonderful day/night🤍

a/n: I am so genuinely bad at math (aka: I failed math so miserably both time I have taken it here at university and now have to take it again). I hope this is good. inbox is always open for anything !!

math was genuinely testing you this semester and you hated it so much! you would sit there all night, in front of your computer, searching up videos about concepts you were supposed to learn in class. it's not like you weren't going to class either. you just had the worst math professor in existence! they had no idea what they were doing and when it was time to leave class, everyone just looked so dazed and confused because of the 2 hours of confusion they just faced.

tonight was a whole different beast. you were supposed to memorize the unit circle and things were not making any sense to you. math just seem like a bunch of numbers that had rules with a hundred and one different exceptions. how were you supposed to memorize any of this, let alone apply it to the questions on your homework?

it's currently 12 am and there you are, still at your desk, practically pulling all of the hair fro your scalp. soobin was coming home late so you knew you could get away with staying up late like this. he never let you stay up too late to study, arguing that you needed sleep to even get nay work done.

a few minutes after 12 struck, you were too busy to even heard the bedroom door open, revealing a tired looking soobin. he had showered at the dorm before coming to your apartment for the night. he saw you at your desk and sighed, which snapped you out of your studying. you turn to him and gasp, putting your hands over your chest, "soobin! you scared me! what the hell?" you look back at your computer and notebook, "ugh...this is torture!" soobin put down his things in the corner he always left them at and went straight to your side. "math?" he asked, looking at the screen at your scratch paper. you only nod and drop your head into your hands. he rubs your back gently, "here, why don't you let me help? I know it's against my rules to study this late but let's give it a try." you nod up at him and he smiled, kissing your forehead.

you two had taken this study session to the kitchen, taking a little break to gather some drinks and cook some ramyeon to fuel both your brains for the night ahead. once you both were back at the table, ready to go, soobin too a Quick Look at your assignment. he thought for a second and you both started to get to work. he carefully and thoroughly explained the first problem to you and how he would solve it. he shows you his work and writes down all the steps neatly on a pice of paper. once this problem was solved, he lets you work on the next one, which was much easier because you were able to look at the example problem me made for you and were able to clearly see the steps he took. the smile on your face when you finally understood and got the problem correct was a smile he could never erase from his mind. it made his heart warm.

after your assignment was done and the food and drinks were all gone, it was finally time to get ready for bed. all throughout your skincare routine and brushing your teeth, you thanked soobin for being such. great help. "hey, I thought you said you hated math?" he chuckles, "well, I do but that doesn't mean im not good at it." you sign and rolls your eyes, "we can't all be special like you, big dummy." "hey! I wasn't dumb when I was helping you just a few minutes ago!"

#txt fluff #txt imagines #txt post #txt #tomorrow x together #soobin x reader #soobin fluff #txt headcanons #tubatu #choi soobin #soobin

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icyharrington · 1 year

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would there be any way for you to write a scenario where //plus size reader// is tutoring eddie in algebra and he asks you what you want out of it, so you ask him to tutor you in giving blowjobs because you’ve never done it and he’s taken aback,,, nsfw, lots of praise, gentle eddie pls 🥺💛

haiii okay so! i have another plus size request in my inbox rn so i decided to just make this one for anybody! so yea im sorry about that also eddie's a SMIDDGEEEE rough in this (not super rough tho, like just a tiny bit of hair pulling and pushing ur head down to deepthroat) cuz i forgot that you asked for gentle eddie but he's still pretty soft in this. so yea this took me ridiculously long to write for no reason so i hope y'all like it lmfaooo

contains: blowjobs, deepthroating, inexperienced reader, praise kink, soft dom eddie, dirty talk, hair pulling

wc: 3.3k

“I’m sorry, I just don’t see the point in any of this,” Eddie says, after a several-minute-long period of silent staring at the math textbook that sits in between you. You’re sitting on the cluttered carpeting of his bedroom, with both of your backs propped up against the side of his bed. “Where the hell are all these letters coming from? It’s like they’re purposely trying to make this as confusing as possible.”

You shake your head, leaning over to take a closer look at the text. “The letters are just placeholders for other numbers. You have to solve the equation to find out what they are.”

“What am I, Sherlock Holmes?!” he exclaims, throwing his hands up in an exaggerated show of defeat. Eddie’s a smart guy, but math is certainly not one of his strong suits, which is why you’re here in the first place to tutor him. You’re not exactly a math genius yourself, but you’ve been managing to pull B’s and A’s all semester in algebra, and with Eddie assigned to the seat right next to yours, it didn’t take very long for him to catch on.

He’d started out copying your answers during tests, attempting to come off as inconspicuous despite him breathing down your neck to get a glimpse at your work. When you finally called him out for it, he’d been apologetic and somewhat embarrassed, which made you feel sorry for him; wanting to help, it was then that you offered to give him a few free tutoring sessions.

Eddie brings his knees up and settles his elbows against them, the heels of his palms pressing into his forehead in exasperation. “Honestly, (y/n), thank you for offering to tutor me, but I think I’m a lost cause.”

“You’re not a lost cause, Eddie. You just need to study more,” you say, reaching out to place a hand on his denim-clad shoulder. “I bet if we do a couple more sessions you’ll be able to land a C on next week’s test.”

Eddie peeks at you from between his hands, the yellow overhead light reflecting brightly in the dark roundness of his eyes. “No way. You’re not giving me any more free tutoring sessions.”

“I don’t mind helping you, Eddie,” you say, patting him where your hand still lays. And it’s true- while he might be difficult to teach, he’s still a good-natured, funny guy, and you’ve grown to enjoy his company. In fact, you’ve even began to detect the faintest hint of a crush in the pit of your stomach, having been charmed by his smile and laugh and general mischievous demeanor. With Eddie being Eddie, though, it’s almost impossible to tell if he feels the same way, since he’s always putting on a show, never allowing his true emotions to show through his theatrical exterior. “I like hanging out with you.”

“Really? I kind of just assumed you found me annoying,” he grins, dropping his large hands to settle them atop his slender thighs. “But still- I’m not going to milk your generosity any more than I already have. I might be poor, but I’m not a fuckin’ bum.”

“Well, maybe you can just do me a favor or something?” You scratch your chin pensively, racking your brain for something you could ask Eddie to do for you. What could a guy like Eddie Munson do for you, anyway?

“What kind of a favor?” Eddie questions, apparently just as perplexed as you are, his head cocking to one side. “Man, I wish there was something I could tutor you in, but, uh, I’m kind of failing most of my classes.”

You chew on your bottom lip for a moment, his statement jumping out to you for a reason you’re unsure of. You glance at Eddie’s sheepish face as he tucks a strand of dark hair behind one ear, drumming the fingers of his opposite hand against his thigh; you can’t help but find him ridiculously handsome when he’s like this, all shy and indecisive, and you ignore the sudden urge to lean in and kiss him.

You try to imagine how Eddie would react if you were to make a pass at him; you’re fairly inexperienced, so you haven’t gotten much practice in the department of flirting, which makes you worry you might say something idiotic if you try.

Licking your lips, you shrug noncommittally, praying that your face doesn’t reveal your current topic of thought. “Maybe you could tutor me in something, like, not school-related.”

“Such as?” Eddie surveys you with his big eyes, blinking rapidly to communicate his impatience with you. “Listen, (y/n). I’m really not good enough at anything to be a tutor.”

Shifting, you toy with an idea that’s begun to form in the back of your mind, inflicting a sudden sense of urgency in your gut. It’s risky, but so tempting, with him this close to you.

“There’s still things that you know more about than I do,” you start, fidgeting with the hem of your sweater as a means of avoiding his eyes. You’re easing your way in now, testing the waters, and holy fuck, are you scared. “Y’know, like music, dungeons and dragons… and other stuff.”

“What other stuff?” Eddie says skeptically, crossing his tattooed arms across the front of his beloved Hellfire tee. “Those are the only two things I even do. I’m a simple guy.”

“Well…” you mutter, hugging your legs closely to your chest in an act of self-soothing. You’re running purely on adrenaline now, numb to the doubtful thoughts that nag at you incessantly. “Do you remember yesterday, when we were talking about that rumor that went around about you?”

He furrows his brows, obviously caught off guard by your seemingly random change in subject. “The one about Cheryl giving me a blowjob in the prop closet? I already told you, (y/n), that wasn’t a rumor.”

Cheryl is Eddie’s acquaintance from his times working backstage for the school plays, and the thought of her flirting with Eddie with her high-pitched voice and bleach-blond hair makes you want to throw up. You hadn’t known she was the type to give blowjobs, and at school, no less; the information had been enough to make your head spin- was everybody at Hawkins getting more action than you?

“I know,” you say slowly, stretching your legs out to recline in front of you. “That’s the ‘other stuff’ I’m talking about. You actually have a sex life, I don’t.”

Eddie chuckles, looping his fingers into one of the frayed tears on the front of his jeans. “I’m not, like, a sex god or anything like that. I’ve just fooled around a few times, that’s all.”

“Yeah, but at least you have an idea of what you’re doing.” There’s a gnawing anxiety creeping up within you, and you want to smack Eddie over the head just for being so damn clueless. Peering at him from underneath a veil of dark-painted lashes, you can see the confusion in his face, but to your relief, he doesn’t seem upset by your persistence- maybe this won’t end so horribly, after all. “Sometimes I just get nervous, y’know? ‘Cause what if I meet someone I want to fool around with, but I make a complete idiot out of myself because I don’t know anything?”

Eddie lifts his gaze to meet with yours, a half-smile making its way across his full lips. Fuck- is he starting to pick up what you’re putting down? You feel your heart skip a beat, palms prickling with sweat as he opens his mouth to speak. “What exactly are you asking me for right now, (y/n)? ‘Cause if I didn’t know any better…”

His words trail off, pink tongue darting out to wet his bottom lip as he observes you quizzically; he’s unsure of himself, with a visible heat flooding the pale expanse of his cheeks. After a prolonged beat, you say, “maybe you could show me how to do it right? So it feels good?”

For the first time since you’ve met, Eddie Munson is speechless. His skin darkens to an even more conspicuous shade of burgundy, his arm lifting to scratch at the back of his neck, and you begin to wonder if you made a mistake.

“Do…what right?” he asks you, though the tone of his voice tells you that he’s already well aware of what you mean. “You want me to tutor you in-“

“-blowjobs. Yeah.” You cut him off without really meaning to, but it’s not like your mind is focused on trivial things like manners at a time like this. “I mean- only if you want to, obviously.”

He stares at you blank-faced before breaking out into a wild grin, amused giggles bubbling up from the back of his throat. “You want me to repay you- by letting you give me head? Kinda sounds like more of a benefit for me than you, hon.”

“Just ‘cause it benefits you doesn’t mean it won’t benefit me, too.” You subtly inch your way closer to Eddie until your hips are side-by-side, encouraged to continue when he doesn’t back away. “I wanna know what it’s like.”

“You sure you’re in your right mind right now?” Eddie says wryly, sizing you up, adorning you with goosebumps at the invisible sensation of his dark eyes dragging up and down your body. “You didn’t get into my stash or something while I was in the bathroom?”

“I’m very much sober, Eddie,” you assure him, hesitating as you prepare to go even further, your palm finally dropping to rest on his thigh. He stirs ever-so-slightly at your touch, although he manages to keep his excitement contained for the most part. “I really do want you to teach me.”

“I don’t know how helpful I’ll actually be, but…” he gestures down at his crotch, where his erection is starting to press through the front of his pants obscenely. The view is satisfying, knowing that you’re the one responsible for it- if you’d have known it would be this easy to get Eddie Munson in the mood, you probably would’ve tried your luck with him a long time ago. “I’d definitely be willing to give it a try.”

“Really?” you say hopefully, letting your fingers trail in the direction of his hard-on until you’re toying with the front button of his jeans. “You’re sure?”

His eyes shoot down to where your hand is, your thumb and forefinger playing idly with the metal zipper. He nods rapidly, allowing you to proceed in unfastening his pants, your hands shaking as you do. “Are you sure about this? I mean, damn, you really wanna get blowjob lessons from the freak of Hawkins high?”

You don’t respond, rolling your eyes dismissively at his frantic line of questioning; nudging his bent legs so that he stretches them before him, you start pulling his pants and boxers down to pool around his hips. Eddie lifts himself up to assist you in the task, and in a matter of seconds his thick cock is on full display for you, flushed and thick and leaking.

“Holy shit…” you murmur, in a daze; it’s the first dick you’ve ever seen this close-up, and it’s so more intimidating than you could’ve ever imagined. You wonder if all dicks are this massive, or if Eddie is just particularly well-endowed, as you extend your arm to feel along his length experimentally.

“Was that a good holy shit, or a bad holy shit?” Eddie asks bashfully, nodding his head forward so that his long hair can obscure part of his face.

“Eddie, your dick is huge,” is all you say to shut him up, and he’s unable to resist the cocky smirk that teases at the corners of his lips.

He dips back against his bed so that his head is nearly flush with the mattress, pushing his hips out to elongate his body. He groans and stretches, his t-shirt hiking up around his midsection to reveal his soft belly, your gaze lingering there for far longer than it probably should. “Ah, c’mon. I’m not that big.”

The smugness is palpable within his protests, and you narrow your eyes as you position yourself on all fours next to him. “Just tell me what I should do first.”

“Well…” he looks at your face for awhile, before switching his attention to your cleavage, which is completely visible now that your baggy sweater is hanging off your body. Pretending not to notice, he says, “Usually you’d, um. Want to get it wet. Maybe stroke it a little with your hand before you put it in your mouth.”

“Like this?” You shift your weight onto your knees so you can sit upright, holding your hand out in front of your mouth and spitting into it crudely. Eddie inhales sharply, closely examining your every motion as you draw your arm away from yourself, a string of spit connecting your palm and bitten lips.

His cock is warm and silky to the touch as you wrap your fingers around it, and you take note of the way he hisses when you begin to move your hand up and down his generous length. “Y-yeah. Like that. That’s- fuck- good.”

You quicken your pace, a triumphant feeling washing over you as his head lolls back towards the ceiling, his stomach clenching and releasing in direct response to your manipulations. “And then what?”

Sinking down until your elbows are on the carpet and your back is arched up high, you bring your face closer to his cock, blinking up innocently in wait of his next set of instructions.

Eddie clears his throat, obviously making an effort to come off as unfazed, although neither of you are strangers to the truth. “You can, uh, put it in your mouth now.”

You’re perhaps a bit too hasty in your movements, because by the time Eddie’s cock is halfway in your mouth, he eases you back by your hair, stinging your scalp.

Rather than pissing you off, however, the sensation travels straight from your head to your cunt, and you let out a strangled moan.

“Shit- sorry,” Eddie says, his big hand stroking your skull where he’d tugged on it. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

You take him out of your mouth but remain close by, your spit-slick lips hovering mere centimeters away from the tip of his cock. “You didn’t. I, um, actually liked it.”

He raises his eyebrows, seeming equal parts surprised and pleased by your declaration. “Oh yeah? Guess I’m helping you learn a little more than just giving head, huh?”

Flicking out your tongue, you administer tiny licks to his slit, lapping up all of the pre-cum that’s gathered there; Eddie really seems to like this, because he fists your hair in one hand, a string of profanities spilling out past his lips. “F-fuck. Yeah, atta girl. Gotta take it slow at the beginning.”

Greedy for more of him, your tongue begins sweeping up the side of his dick, tracing lazily alongside the veins that travel throughout. When you’re certain you’ve covered every square inch of him with your hot tongue, you return once again to latch your mouth over the tip.

“Damn. No fuckin’ way you haven’t done this before,” he manages to say through grit teeth, fisting a clump of your hair to give him better control over your actions. “Yeah, that’s a good girl. Nice and easy.”

It’s undeniable what his praise and guidance does to you- your thighs are clamped together in a desperate attempt to create friction between them, hips rocking back and forth as you try in vain to rid yourself of the hungry feeling that’s taken you over. You bob your head down to usher a couple more inches of him into your gaping mouth, flattening your tongue against the side so as to fully embrace his salty taste.

“Ahh, shit. Fuck yeah, (y/n). That’s so fuckin’ good,” he urges, applying some pressure to the back of your head so you can swallow another several inches of his length. “Little less teeth. ’S’it. Yeah, see how deep you can take it.”

He gathers up your hair to keep it from getting in the way as you start to take him into your throat, your nose almost up against his pelvis as you choke and sputter around him. It’s difficult to breathe with your mouth this filled, but Eddie’s raspy words of encouragement serve in keeping you motivated.

“Keep going, sweetheart. Doing such a good fucking job for me,” he groans, his grasp on your hair loosening to that you can do as you please. With tears leaking from the corners of your eyes, you work to take in the entirety of his cock, gagging noisily when you feel it brush the back of your throat. “Your mouth is like fuckin’ heaven, babe.”

Your lips curve upwards at the compliment, but you’re incapable of thanking him, your mouth overflowing with nothing but him; as an alternative, you focus on bringing Eddie to his orgasm, painfully curious to discover how he’ll look and feel during his moments of release.

“Put your hand underneath. Yeah, right there,” he sighs approvingly as your fingers cup and massage his balls, bouncing them lightly in your palm as you continue to suck him. You’re on autopilot at this point, your rhythm impeccable and unrelenting; the noises of your wet mouth working at him are vulgar, your head plunging down on him again and again like you’ve been starved for a year. “Good fuckin’ girl. Yeah, you like choking on my big dick?”

You whimper at this, the vibrations from your throat transferring straight to his cock. Eddie’s grip on your hair tightens as he bucks his hips up underneath you, causing you to drool uncontrollably all over his thick length.

“Mhm. Take it nice and deep for me,” he mutters lowly, his head tilting upwards so that you're only able to see his parted lips and sculpted jaw. “Gonna cum in your mouth now. Think you can handle that, babe?”

You nod weakly, speeding up until his breathing becomes choppy and irregular. Your jaw is aching with exhaust, but you don’t dare stop- you’re too close to the finish line to start showing any slack now.

“Fuck, (y/n)-“ he gasps, and then his cock twitches, a spray of hot liquid coating the inside of your mouth as his veined hand keeps you securely in place. You find yourself struggling against his tight grip as the bittersweet taste of his cum paints your tongue, but you steady yourself enough to swallow it all.

Eddie takes in a shaky breath as he combs his fingers through your hair affectionately, giving you the opportunity to sit up and recover. “Jesus fuckin’ Christ, (y/n). Now I really feel like I owe you something.”

He shimmies his clothes back up so that he’s covered again, his tongue sticking out thoughtfully from the corner of his mouth. His face is flushed and rosy, forehead kissed with the soft glow of sweat, and for the second time today, all you want is to kiss him.

“So… I did okay?” You wipe your slick face with the back of your sleeve, running the fingers of your opposite hand through your unkempt mess of hair. Sure, it’s pretty clear that he’d enjoyed himself, but there’s still a part of you that craves his verbal confirmation.

“Are you kidding? That was some A-plus head in my book. You didn’t even really need me to help you,” Eddie smiles, casually looping his arm around your shoulders, the basic act of which fills your abdomen with butterflies. “But y’know what? I realized that I kinda like being a teacher.”

You poise an eyebrow, a suggestive glint in your big doe eyes. You've got him. “Yeah? Why don't you show me what else you can teach me?”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #mine #joseph quinn #stranger things #stranger things imagine #eddie munson smut #stranger things smut #stranger things x reader #stranger things x you #eddie munson blurb #stranger things blurb

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selfishlove-tf · 1 year

Text

5th Annual TF Story Exchange - for Jockifyme

G’day :) I wanted to challenge myself so I entered the TF Story Exchange to force myself to write something. The author I got for the exchange was @jockifyme so please enjoy. I hope I met your requirements @jockifyme .

***---***

I’m an accountant and sometimes we audit High Schools. We make sure that the donations or funds received go places they should be going to, we check payroll and budget; we call it “cash stuff” in the office because “expenses” and “finances” start confusing our smaller-minded Gen Z workers.

From that “defame our younger generation” comment alone, you should be able to tell that I am older – not too much but I feel myself reaching the other end of my thirties really quickly. Luckily, the stresses of older age haven’t touched me too much; I have my curly brown hair, though it is fading in colour just like my eyes which used to be emerald, now swamp. Got my height from my mum, she was six-three and she gave me my current six-one. Got my metabolism (or lack thereof) from my dad whose genes garunteed no weight would be gained – I was skinny, a measly one-forty pounds.

The lights in the schools office behind reception showed my touch-of-sunburn off more than I wanted to, my skin naturally pale like a ghost flared up with areas of red where I misapplied my sunscreen. I, however, didn’t feel the burn so the sun must’ve been somewhat lacklustre that day. Sunburn was the last thing on my mind anyway. Numbers, numbers, numbers. I enjoyed the numbers and I did well in maths back when I was in school some blah blah blah years ago – I’d rather not say how long – and was in the top ten of students in my school who graded highly during the final exams before graduation. The only part I hated was listening to the administration guy who lightly flirted with the teachers as they walked by. They couldn’t see it but the “that dress fits nice on you” and “did you forget your glasses because those eyes are shining today” commends he has said in the past ten minutes were dangerously close to the line of being fired should someone actually pay attention to him.

I continued my counts and record-checking and, soon enough, the admin guy was talking to me about football. I never got into that kind of thing, my focus was more on work and work and work. I didn’t need to watch a bunch of men running into each other, the idea was stupid to me. Yet, despite my disinterest in the topic, the admin guy continued to drone on about it.

I looked at my watch; I had only been here for an hour. All the kids were in their classes so, gladly, I decided to quickly take a break and get a drink. Stupidly, I forgot my water bottle and I didn’t want to deal with more dead conversation from the admin guy and, as I recalled, I remembered there being a bubbler/water fountains near the building facing the oval. With a quick “I’ll be back” to the admin guy, and a swift exit, I was out the door and headed towards the oval, a quick hello and hi to some teachers passing or students that were supposed to be in class. Reaching the bubbler, there was footsteps nearby and voices loudly talking. I leaned down, pulled the lever and started drinking, footsteps getting closer. The closer it got, the more I heard the topic of conversation.

‘I don’t know what we’re gonna do, man,’ one started. ‘Tyler’s out for the game tonight and we got no backup since Harry left.’

‘Cool it, Reid!’ another cut the first off. ‘We’ll find someone or deal with a short team no matter what coach says.’

‘Yeah, but where are we gonna find something so short notice, Jay?’ A third asked. I had become invested in the conversation that I didn’t realise that they were now walking behind me as I was still drinking from the bubbler until they stopped.

‘How about you?’ Jay asked.

It took me a minute to realise he was talking to me. I stopped drinking and turned around and was greeted by four teens in football gear. ‘You talking to me?’

‘We are looking at you,’ pointed the fourth.

‘Smart kid, though I don’t go here clearly.’ I gestured to my whole figure, hoping they weren’t dumb enough to think I was any younger than thirty-five.

‘Not a problem with us.’ Jay, who I assumed was the leader, stepped forward. ‘I’m Jay, and these are my bros Reid, Mikey and Kyle.’ He gestured to his friends as if I was interested in knowing them. Jay was short, wide and brunette; Reid was tall, thin and blonde; Mikey was tall, tan and built; Kyle was the shortest, brunette and athletic. The group did seem like the perfect popular boys of school, they just lacked more arrogance.

‘How would you expect to fix that?’ I questioned. ‘Compared to you guys, I’m weathered. Y’all haven’t even touched hard work yet.’ That comment seemed to irritate Reid, subtly puffing his chest up.

‘Hard work? Football is full time!’ Reid arched up.

‘Reid, not another word,’ Jay snapped. ‘You’ll only scare him away, and we’re already about to get scary.’

‘Oh, I’m shaking.’ I teased before rolling my eyes and started walking back to the office.

‘Take him,’ I heard Jay mutter.

Soon, three pairs of hands were on me and started to pull at me, dragging me in the opposite direction. I started shouting to let me go and, for a moment I thought why it was suddenly so quiet at the school; no students or teachers were walking by and no one seemed to look out the windows at the commotion I was causing. No matter how much I shouted and wriggled, the guys’ strong hands had firm grips. I looked behind me to where they were dragging me and found that they were taking me to the locker rooms. They barged in, pushed me to the bench and sat me down, Reid and Kyle holding me down while Mikey went off to grab something.

‘We’re gonna make sure you’re ready for the game tonight,’ Jay said matter-of-factly.

Mikey returned with football gear which I began to question myself about how stupid they really are. Jay motioned to Reid and Kyle as Mikey came to stand behind me, placing his hands on my shoulders. Without warning, Reid and Kyle started to pull at my clothes, tearing my button up off and yanking my shoes off before pulling off my pinstripes. I tried to fight back with all of my strength but Mikey was stronger than he looks, making sure to hold me in place during the process. At the end of it, I was left in my briefs.

‘Let me go you freaks!’ I shouted. ‘I don’t know what you plan on doing but it needs to end now!’

Jay motioned to the football uniform and gear and Kyle and Reid moved almost immediately. Reid began with what looked like compression shorts, sliding them up my legs until they were on properly. I felt immediate embarrassment being dressed as if I couldn’t do it myself. When the compression shorts snapped into place, my legs felt like they were burning although bearable. No sooner did my legs start burning that Kyle had put on long socks and oversized football boots, and the burning spread down until it reached my feet. My whole lower half was on fire and, sure enough, when I looked down, I saw why. My thighs started to plump up, calves sharpening and I felt my toes touch the end of the boot. Soon as that began, Reid grabbed a compression singlet and slid it over my head and over my torso, Kyle soon following with the shoulder pads.

I was panicked, my whole body starting to feel like I’d worked out for hours, and my body was catching up. My torso bulked up, a bit of muscle showing as my chest puffed up and my biceps blew up. My flexed forearms had a roadmap of veins as my increasingly meaty hands gripped firmly on the bench. I was beginning to tire myself out through all the strain and flexing I was doing due to the pain of the growth. At some point, Jay told Mikey to let me go because he knew I wasn’t going anywhere, not that I could because of the amount of pain I was in.

Soon enough, as it had started to die down, I looked over myself while out of breath and saw how toned I got. I was in shock; something completely impossible just happened. When I looked up to the group, there was glee in their eyes, but mine saw red. I had no energy to do anything, though, exhausted from the growth.

‘What the fuck did you do?’ I gasped between breaths.

‘It’s not over,’ Jay said. ‘Look at me.’

He grabbed my chin and lifted my face to look at him directly in the eyes. He smiled before swiping some black paint onto my cheeks, and then he let go of my chin and stepped back. There was a brief moment where nothing happened, but it hit seconds later. I gripped my head and squeezed my eyes shut as images flashed across my vision of school, football, training, hanging out with the bros. Bros? No, I was an adult. I was here for an audit. No, that doesn’t sound right? I was on the oval with my bros talking about the game. No! The admin guy, we were talking about football while I was doing work… work? No, I was skipping class. My brain went back and forth and soon enough, the school-kid persona was taking over. All the games my bros and I played, the games we won and the after-parties we went to. My body, face, and mind were all getting younger. My hair turned a darker brown, keeping the curls, and my eyes had regained their shining emerald green. My sunburn cleared up and my skin looked tanned from spending weeks in the sun. Although keeping the muscle on, my body shrank a little and smoothed out. After all of a few minutes, my head cleared and my body no longer felt like it was burning. I felt completely painless, in fact, I had a lot of energy.

‘You good, Jack?’ asked Reid.

I looked up at the group, a brief pause before nodding my head. ‘Still mad Tyler can’t make it.’

‘Well, we gotchu at least,’ Mikey pointed out. ‘We’ll sure win tonight.’

‘We always win, bros!’

‘That’s the spirit!’ Jay cheered. ‘Now let’s get practicing! Don’t forget your jersey, Jack.’

I looked down at the bench where my jersey was. I grabbed it and slipped it on, unknowingly sealing the transformation. ‘Do we gotta wear the shoulder pads during training?’ I complained.

‘Shut up and get out there!’

#age regression #getting younger #jock tf

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crookedkryptonitebeliever · 4 months

Text

Tw: maths sucks lol , reader freaking out over finals

Yves is a magnificent mathematician. He has a doctorate degree in his excelled academic field to prove it.

He could solve complex equations with more than five variables all in his head. He knows how to square root a non-square without a calculator. Yves is a walking, living, talking machine that can process mathematical problems at the speed of light. He needs to, if he wanted to predict the future as best as he could.

He knew this would happen. You showed up at his doorstep when the skies were pitch dark and so clear that you could see the stars twinkling above. You showed up at 2AM. Yves spent an hour secretly watching you take the bus and walk endlessly to his place, through various surveillance cameras. He released a sigh of relief when you entered his property safe and sound. Yves wished that you would have called him instead, he would have driven to your dorm and helped you. It would have taken him 20 minutes to get there.

You were drenched, because it suddenly started raining when you had to come here by foot, because the wealthy didn't like bus stops installed anywhere near their neighborhood. He found you hyperventilating, panicking and hysterically crying.

He pulls you in and cupped your right eye, spreading warmth over your sockets and strangely enough, making you feel... at ease. You calmed down almost immediately, confused as to what he did. So you asked him about it.

"It's a trick. Use it when it becomes noisy up here." He tapped your head.

Before you could explain yourself, he guided you towards the bathroom. He said the world can wait, you have to take a bath and dry up. Yves prepared a set of his clothes for you to wear, choosing not to remind you that you left spares of your own at his place.

You started freaking out again, exclaiming you have no time and you should have sought help from him earlier, verbally putting yourself down.

Yves covered your right eye again mid-sentence. Your brain was silent once more. What did he do?

With no reason at the moment to panic, you became speechless. Baffled that he could easily take the pain away in seconds. He slowly pried his hand away from your face and held your cheeks with both hands. It felt nice and tender, his thumb wiped the tears and rainwater away from your eyes.

"Go freshen up." He whispered. "I'll be waiting in my office." He assured, giving you a kiss on the forehead. Yves gave you privacy, shutting the door behind him.

He picked up your soaking wet bag, frowning at your ruined notes and other pieces of paper inside it. The rainwater is making a mess of his marble floors, he pulled out a plastic tub nearby, knowing that this would happen. Yves transferred it into the tub and began removing the items inside.

Your calculator is especially damaged. It wouldn't even turn on.

Yves brought everything with him to his office.

You came out of the steaming shower fresh and renewed. You love it here, everything feels really nice in Yves's home. You never shiver or sweat, it's quiet but not to the point you can hear your heartbeat and it smells nice too. The lights don't hurt your eyes and it's bright enough to see everything in detail. You took a deep breath, your lungs are at an all time clear when you come here. It really feels like a home. How does he do it?

You knocked on his door twice before entering. Yves is on his desk, reading the papers you brought. The ink has been muddled together and almost illegible, but he could make the numbers and words out just fine. He adjusted his rectangular framed glasses as he looked up at you. He always looked so handsome in those. But also menacing.

You started stammering, apologizing profusely for coming in so late (early in the morning?). You apologized for rudely brushing off the tutoring help he offered time and time again for the past few months. You obviously need it now.

"The trick."

You expressed a very audible 'what'? Yves brought his hand to his eye. You mirrored him then you felt a sense of peace wash over you.

He beckoned you to come to him. So you did, he remained seated in his chair while you stood right in front of him. His knees touching your thighs. Yves wordlessly slid his hands under the oversized shirt of his that you're wearing, letting his fingertips graze over your sides. It was ticklish, but pleasant. You felt... important enough for him to check on you like this.

He retracted his hands, gently held your chin in one and grasped your arm in another. He took his time examining your face.

"Have you been eating?" He knows you haven't. You would have starved to death if he didn't take the initiative to make your meals. Even that wasn't a foolproof plan, he would see you forgetting to eat at times. But you nodded.

"Have you been sleeping?" You're averaging 2 hours of sleep a day. Even if he saw you laying still on your bed, his sleep tracker he has on you and your eyebags said otherwise. You nodded.

You're lying. But there wasn't any point telling you that now.

He slid his hand down to your other arm. Lovingly rubbing them up and down as he asked you what he could do for you. He knows exactly what you need help with. But it wasn't nice to 'assume'.

You told him you needed his help teaching you everything you learned since the beginning of the year. You couldn't get anything at all and you let it fester. You only have two more days to cram 10 months worth of content.

As you speak, tears started welling up in your eyes again, your blood pressure is spiking and you tried removing your arms from his grip. Yves suddenly yanked you into his lap, constricting you in a warm embrace. You whined and ranted while he ran his fingers through your mildly matted hair.

It felt soothing, it felt safe. It felt like home.

Yves lets you tire yourself out, his other hand rhythmically patting your back. Eventually, you cease all movements and start to snore.

He carefully lifts you up in his arms, carrying you bridal style before getting up on his feet. Yves carried you all the way upstairs to his bedroom, where he laid you on the fluffiest pillows you ever felt. He tucks you in and brushes your hair away from your face. You poor thing. Still stressed in your sleep, he wiped away a stray tear.

Yves joined you in bed, propping his head up and resting a protective arm over your blanketed form. He watches you for a while.

You were awoken by a nightmare. Naturally, about failing your exams.

You're in his room. But he isn't in it. Yves must be downstairs keeping things in order. Then, the memories of why you came here in the first place came rushing back. You need to get some revision done.

You rushed out of the door only to body slam into Yves. He caught you before you fall.

Before you could peep a word, he hushed you. "Follow my count, breathe in."

You took a deep, long breath, watching his fingers uncurl from his fist.

"Hold." He counted to seven.

"Exhale." You released a shaky breath. Yves did this with you a few more times until he felt the pulse on your wrist slow down.

"Good morning." He greeted you with a smile. "How is my beloved feeling today?" He asked, playfully tickling under your chin. You stifled a giggle to tell him you have no time to waste. You need to start your revision as soon as possible. You demanded that he help you now.

He abruptly dropped his affectionate demeanor, stood up straight and stared you down. Eyes cold and face steely. Yves isn't pleased with how you talked to him.

You got the hint and stammered an apology. Backtracking and rephrasing your impolite words, thanking him for taking you in earlier today.

His expression softened, Yves wrapped an arm around your waist and urged you downstairs. Yves told you that he is preparing breakfast downstairs, you wouldn't be able to focus effectively if you run on an empty stomach.

"I'll meet you in my office." He kissed the top of your head as he gestured to you to use the bathroom.

Yves watched you with pity, he has his arms crossed, standing tall next to you. Peering over your hunched shoulders.

Your finals are in a few days, and you're sobbing over... quadratics out of all things. He knew you were struggling with your degree, you kept telling him that you're fine but your assignment grades and the hidden cameras showed otherwise.

He picks up the empty plates from the desk and sets them aside elsewhere, giving you more space to work with.

He turned his head to you when you called for him. You needed help with a question that you thought you could solve, but it is only worth a mark and you spent an hour on it. He put on his reading glasses and took a few seconds to read it.

Without judgement, without anger and without condescension, Yves began explaining skillfully. Using analogies he knows you would understand, at a pace where you could keep up. You listen attentively and have everything retained in your memory.

Yves is an excellent teacher. He is patient and most importantly, kind. Unlike many, he remembers how it is like learning about something for the first time, he remembers how lost and confused a person can feel. He emphasizes with you and does everything he can to help. Yves doesn't feel frustrated that you couldn't get it after the fourth, fifth or even twentieth time. He just glances to the side to make sure his cameras are recording, this is valuable data.

If you can't understand through one way of teaching, he will switch to another. Through trial and error, he finds a method that consistently allows you to grasp the concepts well.

Yves would handwrite custom revision exercises for you to do. While you're occupied with a sheet, he would sit on the couch, marking the ones you already finished.

At first, there were a lot of crosses, arrows and red circles. However, as you practice more and more, they turn into check marks, "well done" and "Very good".

Yves handed you your last worksheet and he wrote a "100%, Excellent" on the top of it. He glanced at the stack of marked papers right next to him, it has gotten quite tall. You're overjoyed and relieved, finally getting the hang of your course. You knew you could always count on Yves to help you through your studies.

And to feed you. And to clean you. And to shelter you...

So you thought it would be right to repay him with a kiss. He accepted it and gave you a couple back, chuckling as he ruffled your hair. You let his silky strands brush against your cheek.

He mumbled in your neck how proud he is of you. Yves expressed his appreciation towards your resilience and hard work, stating that he couldn't have done it without your willingness to study. It was lovely having someone recognize your efforts too.

Yves told you that he needs to log on and work for today. He tells you to take a break, because you deserve it and it isn't productive to keep working when you're exhausted. You're only going to make a lot more mistakes by doing so.

You believed him, partly because you think he is the smartest person you ever met. And partly because you're sick of studying too, you would very much rather do something else.

You have him one last hug before bolting out of his office.

Yves checked the cameras to confirm that you're out of earshot before switching his phone on.

He dialed a phone number that he already knows by heart. Yves brought his phone up to his ear and politely greeted your professor on the other side of the line, he didn't mince his words and brought up a five digit figure. His tutoring isn't going to be enough.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere oc #yandere male #yandere concept #tw yandere #yandere x you #yandere oc x reader #male yandere oc x reader #oc yves

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princessbellecerise · 11 months

Text

Picture Perfect, I

──── ✧*･ﾟ*✭˚･ﾟ✧ ────

summary | Your sister Natasha is in trouble. You know it in your gut, and even moreso — you know it’s because of her so called ‘family’ the Avengers. It’s up to you to save your sister and yourself — before it becomes too late.

warnings | dark!peter parker, dark!avengers, non-con, kidnapping, dubcon, violence, loss of virginity (m. and f), manipulation, overall mature themes, stalking, delusional!peter, 18+ ONLY

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You wanted to tear your hair out.

You groaned as the words of your essay seemed to blur together on your laptop, barely being able to focus despite being the only one in the coffee shop.

It was quiet, but the silence didn’t help when it was your mind that was racing, pure agitation and frustration making your thoughts run a mile a minute.

Leave it to your damn journalism professor to assign you something that was nearly impossible. Okay, you shouldn’t say impossible, but for a math major, English and writing in general was not something you were particularly good at.

You were majoring in math for a reason, because numbers made more sense to you than words. Numbers were rational, logical, set in stone. Numbers meant facts and reason. Words however, could confuse you. They could appear as one thing and mean something entirely different. It was easy to deceive with words, harder when you had the facts.

You didn’t like words. You much preferred numbers, but so far the only number required in your assignment was the word count you had yet to reach.

You didn’t get it. Why would he assigned you a project so late in the semester, a project worth so much of your grade at that?

You had been doing fine all semester, scraping together things here and there, pretending you knew what the hell he was talking about when he mentioned things like press and media and PR.

All things that had nothing to do with your major, by the way.

You could pretend until now, until you suddenly had to put everything you had learned towards this project, and it was not working.

You groaned again in frustration as you scrapped yet another sentence, noting how stupid it sounded. In fact, your whole essay was half-assed because you simply were not good with words and you were finding it difficult to type your proposal despite having your source right at your fingertips.

You looked up as Marjorie, the woman that ran the café, gave a little chuckle at your frustrated nature. You locked eyes, and you could see that she was amused, knowing full well how much you hated this project — seeing as you did recruit her for help.

Professor Bernstein wanted the class to use their so-called skills to gather information about a topic that they found interesting. And you were supposed to use your ‘journalist methods’ as he had called them, to gather sources, write articles, and eventually compose a report of all the findings you gathered.

Which was fine, at first.

It was fine because you thought you could just pretend like you had been all semester, and you picked an easy topic you thought you were just going to breeze through.

The History of Math is what you had opted for. Simple, easy, and…

Apparently not good enough for Professor Bernstein.

You still scowled when you remembered the day you handed your proposal in. One week ago was when he had taken your paper, looked at it once, and then handed it back to you with a shake of his head.

“Journalism is about reporting things that are new and exciting,” He had put an emphasis on exciting and it wasn’t lost on you. “Try and research something that’s more relevant. Something that’ll capture the readers interest. You do know that the best project is getting submitted to the local paper, right?”

“But—” You had protested, thinking it unfair he turned you down so quickly. “If you just read it, then you’d see my paper is interesting. In fact, I even tracked down the grandson of the man that invented the calculator. Even managed to get a photo of the original prototype. Is that not interesting?”

Due to the fact that you had to resubmit your proposal, you would say that no, Professor Bernstein did not think that was interesting.

That interaction caused you to sulk, and as a way to cheer yourself up, you went to Marjorie’s Cafe for coffee and to express your exasperations to the woman who was always happy to listen to you. You told her about what happened and that’s when she offered herself as a topic for your project — or rather her heritage as an Italian American woman.

Marjorie agreed to be your source and give you interviews on what it was like having immigrant parents and grandparents.

She agreed that she’d help you out, as long as you did one thing for her.

“Stop complaining so damn much and just get it done,” She told you, and you wore a sheepish smile, knowing that she was right.

You would pull through this, you would pull through this, you would pull through this, you would—

Oh, fuck this.

You groaned again and this time you finally slammed your laptop shut, pushing it away from you and grunting as you snatched up your coffee. As you sipped on the dark drink (you usually liked your coffee with three creams and three sugars but you decided you need something stronger for today) you heard the old woman laughing again and the scuffle of her feet as she came from behind the counter, and sitting at your table.

You didn’t look at her as she sat down, opting to close your eyes and try to steer away the headache that was surely coming.

You rubbed your temples, and when you opened your eyes again, you met those of Marjorie’s, whose face was dancing with amusement.

“I take it it’s not going so well,” She guessed as she grabbed your coffee cup, pulling it towards her. You watched as the woman filled it back up to the brink before passing it back to you, a grateful sigh leaving your lips.

“Thanks, Marj. And not at all,” You told her with a deep frown. “I’m trying so hard to put everything you told me into words, but it’s just all so—”

“Boring?” Marjorie guessed, causing your mouth to drop open in shock.

“What? Marjorie, you know I would never—”

You started to protest, but the old woman’s laughter cut you off. She threw her head back, and by the way her hand reached over to gently pat yours, you were able to relax knowing that she was just joking.

“Dear girl, you have got to loosen up,” Marjorie told you, shaking her head slightly. “I was just kidding, but it seems this project has got you so stressed out you can barely think straight anymore.”

You sighed as you leaned back in your seat. She wasn’t wrong; you had barely slept in the last couple of days because you were so worried about this project and this class. You had stayed up all night writing several proposals before Marjorie had even offered, and now it felt your brain was really and truly burnt out.

“It’s just,” You fiddled with your hands as you met Marjorie’s brown eyes. They were warm, full of sympathy as you struggled. “It’s just that I want to go ahead and get this over with so I can finish this semester strong. But you know me—writing is not my strong suit, Marj. I do way better with numbers which is why I picked math as my major in the first place. And I mean—it’s frustrating that I even have to take this class. When am I ever gonna use journalism skills as a math professor?”

“Who knows?” Marjorie shrugged. “You might discover some new equation and end up in the papers yourself,”Her eyes twinkled and you snorted.

“Okay, I am not that smart,” You told her. “I mean, it’s not like I’m Tony Stark or anything. You know, discovering a whole element and all.”

You had only been joking, but at the mention of the multibillionaire, Marjorie suddenly got quiet. She bit her lip as a distasteful look grew on her face, her nose turning up slightly.

You rose an eyebrow.

“What? Not a big fan of Iron Man?” You tried to joke a little, but Marjorie only shrugged.

“Not in the slightest,” She said, seriousness in her voice. Her brown eyes narrowed slightly.

You had to admit, you were a little taken back by her response. Of course, you had your own opinion of the man and especially the organization he was affiliated with, but you never expected Marjorie to agree. You guys had never talked about it before, but whatever.

You two wouldn’t be the only ones that held disdain for a superhero.

“I guess that’s valid,” You shrugged as you sipped on your coffee. The bitter taste made you grimace a little bit. “Tony Stark does seem like he’s a bit—”

Full of himself, is what you were going to say.

“Dangerous,” Is what Marjorie came up with. “That’s all that man is. And boy do I tell you, I worry for your sister every day that she has to live with that man.”

“Well…” You trailed off because you were genuinely taken aback by Marjorie’s answer. Never, and you mean never, had anyone other than you referred to the Avenger as dangerous. Most people worshipped the ground they walked on, including your parents. Most people thought they were heroes.

But Marjorie…

You stared at her as you recognized that same suspicion behind her eyes. The same look people had often described you as having and you were shocked. Because it was one thing to have your own concerns, but if someone like Marjorie was thinking the same thing, then…

“What are you—”

Your voice was suddenly cut off by the bell over the door ringing. An abrupt customer had you slamming your mouth shut, holding your words as Marjorie’s eyes drifted from yours and towards the door.

What are you worried about? Is what you wanted to ask her, but you didn’t get the chance as a sudden gasp escaped her lips.

Marjorie got up, and you watched curiously as her face turned to happiness in an instant, the woman making quick haste towards whoever it was at the door. The joyful laugh she let out reached your ears, the conversation between the two of you long forgotten as she exclaimed:

“Peter!”

Peter? You inwardly questioned. Who is Peter?

You swiveled your body around so that you could be nosy and see what was going on. When you did, you were shocked to see Marjorie hugging the person that had came in. It was a boy, but you couldn’t get a good look at his face because Marjorie’s body was blocking your view. The only thing you could pick up on was his long, deep chuckle and his words as he said,

“Aunt May!” The stranger pulled away and greeted her with excitement in his voice, causing your eyes to shoot open and your mouth to drop in shock. You were absolutely floored when he stepped back, revealing a quite handsome boy that looked exactly like the woman you had known for two years.

Young, with brown hair and a sweet smile that almost melted your heart. The way he was looking at Marjorie was absolutely adorable, and even though you were still in shock by this new revelation, you smiled.

“Peter, my favorite nephew,” She giggled as she looked him up and down, fretting over him in typical Marjorie fashion. “To what do I owe the pleasure? You don’t usually visit your Aunt May on the weekdays, if at all.”

“Well,” Peter trailed off sheepishly, scratching the back of his head. “I’ve been kind of busy with schoolwork but I had some free time today so I decided to just pop in and see how you were doing. I would have done it earlier but you know I also have the—”

“The Stark Internship,” Marjorie answered for him, and you didn’t miss the bitterness in her voice, nor the familiar name rolling off her lips. She looked like she was grimacing a little bit, but she tried her best to hide it from Peter as she glanced back at you. You locked eyes for a second and you rose an eyebrow. “Of course. How could I forget that you’ve been spending all your time with Tony Stark?”

Tony Stark. Well that certainly explained some of Marjorie’s disposition towards him. It seemed like her nephew had been visiting her less and less frequently due to this so-called internship. You would have, of course, known this—except you were too busy not even knowing that Peter existed.

Marjorie had never told you she had a nephew. In fact, she never told you she had any family except for her late husband and children who she sorrowfully told you about. You racked your brain, but you were certain she never told you about any living relatives and certainly not him.

You could feel your cheeks heat up as you looked at the pair once again, and this time you were shocked to see Peter already looking back at you. May had taken his hand, and your mouth parted a little bit when you noticed her pointing towards your table.

“Come on. Let’s go sit down for a little bit, okay? There’s someone else here I think you should say hello to.”

Quickly you sat up, brushing the crumbs from your snack off your jeans and straightening up in your chair. You tried to make yourself look presentable while also pretending like you weren’t eavesdropping. When Peter and Marjorie finally got to the table, you put on a shy smile and blinked your lashes so Peter wouldn’t think you were weird for just sitting there.

“Um, hi?” Your words came out more like a question, and Peter laughed as Marjorie patted your shoulder. The two of them wore identical smiles as they sat down across from you, though Peter was the one directly across from you while Marjorie was beside him.

“Well, while you’ve been busy with Tony Stark,” There was that dismay again, “This one here has been keeping me plenty of company in your absence. She comes here almost every day; too much if you ask me,”Marjorie joked.

“Marj! Haha, you’re so funny,” You sent her a look while she simply grinned, winking at you as Peter laughed. “I don’t actually come here everyday,” You tried to assure him, even though you really did. Peter just smiled.

“Well if you did, I wouldn’t really blame you. Aunt May here has the best coffee in Brooklyn,” He beamed at her while you nervously nodded. And, not wanting to be rude, Peter suddenly realized he hadn’t introduced himself so he held out his hand. “I-I’m Peter, by the way,” He said with a sweet smile. “I’m this old troublemaker’s nephew.”

“Oh,” Marjorie, or May you supposed, waved him off while you giggled. Reaching out, you clasped your hand into his and noted how warm it was. Maybe even a little sweaty, but perhaps that meant he was just as nervous as you were.

“Hi. I’m Y/N,” You said to him shyly, your lips turning up. “Y/N L/N. It’s nice to finally meet you.”

“Likewise,” Peter agreed.

Marjorie cleared her throat when the two of you held hands a little longer than what was necessary, but she didn’t say anything. She just grinned widely when you both pulled away, embarrassed.

Peter was blushing and you suddenly became obsessed with your coffee cup. Marjorie noticed the interaction between the two of you and had you been looking at her, you would’ve noticed the slight twinkle in her eyes as she suddenly stood up.

“Come, Peter. Let me out so I can make some fresh coffee. I’ll pour you a cup and in the meantime, why don’t you chat with YN? I’m sure you both could find something to talk about,” Marjorie sang. You wanted to protest but before you could even say anything, she was gone—leaving you and Peter there staring at each other awkwardly.

The pregnant pause between the two of you was strong, neither of you knowing what to say. The two of you had literally just met and there wasn’t much to talk about, until Peter’s eyes landed on your laptop.

“No way, you go to MIT too?” He exclaimed excitedly, causing your attention to immediately snap to him. You noticed that he was looking at all the stickers that decorated your device, most of which you had added freshman year. “That’s so cool! What year are you in?”

Your mouth parted slightly at his words, but you quickly caught yourself as a small grin grew on your face. Blushing slightly, you leaned up and said,

“Sophomore. I’m a…I’m a sophomore,” You stuttered slightly, Peter’s face lighting up at your words. “I study mathematics there on main campus. You?

“Engineering. East campus,” He told you quickly, and even though you didn’t know him, you thought his major fit him as such. “With a minor in robotics. Thankfully I’m a senior now.”

“A senior?” You quirked an eyebrow at him in disbelief. “Oh my god, there is no way you’re that old.” You gave him a look. “You literally…you look the same age as me!”

“Well, that’s cause I probably am,” Peter admitted, once again scratching the back of his neck. “I went to Midtown High and I had a couple of internships so I got admittedly early. I was able to finish my freshman year and sophomore year before I even graduated and now I’m here. I’m uh…I’m nineteen, but a lot of people still think I’m in high school,” He laughed.

You laughed too because you could definitely relate. “Same here,” You told Peter, causing both of you to grin. “I’m 18, but my parents and literally everybody else swears I still look fourteen.”

“That’s because you do,” Came Marjorie’s voice, the woman coming back with coffee just as she promised. She slid a cup to Peter and while she didn’t have any beverages for you, she did have a snack.

You grinned at the cinnamon rolls she placed on the table, eyeing them hungrily while Peter did the same. He started to reach for one, but when Peter saw your hand shoot out first, he quickly pulled back and slid it over in front of you.

“Sorry. Ladies first,” He said, and you smiled as you plopped a sweet treat onto your napkin. You thanked him before digging in, Marjorie giving Peter a smile as he watched you.

“I figured since you’re both young geniuses you’ll need a snack to fuel those brains of yours,” She chuckled, elbowing Peter slightly. “After all, it’s not easy graduating at sixteen or having an IQ that’s higher than Bruce Banner and Tony Stark combined.”

“May,” Peter was obviously embarrassed as she smirked at this, causing you to stifle your laugh. You didn’t want all your food to come flying out and embarrass yourself in front of the two Parkers. So, you held back, but you appreciated the dig at Tony Stark. “How many times do I have to tell you, I am not smarter than Mr. Stark or Doctor Banner!”

“So you say,” Marjorie waved him off, but you had a feeling she wasn’t lying.

You looked at Peter and smiled at the blush on his cheeks. It seemed that he got easily embarrassed, just like you did. So, you decided to make him feel better.

“No, no, I definitely believe it,” You said, agreeing with Marjorie. “You look like the kind of person that would win a Nobel Peace Prize or something.”

Marjorie grinned. “See. Y/N agrees.”

Peter let out a strangled noise, almost choking on his cinnamon roll as he looked up at you. His brown met yours, and you winked at him as Marjorie simply smiled.

She gave you look when Peter wasn’t looking, and you knew exactly what she was thinking. And while you did think Peter was cute, you were mortified at the thought of being set up on a date by his aunt. Marjorie just had a way of being…embarrassing at times. You didn’t want her to get involved, but it seemed that she already had other plans.

“So Peter,” She started casually, ignoring the way you shook your head at her. You wanted her to stop but once Marjorie had her mind on something, there was no going back. “Didn’t you take Professor Bernstein’s journalism class at one point? I’m only asking because Y/N here has it now and, oh the poor girl is struggling.”

You glared at Marjorie as she faked sympathy on your behalf. Only for it to vanish when Peter looked at you.

“I think maybe she could use some pointers, if you wouldn’t mind of course. I know you’re always busy with that Tony Stark, but keep in mind that she almost punched a hole through her laptop before you came.”

The smirk was evident on her face as both you and Peter flushed. Damn that old lady and her meddling. You had only just met the guy and here she was already trying to shove you in his direction. Not that you didn’t need it of course, but still…

You gave her a look, but Marjorie pretended not to even see you as Peter turned his body towards you, a surprised look on his face.

“Peter, you most certainly do not have to—”

“Well, I kind of would be happy to help,” He cut you off, casuing your eyes to widen slightly as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Bernstein was kind of a pain in my ass and I don’t blame you for being frustrated. If I can help anybody else from destroying their own laptop then I most certainly will,” He chuckled.

Marjorie beamed as you stared at him in shock, your heart beginning to race in your chest.

“Are you sure?” You asked Peter worriedly, not wanting to feel like a burden. “I don’t like, want you to feel pressured or anything. I know you have the Stark Internship so I don’t wanna distract you—”

“Oh nonsense,” Marjorie sneakily waved you away. “I’m sure Peter will be fine. Besides, it’ll give him a break and an excuse to come visit me more often. Two birds with one stone, right?”

“Yeah,” Surprisingly, he agreed. You felt your cheeks heat up as he flashed you a sweet smile, and luckily he couldn’t see your blush. “I uh…I’m sure Mr. Stark would understand if I cut back a little bit.”

God, you sure hoped he did. You worried that Marjorie had moved this too fast, too soon. And you didn’t want Peter’s life to get interrupted because of it…

But man, you really did need the help. None of your other classmates would bother, and your friends didn’t have to take this class. It was just you, and you worried that if you didn’t take Peter’s offer, you really would fail after all.

So, after not much deliberation, you agreed.

“Okay.” You sighed a little bit in acceptance, finally meeting Peter’s eyes. They sparkled as your gazes connected, making you shy as you finally agreed, “I suppose I could use the help. After all, this project is worth a lot of my grade and I’d hate to pass up an opportunity like this.”

“Really?” Peter’s face seemed to light up almost as much as his aunts did. Nodding slowly, you bit your lip, thinking that the matching expressions were adorable. Especially Peter’s…wait no! No! That was not what this was about. He was just helping, that’s all. There was no need to call him cute, or think his smile was adorable. He was just going to help you, that’s all.

“Yeah.” So you tried to play it cool, acting like it was nothing. But on the inside you couldn’t deny that you were a the tiniest bit of excited.

Marjorie gave you a look as she caught you staring at Peter again, but you simply flashed the woman a fake smile, knowing damn you weren’t fooling her. Just like her nephew, she could practically read you like a book. And if the way the two of you were staring at each other was any indication of what was inside, it was going to be an interesting read indeed.

“Come on, is it really that bad?”

“Yes! I’m telling you—Bernstein is absolutely relentless. It’s like he knows I’m no good at this and he’s purposely giving me all of this work just to see me fail,” You complained to your older sister, picking at your fingernails and staring into the phone you had propped up on your desk.

It seemed that your day just kept getting better and better. After leaving Marjorie’s with Peter, Natasha had called you right as you had gotten home.

It was the last thing you were expecting, sure, but you welcomed it nevertheless, never willing to pass up an opportunity to talk to your sister.

You had been giddy as you sat all your stuff down, the excitement of Peter walking you home still rushing through you. And immediately, you had dived into your life events, leaving no detail out from the last time Natasha had called you. It was routine at this point; one that you both welcomed.

Natasha seemed to smile as you told her everything about your life—even about your asshole of a teacher that was trying to ruin your life. And you swore that Nat was trying to gaslight you into thinking that maybe you were overacting.

“Yeah, but I don’t think he’s out to get you голубка,”She teased, using your familiar nickname. She chuckled a little as you rolled your eyes. “I don’t think any professor ever cares that much, but maybe he just wants to push you outside of your comfort zone. Maybe he just wants you to succeed in every subject, not just math.”

“Good one Nat,” You sarcastically laughed as a grimace came onto your face. “But no professor gives this big of a project, this close to summer without having the intentions of ruining someone’s life.”

“Yeah, okay. I think someone is just lazy,” Natasha pointed out, laughing harder when you flipped her off. “голубка, you didn’t graduate at sixteen for nothing. I’m sure you’re smart enough to figure this out.”

“Don’t remind me,” You muttered. “If I could take it back, I would. As a matter of fact, I wouldn’t have gone to college at all. I’d have made you train me so I could be a super awesome hero. I bet they don’t make you do journalism projects.”

Natasha smiled, but you couldn’t help but notice that the action didn’t reach her eyes. They didn’t light up the way they used to, and it seemed like she had to strain to even get it on her face.

It made you sad, and it made you look at your sister closely, noticing the tiredness behind her eyes. In fact, she just seemed overall exhausted, her beautiful face looking blotched and worn out.

You knew there was quiet of an age gap between you and Natasha, but your sister wasn’t old by any means. However, it seemed that ever since she had joined the Avengers, she had aged beyond her actual years on earth. At first you always chalked it up to her job and the stress it must surely be causing her, but now another part of you told you that perhaps it was something else.

Perhaps it had to do with her shadow, forever lingering behind her even though he was trying his very best to stay out of sight.

It didn’t work.

You wondered why Bucky was even there but you didn’t want to risk asking and possibly sounding rude. After all, he could probably hear you. He was quite literally a super soldier, and even if he didn’t have advanced hearing, you were sure that with his proximity, he could still hear you. Even though you had your suspicions about the Avengers, you still had no proof that they were…well, anything. The only thing you had to go on was the uneasy feeling in your gut and you weren’t ready to openly insult Natasha’s friends to their faces, just in case you were wrong.

And if you were wrong, the last thing you wanted was for your sister to be mad at you and call you less than she already did. It already hurt your heart to see so little of her, and you didn’t want to do anything to mess it up. So you said nothing, only focused on Nat and occasionally looking at the shadow behind her.

“Are you okay?”

You noticed she had gone quiet for a little bit and grew concerned. Nat smiled again, but it looked like someone had pushed thread into her cheeks and pulled up.

“I’m fine,” She said quickly, her voice hoarse but steady. “Everything’s fine here, I’m just—”

“Let me guess, you’re just tired?” You cut her off and she nodded, you shaking your head. “Figured you say that,” You chuckled humorously.

Nat frowned. “It’s just…well we’ve just been going on a lot of missions lately and I haven’t had a chance to really rest, you know?”

“Yeah, I’m sure that’s what it is,” You said absentmindedly. You didn’t mean for your tone to sound so sarcastic, but before you could take it back, it was already too late.

Nat frowned deeper, and you could see her recoil a little bit causing you to sport your own frown. She stared at the camera for a little while before answering again, almost like she was carefully choosing the words that she wanted to say.

“Y/N,” She said slowly, grabbing your attention. She rarely ever called you that. “I assure you that whatever you may think is going on, that’s not it. I’m just tired from all the missions, nothing else. You know my life as an Avenger is rough and I’m not sure why you don’t believe me, but I’m not lying,” She said to you.

You rose an eyebrow. “I…never said you were,” You retorted back, blinking in confusion. But you quickly changed your tone as Bucky began to stir in the background.

You watched as he tensed a little, his head snapping towards Natasha and his eyes glaring straight into the back of her head. And even though Nat wasn’t even facing him, she still flinched and your jaw dropped a little bit at the interaction. Quickly, you scrambled to fix your words, not knowing if you had triggered something, the suspicions you felt coming into play.

Quickly, you said, “I know you would never lie to me. You never have before and I know you won’t start now. So if you say it’s just a mission then I believe you, Nat.” You tried to sound reassuring. “I don’t want to imply anything else but it’s just, well…I guess I just miss you, that’s all. And I just have so much to say to you in one phone call that I guess it just all comes out wrong.”

Natasha studied your face, and you tried to show her that you truly did believe her while you truly didn’t. You tried to convince…well you weren’t sure if it was her or Bucky. But whatever it was, it seemed that they both had relaxed, and Bucky went back to staring straight ahead, pretending like he hadn’t almost snapped his neck off upon hearing your words.

“I miss you too, голубка,” Nat replied sadly, lowering her head. “I wish I didn’t have to work so much so I could be there with you and mom and dad. I wish I could visit more often, but with all the missions…well, you know how it is.”

“Yeah. I know,” You smiled sadly and shook your head. “I know you’re busy Avenging and all that stuff so I try not to let it bother me so much. I know you do what you can, and I’m really thankful you even called me today. Cause honestly, this Bernstein thing has me really stressed and if it wasn’t for Peter—”

“Peter?”

Nat cut you off quicker than she could probably slice someone’s throat, her eyes snapping open and her jaw dropping slightly. Honestly, it took you kind of by surprise. The way her body suddenly became rigid, her skin turning white…it was unlike anything you had ever seen from her.

Truly, it kind of terrified you. You had never seen that expression on her face before and her hand that was in the frame clenched so tightly you could’ve sworn she drew blood.

You frowned, visibly alarmed. “Yeah, Peter,” You repeated slightly, not sure why Natasha had gotten so worked up. “I met him today at Marjorie’s café. You know, the one in Brooklyn that you always—”

“I know,” Nat cut you off quickly once again, and shook her head. “The one I always tell you to Stay. Away. From,” She snapped, visibly angry.

Now, you really were taken back. “Yeah…that one,” You said slowly. Man, what was with your sister today? “Marjorie knew I was struggling so she tried to set me up with Peter in her own little way, like getting him to help me. Honestly, you know how I feel about her meddling, but man those Parker’s sure are—”

“Parker?” The word came out so slow, so horrified that you actually had pause to check to see if you had heard Nat correctly. You actually froze as your sister began to shake, her hand coming up to slap over her mouth. Like she was starting to get sick or something.

Now, you were beyond confused and scared as tears began to gather in Natasha’s horrified eyes.

“голубка,” She begged, “Please, please don’t tell me that you met—”

“Peter Parker,” You said slowly, your own anxiety beginning to make you shake. “I…I did. He goes to MIT with me. He majors in engineering. Apparently he even interns under Tony Stark but I—”

“NO!”

“Nat!”

You were horrified as your sister suddenly jumped up, knocking the camera back with her hand and causing you to flinch then gasp. Suddenly, your whole body froze as you heard Natasha’s screams come through the phone, and male voices, including Bucky’s, beginning to yell. You reeled back, positively terrified as you screamed out Natasha’s name, begging for her to answer you.

“Nat? Nat! Please—somebody! What’s going on?”

“No!” You heard Natasha cry out again, and absolute terror trickled down your spine to hear your sister scream out like that. You couldn’t see anything, but you could hear all the commotion. Several more voices joined in—most of them telling Natasha to calm down. They were yelling so you weren’t exactly sure, but you thought you recognized most of the voices. Most of the voices you had heard on TV, speaking at UN meetings and press conferences. Most of those voices belonged to Natasha‘s teammates, and you desperately strained your ears to hear but it was all just too much. Too chaotic to really catch anything, so you continued screaming Natasha’s name as loud as she was screaming yours. You couldn’t see, but you could hear, and you somehow knew that she being held down.

“No, no, please! Anybody, anybody please answer me!”

You shook the phone as if that would do anything. As if it would shake your sister’s shoulders in real life. You shook the phone, but nothing came of it. Nobody picked up the device and only thing happening was the commotion. Muffled voices could be heard in the background, almost becoming eerily quiet.

Especially Nat’s.

You could barely hear her anymore, her screams dying down. But if you strained just the tiniest of bit, you could hear something. Mainly just broken words and mumbles, almost as if she was falling asleep.

Why on earth would Natasha be falling asleep when she just screaming her lungs out? The answer terrified you, making you want to cry. But you couldn’t shed any tears, you couldn’t even breathe until you knew that your sister was okay.

So shakily, you began to speak again. “Nat? Are you there? Please tell me you’re okay большая сестра.”

You begged and you begged and you begged some more before finally, somebody picked up the phone. Quickly, you grew hopeful, thinking that maybe it was Natasha. But you were a fool to think that—especially after what you had just heard, and the figure that came into was not your sister.

You couldn’t see their face, and you already knew in your gut that they only picked up the phone to end the call. You knew it. So, you did everything you could to memorize that face; to hear what your sister was saying before you were cut off from her.

It was faint, but just before the phone clicked off, you did hear something.

“You…you promised,” Natasha gurgled as if it was physically painful for her to say the words. “Bucky, you promised you wouldn’t hurt her if I—”

Beep, beep, beep.

The phone went dead. The call ended, you didn’t hear the rest of what Natasha was saying. You didn’t hear anything except for your own jagged breathing, your sobbing face staring back at you in the black screen.

If you had to guess, every feeling that you had two days ago was true. Every thought, every uneasy sensation was correct.

You could never prove it, never explain why you felt so uneasy when you saw your sister with those so-called heroes on TV. You could never gather enough evidence to say with definitive proof that something just wasn’t right about those people.

But now you could.

After hearing her last words, there was no doubt in your mind that something was going on with Natasha. And you knew, in that moment, you had to figure out what it was.

tags 🏷️

@iiirhiane-g

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #dark!peter parker #dark!peter parker x reader

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