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dustyrkives · 4 months ago

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Inheritance? Taken Care Of

PAIRING: Ada Wong x fem reader

WARNINGS: RE4r Ada, post-Spain, parentified daughter r, researcher r, morally gray r, mommy issues, psychological drama, oldest daughter core r and because this piece speaks to me since I'm the eldest daughter of the Asian household–this is self-indulgent oops, emotional neglect, workaholic, unhealthy coping, power play, unethical sciences oops, soft dom Ada, emotional manipulation, possessive Ada, unprotected sex, soft to rough sex, raw sex, biting, marking, marathon sex, multiple orgasms, overstimulation and that's about it, I think.

SYNOPSIS: Your mother shaped you into the perfect scientist–brilliant, disciplined, and drowning in her legacy. Even in death, her voice haunts you. Then came Ada Wong. A deal. A distraction. A mistake. Now, she watches you unravel, unwilling to let you go. After all, everything must be taken care of.

MEN, MINORS DNI

"Everything must be taken care of, before you have any respite."

Heavy are the words of your mother–a renowned biomedical scientist in her time before she met her unfortunate end in Raccoon City.

Your mother took you to work with her at a young age, showing you the ins and outs of the lab, her research, her progress, and her data the moment you were finally capable of comprehension. She made you take STEM as a pre-med course, specifically biochemical engineering. With her name known across the world, you were given a full ride to a scholarship at the most prestigious universities in the city.

It didn't take long for your peers and mentors to realize you have the same talent and intelligence as your mother.

It felt empowering, of course.

You were saving lives, just like your mother, and the talent too!

Indeed, saving lives at the expense of ruining your own.

What a passionate way to die.

The world suddenly fell on your shoulders when the news of your mother not making it during the infamous Raccoon City incident made it to you–just days after you finished your internship with one of her trusted colleagues as your mentor–and her attorney informed you that she had left all of her assets in your care.

That includes her unfinished research manuscript, her lab notes, medical journals, and unorganized data.

Oh, what do you do?

Your knees wobbled as you set foot into her office, where most of her things were moved with the help of the family attorney and her trusted friends. Your thoughts raced, causing your forehead to heat up as you force yourself to go through her things just to know where to start–how to start.

Your mother was overly critical of you–she had a reputation to keep. Low grades and a bad track record were a sign of failure in her eyes, and in return, she'd lecture and vent to you about her frustrations in the lab.

Oh, you're having a difficult time at a single subject? What more if you're finally in my shoes, hm?

Tired? Ridiculous! Everything must be accounted for–must be taken care of, even if it meant dragging your body to work.

Even if it meant dragging your body to work.

Her reminders loom over you like a suffocating ghost. Before you can even grieve her passing–you threw yourself to work, just like your mother did; refining vaccines, studying new virus samples (those that your hired men can acquire), and testing for results.

But instead of the empowerment that surged in you before–it feels empty. The achievement that you longed for felt nothing like a chore–and your mother's praises are faint–mixing with the practiced awe of your investors and fellow scientists.

Most of your work proved effective against the virus—so much so that it became highly sought after by the government and private companies alike.

And a few questionable individuals too.

That includes a mercenary who disguised herself as one of the interns in your lab. You caught her scanning a copy of your research for the cure and possible enhancement of the G-virus.

You put her in for questioning–and instead of throwing her to the authorities, you made a transactional relationship with her; you'd pay her to take samples of the virus from her different missions and make a cure, in return, she'd get double the money from different employers.

At first, it was simple. Cold. Uncomplicated.

Ada delivered the virus samples, you worked on the cure, and both of you pretended it was just another business arrangement.

It worked—until it didn’t.

Somewhere along the line, the conversations became longer. The silences became heavier. She started sticking around after a job was done, lingering in the dim glow of your lab, watching you work like she had something else to say but never did.

You ignored it.

She never pried, never asked why you threw yourself into your work the way you did. But the way she watched you—like she saw straight through the walls you built—was unsettling.

You should have known better.

Because when the time came—when she had to choose between you and the people who paid her—she chose you.

That was the first time you realized that, despite everything, you weren’t the only one losing themselves in this arrangement.

And that changed everything.

A small smile graces your lips as a message from Ada glares from your screen.

I'm on my way back with the Amber.

Excellent.

"I'm sure Wesker was less than pleased when you change coarse with the Amber." You mused, days after Ada came back with the said item. The older girl's lips morph to a faint smile as she stands next to you, her arms crossed against her firm chest.

"Wesker has a lot of resources," She turns her head in your direction and tilts her head to the side, "I'm sure he can get new samples elsewhere."

You hum as you examine the stone, "Exquisite," You tear your eyes from the Amber and look at Ada. "Thank you."

"My pleasure, doll." The short-haired woman smirks, "I'll leave you to your work–I know you hate being delayed."

"You know me too well," Your tone cool as Ada leaves the room. On cue, your lips flatten into a line as the mirth swims away from your eyes, becoming dull–empty.

Wonderful. Another chore.

In you're need to start planning your next steps, you fail to notice Ada–who is standing at the entrance of your study–eyes carefully studying your change of expression before walking down the halls of the facility.

Without wasting time–you and your team of proficient biomedical scientist began brainstorming the stone–conducting tests among tests and recording your findings without fail–the Amber held so much potential: a superior form of the Plaga. It didn't take a while for it to become the center of your focus, eating and sleeping became an option–you have so much to work with.

Ada has been observing you, the way your food comes back untouched, your sleep patterns–heck, she even woke up with you not beside her.

And if Ada didn't know any better–have you gotten thinner?

Her brows pinch together–and just as it quickly came, it disappeared.

You tell your team to rest–but you can't apply the same to yourself.

Everything must be taken care of, before you have any respite.

With heavy eyes and a blank face, you type away new data recorded from today's findings. Your wrist feels numb, and your body weighed like lead as your eyes shift from one screen to the next.

Then a familiar, feminine, velvety voice fills your cold, sterile lab.

"It's 4:37 AM,"

Automatically, your brows arch and you swivel your chair to the owner of the voice. There stood Ada, wearing a white-button up shirt and beige tapered trousers.

"And?" You mused.

"You're supposed to be sleeping next to me."

Your eyes scan her outfit, "What an odd set of pajamas." You comment with a small smile. A hum reverberates form Ada's chest, her eyes smoothly move to your desk.

"And I see that you didn't touch your food. Again." Her eyes narrow as she takes slow, measured steps towards you. Pink blossoms in your cheeks–nothing extravagant—just a simple meal. You don’t need to ask who left it.

"You're making a habit of watching me, Ada." You mutter, looking away from the older woman. She smirks, using one hand to grasp your chin, coaxing you to look at her.

"Hard not to when you're wasting away."

"I have work..." You trailed off as her expression sharpens–stern.

"And you'll be no use to anyone if you collapse." She lets go of your jaw and takes the fork, stabbing the meat with it before handing it to you. "Eat, doll."

You blink at her, "But–"

She raises a brow.

The air between you hums with tension, silent yet deafening. Ada doesn't waver, her hand steady as she holds out the fork. You recognize the challenge in her gaze—one she doesn’t need to voice. You could ignore her. Dismiss her with a sharp remark and go back to your research. That’s what you would have done before.

But the weight of her stare is different this time.

Reluctantly, you take the fork from her fingers, avoiding her gaze as you take one bite. Then another. The taste is nothing special, but the way Ada leans against the desk, arms crossed, watching you with quiet satisfaction–it was almost irritating.

"Happy?"

The former smirks, but there's a mellow gleam in her eyes. "Ecstatic."

She doesn’t push you to eat more. Doesn’t hover or pry. Just lets you go at your own pace before pushing off the desk.

"Sleep after you're done eating."

A scoff leaves your lips. "I have work to do."

Ada tilts her head, studying you with something unreadable. "Right. Of course you do."

She turns, walking toward the exit—but pauses at the doorway. Over her shoulder, she adds, "Don’t make me force you."

And then she’s gone.

Days pass. Weeks.

Ada watches. She doesn’t hover, doesn’t nag—but she sees everything.

The untouched meals. The way your hands shake slightly when you reach for a pen. The increasing number of empty coffee cups cluttering your desk. The dark circles under your eyes, like shadows carved into your skin.

You're burning out, and you don’t even notice.

Ada does.

She notices when your fingers tremble as you type. When you blink a second too long, as if fighting the urge to collapse on the spot. She notices when you stand too fast, your vision tilting, and you grip the edge of the desk just to steady yourself.

And then, one night, it happens.

You don’t remember falling—only the sharp sensation of your knees hitting the floor, the rush of dizziness swallowing you whole. A sound escapes your lips, something between a gasp and a curse, but before your body can fully crumple—

Ada is there.

Lithe arms catch you before you hit the cold tile. A firm grip steadies you and through the haze clouding your vision, you hear her voice, lower than usual.

"That's enough."

Your head is spinning. You don’t fight when Ada pulls you up, guiding you towards the couch in the corner of your study. You’re not sure when she sat down, only that you’re suddenly leaning against her, the warmth of her presence pressing into your side.

You hate how comforting it feels.

"You’re overworking yourself," Ada states, voice unreadable.

You huff, though it lacks bite. "That’s nothing new."

Ada is silent for a moment, then:

"This isn’t just about the research, is it?"

Your breath catches.

She’s too close. Not physically—though, yes, she is—but she’s too close to seeing through you. Through the carefully constructed walls, through the weight of your mother’s expectations still coiled around your throat like a noose.

Ada exhales, her voice softer than before. "You can’t outrun her."

Your fingers clench into the fabric of your sleeves. You don't answer.

Ada doesn't push.

She simply sits there, allowing the silence to settle—offering her presence without demand. Without pressure.

Ada doesn't move for a while. Neither do you.

The silence isn’t uncomfortable, but it’s heavy. You can feel her presence—steady, unmoving—like a quiet force refusing to let you spiral any further.

You close your eyes for just a second. Just a second.

And then—

You wake up.

The dim glow of your study lamps is gone, replaced by the soft flicker of the emergency lights. The air is still. Quiet. The weight against your back is warm, solid—Ada.

You realize with slow clarity that you’ve fallen asleep against her.

Your mind is sluggish, torn between the rare, unfamiliar comfort of rest and the immediate need to get back to work. You shift slightly, only for Ada’s arm—wrapped loosely around your waist—to tighten.

"Don’t even think about it."

Her voice is smooth, carrying no room for argument. You tilt your head just enough to catch a glimpse of her—eyes closed, looking impossibly at ease, as if she had all the time in the world.

"How long was I out?" you murmur.

Ada hums, opening one eye. "Longer than you usually allow yourself. Not long enough."

A flicker of annoyance sparks in your chest. "I don’t have time for—"

Ada clicks her tongue, and suddenly, she’s shifting—her arm unwinding from you as she gracefully rises to her feet. The warmth you didn’t realize you were clinging to vanishes.

Fine. If she’s going to leave, that’s—

Your thoughts halt when Ada leans down, placing her hands on the couch—caging you in.

"You’re coming with me," she says, voice smooth as silk but carrying an edge that dares you to refuse.

Your brows furrow. "Excuse me?"

Ada tilts her head, smirking slightly. "You heard me."

She grabs your wrist—not tightly, but firmly—and pulls you up before you can protest. Your legs, still weak from exhaustion, stumble slightly, and Ada steadies you without effort.

"Ada—"

"You need air," she interrupts, her tone final. "A break. And before you start whining about time, I already handled the lab reports for the night. Your little research team will survive without you for a few hours."

You blink. "You—what?"

Ada smirks, guiding you toward the door. "I have my ways."

You stare at her, skepticism laced with something else—something almost like reluctant gratitude.

Ada catches it. Of course she does.

She simply tilts her head toward the exit. "Let’s go, doll."

For once, you don’t fight her.

The low hum of the car engine is the only sound between you. The city lights flicker past, painting streaks of gold and red across the tinted windows.

Ada drives without hurry, one hand on the wheel, the other resting lazily against the gear shift. She hasn’t said much since she pulled you out of the lab, but she doesn’t need to.

You exhale, leaning against the cool glass. "Where are we going?"

Ada glances at you from the corner of her eye, smirking. "Somewhere you can’t escape from."

Your lips twitch. "That so?"

"Mm." She shifts gears smoothly. "You need rest. I’m making sure you get it."

You huff, but there’s no real bite behind it. Maybe a part of you is too tired to fight.

Or maybe a part of you wants to be taken care of for once.

The night air is cool against your skin, but the warmth pressed against your back is unmistakable. Ada.

You don’t remember how she convinced you to stop working for the night, or how you ended up lying in bed with her, tangled in soft sheets. All you know is that her arms are around you, one resting against your stomach, the other tucked under the pillow you share.

Her breath fans against your neck—slow, steady. Unlike you, she seems completely at ease.

You shift slightly, and Ada’s hold tightens just enough to keep you from slipping away.

"You’re still tense," she murmurs, voice low, husky from the quiet.

You scoff. "Habit."

"Bad one," Ada counters, her lips barely brushing your shoulder. "I can think of better ways to relieve stress."

Her fingers trail down your arm, featherlight, before slipping beneath the hem of your shirt. Your breath catches as her fingertips graze your skin, drawing slow, deliberate patterns along your waist.

"Ada—"

"Hm?" Her tone is innocent, but the way her nails drag lightly against your skin is anything but.

You turn your head slightly, just enough to catch the mischievous glint in her eyes.

"You planned this," you accuse.

Ada smirks. "Would you have stopped me if I did?"

You hate how easily she gets under your skin—how the warmth of her touch makes your body betray you.

The way her lips graze the curve of your jaw—soft, teasing—before she bites down just enough to make you shiver.

You don’t answer.

You don’t need to.

Because when Ada shifts, rolling you onto your back, and pins you beneath her with that knowing smirk—you’re already hers for the night.

Your breath hitches as Ada's hips press flush against you, clothes strewn across the floor . Her fingers dance along your torso, grazing your ribs, the. lower; teasing.

"You're so tense," She murmurs, her lips brushing against the shell of your ear. "Let me fix that."

She shifts, her grip firm as she tilts your hips just enough for her to roll against you, slow, deliberate. Heat coils low in your stomach, and you barely suppress a gasp as her cock rubs snuggly against your walls. Your lover chuckles, voice rich in amusement. "See? You don't have to do anything, doll. Just let me do the work."

Your body betrays you, instinctively meeting her hips, craving more.

"That's my girl," She whispers, her voice dark, dripping with satisfaction. Her hands tightens on your hips, and you fele her smirk against your skin.

"Let's see just how much you can take."

She guides your hips, both of you gasping as her pace is agonizingly slow. The tension pulls taut. Deliberate, controlled, taking her time as she fucks you, her movements slow and deep.

Each movement makes pleasure coil tighter and tighter in your core, and Ada knows it. She watches you unravel beneath her, eyes locked on your every reaction. "You love this, don't you?" She taunts, rolling her hips just right, pulling a broken moan from your lips. "Being under me like this, being taken."

Your body trembles, eyes rolling back as your hands grip at her back, nails scratching along her skin as the pleasure builds to unbearable levels.

"Baby–please," You whimper, desperate, your body arching into hers.

The older girl chuckles, her hands sliding up your thighs, gripping your waist as she picks up the pace, thrusting into you with more force, driving deeper. The cacophony of your moans and her groans mixes with the creaks and whines of the bed.

"Say it," She demands, lips brushing against your ear. "Tell me you're mine."

"Yours," You gasp, barely able to breathe. "I'm yours, Ada."

She groans, her rhythm turning rougher, faster, chasing her own release as she takes you apart, the veins on the ridges of her cock rubbing deliciously against your walls while the tip kisses your cervix, eliciting a yelp from you. Pleasure crashes over you, your entire body tensing, and Ada drives into you, pushing you past your limit–until you're crying out her name, clinging to her as waves of euphoria pulse through you.

Ada follows soon after, burying herself deep, her own release hitting as she moans against your throat, her fingers digging into your hips, holding you still as ropes of cum floods your walls, some even oozing out of your folds and down to the sheets. She watches the way you tremble, her smirk returns as she leans down, pressing a lingering kiss against your lips.

"Good girl,"

And just like that, you knew–she isn't done with you yet.

Your body trembles, broken moans and whimpers leave your lips, legs weak and spread open, slick with heat and sweat. She's still inside you, half-hard, twitching against your walls. Your cry out, nails dragging down her back, feeling the way she stretches you all over again, this time with less restraint.

"That's it," She moans lowly, thrusting her hips until there's nowhere left to go. "Take all of me, pretty girl. Just like before."

The ecstasy is almost too much–your pussy still sensitive from the first round but Ada doesn't slow down.

Plap, plap, plap, plap!

The bed creaks, the sound of skin against skin filling the room, and all you can do is cling to her, let her take everything she wants from you. "Mine," She breathes into your ear, her voice dripping with possession.

Your moans swallowed by her kisses as she pounds into you, pushing you higher and higher towards your breaking point. "You'll take everything I give you." Ada growls, gripping your hips, holding you still as she pistons her hips even deeper.

Then, you feel it–the heat, the pressure, the way she stiffens inside you.

Your lover groans, burying herself to the hilt, filling you with viscous ropes of semen, her balls tighten as it slaps against your ass. She stays like that, breathing heavily, enjoying the way your body shudders beneath her, taking everything she has to give.

"Y-you didn't even pull out." You blink at her, dazed, breath ragged.

A cold smile graces Ada's lips. Unapologetic.

"Of course not," She murmurs, dragging her fingers down your stomach, pressing lightly over your womb. "Why would I? You look good like this." She leans down, nipping at your bottom lip, her hands still possessively tracing your lips, before she moves her hips again, rubbing against your puffy folds.

"A-Ada–wait, I-I can't–" You gasp, trying to pry her hips away, but her hands grip your thighs, keeping them spread.

"Oh, baby–I'm not yet down with you."

Her hips press forward, the tip kissing the spongey spot of your walls, making you see stars–your back arches.

"You can take more," She murmurs, kissing down your neck, her hands roaming around your body possessively. "You will take more."

Before you can protest, her knees plant firmly against the sheets as she plows into you, deeper, harder.

Stretching, filling.

Broken moans leave from your lips as your back arches–another choked cry escaping your lips. She's bigger, harder this time–more desperate, more demanding as the headboard keeps slamming against the wall.

"You feel that?" Ada groans, jutting her hips, stealing another moan from you.

"Still so tight–still squeezing me like you don't want to leave."

You whimper, your body is too sensitive, too overwhelmed–Ada doesn't stop. She sets a relentless pace, her thrust deep, hard and void of mercy.

"Look at you, so fucked-out already. But you'll take everything I give you, won't you?" She breathes, watching your eyes lose and your lips open.

So helpless.

"You're mine, inside and out."

Your moans turn into whimpers, gasps, pleas—but it only fuels her more. Ada is insatiable, unrelenting, making you take her over and over again, until you’re nothing but a shaking, overstimulated mess beneath her.

She guides your legs around her hips, pulling out.

A whine leaves your lips before it morphs into a filthy moan with another sharp thrust into your cunt, another nasty squelch echoing into the air–sex and perfume wafts in the room. She slumps against you, pressing her soft chest against your sensitive ones, moving her lips purposefully to the crown of your ear and tugging a bit of your skin in between her teeth.

Your body was hot against hers. Your walls throb deliciously throb around her. Ada's eyes flutter close before she sinks her teeth into your skin.

"A-Ada–fuck!" You sob as she angles precisely into you.

"Nghh–I know, doll." Ada throws her head back, relishing the obscene sound of flesh against flesh.

Plap, plap, plap!

Oh, it's a sound you and Ada never get tired of.

You've already lost your mind beneath her–fucking you to a state of overstimulation, being bred full of her semen.

"You look so beautiful," Ada huffs as she jogs her hips, her pace is shallow to the point that she isn't pulling out anymore.

She grabs the headboard, fucking you into the sheets. The older woman grits her teeth, your mixed fluids being fucked out of your beaten walls, making a mess beneath your legs. Her balls slap against the curve of your ass, heavy with potent seed.

"Mghmm, cumming." Your lover whines, "Cum on my cock, doll–nghh, I want to feel you."

Your eyes roll back again as a strong gush of fluid exits your pussy, coating Ada's cock and her balls. Ada groans, nuzzling her cock into you as she fucks you into overstimulation before she finally stills her hips, shooting ribbons of her seed in you, painting your walls warm and white.

Your mixed essence oozes out, your mind filled with cotton and your body is heavy while Ada looks energized, watching your blissed out state.

"Once I know you're pregnant–I'm putting you on maternity leave." She murmurs.

A promise.

A threat.

And for once, you didn't fight against it.

#ada wong #ada wong x reader #resident evil #resident evil x reader #i'm just a girl #resident evil x you #oneshot #wlw post #wuh luh wuh #sapphic #wlw #fem reader #female reader #yuri

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haveyouseenthisskeleton · 3 months ago

Note

Their kid is biting other kids at school when asked why they say that's what happens at home

Undertale Sans - He promises the teacher he's going to talk to the child, a little embarrassed. What do you mean that's what's happening at home? It's not. Sans sits down with his child and asks them why they lied to the teacher. He just wants to be sure no one is threatening his child.

Undertale Papyrus - Papyrus is offended that the teacher is half accusing him of biting his child. What kind of monster do you think he is? Well, certainly not this one! For all he knows, his child started biting after they started school, so that's the fault of the school, not his. Papyrus proposes that they tell all the other parents so they can all give a lecture to their children. He can't be the only one with a biting problem!

Underswap Sans - He tells his child that if he continues to bite people, Blue will have no choice but to arrest him. The kid looks at him with wide eyes, then bursts into tears. Ah, shit, no! Blue is panicking, telling the kid it was all a joke and that he's not going to do anything. Do you want to go to a fast food? Come on, say yes! He doesn't want his S/O to know he made the kid cry again lol. He's trying, man!

Underswap Papyrus - I mean, during the entire speech, poor Honey is biting his hand because of how anxious he is to be called in by the teacher, so it's not that hard to understand it's really his fault. Listen, Mam, it's not his fault he can't bite his nails like a human, he literally doesn't have nails. He promises he will talk to his child about this and try to be more careful with this bad habit of his.

Underfell Sans - Red asks his kid what the hell they said to the teacher, trying to show the teacher he's a responsible adult. The kid then says that he saw him bite his other parent ass and his other parent liked it how could they know? Red is MORTIFIED, trying all he can to justify himself to the teacher, who is for sure not paid enough to hear this crap. Everyone decides to act like that meeting never happened, and Red promises to talk to his child about that.

Underfell Papyrus - How does your teacher know it was not in self-defense? Do you have written evidence of his child saying it happened at home? Are you accusing him of mistreating his child? Edge goes full lawyer mode, and he's going to destroy the heck out of this teacher. No evidence, not guilty, and you're lucky he doesn't sue you for defamation against him.

Horrortale Sans - Ah, Oak knows how to get out from this one! As the teacher is lecturing him, he suddenly blinks, looking lost, then randomly picks up his child and leaves lol. Oh no, look at that, he completely forgot what you were all talking about. Oops. Oak takes his child to have some ice cream lol. Who cares what the teacher said? Biting is a very important defense mechanism for skeleton monsters. Well, no, it's not, but it can be, so he can accuse the teacher of being a racist and get away with it.

Horrortale Papyrus - Willow is disappointed that his child both bit people and lied to the teacher. He's going to lecture them for two hours for this, to be sure it doesn't happen again. His child is also going to do chores on the farm for two weeks. He wouldn't care if it didn't give a bad image for all monsters. Living in peace with humans is already hard. Do you want your dad to get in trouble? He doesn't want to be harsh on his child, but he's a bit nervous someone will come to inspect his house and ask him questions.

Swapfell Sans - He takes his kid's arms and bites them in front of the teacher with his pointy teeth. Here. An eye for an eye. Can he go now? The teacher is shocked, the kid is crying, and Nox doesn't understand what's the big deal? Everyone had to learn the hard way at some point, he learned that really young. At least it was not a stab wound, duh, that could have been worse! If the teacher wasn't this scared of him, they would probably call someone to check on the child lol.

Swapfell Papyrus - Yeah, and? The other kid is not dead, right? So that's not that important. Rus is annoyed he has been called in by the teacher. It's their responsibility when the kid is at school, not his. Sure, Rus sometimes bites his brother for no reason, but that's only because he's bored and wants attention. Maybe his kid just wants attention and he feels so lonely in your stupid school that he doesn't have any. That's clearly the teacher's fault and not his. The teacher feels guilty in the end and they don't even know why.

Fellswap Gold Sans - And what was his child supposed to do? Let the others walk on them? His child simply understood before the others that this world is cruel and that to survive, you need to fight. Don't be jealous because his kid has better survival instincts than most, after all, they had the best teacher in the world... Him, of course, not you, ew.

Fellswap Gold Papyrus - Well, that wouldn't happen if the other children didn't touch his autistic child like they asked them too. Sure, sometimes he goes non-verbal, but that's not an excuse to push his boundaries. Coffee accuses the teacher of letting other kids bullying his child to the point they feel like biting is the only way to defend themselves. He was like that too when he was a child, maybe learn your lesson and let his child alone.

#undertale #underswap #underfell #horrortale #swapfell #fellswap gold #sans #papyrus #undertale ask blog #undertale asks #undertale imagines #undertale headcanons

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grxmreaperx · 2 years ago

Text

Professor Hoffman

Pairing: (professor!) Mark Hoffman x (f!) reader

Word count: 3.1k (oops)

Warnings: 18+!! this is absolute filth. Daddy kink, choking, oral (m! receiving), fingering (f! receiving), dirty talk, p in v penetration, creampie, age gap (everyone is over 18!!), praise/degradation. Mark being a bastard. I’m so sorry

Summary: You weren’t expecting much from your criminology class. But when you see your professor for the first time, you realize the class may be much more interesting than you were expecting.

I went so overboard with this. I do not know where this came from. I apologize for my actions. Also, all of my knowledge comes from Jim Can’t Swim and Explore With Us interrogation analysis videos, so don’t come for me if some of the criminology stuff is wrong!!

You walked into the lecture hall, bag digging into your shoulder after a long day, trying to find a seat. You sighed. Almost every seat was full, people congregating in the back. You set yourself down in the second row from the front, one of the few empty seats.

You pulled your laptop out of your bag, trying to keep yourself awake. This was your last class of the day and all you could think about was getting back to your apartment and having a nice dinner.

You stifled a yawn, eyes unfocused on your screen.

“Welcome, everyone.”

The deep voice jolted you from your haze, drawing your eyes up from your computer, and onto him.

You felt a jolt run through your body as you took him in. Dark hair neatly pushed back, full lips, chest straining at his suit.

“I’m Professor Hoffman. I’ll be your criminology instructor this semester.”

Shit, maybe you weren’t so ready to go home anymore.

That was the one class you didn’t find yourself dreading. Your other psychology and criminal justice classes were a bore, lecturers talking monotonously for an hour and twenty minutes as you tried desperately to stay awake. Professor Hoffman’s class was actually interesting, it challenged you, made you think. He didn’t force you all to listen to him talk the entire time, even if you wouldn’t have minded hearing that voice for hours on end. He had been a detective before switching to teaching a few years back, so he played interrogation tapes, having you all watch the body language, the word choice, the facial expressions of the suspect.

And it was nice to have something pretty to look at while he taught.

You were a bit embarrassed by how many times he had caught you staring at him. You had never looked at a professor as anything more than a teacher, a mentor, before now. But during his lecture, you found your mind drifting. What his voice would sound like in your ear, how his hands would feel roaming over you, the noises he would make.

You had had your fair share of adventures in college, going out with your friends and ending up in someone’s bed every once in a while. But none of them had been anything to brag about; frat boys only in it for themselves, guys who had no idea what they were doing, or didn’t know how to make it last.

You needed something more, something satisfying.

“So, tell me, do you think this suspect was guilty or not guilty? And tell me why.”

His voice shook you out of your daydream, bringing you back to your reality. Your eyes scanned over the screen, trying to remember bits and pieces of the interrogation you were supposed to have been watching.

You raised your hand; as much as you hated it, you wanted to impress the man. You wanted to show him that you were smart, that you knew what you were talking about. And that you were paying attention, not just staring at him the entire time.

He nodded towards you, telling you to go ahead. “Not guilty. He got angry when you accused him, which is a very typical response from someone who is being falsely accused. And he didn’t use any hedge words when he was talking, which would be unusual for a guilty person. And there’s no obvious motive.”

Your professor smirked, nodding along as you answered. “Very good. That’s exactly right. Another clue to tell you this was…”

You zoned out, trying to contain yourself at his praise.

He scolded himself, his gaze continuously falling onto you throughout every class.

He had left the police department a couple years ago, looking for a job with shorter hours, more time to relax, less frustration.

But now he had a different kind of frustration.

Every class, there you were. Sitting right in front of him, eyes watching him intently as he spoke. He saw the way your face changed every time he walked in the room, your tired face lighting up a bit. He saw the way your gaze lingered on him when you were supposed to be working on an assignment, or watching one of the interviews you were meant to be dissecting.

He noticed your attempts to impress him, always eager to answer his questions. You were always there early, even when others began to slowly fade out, showing up late or not showing up at all.

And, he had to admit, it was working. You were smart, and he could see how interested you were in this topic, even if you seemed to be a bit more interested in him than the class. He knew you’d make a great detective one day; your understanding of others’ minds would be a great asset to the force.

He almost wished he hadn’t left the department. He would give anything to still be in his position when you were first starting out in the field, eager to learn, to impress, to please. He would love for you to train under him, your frustration growing as he teased you, giving you smaller and smaller tasks, making you prove yourself.

He pulled himself away from his thoughts, shuffling his notes together before the start of class.

“Alright everyone, I’ve posted your grades for your last assignment. Some of you did very well, others seem to be a bit distracted in this course.” He purposefully shifted his gaze, meeting your eyes as he spoke this last part.

He suppressed a smirk as he saw your face flush.

“Now, the rational choice theory…”

“I really don’t know what I’m doing wrong in that class,” you sighed.

Your friend nodded. “I mean, he is a pretty tough grader. I don’t think I’ve gotten above a C on anything.”

“Yeah, but I feel like my work is good! Some of it he seems to really like, and then others he’s super harsh. But I thought this last paper was really good!”

“Maybe you should go talk to him about it. Maybe he could help you out, tell you what you’re doing wrong.”

“Yeah, I guess. I probably should. I really like this class; I want to do well in it.”

Your friend smirked. “Do you like the class, or do you like the hot professor?”

You lightly slapped their arm. “Shut up, I don’t think he’s hot.”

They laughed. “Of course you do! I see you staring at him all the time! It’s ok: he is pretty hot.”

You felt your face heating up. “Ok, maybe I think he’s kinda hot, but I like the class too!”

“I hear you.”

As class ended the next day, you took a breath. You shouldn’t be this nervous to talk to him, he was your professor, of course he would be willing to help you. You lingered in your seat for a few moments, taking longer than usual to stuff your laptop back in your bag. As people filed out of the room, you carefully approached his desk.

“Professor Hoffman?”

He looked up, smiling slightly as he met your eyes. “Yes, what can I do for you?”

“I was hoping that maybe you had time to talk to me about my last paper? I was wondering if you could tell me what I did wrong, or what I could improve next time?”

He regarded you for a moment and you couldn’t help but shift a bit under his gaze.

“Of course. I have another class in a few minutes, but I have time to meet tomorrow, if you’d like.”

You nodded, thanking him as he gave you a time and his office number. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

He smirked. “See you then. Don’t be late.”

“What are you all dressed up for?” your friend asked.

“What? I’m not dressed up. Do I look dressed up?”

“I mean, maybe not dressed up, but you look nice. What’s the occasion?”

“Nothing, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

They smiled. “Oh! Now I remember. You have your meeting with the hot professor today! That’s why you dressed so cute.”

“I did not!”

“I don’t believe you. You better hurry up, don’t you have to be there in a few minutes?”

You looked at your phone, cursing under your breath. They were right, you only had a couple minutes before your meeting. You sped up your pace, telling your friend you’d see them later as they walked to their class building.

“You better tell me all about it! Don’t do anything inappropriate, young lady!”

You hurried into the brick building that held Professor Hoffman’s office, trying to find the room number he had given you. Your eyes scanned the plaques next to each door, looking for the one engraved with his name. When you finally found it, the door was shut. You knocked softly, waiting patiently until you heard a voice tell you to come in.

You pushed the door open, examining his office as you entered. One wall was lined with bookshelves, filled with books on psychology, criminal justice, and what looked like case files. His desk sat in front of the window, his back to the light streaming in through the glass. He sat, leaned back in his desk chair, shirt slightly unbuttoned and sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

“Take a seat,” he said, motioning to the chair in front of his desk. You quickly complied, smoothing your skirt as you sat down.

He couldn’t keep his eyes off of you when you walked into his office, closing the door behind you. He should have punished you right then for testing him like that: all dressed up for him, pretty skirt cutting off just above your knees, shirt lower cut than he had ever seen you wearing in class.

“So,” he started, trying to regain his composure. “You wanted to talk to me about your paper?”

You nodded. “Yes, sir.” Fuck. “I was wondering if you could tell me what I could have done better with this assignment. I thought I did really well on it, until I got my grade back.”

He cleared his throat. “Yes, well, it was very well-written. And you have the concepts down. But your job was to analyze the video, not just repeat what I had said in class. Even if you put it a bit more eloquently than I did.” He smiled. “I almost get the feeling that you’re a bit…distracted in my class.

He watched as you became flustered, a smile still on his lips. “Well, professor, I just – I just have a lot on my mind. Sometimes it wanders, you know?” Your eyes darted around, staring at your hands, your bag on the floor, the surface of his desk.

He nodded. “Wanders to what?”

He couldn’t help the smug look on his face as you struggled to answer. He knew what your mind wandered to, he could see it on your face when you were supposed to be paying attention to his lectures. He saw the blush on your face, the way your pupils were blown. And he knew exactly where your mind was wandering to.

“Well, you know, to other things I have to do.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Like me?”

Your eyes widened. “What?”

“You heard me. I see the way you stare at me, the look on your face when I catch you. You think I have no idea what you think about when you’re in my class? You think I can’t read you like a book, sweetheart?”

He tilted his head, watching as you took in his words. You looked like a deer in headlights, knowing he had figured out your secret. He saw the way your body stiffened at the pet name, your legs pressing together.

“I’ll tell you what,” he started, against his better judgement. “You really want to improve your grade?”

You nodded. He told himself to stop, to kick you out of his office before he put his career in jeopardy. But, God, the look on your face, so eager to hear what he had to say, pretty face flushed with embarrassment, legs squeezed together so tight he thought you might explode.

“Cmere,” he said in a low voice.

You slowly stood, making your way around his desk to stand in front of him. “Tell me, sweetheart,” he growled. “Where does your mind wander to during my class? I want to hear you tell me.”

“To you,” you said softly.

“Cmon, baby, you can do better than that.” He knew he was being a dick, he saw how flustered you were, how you were trying to work up the courage to answer his question. And he loved it.

“To you – to you…”

“To me fucking you?” he helped.

“Yes.” Your eyes were fixed on your hands.

“Look at me and say it.”

Your eyes met his. “My mind wanders to – to you fucking me.”

“Much better. Now, you really want to improve your grade, sweetheart?”

You nodded and he saw the eagerness in your eyes, waiting for him to tell you what to do.

“Then get on your fuckin’ knees.”

He smiled, chuckling as you quickly dropped to your knees in front of his chair, hands getting to work on his belt. He watched your eyes widen as you released him from his dress pants and couldn’t help the feeling of pride that swelled in his chest.

“Something wrong, baby?” he asked, cocky smile spreading across his face. You shook your head. “Then go on.”

He let out a deep groan as you took him into your mouth, placing a hand on the back of your head. He wrapped his hand in your hair, guiding you as his dick hit the back of your throat. “Such a good girl.” He leaned his head back against the chair, savoring the feeling of your head bobbing on his cock.

His looked back down at you, eyes darkening as he saw how eagerly you sucked him off, spit coating your lips, tears welling in your eyes every time you took him down your throat. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t a little distracted during classes too, picturing you just like this.

He pulled your head back by your hair until you were looking up at him. “Get up here, sweetheart,” he said, motioning to his lap.

You shakily got to your feet before straddling his lap, setting your hands on his shoulders to steady yourself. He reached under your skirt, hands gripping your ass. He watched as you began to grind your clothed core on his dick, admiring the desperate look on your face.

“What’s the matter, baby?” he asked, hand slowly wrapping around your throat. “So desperate for me. No one been taking care of this pussy?”

You frantically shook your head, grinding down harder.

“Poor little slut. Take them off. I’ll take good care of you, sweetheart.”

You shifted on his lap, pulling your underwear down your legs and tossing them to the side. He slowly ran a finger through your folds, letting out a low hum. “God, baby, this all for me?” Your answer was cut off by him pushing two fingers inside of you, your words turning to a moan. He slowly pumped his fingers, curling them inside you while your ground down on his hand.

“Poor baby, those college boys don’t know how to make you feel good? You’re so fuckin’ desperate.” You quickly shook your head, too lost in the feeling of him working you to form words. You whined when he pulled his fingers out.

He lined himself up at your entrance, the other hand wrapping around your waist, holding you steady. “Go on, baby. Show me how needy you are.”

You slowly slid yourself down onto his cock, mouth falling open as he stretched you out. His head fell back onto his chair, eyes screwing shut, before quickly opening them again, taking in the sight of you full of his dick. He placed his hands on your hips, keeping you steady as you began to bounce. You quickly picked up the pace, grinding yourself down on him, eyes clouded from pleasure.

Your moans filled his ears, eyes roaming your body as you fucked yourself on his cock.

“God, baby, you look so fuckin’ pretty. Such a good little whore for me, hmm?”

“Yes, yes, just for you, Daddy!” you moaned, before quickly catching yourself. He saw your eyes widen, realizing what you had just said.

He wrapped his strong arm around your waist, standing from his chair, still buried deep inside you, before setting you on his desk. He wrapped a hand around your throat, squeezing slightly and pushing your back down onto the surface. “Say it again.”

“I’m all yours, Daddy,” you said softly.

“That’s fuckin’ right baby.” He set a fast pace, roughly fucking into you, one hand still around your throat, the other gripping your hip so hard he knew it would probably leave marks.

He let out a groan at the sight of you underneath him, skirt bunched around your waist, mouth hanging open, hands gripping his arms. He watched your back arch off the table, squeezing your eyes shut.

He froze, abruptly stopping his thrusts. “Look at me when you cum on my dick, baby. Fuckin’ look at me or I’ll stop again. Understand?”

“Yes sir,” you cried, eyes locked on his.

“Much better.” His fingers found their way to your clit as he continued burying himself in you. “Cum for me baby, show me how much you love my cock.”

Your nails dug into his arm as your legs shook around him, moaning loudly as you reached your high. He felt his own end coming on. He leaned down, his face inches from yours. “Tell me sweetheart, where do you want me to cum?”

“Inside…” was all you could manage, still overcome with pleasure.

He smiled. “You want me to fill you up, baby?” You nodded, begging him to fill you.

His pace faltered as he came, gripping your hips tightly. He let go of you, placing his hands on his desk, catching his breath. He slowly pulled out of you, pulling his pants back up and tossing you your underwear. You carefully sat up, legs still shaking slightly.

He settled himself back in his chair, leaning back and running a hand through his hair. He smirked at you, sitting on his desk, completely undone.

“I suppose I can raise your grade on that paper,” he started. “But I do think we should have weekly tutoring sessions. You obviously need some more help with this.” He smirked at you. “Does that sound good to you?”

You never agreed to something faster in your life.

I really liked writing this, if y’all like it I may give you a part 2👀

#mark hoffman x reader #mark hoffman #fanfiction #fanfic #smut #saw #saw franchise

486 notes · View notes

crypticdesire · 1 year ago

Text

embracing the mess

MINORS DNI

dom top gn reader x sub vil shoenheit (around 7.2k words)

cw: general sickness that’s messy, sneeze kink, minor feederism, emeto, piss, ondontophilia

a note from vern: i knew i adored the lovely whumpee that is sick vil, but i did not expect to get so into writing him with emphasis on the sick... but here we are 7.2 k words later... oops. ngl i didn't edit this as thoroughly as i normally do so pls pardon any mistakes!

You already know something is wrong with Vil without even seeing him. You’re ten minutes early to your first class and he’s not already there, which is a very rare occurrence. Some might think with all the effort he puts into his appearance it would be reasonable for him to show up at the last minute, but that wasn’t Vil at all. A part of putting care into his appearance also applied to maintaining his dignified manner, which meant always arriving early.

You don’t have any messages from him, so all you can do is sit down and wait for him. Rook walks through the door with four minutes to spare without Vil by his side like usual, and you feel your eyebrows furrow with worry. Seeing your expression Rook gives you an apologetic smile.

‘I’m afraid Roi du Poison will not be joining us today” he says as he slips behind you to get to his seat. Normally there’s a seat in between you for Vil, but he takes that spot today not needing you to prompt him for an explanation for your partner’s absence. “He’s feeling a bit under the weather, but he requested that I give this to you.” He takes out a small envelope and slides in front of you. There’s a question on the tip of your tongue, but you miss your chance to let it slip out as Professor Trein begins class.

There’s no way you could wait until the end of class to read Vil’s note to you, so even if it means getting scolded by the strict Professor Trein, you have to read it now. Unfortunately for you, Vil prefers to sit in the front row, so you have to make extra efforts to be subtle, taking the note out of the envelope below the surface of the desk and placing it in front of you when Professor Trein’s gaze is directed elsewhere.

You smile faintly, tracing your fingers over the familiar way he addresses his letters to you. My love. Vil developed a habit of writing letters as that was how he responded to mail from his fans, preferring the elegance and personal touch it afforded him. He made sure you knew, however, that he had his own special stationery for you that he selected with you specifically in mind. Scanning over his words, you noticed that his handwriting was slightly different, not sloppy but a bit uneven and hurried, which was a sign in itself he wasn’t feeling his best.

Just like Rook had told you, Vil explained that he wasn’t feeling well and decided rest was a priority for him right now. He didn’t want you to worry though and insisted that you didn’t miss any of your classes to check on him. You smiled wryly. He knew you a bit too well.

While you could appreciate how considerate he was, you felt as if there wasn’t a point to being in class anyway since your mind was more focused on worrying about Vil than the lecture. You came up with the compromise in your head that you would check on him during lunch, bringing him some food and seeing his condition for yourself. That would allow you to convince him to let you stay for the afternoon and take care of him if needed.

“Headed to the Pomefiore dorm?” Rook gives you a knowing smile as you two gather your things at the end of class. “I would hardly think less of you if you did,” he continues “We both know how stubborn Roi du Poison can be when it comes to letting others look after him.” It made you feel better knowing he wasn’t opposed to you ignoring Vil’s request.

You exhale a deep sigh. “Honestly, I want to, but I thought on Vil’s behalf I’d wait until lunch, but you’re the one who saw him this morning. What do you think? I mean he’s not one to skip class for something minor, so it has to be a little concerning, right?” Despite thinking you had your mind made up earlier, your resolve to wait until lunch was waning.

“Hmmm” Walking out into the hallway, Rook hummed in thought though seeing a glint of amusement in his eyes you were sure he already decided his opinion.

“I think…” he tapped his lips with his gloved index finger. “You should trust your instincts” he didn’t even try to hide his smile as he looked at you from the corner of his eyes. “Ne t’inquiète pas! I’ll collect any notes or assignments you two need from your classes”

“But we’re not all in the same classes” you pointed out, but he only chuckled.

“But I am very resourceful” he punctuated his claim by tapping you on the nose. “Vas y, vas y” he waved his hand flippantly in the air, cutting off any more opportunities for you to voice opposition.

“Well, merci ami” You at least knew that much French even before you started picking up phrases from Rook. “We’re lucky to have you as a friend” You added with your lips tugged into a grateful grin, which Rook met with a wink. With your conversation over, you two headed in different directions, your feet taking you towards the Pomefiore dorms with a small detour to grab some things Vil might need.

Standing in front of his door, holding one bag with food and one with various types of medicine, you couldn’t be more grateful that he gave you a spare key once your relationship got more serious. How terrible would it be if you skipped class for him and then you couldn’t even get in on the chance he was sleeping?

You entered as quietly as you could, the bit of sunlight seeping into the room through his stained glass window keeping you from having to stumble in the dark. You glanced over at Vil’s bed as you put your stuff down, but you were only able to see his form under his covers. Making your way over to the other side of the bed, the sight you encountered made the thread of worry in your stomach bind into a tighter knot rather than loosen.

There was a waste bin on the floor beside his bed with some discarded tissues, but it seemed he wasn’t able to successfully drop them in there every time with some littering the floor around it. He had his cover tightly pulled around him, covering everything except his face, the sheen of sweat on his forehead juxtaposing the impression that he was cold. Moving closer to his face, you could see the redness dusting his nose and the light catching onto the wet surface of the snot that leaked onto his upper lip.

With a deep frown on your face, you couldn’t help but reach out to him, resting the back of your hand on his forehead. He didn’t seem to be burning up, but his skin was warmer than it should be, perhaps meaning he had a mild fever. Not wanting to disturb his sleeping yet, you decided to do some other things for him: picking up the tissues on the floor, picking out medicine that you thought might be useful to him, and ensuring he had a cool glass of water on his nightstand. Lastly, you soaked a washcloth in cool water, taking it with you as you pulled the chair at his vanity closer to the bed so you could sit at his side.

Taking in the slight grimace of his face you gently pushed back the sweaty strands of hair sticking to his flushed skin, hand lingering on his cheek once you were done. With your other hand, you pressed the washcloth to the warm surface, moving from his cheek to his forehead to his neck, which was still hidden under the duvet and just as clammy as his face. You felt a twinge of guilt as a noise formed in the back of his throat, bare eyelashes fluttering as he struggled to pull himself out of sleep and open his eyes.

You moved the hand that was on his cheek to stroke his hair as you patiently waited for him to wake up or fall back asleep. It was the former that happened, a pout on his lips as his sense of awareness tried to overcome the fog in his mind and likely exhaustion of his body. Even once his lilac eyes settled on yours, he had a delayed reaction to your presence.

“Mmm,” he let out a soft groan, eyes narrowing when he became capable of forming a coherent thought. “What time is it?” his nasal voice came out meekly.

“Still morning actually” you let out a half-hearted chuckle. “I came here after my first class” You pressed your lips together as you waited for his reproach.

“Rook told me writing that note was a wasted effort” he sniffled, managing to slightly roll his eyes. You saw his body slightly shiver before he wrapped the cover tighter around his body, the edge of the duvet lifting to just cover his chin.

“And look at you. I don’t regret coming to check on you because, no offense love, you look absolutely terrible” You hoped your breathy laugh softened your words. “Have you taken any medicine?”

Eyes closed you’re not sure if he’s mulling over your words or falling back asleep, but you soon get your answer to both questions. “No… It wasn’t as bad…” he pauses inhaling a breath, eyes fluttering closed like he might sneeze, so you reach for a tissue on the nightstand.

“when…” he tries to finish his sentence as the urge to sneeze fades but as soon as he speaks another word he’s forced into a deeper intake of breath. This time he does sneeze, a loud and violent sound going directly into his hand. It’s a sound too uncouth for most people to believe it to be made by Vil.

“Ugh” he moans sounding even more nasally and he almost lets himself wipe his hand on his cover, but he stops at the last second lip curling in disdain.

“Here” You take his wrist in your hand, taking the tissue you grabbed to wipe the slick and sticky mess off his palm. It takes three tissues to clean it thoroughly, a little satisfied hum coming from Vil as you take your time cleaning in between his fingers. You dab a tissue on his face too trying to clean up the mucus without irritating the bit of red sensitive skin too much. Despite your efforts to be gentle, Vil hisses, turning his face slightly away from you.

“I’m sorry” you murmur, your fingers going back to rake through his hair. He responds to your apology with a faint smile, sniffling before he attempts to finish his reply to your earlier question. It’s not an easy task for him, evident by the way he keeps making pauses while he talks, eyebrows furrowed as he tries to capture the thoughts that must feel like sand slipping through his fingers.

“I didn’t feel as bad when I first woke up….”

“body slightly aching, stuffy nose, a little nauseous” He clears his throat.

“I still started getting ready...”

“my body felt so heavy, becoming more and more exhausted by each little thing I did...”

“rook came and suggested I rest” He sniffles.

“back in bed I felt worse and sweaty but I fell asleep anyway”

He looks like he can hardly keep his eyes open now, his eyes remaining closed longer and longer with each blink. He seems to be done talking, so you move to examine the medicine you set aside, selecting the ones that seem they’d best help with his symptoms. You frown as you read the directions.

“Well, it says you’re supposed to eat with this one…. but I think it’d really help you” You direct your gaze to him again. “Do you think you could eat something? I grabbed some different stuff for you since I wasn’t sure what your appetite would be like” You listed them off on your fingers.

“Some pumpkin carriage stew, bread, crackers, and applesauce. Of course, I can go get you something else too.”

“I’ll try the stew” he lets out a soft grunt, wincing as he attempts to move his body and sit up. You help him out by adjusting his pillows and pulling the edge of his duvet around his body so that his shoulders and back are covered. He leans his head back on the headboard, eyes weakly trained on you as you get the stew out, which has thankfully retained some of its warmth. He’s wiping his nose with a tissue when you get settled again at his side, so you lift the waste bin, allowing him to easily drop it there.

“You’re going to feed me, aren’t you?” It’s nice to see some amusement flicker across his features, lips pulled into a small smirk.

“Of course, of course,” you’re stirring the stew held by the small hollow pumpkin. Satisfied you lift the spoon to his mouth, which he opens just enough for you to slide the spoon between his lips. You pause after the first bite to check in with him.

“What do you think? Can you manage to eat some more?” he nods his head, so you continue to slowly feed him the stew, finding yourself a little too transfixed by the way his lips wrap around the spoon. Arousal swirls in your stomach at the sound of the shaky exhales he releases between bites. Desire fills you from the way he thickly swallows the stew before wetting his bottom lip with his tongue. Excitement builds in your chest when he chooses to fix his heavy-lidded gaze on your face rather than the food you're feeding him.

He’s eaten about half the stew when he refuses to eat anymore, claiming to feel a wave of nausea. You could see him approaching his limit before that with his breathing becoming heavier and pauses between bites needing to be longer. You can see signs of nausea affecting him now, his lips pressed into a thin line as he continues to take subtle swallows, you guess that his mouth is producing excess saliva. You can also feel yourself approaching a limit yourself, your pants straining against your growing bulge.

“You did so good, darling” you praise him putting the stew down.

“I’m going to give you a second, but then I want you to try to get this medicine down, okay?” With his eyes closed he meekly nods his head, appearing like he’s mustering up his best efforts to keep the nausea at bay. You take a moment to press the back of your hand to his forehead and then his cheek, which reveals his fever has gotten worse.

After getting his assent, you soak the washcloth in cool water again, repeating your earlier action of pressing it to his face and neck. You resist the urge to palm yourself as he lets out small moans of relief and briefly entertain the thought of getting yourself off after he’s fallen back asleep. It doesn’t take too long for that to happen, he drifts back off to sleep almost as soon as he’s taken the medicine. He would only take a couple of sips of water to get the pills down, so you hope the medicine will work enough so that he can drink more water and rehydrate after he wakes up.

Now that he’s asleep, however, you use the opportunity to make a quick trip to your dorm room to gather some things so you can spend the night in Vil’s dorm. You’re unashamed to admit you also take a little extra time to jerk off and take a cold shower before putting on comfier clothes and heading back.

You thought that would be enough to suppress your arousal for a bit, but you realize you might be wrong when you come back to Vil’s dorm to find him still sleeping but sprawled out on his bed and completely naked, duvet kicked off his body so that most of it hangs off the edge of his bed. Just a bit of it still covers the bottom half of his leg. You can see one part of his face twisted in discomfort, but the other part is concealed by the damp washcloth you left on his nightstand, likely a weak effort to get some relief as he became unbearably hot.

You’re not sure how long the washcloth has been on his face but not long after you return it ends up falling onto his shoulder, a result of him restlessly turning in his sleep, a whimper interrupting his soft wheezing. Just as you expected, you find that he’s burning up and you soak two other washcloths to replace the old one, veiling one over his forehead and one on his chest. You knew there would be a chance your efforts would be pointless with his fitful sleep, and those thoughts are confirmed as his tossing and turning makes them fall off his body, his sporadic coughing soon waking him up anyway.

“Ugh… throat hurts” he mumbles with a hoarse voice, slowly leaning towards his nightstand. Propped up on one elbow, he takes the glass of water and guzzles it down, letting out a faint whine when the glass is empty.

“Here I’ll get you some more” You take the glass from Vil, who meets your gaze with raised eyebrows, only just now noticing your presence. You hesitate in handing the filled glass back to him worried he’ll drink this one just as fast as the first.

“Take your time with this one,” you say lowering yourself so you’re at eye level with him. “If you drink it too fast, it’s not going to sit well with your stomach” You wait until he nods his head before you hand it over. He seems to attempt to take a smaller sip, but the next one is longer, and the one after that is practically a gulp.

“Small sips, love” You put your hand over his trying to gently stop him from tilting up the glass again. He sighs, eyes flitting to your face and lips forming a small pout. With his eyes fixed on yours, it appears that he’s waiting for your permission to take another sip, which you allow after a minute has passed. You continue to do that until he empties the glass, making him take a longer pause before he drinks anymore.

“Mmm,” he moans in discomfort as he fully sits up, moving his hand to hold his hair off his neck. “So hot.”

You easily find a hair tie, taking his hair in your hand so you can put it up in a ponytail. You purse your lips looking at your sloppy job with its bumps and loose strands. If Vil wasn’t so sick he would have already slipped the hair tie off to do it again himself, but it’d suffice right now.

You give him a moment before you prompt him to update you on the symptoms he’s feeling. It’s pretty much the same things he told you before minus the chills with the medicine having no obvious impact yet. He attempts to tell you how his stomach feels when his own hiccup interrupts him, and he puts a hand to his chest wincing.

“Excuse me,” he says after exhaling a big breath. His frown deepens as he rubs his chest, and another small hiccup makes that hand move to cover his mouth. Guessing what might happen next you pick up the waste bin on the floor beside you, but you hear Vil groan before you’re able to place it in front of him.

He lurches forward, this time instead of an exhale coming after the queasy hiccup a thin yet forceful stream of vomit comes out of his mouth. Since you were in the process of moving the waste bin closer to him, he gets most of it in there, but you feel a bit splatter onto your hand and the side of the bin first. One of his hands covers the messy surface of yours as he instinctively grabs hold of the bin you’re holding steady for him, and he heaves a couple more times, most likely expelling the rest of his stomach’s contents.

“Fuck” he groans screwing his eyes shut tighter. He sits there a moment more panting. You see his tongue swipe over his teeth, which elicits an expression of revulsion.

“Ugh,” he awkwardly holds his mouth open as if he could stop his tongue from touching any other part of his mouth. You decide you can risk moving the waste bin now, which Vil easily lets go of, and using the hand without puke on it, you grab the glass of water and offer it to Vil.

“Here, rinse out your mouth,” you instruct, but there’s no movement in his face to show that he hears you. Blinking slowly and still panting, his eyes eventually shift to look at the water you’re holding out to him. You can see his lip curl up in disgust before it’s covered by his hand, and he slowly shakes his head.

“You can just spit it back out” you add but he continues to shake his head eyeing the glass of water like it’s something vile.

“I told you were drinking the water too fast” You’re talking more to yourself than him, no sharpness to your words. With an exaggerated exhale of breath, you think about something else you could do to help Vil cope with the acidic taste in his mouth. While you’re racking your brain for ideas, Vil lays down, a drawn-out whining sound becoming muffled by the pillow he hugs close to him.

His shift in position gives you a glimpse of the washcloths you had laid on his body earlier and you realize that maybe if you put it over your finger, you could clean Vil’s teeth that way. If you made sure it was heavily soaked in water that would probably help with the taste too. Thinking it was worth a try you take the washcloth to the bathroom where you wash your hands and do just that, returning to kneel at the side of bed where Vil’s face is. He lays horizontally on the bed, pillow still loosely hugged against his chest, his cheek now resting on top of it.

“Vil” you call out to him gently tucking a loose strand of hair behind his ear.

“I feel gross” he mumbles not opening his eyes, clearly repulsed by himself.

“I want to help you clean your mouth, but you have to open it for me, love” With the washcloth over your index finger you use your other hand to cradle the back of his head, prodding his lips with your covered finger, but he remains unresponsive. You lean in closer pressing a gentle kiss to his temple.

“C’mon love, let me help you feel better” you murmur against his hairline. Hearing those words, you feel him open his mouth just enough to slide your finger between his lips. You start with the front teeth, making small circular motions with your finger to clean them. You notice almost immediately that Vil begins sucking on your finger; however, he doesn’t seem to be aware of it at first, but then it becomes a bit more intense and deliberate, the washcloth being pulled slightly between his teeth.

You hear the smallest sigh of relief when Vil pauses his actions, and he whimpers when you remove your finger from his mouth. He must enjoy the small amount of cool water he can get from the washcloth. Adjusting it on your finger so that it’s a fresh, unused part of the washcloth, you prod his lips again and Vil readily accepts your finger back into his mouth.

“Shit” you curse under your breath realizing how turned on you are right now from the sensation of Vil sucking on your finger and the delight of exploring the surface of his teeth. Your circular motions become slower, taking your time as you feel every dip between his teeth and the tip of his canines.

“Mmm” he moans after sucking on your finger once more, and you let out a moan of your own subtly grinding yourself against the side of his bed. You move to his bottom molars, wishing your cock was buried inside him as you feel the deep grooves on them. As soon as your fingers touch the inside of his back molar, Vil gags a bit. Surprised, you pull your finger back but not completely out of his mouth. He recovers quickly, his tongue moving against your covered finger as he mumbles three unexpected words.

“Keep going… please”

Biting your lip, you continue to rub the washcloth against the inside of his teeth, your movements more tentative when approaching the opposite bottom molar. He whimpers around your finger as it slides slowly across the last of his bottom teeth but doesn’t gag this time as you rub the damp washcloth against it.

You keep the same pace as you clean the inside of the top row of his teeth, but you find that his gag reflex is more sensitive there. He starts to gag before you even get to the tooth deepest in his mouth. You can’t deny that there’s a part of you that gets excited when he gags on your finger, your cock fully erect by now surely. When your finger touches his back molar, he begins to gag again but unlike the other times you don’t pull your finger back, and the second time he gags, hot bile follows. It's hot as it splatters onto your hand even though it lands on the washcloth instead of directly touching your skin.

He gags one more time, additional clear vomit spilling out onto the pillow beneath him and sliding down your forearm. He groans as you pull your finger out. Flipping the washcloth inside out, you gently wipe his face before cleaning what you can off his pillow and your arm.

He maintains a neutral expression, the disgust you’d expect as a response nowhere in his features. His eyes are slits, nearly closed as he watches your actions, and he says nothing as you adjust his limp body to take the pillow from him, replacing it with a clean one. You remove the pillowcase before the bile can seep any further into the surface of the pillow. Even though he didn’t get anything on his bed this time, you can still appreciate the waterproof mattress cover that would protect his mattress if he did.

Vil seemed so out of it as you were cleaning him up that you didn’t expect to hear him say anything, but with his eyes flitting to your groin, he pointed out the obvious.

“You’re hard” With his flat tone you’re not sure how to respond, but his intentions become clearer as he lifts his arm, movements weak as he brushes his fingertips against your bulge.

“You said I look terrible” he echoes your earlier words with a slight pout, one corner of his mouth appearing like it’s close to quirking up to form a smirk on his face.

“I never said it didn’t turn me on,” you say with a breathy chuckle as you rake your fingers gently through his hair still pulled into a loose ponytail that looks even messier now than it did before. “And how can I not get hard when you were sucking on my finger so eagerly”

You let your fingertips trace his jawline, thumb swiping over his bottom lip that’s slick with saliva despite cleaning it only moments prior.

“I’m always eager to have you inside of me” he murmurs. You know his heavy-lidded gaze is just the result of weak and tired eyes but they never looked more seductive. “Even now”

“As much as I’d love for you to take all of me…” Having you throw up on my cock. Feel your hot insides clenching around me. Things you can’t say while you’re trying to talk Vil down.

“It’d be better if you sleep right now, lovely” A small sigh leaves Vil’s lips.

“Lay with me at least…” he offers a compromise. “please” he adds lifting his hand again except this time it goes to softly grip your wrist. The way he says it with his sniffly hoarse voice is too endearing.

“Of course,” you give in easily. You help him adjust his body so he’s back to laying vertically in the bed before you slip in beside him, the warmth under the duvet radiating off his skin immediately enveloping you. Wrapping your arm around his bare torso you can tell that his whole body is still clammy, and you can’t help but kiss his forehead affectionately as he goes to bury his face into your chest. The soft wheezing that is Vil’s breathing becomes a higher-pitched whistling sound as he falls asleep but it doesn’t stop you from eventually succumbing to sleep yourself.

You’re not sure how long you were sleeping, but when you wake up you can still see a glimpse of daylight through the window. Vil’s face is still buried in your chest, his hand gripping your shirt, and as you gently rub his bare back you’re relieved to find that his fever has begun to fade, his skin no longer sweltering or as slippery with sweat. You have no inclination to leave his side so you lay comfortably beside him, eventually finding yourself with your lips pressed to the top of Vil’s head, humming softly. That’s what you’re doing when Vil wakes up, and you can hear his sniffling and feel him rub his face against your shirt before he lets out a quiet groan, pulling himself away from you to look at your face.

“Hi lovely” you greet him with a warm smile, which he meets with narrowed eyes that take time to examine your face.

“You shouldn’t be here” his voice is raspy and his breathing still congested.

“You might not remember it, but you asked me to lay with you” you tease. You can already see emotion returning to his face, one eyebrow quirking up in disbelief.

“You’re not supposed to be here at all” he emphasizes. “I can’t imagine it’s too hard to follow instructions” he’s referring to his letter, which he had already commented on when you first arrived. You suppose his thoughts are clearer now. A good sign at least.

“What’s hard is knowing you’re in your dorm miserable when all I’m doing is letting my mind wander in class” He rolls his eyes but doesn’t comment on your attention span during lectures.

“Trust me, there’s nowhere I’d rather be even if I do end up getting sick” You kiss his forehead as he scoffs, but you catch a glimpse of his soft smile before he goes to lean into your chest again.

“Oh god,” he tenses in your arms. The whisper of your previous worries becomes prominent again, strangling the words that leave your mouth asking Vil what’s wrong.

“Absolutely disgusting” he hisses, which causes you to try to follow his gaze to see what he’s referring to. It’s not as easy with him so close to you, but looking down you see that his hand that once gripped your shirt is now merely pinching it, the fabric stretched out so the slimy wet stain on it is easier to see. A stain you surmise was caused by Vil rubbing his face against your shirt earlier, evidence of his still present runny nose.

“What, that?” you can’t help but laugh at him. “It’s no big deal. I don’t mind being your tissue” You’re hoping your words spare Vil of his embarrassment, but he still pulls his body a bit further away from you, hands coming to cover his face.

“So mortifying” you hear him murmur to himself. His next words are louder and meant for you to hear.

“You should never see me like this. No one should. And you certainly shouldn’t have my mess on you” Despite his raspy and strained voice you can still pick up on the contempt underlying his words.

“Vil..” you rub soothing circles into his hips. “I would be offended if you didn’t let me see you like this. You’re always beautiful to me, and seeing you all sick and messy is hot. I couldn’t even take care of you without getting hard”

You coax him to lower his hands, pressing a kiss to the corner of his lips. There’s a look of confusion on his face when you pull back, his lilac eyes shifting as if they’re sorting his thoughts. And then he gasps as something clicks.

“Ohhhh… my god” he repeats his words from earlier but now he sounds even more horrified. He brings a hand to his mouth in shock.

“Please tell me I didn’t actually throw up on your hand” Oh, he just remembered that.

“It was technically on a washcloth-“

“No-” his voice is shrill which makes him have to clear his throat before continuing. “If I didn’t feel so exhausted I would push you out the door myself” he shakes his head in disbelief, his cheeks returning to the shade they were earlier when his fever was at its worst.

“Unacceptable,” he says to himself frowning deeply. He groans again at a loss for words, leaning towards you as if he’s going to bury his face into your chest in humiliation, but his face never makes contact.

“And great seven, please take off that shirt” he pushes back against your shoulders reestablishing the distance between you.

“Okay, okay” It’s impossible to hide that you find this situation humorous, still laughing against Vil’s skin after you’ve removed your shirt and pulled him against you again.

“You can relax, love. You’re the only one unsettled by this” You try to melt his burning shame by moving your lips from his shoulder and up his neck, your kisses wet and languid, drawing a moan out of him.

“Ah-“ he gasps as he feels your teeth graze his skin. “I remembered something else” he pants. You hum into his skin prompting him to continue.

“Is there a chance you still want me to take all of you” he can’t help but whimper when he says it, and the sound jolts through your body, stirring your cock once again.

“Is that what you want?” You’re sure to ask him this question while your eyes are locked with his, making you a target of his lustful heavy-lidded gaze again. He nods his head, sniffly voicing the word always.

“You might think you feel better than you actually are, so I can’t be too rough with you.” He whines at that.

“But I do want to fill you up with my cock and feel the way your hot insides squeeze around me. It’d feel so good to have you warming my cock. Do you think that’s something you could do for me?” Vil can’t seem to find the words to respond but he nods his head for you.

“Fuck okay let me get the lube” It’s conveniently located in the drawer of his nightstand, requiring little patience from either of you as you undress and get situated behind Vil, coating your fingers with lube to prepare him.

“Tell me to stop if it’s too much” you remind him before coating his rim with the lube from your fingers, reapplying more to them afterward. “If you don’t think you can talk, smack the headboard with your hand twice. Can you do that?” he answers your question by doing as you ask, his palm slapping the tufted surface of his headboard two times.

“Perfect... You’re perfect” You purr rubbing your digits against his entrance before sliding the tip of one in. You can’t help but moan along with Vil as you stretch him out, already excited about the way your cock will feel sliding into his hot and sticky insides. The way you thrust your fingers into him is neither fast nor forceful, you being serious about not wanting to be rough with him. Even then Vil still whines, slightly pushing his hips backward encouraging you to give him more.

You give him plenty when you finally push your tip into him, Vil sniffling, whimpering, and gripping his sheets as you fill him slowly bit by bit, taking pauses to help his uneasy body adjust to you.

Not that you would mind seeing him puke up hot bile again, but you didn't want to push his body too far. When you’re fully inside of him he can’t keep still at first, hips making small movements as he grinds against you, but when he can see you’re serious about not thoroughly fucking him right now, he relaxes against you occasionally letting out faint whines when he clenches around your length.

“Ugh, I don’t have another choice” his nasally mumbling to himself catches your attention, and you watch as he uses his hand to wipe his nose before rubbing the slimy mucus he collects on the surface of his sheet. He gasps as you manage to pull his hips further back into you, your cock moving slightly inside him, your actions lust-driven due to the fact he chose to degrade himself rather than have you pull out so he could get a tissue.

You’re impressed that both of you can stay in that same position for so long, which was especially difficult whenever Vil coughed or sneezed, your dick being tightly clamped by his walls. Though you’re sure Vil dozed off a couple of times.

The amount of light filtering into the room is the only way you have to estimate the time, and after there is no more lingering light you feel yourself becoming a bit restless, all too aware of your full bladder.

“Love?” you gently massage his chest with your hand unsure if he’s awake or not. When he hums in response you tell him you’re going to have to pull out to go to the bathroom.

“No” he immediately says with a raspy voice. “It feels so good to have you inside me”

“I know, lovely, but I really can’t hold it much longer” He sniffles and clears his throat before speaking again.

“Then don’t. You can just go right now” Your eyes widen at his offer. It wouldn’t be the first time you’ve filled him with your piss, but with him already feeling gross you’re surprised he’ll let you cover him in additional mess.

“You’re sure?” you clarify, arousal stirring rapidly in the pit of your stomach.

“Yes, love. I want you to.” His tone almost sounds like he’s begging you to.

“Okay then” you kiss his shoulder before wrapping your arm around him tighter, hugging him against your chest as you let yourself relax. You feel him twitch around you right before your stream starts.

“Oh fuck...” you groan as the hot liquid envelops your cock, filling Vil’s hole and leaking out of his entrance. You’re sure to add to Vil’s pleasure too, taking his small dick in your hand that’s already slick from precum. He gasps as you swipe your thumb across the tip, his nails digging into your arm that’s wrapped around him.

He’s panting as he comes and his walls squeeze you so tightly at the same time you can’t help but come with him.

“See how hot you are when you’re messy” you start talking as you’re both coming down from your climaxes, peppering him with gentle kisses between your words. “Caring about your health is the only thing keeping me from fucking that filthy hole of yours and treating you like a fleshlight I can make as messy as I’d like” Despite your dirty words, your tone is light and you’re almost cooing not wanting to risk either of you getting too worked up again.

“Next time?” Vil grips your wrist as he waits for your reply to his breathless question.

“Next time. But this time, we’re at the part where I help you get cleaned up” you hiss as you slowly pull your cock out, a mix of liquids dripping onto the sheet.

When you get around to the other side of the bed to support Vil as he stands up, you can see his pretty cock still twitching. You have to let yourself ignore it, however, as you take your time getting Vil to the bathroom pausing after he stands up to make sure he’s not feeling lightheaded. Wobbly on his feet, you support him with one hand cupping his elbow and wrap your other arm around his back, gripping his waist in case you need to steady him.

He gives you an appreciative smile when you give him similar support in the bathroom, his shoulder leaning against the shower wall, one hand braced against the adjacent wall, and the other on your shoulder. He sighs in relief as the cool water washes over him, his limbs pliant in your hands as you bathe him. When you kneel to wash the lower half of his body, he keeps himself balanced by putting his hand on the top of your head rather than your shoulder, and you still keep a steady hand on his hip.

He mewls, leaning into your touch when you clean his sensitive areas, and you press a kiss to his upper thigh in response. As you’re making your way down, washing one of his legs, you softly gasp as a hot liquid unexpectedly flows over your hand, very different from the cool water that has been raining down on you. Glancing up you see the yellow-tinted liquid running down Vil’s thighs as he relieves himself and his grip on your head tightens as he lets out a sound of pleasure.

“You’re going to tell me I don’t need to apologize” Vil’s tired and hoarse voice speaks out before you get the chance to, but you’re delighted to hear it. You look up meeting his fond smile with one of your own.

“Once again you have proved you’re better at learning than I’ll ever be” Light laughter leaves your lips before you press a kiss on his hip.

You finish bathing both Vil and yourself soon after that, continuing to carefully support him as you dry him off, dress him, and lead him to sit on the toilet. After giving him some more water and medicine you quickly strip the sheets off Vil’s bed and remake it with fresh ones. Just as you expected, Vil’s eyelids are drooping heavily when you return to him, so it’s a good thing you’re immediately taking him back to bed. You find yourself in a position, not unlike the one you were in before when you fell asleep with him the first time.

You have to bite your lip to hold back your laughter as Vil, half-asleep, rubs his wet nose against your chest again. Hopefully, in the morning he’ll accept his mess more readily, but for now, you'll continue to embrace it and you pull him further into you, once again falling asleep to the faint whistling sound of his congested breathing.

#twisted wonderland #vil shoenheit #vil shoenheit x reader #dom reader #top reader #sub vil #cw emeto #cw piss #cw sickness #cw snz #cw odontophilia

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ithinkicreate · 2 months ago

Text

The Burping Curse

A slightly silly adventure in the kinky jjk-verse, in which a recent exposure to a unique curse brings unexpected and gassy consequences.

Fandom: Jujutsu Kaisen

Characters: Satoru Gojo, Yuji Itadori, Megumi Fushiguro, Kento Nanami, (brief) Iori Utahime, (brief) Masamichi Yaga

Content Warning: burping, tummy troubles, (slightly) suggestive

Ships: mild Gojo x Nanami

Enjoy!

______________________________________________________________

Despite his usual cool and disinterested demeanor when it came to staff meetings, Satoru Gojo was squirming in this one. His stomach felt like a bubbling witch's brew and he felt the need to shift his hips and press his tummy up against the tall board room table every few seconds to try to alleviate the pressure building up in a new spot along his abdomen.

Gojo tried to walk his thoughts back through everything he'd eaten that day…his usual morning omelet of four eggs and copious amounts of cheese, a mid-morning snack of a few taro pastries, a heaping scoop of rice and beef curry from the school kitchen around lunchtime, and some intermittent butterscotch candies when he was bored. Nothing out of the ordinary. He considered the possibility of food poisoning from the cafeteria food, but it had been a while since an incident like that, and no one else seemed to be reacting.

Gojo was rudely brought back to the present by a particularly painful knot in his belly. He winced and reached a hand down to his belly, massaging the spot with two fingers. Before he could react, he felt the gurgling sensation of a gas bubble traveling up his gullet and an airy (but not exactly quiet) burp slipped out. Gojo flushed a bit when he noticed some stares from his colleagues and higher-ups around him.

Normally, something like this wouldn't phase Gojo at all. He was quite shameless, in fact. He would sometimes let a burp out in the middle of a lesson around his students and would excuse himself and move on like nothing happened. But he knew Principal Yaga would chew him up for being disruptive in a meeting, and he wasn't looking forward to being lectured.

But Gojo would never convey that outwardly, so he just shrugged at the staring eyes and leaned back in his chair nonchalantly. Much to Gojo's dismay, that little burp hadn't done much to relieve the pressure in his stomach. He continued to squirm, occasionally bringing up another little burp that he now had the foresight to muffle with his fist as the meeting droned on.

"As far as recent missions," Utahime explained, spearheading the events report section of the meeting, "Satoru, first-grade Kento Nanami, and two first years, Yuji Itadori and Megumi Fushiguro, were recently dispatched to a neighborhood that was experiencing unusual levels of cursed energy. All curses were excorci-"

"BUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRPPPP"

Gojo, who had been spacing out, was rudely brought back to his surroundings by a long, gassy belch escaping his lips. His eyes widened as about twenty burning gazes were directed at him across the board room table.

"Oops," Gojo chuckled, shrugging. "Um, 'scuse me."

"Satoru, this is too much," Utahime huffed, crossing her arms.

"What? I can't help it!" Gojo threw his arms up over his head, as if to throw a white flag. "As much as it would be on brand for me to purposefully belch during a meeting, I actually can't."

"Satoru," Principal Yaga spoke up, his annoyance obvious as he stared daggers at Gojo over his dark glasses, "perhaps you can take your indigestion to the restroom rather than subjecting all of us to it?"

"Fine!" Gojo resigned, slamming his hands on the table as he stood up. "Guess you'll just have to do without my master insight."

Gojo padded out of the board room like a toddler being sent to his room. After closing the door behind him, he huffed, reaching down to absent-mindedly rub his upset tummy and wondering what to do. He decided maybe he needed a little fresh air, so he made his way toward the nearest exit which led to the school courtyard.

Gojo breathed in the crisp air, hoping to soothe his system a bit. It was a beautiful autumn evening, just warm enough not to need a jacket on top of his normal uniform top. Gojo started to bend down to sit on the brick wall in front of one of his favorite trees - a massive weeping willow - when another burp slipped past his pink, glossy lips as if the very act of bending over sent air rushing up his esophagus.

"Baaaaah-UUUUUUUURPPPP"

Gojo groaned in frustration, rubbing his temples through his blindfold, trying to think of anything that might be causing this sudden episode.

"GOJO-SENSEI!"

Gojo's head snapped up as he recognized Yuji's voice, and a light smile appeared on his face upon hearing his beloved student calling out to him.

Yuji was full-on running towards Gojo, Megumi trailing not too far behind at a much slower pace.

"Gojo, we've been trying to find you!" Yuji panted, resting his hands on his knees and breathing heavily once he was finally within a few feet of his teacher.

"Oh, sorry guys I was in a-hUUUUUUURRrrrp…a meeting. 'scuse me," Gojo replied, shaking his head at the burp that had slipped out yet again.

Yuji and Megumi exchanged a worried glance.

"You too, huh?" Megumi sighed.

"Hmm? Whadd'ya mean?" asked Gojo.

"We've been - bUUrrrp - burping non-stop since a few hours ago. And when I say non-stop, I mean like NON-stop," Yuji explained.

"Mmmrrrphh"

As if on cue, Megumi let out a short muffled burp into his fist.

"What the hell?" Gojo wondered aloud.

"It's like, I can't even control 'em, they just - UUUuuurp - come up!" Yuji exclaimed.

Unlike Gojo's burps, which were long, drawn-out and nauseous-sounding, Yuji's burps were short and meaty like something you'd find out of a sound effect library. In any other situation, Gojo's immature sense of humor would surely have succumbed to the situation, but his belly was starting to hurt from all the contraction.

"I have a theory that it comes from - huuuurrrmmmphhh," Megumi's cheeks and ears turned a bright shade of red as he was interrupted by a deep belch, which he tried in vain to muffle as soon as he realized it was happening. He took a deep breath and directed his eyes upward toward the leaves of the weeping willow, avoiding eye contact with anyone at all cost. "Ahem, that it comes from that curse we fought yesterday. Maybe it had something to do with the fog that was emanating from it."

"Hmmm, that's not impossible," Gojo mused, rubbing his chin before letting out another long, painful, sick-sounding burp, followed by a groan.

"Uh, sensei, you don't sound so good. Are you going to throw up?" Megumi asked, the genuine concern evident in his voice.

"No, no," Gojo replied, shaking his head resolutely. "It just - aahhhuuuuuurrrrrppp - it hurts."

"Do you think the fog made us sick?" Yuji wondered.

"It's more likely that this is a mild residual curse," Gojo replied.

"Mi - baaauuuurp - mild?" Yuji repeated, crossing his arms in frustration.

"Yes, mild, given that it doesn't seem to be life-threatening…at least not yet," Gojo said. "But to truly prove your theory, Megumi, one other person would need to be affected."

"Nanami!" Both Yuji and Megumi came to the conclusion at the same time.

And so the three set off for Nanami's on-campus residence, where the grade one sorcerer would often stay during high-activity times when he was called out to assist with missions frequently.

When they reached the door, Yuji knocked lightly. When there was no reply, he placed his ear up against the door. Yuji could pick up on the faint, rhythmic sound of water hitting a tile floor.

"He's…showering!" Yuji reported.

Just then, a low, guttural belch emerged from the apartment, slightly echoey due to the shower walls and barely muffled by the distance and the wooden door.

"Looks like we have our answer," Megumi sighed.

The trio patiently waited outside the apartment door for the next five minutes, listening to the soft pounding of the water against tile, interrupted every twenty seconds or so by a massive, growl-like belch.

After the water was turned off, Gojo leaned in towards the door.

"Naaaaanamiiiiii, stop using up all the hot water!"

The sound of wet feet slapping on the hardwood floors could be heard approaching the door, and Nanami opened it just a crack, poking his head out to behold the source of his annoyance. His wet hair was slightly matted to his forehead and dripping down the front of his face.

"What do you want, Satoru? Oh! And…uh…students?"

Nanami's eyes suddenly went wide. "Excuse me for a moment," he huffed, lightly closing the door. The action did little to muffle the deep, closed-mouth burp that Nanami let out before he re-opened the door.

"Listen, we uh - bauuuuuuuurrrrrrrrph - we think that curse we fought yesterday might've had some kind of physical effect on us," said Gojo, following his statement with a small after-burp that shook his lean frame.

"All of you?" asked Nanami, raising an eyebrow.

"All of us," Yuji confirmed, nodding his head and swallowing a hiccup.

"I think I may have an idea of what's going on," Nanami sighed. "Give me a moment to get dressed, and then we c- bbaaaaauuuuurrrrrrrrrrpppp," Nanami cleared his throat. "Excuse me. Then we can talk."

A few minutes later, Nanami opened the door once more to invite them in, this time in a pair of jeans and a tight, light blue tee shirt.

Yuji was surprised to see the sorcerer in anything other than khakis and a button-up shirt, and even more surprised to see a couple of posters for Human Earthworm and some other trashy horror movies from the 80s that he didn't recognize up on the walls of the small apartment. The place was small for an apartment but considerably larger than the student dorms, structured somewhat like a hotel suite.

Nanami led the group into the other room of the suite, which was a living room, and motioned for them to sit on a dark orange couch. This room was much more like Yuji would expect Nanami's apartment to be, accented with modern art and glass vases that were undeniably Nanami's taste.

Yuji plopped down hard on the end of the couch, which brought up another short, forceful burp. He was seated beside Megumi, with Gojo, whose crossed legs extended all the way to the coffee table in front of them, on the other end. Nanami was sat in a maroon faux leather armchair across from the couch.

"I've read about curses that can have lingering effects on sorcerers or curse users such as what we're experiencing," Nanami began, pausing to let out a grumbly burp that he barely muffled using his fist. "Excuse me. As you all know, curses are based in - "

"Wait! This is a perfect teaching moment!" Gojo interrupted, shooting up from his relaxed position to sit up straight. "Students?"

"NEGATIVE HUMAN EMOTIO-hUUUUURRRRrrp," Yuji piped up, snorting with laughter at himself after he was rudely interrupted by the a burp.

"THAAAAAAT'S CORRRRRREEEECCTT!" Gojo affirmed, adopting the tone of a game show host. "Megumi, c'mon, are you gonna let the newbie beat you to the answer like that?"

The only reply from the other boy was a small groan. Gojo looked over to find Megumi with the side of his faced pressed into the couch cushion behind them, looking rather sick. His mouth was twisted into a grimace, and his whole body chortled with the force of a burp from his stomach that he appeared to swallow back down before it could escape.

Gojo frowned in concern and extended an arm over Megumi's shoulder, sliding closer to cradle the boy's face in the dip between his shoulder and right pec. Megumi whined quietly, but didn't pull away, allowing Gojo to slide his hand slightly further down and lightly pat the boy's upper back. Megumi buried his head further into Gojo's uniform jacket, and Gojo felt a warm spot on his shoulder as Megumi let out a soft burp into the fabric. Gojo's heart swelled and he brought his head to rest atop Megumi's, a silent admission of paternal love and empathy.

"Let it out, 'gumi," Gojo whispered into Megumi's hair. "You'll feel better."

Gojo lifted his head slightly and nodded to Nanami, indicating that it was okay to continue.

Nanami cleared his throat and continued his explanation. "Well, the negative emotions include things you'd expect such as fear, sadness, anger, and regret, but they can also encompass things like shame and embarrassment."

Gojo opened his mouth to answer, but he quickly turned his head when he felt a gas bubble rise up into his throat, letting out a strained burp behind Megumi's head. He didn't miss the way Megumi threw an arm over his midsection when he turned his head back.

"I think I see what you're getting at," said Gojo. "You think the curses we exorcised were born of shame, and they were somehow able to pass the curse to us before they were exorcised."

Nanami nodded. "Exactly."

"So will it wear off?" asked Yuji.

"It's possible," Nanami replied. "The curses were no more than grade 2, so their cursed energy wasn't that strong, there were just a lot of them."

"Hey! You know what would be cool?" Yuji mused excitedly. "Seeing how loud I can burp from soda like this. I bet it would be mega-loud! Whadd'ya think, Fushiguro?"

Megumi lifted his head from Gojo's chest to reply, "I think you're an idiot."

"Oh c'monnnnn, I just wanna try!" Yuji whined.

"Why do you need me for that? Feel free to experiment on your own," Megumi groaned.

"I need someone to f-uuuUUUUUUHHhhhrp - to film me!"

Megumi rolled his eyes and reluctantly pried himself off of Gojo's warm body and the couch. "Fine, let's go. Let us know if you figure anything out." Megumi directed the last part of his statement to Nanami before reluctantly following Yuji out of Nanami's suite, presumably to the nearest vending machine.

Gojo chuckled as he watched the two boys leave, grateful that they had become friends...even if Megumi wouldn't admit it. He turned back to Nanami, who was letting a deep belch rip into his elbow like a sneeze. Gojo felt his face flush just a tad. Something about the most put-together man he knew ripping massive belches made him oddly flustered.

"So? What do you think we should do now?" Gojo asked, adopting his usual disinterested manner, although it was somewhat of a facade this time.

"Well, I was trying some gas relief massages in the shower earlier, but I'm not sure if they did much, really," Nanami replied. "Part of it was that I was doing them on myself, so I couldn't do some of the recommended motions."

"Want me to, uh, try to help?"

Gojo asked this mostly as a joke, enjoying the absurdity of the thought of him burping the ever-stoic Nanami like a baby.

"Sure, why not," Nanami replied matter-of-factly.

Gojo's eyes went wide, and at that moment he was grateful for his blindfold to block his reaction.

"Um, so, what do I have to do?" Gojo stammered, hesitantly approaching Nanami's armchair.

"Place one palm on my back between my shoulder blades, and the other palm on my sternum," Nanami explained, grabbing Gojo's left wrist to bring it up to his chest. Gojo's hand brushed over the firm swell of Nanami's impressive pec before it reached its final position, and he couldn't help but blush. He'd always wondered what those felt like. They were softer than he'd imagined they'd be.

Gojo couldn't quite help himself, his right palm smoothing over Nanami's strong traps for a little too long to be by accident before finding its spot between his shoulder blades.

"Now press a little more with the hand on my chest, and start patting my back," Nanami instructed.

Gojo did as he was asked, and started delivering firm pats to Nanami's back. Nanami relaxed into Gojo's palm on his chest for a few seconds before he tensed up a bit, his pecs squeezing the palm between them, and let out a thunderous, gurgly belch.

"Excuse me," Nanami breathed out.

"Let's forgo manners," Gojo chuckled.

"Fair."

After Nanami had burped a few more times, he reached up to remove Gojo's palm from his chest and turned to face him.

"No more?" Gojo pouted slightly.

"You haven't burped in a few minutes, you're holding them," Nanami commented. "You must be feeling sick."

"A little," Gojo admitted. "I was focused on helping you. Did it help?"

"Perhaps. I guess we'll find out soon," Nanami said calmly. "Do you want to try?"

"Like, you help me burp? I guess we could try," Gojo replied, trying to hide his nervousness. Gojo never got nervous. What was happening?

"Lay down on your stomach on the couch."

"What? You didn't have to lay down!"

"This is a different massage. I watched a YouTube tutorial."

"Alright, Dr. YouTube," Gojo chuckled nervously, making his way back to the couch and wincing when he laid down on his tight belly. "But if you fuck up my back, I'm telling Yaga that you're the reason his best sorcerer is out of commission."

"Nonsense," said Nanami. "I'm barely going to apply any pressure."

Gojo felt the couch dip under the weight of Nanami's knee next to him and he realized that Nanami was straddling him.

"Oh?" Gojo smirked.

"Don't make this weird, Satoru."

Gojo huffed and buried his nose in the couch. He didn't like feeling like a roast bird on the dinner table, all helpless and on display under Nanami, completely at his whim.

Gojo held in a gasp when felt Nanami's cold fingers slip under the fabric of his uniform jacket and move into the hollows just above his hip bone. He couldn't, however, suppress the shiver that traveled through his body at the cold sensation.

Nanami peered down at the small portion of Gojo's midsection that was revealed when he slid his hands to the position above his hips that he'd memorized from the tutorial. It was...dainty, in a way. Nanami knew that Gojo was, by no means, small or lanky, although his uniform fit often led others to assume otherwise. He knew from the few times he'd caught the man peeling off his jacket, stained with blood or debris or who knows what else, after a mission that the ill-fitting fabric concealed impressive biceps, shoulders, and pecs that rippled when he stretched.

But Gojo was very much an inverted-triangle body type. His large upper body petered down to a rather small waist and belly lined with lean abs. But today, Gojo's normally tight, washboard abs were replaced with a distended curve that pressed relentlessly into the couch.

Nanami enjoyed how small Gojo felt under his touch, despite that the man was actually a few inches taller than Nanami. He pressed deeply into the hollows of Gojo's back with his thumbs and used the rest of his fingers to grip the front of Gojo's hip bone.

Nanami could hardly help the small, satisfied smile that appeared on his face when he was met with a forceful, nauseated belch that lasted several seconds.

"Holy shit," Gojo hissed. "Do that again."

Nanami pressed down again. It took a bit longer this time, but another big burp emerged, shorter, but just as desperate as the last.

Before Nanami could press down again, a raunchy belch ripped its way up his throat.

"Dammit," Nanami muttered.

Nanami's head whipped toward the other room when he heard a knock on the door. He awkwardly climbed off of Gojo, the other man quickly adjusting his blindfold and pulling himself up into a less compromising position, and went to answer the door.

He was met with a very enthusiastic Yuji and a scowling Megumi, who still looked a bit sick.

"Nanami! I stopped burping!" Yuji exclaimed, beaming up at the older man.

"How? What changed?" Nanami wondered aloud.

"I dunno! I was just chugging a can of cola to see how big I could burp, and Fushiguro was filming me and stuff, and after I got all the gas up from that, it just stopped!" Yuji explained. "So...maybe cola is the cure?"

"I doubt that was the case," said Gojo, who had collected himself and recently joined the other man at the door. "It sounds more like you cut the curse off at its source, Yuji. Since the curse was built on shame and - beeeeeeuuuUUUUUUUUghhhhh - embarrassment, when you totally let go of that and just let yourself burp for fun, you broke the curse."

"Hmmm," Nanami hummed, scratching his chin. "That's a surprisingly reasonable idea, Satoru."

Megumi let out an uncomfortable-looking burp into his fist before asking, "So what do you think we should do?"

Gojo flashed a shiny smile. "I think the three of us should have a burping competition, and Yuji should be the judge!"

"Oh yeah!!!" Yuji shouted, clearly humored by the idea.

Nanami rolled his eyes and sighed. "If we must."

"I'll go get a few more cans of cola!"

Yuji returned in a few minutes with three cans of cold cherry cola from a nearby vending machine, cold and covered in condensation.

"This better work, 'cause now I've spent like a third of my weekly meal allowance on cola alone," Yuji commented, handing the other three each a can.

"If it works, dinner's on me tonight," said Gojo.

This made Yuji especially hopeful that this tactic would work, as he knew that dinner on Gojo meant a night of guilt-free indulgence at a steakhouse.

For a moment, the room was silent save for the pop and hiss of each can of cola opening and the slight gurgling that could be heard from poor Megumi's belly.

"Okay, you three! Start chugging on the count of one...two...three!" Yuji instructed.

Gojo and Nanami quickly raised the cans to their lips. Nanami was clearly more adept at getting the liquid inside of him efficiently, quietly taking a swallow every couple of seconds. Gojo struggled, gulping the soda down loudly and messily, a bit of the sweet liquid dribbling down his chin.

Amused, Yuji cheered the two men on, but soon noticed that Megumi wasn't participating.

"Fushiguro? You haven't started your soda! You gonna let them get ahead of you like that?"

"I'm not doing this," Megumi snapped. "Can't."

"But you're not gonna get betterrrrrr," Yuji whined.

"Can't, Yuji!" Megumi averted his gaze as his cheeks puffed out with a low belch.

Yuji's eyes widened as Megumi raised his voice, and he decided to leave him alone, turning his attention back to Gojo and Nanami.

"Auuughh!" Gojo pulled the half-empty can from his lips, breathing heavily and licking a couple of stray drops of soda off his chin. "MMmmmm, it hurts, gotta take a bre-aaaaaaAAAAHUUUUUUURRRRRRRP!"

"NICE ONE, GOJO-SENSEI!" Yuji cheered. "C'mon Nanami!"

As Gojo coughed and choked on a slurry of smaller after-burps, Nanami slammed a completely empty can onto the coffee table. He wiped his mouth with his bare wrist and leaned forward in his armchair, hesitating for a moment and licking his lips before letting out a massive, rumbling belch that lasted about six seconds, as if his stomach had congealed all the gas bubbles from the cola into one huge expulsion.

"WO-HO-HOAHH!" Yuji cried, throwing his arms up. "I think Nanami wins!"

"Oh, come on! I didn't even drink all of it yet!" Gojo complained.

Nanami simply cleared his throat and sat back in the armchair, his expression impossible to read.

Just then, a little, open-mouthed burp slipped out of Megumi's mouth, catching him off guard. He grimaced, staring at his shoes.

"Megumi-kun? You don't wanna try?" Gojo asked innocently, cocking his head.

Megumi just shook his head. But Gojo could almost sense his discomfort from across the room.

"Hey, Megumi, come with me to the other room, 'kay?" Gojo stood up from the couch and walked over to Megumi, grabbing his arm. When Megumi didn't resist, Gojo led him through the doorway into Nanami's bedroom, and then into the bathroom.

Gojo shut the door behind them and sat down on the edge of the bathtub.

"Megumi, you're making yourself sick," he sighed.

"I'm not like you guys. I can't just...be okay with doing something humiliating in front of other people," Megumi replied, awkwardly standing with his back against the door.

"It's hardly embarrassing when everyone else is doing it, though, right?" Gojo chuckled. "That's, like, the whole point."

Megumi lurched forward with a forceful belch, which he muffled inside his cheeks, before responding. "Still, it feels weird. I can't act like that in front of Itadori and Nanami-san."

"What about in front of me?" Gojo smiled and patted the space next to him on the bathtub, motioning for Megumi to sit. Megumi obliged.

Gojo loosened his blindfold a bit and let it fall down onto his neck, blinking his bright blue eyes a few times to adjust to the light before looking over towards Megumi.

"Kiddo, do you remember back when you were in fourth grade and you and Tsumiki had the flu really bad?"

"Unfortunately."

"I cleaned your puke off my shirt, 'gumi."

"I'm sorry, I know it wa-"

"No, no!" Gojo cut the boy off quickly. "That's not what I'm saying. What I'm saying is that I watched you grow up. There's no reason to be embarrassed in front of me." Gojo smiled softly, reaching over to tilt Megumi's chin up so that they were making eye contact. "So, will you let me help you? Without shame?"

Megumi paused for a few seconds, after which he nodded slowly and scooted forward, burying his face into the crook of Gojo's neck.

Gojo smiled and wrapped an arm around the boy's back, rubbing up and down softly. He sighed when he heard Megumi let out a grumbly burp against his skin.

"Poor 'gumi," he cooed. "My poor boy."

Gojo moved his other hand to rest on Megumi's taut belly, palming it softly to try to loosen things up, while his right hand patted Megumi's upper back diligently.

And for a moment, it was like Gojo was holding Megumi like a baby, something he'd never actually had the chance to do. He smiled into Megumi's hair.

Megumi burped a few more times under Gojo's gentle touch, but the burps petered off quickly.

Once he felt they were in the clear, Gojo gently lifted Megumi's chin up with his left thumb so the two were making eye contact again.

"Feel better, 'gumi?"

"Yeah, I do feel better."

And with that, the final case of the burping curse had been broken.

Nanami's victory over Gojo in the burp competition became one of Yuji's most frequently recounted tales, the news spreading amongst the student body quickly, much to Gojo's dismay.

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #burp kink #burping #gojo x nanami #gojo satoru #itadori yuji #fushiguro megumi #nanami kento #satoru gojo #yuji itadori #megumi fushiguro #kento nanami #nanago #gonana #tummy

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trashland-llamas · 5 months ago

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Blind Leading the Blind

AO3 link // Gn! Reader

Matt Murdock finds it funny that out of everyone who answered the call for a roommate, he ended up picking someone that had low vision. Reader had learned about the apartment opening from Foggy, as they had been openly complaining about the difficulty in finding an affordable place.

And Foggy, from what he knew about them, didn't think it'd hurt to mention that his other closest friend was having the same problem. Trusting Reader's character with what he had garnered about them in their shared legal history lectures. Foggy convinces Matt to give them a shot.

Aware that he was close to giving up on finding a roommate. He'd just have to pick up more hours at work and squeeze every penny. Having a roommate would make the finances easier. Less of a burden on the mind. So Murdock conducts an interview with them as they're sat across from one another with a cup of coffee. Surprisingly it goes well. Reader moves in towards the end of that week. Not owning much, the bare essentials were packed up into two duffel bags.

Having learned from said interview that their vision issues include that of solar retinopathy, macular degeneration, and astigmatism.

The first condition made their eyes extremely sensitive to light. Having clarified that they didn't get it after looking directly at the sun during a solar eclipse.

It did also make the fact that Murdock tended to not use any of the overhead fluorescent fixtures wasn't that big a bother. Plus the times they did need light, they could simply flick a switch.

Reader would wear sunglasses more often in summer time than winter. The sunlight would annoyingly reflect off the snow. Having transition lenses on their glasses where they inherently turn into sunglasses whenever it's remotely sunny outside.

With the macular degeneration, they can't recognize people in crowds. Something both Foggy and Murdock knew well after waving at them multiple times over the years and being ignored. Having to go up to them instead.

'It's not a person,' Matt would offhandedly remark when he noticed they stood in one spot for longer than a few seconds. Other times laughing when he'd hear them say, 'oops, that's a person,' realizing that they had accidentally been giving a stranger the death stare.

'Wasn't there glass in that cabinet before?' He does sometimes gaslight them when it comes to Daredevil stuff. Reader had only noticed after a few days when it looked off. There was no longer a glare where there should be. And the shadow was off.

Another thing is that sometimes when cleaning up a spill, they'll pat the surface to double check they haven't blatantly missed a spot. It's easier when the substance leaves behind a sticky residue. If they do miss a spot, Matt doesn't mind cleaning it up himself as Reader tries to keep the space tidy. Keeping their things out of the walkway despite not really needing to with his heightened senses.

The astigmatism exposes itself more whenever Reader forgets their glasses than when they do wear them. Holding papers closer to their eyes to read. Otherwise having to squint if they were to hold them at the usual distance. Even with the papers being closer, the lines of text don't remain level.

They have also been relegated to passenger monarch along with Matt after scaring Foggy and Karen with their driving. As they deal with the characteristic streaky lights along with guessing how far/close away the traffic lights are. Also guessing where the yellow line was. Stressing everyone in the vehicle out, including themselves as they try not to crash with rain pelting their window shields.

'How the hell did you manage to get your license?' 'No clue, genuinely thought they would've restricted me to daytime driving by this point.' Luckily with the city they all live in, they can get anywhere they need to on foot.

#mcu #marvel #marvel shows #daredevil show #daredevil #matt murdock #matt murdock x reader #daredevil x reader #x reader #x gn reader #mcu x reader

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meetingthestarcatchers · 2 years ago

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Crimson Lace (pt 2)

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x fem!reader

Summary: You have trouble placing a finger on where you know him from, until he invites you in.

Warnings: nsfw (MDNI), angst if you squint

A/n: I honestly cannot thank you guys enough for the love on part 1! And I think I went a little overboard with the amount of words...oops?

Part 1

After that night, all of the glances in the hallways and in lectures ceased to exist. Whenever you tried to look at his face, he would never return the smiles and would avoid your eyes completely. You figured that it was just a one-time thing and that you shouldn’t have believed that it would lead to something more.

The alarm on your phone broke you from your sleep, and you moved locks of hair out of your face. You quickly realised that you had a lecture with him next and groaned. Getting changed, you pick up your bag with your laptop and necessities in, and head to the lecture hall.

You arrived a few minutes early and picked a seat a few rows from the front and set everything up. You heard the door open and looked over to see Jake walking in, his hair not tied up this morning, which made him look slightly angelic, you thought to yourself. He looked up and caught your eye.

You watched as he walked up the stairs, past you, and to the one above you. You weren't quite sure whether to speak to him or leave him be. The argument carried on in your head until it was interrupted by a tap on your shoulder. You turned around and saw a slight smile on his face.

"You wouldn't happen to have a charger, would you?" He asked, sounding hopeful, and you shook your head.

"I charge mine the night before, so no." You said either a slight sharpness in your voice. You go to turn back around, but he grabs your shoulder.

"I've been meaning to talk to you..." He said, and you raised your eyebrows. He opens his mouth to speak again but gets cut off by the professor.

"You'll all be glad to know that I've got your first project to assign to you." His voice rings out around the hall, and a few groans are heard.

"I'll be pairing you up with someone else in the class, and you'll have 2 weeks to do it." He starts to read out a few pairs from the sheet of paper until you hear your name.

"Y/n and Jake"

You feel your heart stop for a second, and you close your eyes in annoyance. You swore you heard a quiet chuckle come from behind you, reminding you of the laugh he let out during the stream.

The lecture passed fairly quickly, and you started packing up everything. You sensed Jake behind you as if he were waiting for you.

"Can I help you?" You asked without facing him.

"You got anything going on for the rest of the day?" He asked, and you thought for a second before lifting your bag up, facing him and shaking your head.

"Great. Neither have I. Let's get started on this project, shall we?" He said, and you went to cut in, but he stopped you.

"I also need to talk to you...please?" He said, almost begging, and you felt a familiar hot flush over your body. You rolled your eyes and nodded, watching his mouth form into a smile.

You walked together in silence until you reached an unfamiliar building. He reached for the door handle and pulled it open and stood to the side.

"Ladies first." He smiled at you, and you couldn't help but blush at his actions, completely forgetting that just over an hour ago, he was ignoring your existence. You stood awkwardly as you waited for him to shut the large door.

"You're going to have to lead the way" you said and he nodded and cocked his head to the side as a signal to follow him up the stairs. The pair of you soon reached a door where he pulled out his keys and unlocked it and walked inside.

You were met with a small kitchen with a wooden table in the middle, with four matching chairs surrounding it.

"My roommate isn't home so we can work out here or in my room if you want" he reached up to tuck a lock of his hair behind his ear. You shrugged carelessly.

"Okay then" he mumbled and pulled out a chair to sit down. You followed suit and began researching and communicating how you were going to share the work. Soon enough, an hour had passed and you felt your stomach start to grumble quietly. It seemed as though Jake had the same problem as he stopped typing and sighed.

He stood up and reached out to stretch, walking over to the cupboards and sighing when he was met with emptiness.

"How do you feel about ordering something?" you heard and you lifted your head up from your hand to look at him.

"Yeah sure, like what?" you asked and he frowned and thought for a minute. "Fancy Olive Garden?" he suggested and your eyes widened.

"You're in university and you can afford Olive Garden?" you said and he shrugged.

"Well considering what I do..." he said and you realised and looked down at your work immediately, hearing a quiet chuckle coming from Jake.

"About that actually-" he started before you quickly stopped him.

"Can we order food and then talk about it?" you asked and he nodded, pulling out his phone. After a quick conversation over food orders, he walked back over to you and hesitantly picked up your hand to lead you to the couch.

You both sat down and silence filled the room. "Listen, about the other night..." he started and you smiled softly.

"I get if it was a mistake, I totally understand" you said and he looked at you confused.

"A mistake? It wasn't a mistake, I meant to say those things" he replied and now it was your turn to look confused.

"But why wouldn't you look at me in the corridors? Or at least try to talk to me?" you asked curiously and he sighed and looked down at the sofa, picking at a thread coming undone.

He shrugged. "Some people know what I do, I figured if I didn't talk to you then no one would realise that it was you online. Thought I was doing what was best." he shrugged again. Your mind was running miles per hour as you were understanding what he had just told you.

"Trust me, I wanted to talk to you. Desperately. I just didn't know how" he looked up at your face to see your reaction.

"At least I know it wasn't a mistake now..." you said quietly. You watched him nod along out of your peripheral vision. Finally looking up, you speak again.

"Could you maybe...show me...that it wasn't an accident?" you asked, feeling vulnerable and Jake's eyes went round at your request. He nodded eagerly but quickly pulled you back onto the couch.

"I don't want to rush things" he said smiling softly and you nodded in understanding. You watched as he brought his hand up to rest on your cheek, his thumb stroking the skin gently. He muttered a few things under his breath but none of them were heard by you.

Within a split second you feel Jake's lips press against yours. Your breath hitches for a second before you relax into the kiss and return the action. You bring one of your hands to rest on his neck, and the other on his chest, just above his heart. You giggle slightly at the feeling of his racing heart, beating quickly under your palm. He pulls away confused.

"Is everything okay?" he asked, and you nod, your laughs subsiding.

"Your heart is beating a little faster than it should be" you say and he lets out a sigh of relief.

"You had me worrying I was doing something wrong" he replied and you shook your head. "I was rather enjoying it actually" you responded.

He pulled you in for another kiss and you could feel his lips curl up into a smile. You could feel your stomach tying itself up in knots at the simple action, bringing your other hand that was resting on his chest up to his neck as well.

You continued to make out until a slam of a door echoed from the room above. Pulling away quickly, you tilted your head back and felt Jake pull you towards him a little more by the waist.

"No one's gonna interrupt us, right?" you asked cautiously and he shook his head.

"My roommate always stays at his partner's dorm on Wednesday nights so there's no need to worry, sweetheart" he told you, his voice almost like honey which made your stomach flutter once again.

"Do you want to go to my room, maybe?" he asked nervously and you nodded, feeling confident enough. He picked up your hand and led you down the corridor and to his room.

Upon opening the door, strip lights filled the room with a soft blue hue. His bed was in the corner, surrounded by posters and photos of who you presumed were his family. He walked over towards it and sat down on the bed, a quiet creak following.

"Come on, sweet girl..." He said, signalling for you to come closer to him, and you found your feet moving by themselves towards him. As you got nearer to him, you smelt his cologne that had hints of wood and coffee. "There she is...so pretty for me" he commented and you blushed furiously.

He brought his hands up to rest on your waist and pressed a light kiss to your stomach before looking up at you with his gorgeous brown eyes. You smiled down at him before running a hand through his long hair and then moved to sit down next to him and he smiled at you softly.

"Do you trust me?" he asked quietly and you nodded truthfully and the next thing you knew, you were lying down on his bed, your head resting on the soft pillow.

"Can I take these off?" he questioned and a small whine escaped your throat. He smirked at the noise and unbuttoned your trousers, pulling them down teasingly.

"Patience sweet girl" he muttered and kissed the top of your thighs while he threw the piece of clothing onto the floor, resulting in a soft thud. You watched as he slipped his fingers under your panties and looked at you for confirmation. You nodded and he slipped those off as well.

Jake moaned as he kissed your swollen clit lightly before swirling his tongue over it, taking your bundle of nerves into his mouth and sucking lightly. Your head fell back in pleasure before he glided his tongue down and licked into your pussy. He rubbed his middle finger and ring finger through your folds wetting them with your slick before curling his fingers inside you, hitting your sweet spot and making you moan out. Your eyes closed as your hips moved against his fingers.

"You gonna cum baby? Squeezing me so good..." he mumbled before going back to his previous actions.

Soon enough, that coil in your stomach snapped and you came all over his fingers. He continued moving his fingers, letting you ride out your high as he moved up and crashed his lips to yours as you moaned, your hands wrapping around his neck, pulling him closer to you.

He slowed his actions and pulled back, looking at your face, still contorted with pleasure.

"You're so beautiful..." he spoke quietly and you grinned but quickly groaned when you felt him remove his fingers from inside you. You could feel his hard-on through his jeans, pressed into your thigh and you brought your hand down to palm him but he stopped you. You frowned and he simply smiled and kissed your hand instead.

"Not today." he replied, seeing the confusion on your face. "Today was just about you." You felt your heart warm at his words, and leaned up to kiss him. He grinned and kissed you back.

"Looks like we'll have to finish researching another day. Could I have your number?" He asked, his cheek turning red even in the blue-lit room and you nodded.

After exchanging numbers, you quickly pulled your underwear and trousers up, walked back out into the kitchen, and started packing your things away. Jake watched you carefully before opening the front door and giving you a quick kiss.

"I'll text you, okay?" he said and you smiled and nodded.

"I'll be waiting" you answered, walking out and back to your own dorm. You couldn't stop yourself from smiling widely and squealing in excitement once you arrived at your room.

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