#through arch bridge

[architectureforsuicides]

The Purple Rose of Cairo (Woody Allen, 1985) Hillman Street Bridge (Removed) Paterson, New Jersey (USA) Bridge over the Passaic river Type: through-arch bridge.

[backpainsolution]

Release back pain

Exercise can be helpful in relieving and preventing lower back pain. Here are some exercises that can be beneficial:

Pelvic tilt: Lie on your back with your knees bent and feet flat on the ground. Tighten your abdominal muscles and press your lower back into the ground. Hold for 5 seconds and release.

Knee-to-chest stretch: Lie on your back with your knees bent and feet flat on the ground. Bring one knee up to your chest and hold for 15-30 seconds. Repeat with the other leg.

Bird dog: Start on your hands and knees. Lift your right arm and left leg straight out, keeping your back straight. Hold for a few seconds and then switch sides.

Bridge: Lie on your back with your knees bent and feet flat on the ground. Lift your hips up toward the ceiling, squeezing your glutes. Hold for a few seconds and then lower back down.

Cat-cow stretch: Start on your hands and knees. Arch your back up like a cat and then lower it down like a cow. Repeat several times.

Cobra pose: Lie on your stomach with your hands under your shoulders. Press up through your hands, lifting your chest and arching your back. Hold for a few seconds and then lower back down.

Child's pose: Kneel on the ground and stretch your arms forward, lowering your forehead to the mat. Hold for several seconds.

Remember to start slowly and gradually increase the intensity and duration of your exercises. If you experience pain or discomfort during any exercise, stop and consult with a medical professional.

[coloursofaparadox]

its digital viking hyperfixation time again

[cumironi]

just imagine, your boyfriend, nanami kento, coming home all needy and hard, a tent underneath his dress pants, horny for the last few hours after the little video you sent while trying a new dress that shows too much while he’s trying to fight for his life, purposely teasing him.

nanami is not a needy person, so when he’s all whining and begging, that means he is at the bridge of cumming just by putting the tip of his cock into your heavenly cunt. fighting the curse all day makes him sick, and as soon as he got home and saw you— in bed dressed in his blue shirt with just panties underneath— he’d pounced on you like a madman.

“please, baby, please, please, pleaseeee,” he’d whine into the crook of your neck, his hips rutting against yours, his uneven and ragged breathing ghosting the shell of your ear. “just the tip, i promise.” his panting grew heavier, the sound of him unbuckling his belt filling the room.

you moan softly as nanami ruts against you, your hands roaming over his back, feeling the hard muscles beneath his shirt. you tilt your head back, giving him better access to your neck as he pants heavily against your skin.

“mmm, baby...” you breathe out, arching up into him, “you’re so desperate for me tonight. what’s gotten into you?” your fingers find their way under the hem of his shirt, tracing patterns along his lower back. you can feel the heat radiating off his body, the tension coiled tight in his muscles. he grinds harder against you, his hardness pressing insistently against your core through our clothes.

nanami lets out a low groan at your teasing words, his hips bucking more urgently against you. his hands slide down to grip your thighs, pulling them further apart as he settles between them. “fuck, fuuuck, you know exactly what you do to me,” he growls, nipping along your jawline. “i’ve been thinking about this sweet pussy all fucking day. dreaming of sinking my cock deep inside you.”

one hand slips between your bodies to cup your breast roughly through your shirt. he pinches and tugs at your nipple, making you gasp. his other hand slides up your thigh, pushing aside your panties to delve between your folds.

nanami groans as his fingers slip through your slick folds, finding you already wet for him. he circles your clit with his thumb while two fingers plunge knuckle-deep into your dripping cunt. “look how ready you are for me, you insatiable minx,” he rasps, pumping his fingers in and out. “bet you’ve been touching yourself all day too, haven’t you? dirty girl...”

he captures your lips in a searing kiss, swallowing your moans as he finger-fucks you faster. the obscene sounds of your arousal fill the room. nanami breaks the kiss, trailing open-mouthed kisses down your neck.

“gonna make you cum on my fingers first,” he promises darkly. “then ’m gonna bend you over and fuck this needy pussy raw until you’re screaming my name. gonna fuck you in every surface in this house for teasing me while i’m on mission, you better pray to god for a mercy because i have none.”

[simonz-angel]

jackin off nerdy!loser!college partner simon riley

his pen falls, fingers going limp as your lips press against his. he’s soft, pliable beneath your fingertips, arching into your every feathery touch, panting into your mouth messily.

your notebooks lay open and abandoned, paper ticking softly with the chill of wind that passes through the open window. and simon’s chin hitches, tongue pressing and threading around yours sloppily, inexperiencedly.

and when you’re fingertips dip beneath the thin material of his stretchy joggers, he’s gasping in a broken moan, the angry tip of his cock leaking in a pearly mess of precum.

“you’re mine, simon,” you breathe into the open shell of his mouth, tongue swiping his bottom lip, tasting him up on your tongue. your fingertips disappear into the scratchy, sandy curls that frame his pretty cock, hand fisting up around him so suddenly he chokes. “say it.”

his big brown eyes peer up at you dizzily, a haze blurring his usual intense stare. he’s panting, hair disheveled, glasses cocked crooked over the bridge of his nose. “i-i’m yours, i’m yours, yes..”

he’s whining, hips reeling up off the floor as you wrist flicks, pulling the skin of his cock taut before you’re smoothing your hand back down. you watched over him, free hand digging up into the short of his blonde hair, pulling his drooping head back to get a real look at him.

you’d must admit, he was a pretty, pretty boy. the dripping honey of his eyes encapsulated with his sparkling blonde lashes, crooked nose dented in on the sides with his glasses, his pretty pink lips lathered in a lewd mixture of your saliva. and he panted hot, open-mouthed against your face, staring up at you with some dumbed down look.

“when you ace me through this semester, baby, you’ll get the real thing, ‘kay?” you pout down at him, bringing one of his hands beneath your skirt. n when his fingertips skim over the wet fabric of your panties, your desperate pussy clenches, stomach rolling with his hesitant touches. “until then… “

[vmpireslut]

glasses. thinking about loser! choso who begsssss you to ride his face while he wears his glasses. nsfw bc im a freak, face ridin��, bj, public sex, sub!choso. drabble. minors do not interact!

loser!choso whom everyone labeled as weird. he often exhibited awkwardness, frequently stumbling over his words and never truly finding his place among his peers. the students on the rather small campus often speculated about how he had managed to win your affection, ultimately attributing it to financial means. they found it difficult to believe that someone like choso kamo could be with someone like you without some form of concealed advantage.

choso’s awkwardness was often the subject of whispers and jokes, but you saw past all of that. you saw the kindness in his heart, the way he would go out of his way to help others, even if it meant making a fool of himself. you appreciated his genuine nature, his ability to make you laugh, and the way he looked at you as if you were the most precious thing in the world.

choso was also great in bed. shockingly so. at first you could barely believe how great it was, how great he was. you didn't know how to explain it, but you couldn't get enough of it.

“oh cho,” soft moans continuously bubble from your raw throat, hands shakily pulling against dark roots as you glide swollen lips across his face. clammy fingers grip into your plush thighs, pulling you harder against his mouth as he sucks on your clit, his nose digging into your slick folds, tongue hungrily lapping. “feels so good,” your head hangs low as you bite your lips, a poor attempt to stifle your whines in the back of the library.

he loves the way the rims press into the sides of his face and dig into the bridge of his nose with each roll of your thick hips. his face soaked, your wetness covering his chin. his glasses foggy, yet his eyes never leave yours. he watches you come undone above him, his cock achingly hard. his mouth watering as he licks his lips clean of you.

still quivering, you slide off of him, kneeling on the floor. effortlessly your fingers pull him through the zipper of his jeans. he gasps when you grab his base, and begin stroking him. his breaths are ragged, back arching, hand fisting his backpack beside him as he bucks his hips into your warm palm. “m’not gonna last i-i-fuckkkk.” you’ve barely touched the man and he’s already falling apart. sweat beading down his forehead despite the temperature in the old building being a cool seventy.

he pulsates, pre cum oozing out of his slit and dribbling down his pretty shaft, coating your fingers. “it’s okay baby boy.” you hum softly pressing a kiss to the tip, swiping your tongue along the head, tasting him. a long drawn out whine has him clamping his hands over his mouth, hips stuttering.

“oh my god, oh my god.” he’s an incoherent mess as you slowly take him in your mouth, inch by inch, until you can feel him hitting the back of your throat. choso is huge, the thickest you had ever had and it was always a struggle to take him fully.

he grunts as you start bobbing your head up and down, his head thrown back and his toes curling in his vans. you hollow your cheeks, sucking him, stroking his base, using your spit as lube to slick him up. he’s close, you can tell by the way his hips are thrusting lazily into your mouth. his thighs tense and his balls tightening. you continued your ministrations, your free hand cupping and rolling his heavy sack, squeezing him.

“love you s’much!” his hands pull gently on your hair, tugging you off him as his release spurts all over his chest. you pant, your glossy eyes wide and your pupils blown, hand steadily pumping him through his orgasm. “that’s it sweet boy, let it out.”

he’s seeing white as his head tilts forward. he watches with a gulp as you run your finger along his cum covered chest, scooping some of his release and pushing it past your lips, licking it off your fingers. he can’t help the blush that paints his cheek and you chuckle, tucking him back into his pants with a forehead kiss.

loser!choso, who really loves his girlfriend and also really needs a new shirt.

𝑅𝒮𝐸𝒫𝐸𝒯𝒜𝐿𝒮 all rights reserved. comments, reblogs and likes are highly appreciated ♡︎

[rafesangelita]

♡ when a heated argument between rafe and bitchy!kook!reader leads to the cops knocking at their door when they’re already.. ‘making up’

warnings: super toxic themes, nothing about this is romantic, cheating accusations, arguing, lots of yelling, physical violence, angst, lots of throwing and breaking things, banter (?), making up, the cops show up, unprotected sex, rafe gets slapped and choked during sex too..

a/n: this has been in the vault for a while now lolll. huge thanks to my bb @nemesyaaa for giving me this idea <3

wc: 2.8k

“you’re acting fucking crazy right now!” you walked through the front door, rafe following closely behind as you slipped your heels off. “i’m acting crazy?” you spun around, rafe eyeing the shoe in your hand. “i hear this bitch talking about how you and her fucked while we were on a break, and you expect me to be calm?” you scoffed, “don’t tell me i’m acting crazy when you haven’t even tried to start explaining to me what the fuck she’s talking about!” you threw your shoe just like rafe suspected you would.

missing him by a few inches, rafe lunged at you, grabbing the other heel out of your hand. “what the fuck did i tell you about throwing shit at me!” you rolled your eyes, shoving him away as you walked past him to the kitchen. “start talking rafe.” your boyfriend pinched the bridge of his nose, his nostrils flaring as you took a water bottle out of the fridge. “she’s obviously lying! why would i go have sex with someone when me and you were still fucking? blocked contacts and all?” you narrowed your eyes at his form.

“i swear to you, i don’t even know who that girl is!” he walked around the kitchen island, a groan rumbling from his throat when you moved away. “then why would she say that? why would she be talking to her friends about it in a pathetic little circle if it wasn’t true?” you shot back. “hello?! so that we could argue exactly how we’re arguing right now. are you really gonna give her the satisfaction by doing what she wants you to do?” he slammed his fist down on the marble slab separating you two.

arching a brow, your gaze flickered to his phone in his pocket. “give me it.” rafe scoffed. “give you what?” he sneered, his heart dropping when you pointed to the cellular device tucked away in his pants. “do you seriously wanna act stupid right now? i said give me your fucking phone.” rafe cursed under his breath, not even wanting to imagine what you’d do if you saw him hesitating. sliding the damned thing across the island, you picked it up and unlocked it. “if you take one step i’m shattering this shit.”

the first thing you did was go to his text messages, scrolling through every thread for any sign of whatever her name is. you didn’t find anything after a few minutes of searching, ‘recently deleted’ messages included. his social medias were next, a lot of them clean for the most part. you bit the inside of your cheek when you opened his photos. golfing selfies with topper, loads of offguards of you at your vanity, even more photos of you and him while you were out running errands.. amongst other things..

despite not finding anything, you noticed rafe still had this worried look on his face. biting your lip, you followed your gut feeling and opened his notes app. sure enough, there at the top was a phone number with the initial ‘s’ next to it. tapping the number, you put it on speaker before muting yourself. “who the fuck is ‘s’?” rafe’s eyes widened in realization. “don’t-” he stepped forward, making you raise a finger. the phone rung twice before a sultry voice picked up. “hey, handsome, i was waiting for you to call me..”

eyes flickering over to his, you smiled in disbelief. “rafe? hello?” you hung up, your heart beating in your ears as white hot anger blinded your vision. “i can explain that!” he knew to keep his distance from you, your fingers clutching his phone even tighter. “i don’t want to hear shit. you’re a liar, rafe. you always have been.” now you were calm, and to rafe that was worse. what made you so angry wasn’t the fact that he slept with someone else, but acting like you were the crazy one and flipping all of tonight’s arguments on you.

rafe still continued talking. “we didn’t have sex! i never even called her or anything! did you not hear her say she was waiting for me to call?!” you turned, your eyes burning into his skull. “it’s the principle! you still had this bitch’s phone number saved! that’s the fucking problem, idiot!” without thinking, you chucked the phone across the room, shattering a picture frame of you and rafe. following the line of damage, rafe’s jaw clenched. he really liked that picture of you two. “we’re breaking each other’s shit now? bet.”

you rolled your eyes as he stomped up the stairs, a bottle of perfume flying from the railing and into the wall where a hole now resided. “i could always buy a new one, asshole!” you taunted him, “with your credit card, too!” the next thing that came hurling from upstairs was a glass jewelry box where you kept all the jewelry rafe specifically bought for you. that one did in fact hurt a little. you took a breath before he really took the cake with the next item, or items. as if moving in slow motion, you watched as rafe threw over various makeup products over the spiral staircase.

eyeshadow palettes, foundation bottles, tubes of lipgloss and concealer also amongst the mess, all came to a booming crash smack in the center of the foyer. there was glass absolutely everywhere. and you were barefoot, great. you stared at the space around you, tears pricking your eyes at the scene. you and rafe stood in silence, thinking about why this continuously keeps happening. you didn’t care if he saw you crying, the sound of your sniffle making his demeanor change. “i’m sorry, baby.”

you shook your head, not wanting to hear anything. “no, you’re not.” your voice shook as you tiptoed to the couch, trying your best not to step on any glass. going inside your shared bedroom, rafe came back out with some shoes for you before making his way downstairs, the glass crunching underneath his feet. “please, i’m begging you to just let me explain all of this.” he plopped down next to you, in which you moved over all the way to the other side. petty.

“me and topper were at the golf course, kickin’ it the way we always do when this bev cart girl came up to us,” you looked over at him, your teary eyes making his stomach churn, “she was telling us that she had just started there and that she lived on the other side of the island and long story short she started flirting with me, okay?” he held his hands up defensively. “i told her that i have a girlfriend and i wasn’t interested by a long shot.” he started, “she got a little irritated and then topper, being the instigating asshole he is, invited her to the party tonight—” you cut him off.

“that still doesn’t explain why her number was in your phone, and why she was talking about you being the ‘best fuck of her life’ while i was sitting right there.” rafe rested his head in his hands for a moment. “can i finish?” you waved him off as you settled back in your corner. “things got awkward so i gave topper my phone before going inside and getting a drink. when i came back out, she had winked at me all weird and topper showed me that he had saved her number in my notes for me to send to him later because his phone was dead. that’s it, i swear.”

you didn’t say anything, a part of you hating yourself for wanting to believe him. “explain to me why she was talking crazy with her friends then.” rafe tapped the side of his head, “because she obviously knew it was you that i’m with!” he shouted, making you glare in his direction. “how would she know me?” you crossed your arms. “y/n.. besides the fact that we were all over each other, who the fuck doesn’t know you?” rafe asked incredulously. fair point. “is that all?” you looked up at him as he scooted closer.

“no.” his tone switched to that gentle lilt, your breathing slowing when he took your hand in his. with the last bit of resolve you had left, you pulled away from him. “well make it good, because i’m on the verge of leaving your ass.” rafe scoffed. “you said that last time..” he shot back, “and the time before that..” you shot him a glare. “and who broke in when i changed the locks?” you reminded him of the time you woke up to a busted door in the middle of the night. “you got me.” he shrugged, in which you looked away.

“whatever.” you felt exhausted, all of tonight’s activities were starting to catch up to you. who knew overthinking, arguing on the way home, breaking stuff, and yelling and crying could make someone so tired? “no— i mean like, you got me.” rafe closed the space between you two, wrapping an arm around your shoulders as you still avoided his gaze. “hey,” he thumbed your chin, “there has never been, and never will be, another girl. i’ll die on that hill.” your eyelids fluttered when you felt his fingers creep up on your thigh.

“i know you could see right through me, does it look like i’m lying?” the expression on his face was clear as day. he was telling the truth. you let out a shaky breath, your arms wrapping around his neck as he pulled you on top of his lap. “oh, baby, we have to do better.” he squeezed you tight, inhaling your scent as his palms ran up and down your back. you sniffled into his neck, pressing a kiss to the skin there. “i’m sorry for breaking your phone.” rafe shushed you, eyeing the broken device in the corner.

“don’t be. i’m the one who broke like half of your shit.” you didn’t even care, mostly because you knew rafe was going to replace everything anyways. you pulled back, cupping his face in your hands. “i love you.” you whispered, those three words making rafe’s heart clench. giving you a small smile, rafe replied with a ‘i love you too,’ followed by ‘give me some sugar..’ of course, you leaned in, rafe’s lips meeting yours halfway as he groaned at the taste of your lipgloss on his tongue. this was just how things went, you two have been here plenty of times before.

his hands snaked down to the globes of your ass, hiking your dress up as he kneaded your flesh between his fingers. your kisses became more feverish, a muffled moan sounding from you when rafe slipped his tongue inside your mouth. he dragged your hips against his clothed erection, both of you hissing at the much needed friction. “how bad do you want it?” rafe panted, nipping the skin of your neck. you almost laughed at his words. “how bad do i want it?” you repeated, “how bad do you want to take it from me?” rafe groaned when you wrapped a hand around his throat, pushing his head back against the couch.

he should’ve known taking the reigns wasn’t going to be that easy. with one of your hands restricing his intake of air, he blinked up at the ceiling, his eyes fluttering shut as you pressed kisses to his chest. you were so sexy like this, he let you grind against him until he couldn’t stand to not be inside of you for another second. you let rafe remove your grip on his neck, a small gasp leaving your lips as he took both of your hands and tucked them behind your back. your head was resting on his shoulder as he pulled himself out of his pants, his fingers moving your underwears to the side before forcing you to sink down onto his length.

you were so slick and ready for him, rafe couldn’t refrain from cursing in your ear. “you’ve been soaked this whole time, huh? fighting turns you on, is that it?” you met his eyes. “mhmm,” you leaned down, “you make me so wet when you’re mad..” rafe grunted, landing a harsh smack to your ass. he knew that already, but hearing you say that while he’s both angry and sexually frustrated just ticked him off even more.

soon, you were the one bouncing on top of him, making him watch in awe as his cock disappeared inside of your greedy cunt. wanting to watch you unravel, he started stroking your clit, making you double over. “you wanna cum? you have to earn that shit.” without a word, you reached up, slapping him across the cheek. the action made him twitch inside of you. “you only cum if i get to.” you kissed him roughly, biting his bottom lip as you pulled away. you were so serious too.

rubbing your clit in harder circles, you nearly screamed when the tip of his cock began pressing that sweet spot inside of you. “fuck—” your thighs began trembling, your orgasm just right there in arms reach when there was a loud bang at the front door. both of you jumped, the fire in your loins melting away into nothing as both of you froze. “what the fuck?” rafe held onto you tighter before the banging continued. “who the fuck is that?” you got up, pulling off of him with a hiss. “outer banks sheriff deputies, open up!” you and rafe looked at each other with wide eyes.

rafe cursed under his breath, adjusting your dress and his pants before stepping in front of you to answer the door. “can i help you?” he peeked out, two other cops standing at his side. “are you the owner of this home?” rafe squeezed your hand, responding to the officer with a ‘yes, sir.’ opening the door a little more, the cop continued to explain why him and his team were there. “we received a few calls reporting a domestic dispute at this address, ‘said that they heard yelling and a lot of ruckus.” you shut your eyes for a moment. you should’ve assumed the whole island was able to hear you and rafe going at each other’s throats.

“uh, no sir, nothing domestic going on around here.” rafe joked. no one laughed. “no? so the four separate calls we received were all lying?” four separate calls? damn, people couldn’t mind their business around here. “well, uh.. yes, me and my girlfriend had a little disagreement but we’re okay now—” immediately, the sheriff demanded to see some kind of identification. taking his id out of the wallet in his pocket, rafe cooperated as the older man had him confirm his information. “so you said you and the woman are ‘good’ now?” officer shoupe, as rafe had learned, asked with concern.

“yes, sir, she’s right here.” before you could protest, rafe dragged you to the front, an awkward smile adorning your lips as you were pretty sure they could see the smudged lipgloss all over your mouth. “hello, sweetheart. can you confirm that you are safe and in not any immediate danger with this man?” you looked back at rafe, having never been questioned by the police before. “yes, i’m safe,” you answered, “we just had a little fight, but we’re making up now..” one of the female officers cleared her throat awkwardly.

“i see..” shoupe nodded, gaze flickering back at rafe. “well i guess we’ll leave you two alone then. next time, can you please keep your volume low? you two had some people pretty spooked there.” you mumbled a ‘yes, sir.’ before rafe pulled you back inside and shut the door. it was silent for a moment, both of you seemingly looking around at the aftermath of everything. “i can’t believe people called the cops..” you walked over to the kitchen and grabbed the broom. rafe watched with a confused expression as you started sweeping up glass.

“so, uh— we aren’t going to pick up where we left off?” you looked up at him with a look that said ‘seriously?’. “no. how about we ‘pick up where we left off’ after you help me clean all of this up, and replace everything you destroyed?” rafe groaned. he could always count on you to leave him with blue balls. deciding to help you, it wasn’t long before everything was cleaned up, no sign of any earlier events except for the new hole in the wall. after you two showered and settled in bed, rafe held you flush against his chest while he kissed up your back,

“are you sure you don’t want to finish?” rafe sounded pained, like he needed to be inside of you immediately. turning around in his embrace, you pecked his lips before swinging a leg over his hips. “make it fast.” you pretended like you didn’t want the same thing, a smile gracing your lips when you heard rafe mutter a ‘thank god.’ before slipping off of your nightgown.

[charliemwrites]

Omegas are the best for the military. Everyone knows that, it’s just common sense.

Omegas are notoriously level-headed and calm, protective without the tendency towards aggression and territorial possessiveness that characterizes their Alpha counterparts. They’re cooperative and adaptable, with heightened senses that at one evolutionary time kept them safe from rabid Alphas.

Now, it’s best suited to sniffing out potential threats, communicating sub-vocally, and noticing the smallest changes in their environment. The military finds them much more economical for combat, special ops, and even espionage compared to Alphas, who are pheromone sensitive, hard-headed, and generally indelicate.

That said, they’re not without their uses. Alphas tend to be lean, fast, and vicious. That aggression makes them both sword and shield in a fight, filing their sense of pain and fatigue down to almost nothing until the threat is neutralized.

Still, having a full-time Alpha in a squad isn’t a necessity except in special circumstances.

Per usual, Task Force 141 is special circumstances.

Four specialist Omegas with a metric ton of trauma per team member has the unfortunate consequence of hormonal imbalance. One thing feeds into another, a heat is put on hold for a mission because they can’t spare the manpower - it stacks and stacks and stacks until sleep is scarce and their usually well-maintained instincts are bursting at the seams. Compound that with the near loss of one of their team members…

The new Alpha is already there when the team returns from their latest assignment.

Laswell is waiting on the tarmac and an operative in black gear is standing a polite distance (plus one step more) from her elbow. Well within peripheral, but deferent. Their hands are clasped behind their back, shoulders straight but loose.

As TF141 approaches, Price expects the Alpha pheromones to waft his way any moment. It’s normal, expected even. A new environment, meeting strange Omegas, Alphas usually burn through their neutralizers quickly. Perhaps a vestigial instinct to carve a space for themselves in the world. Not necessarily their fault, but it happens.

Price is surprised that he smells nothing from the Alpha at all. Just the scents of detergent and soap, clean and standard. A quick glance at Simon confirms their most-sensitive nose doesn’t detect anything either.

Laswell introduces them, an Alpha that she’s personally worked with before and can verify is solid both on and off the field.

The Alpha’s muzzle is heavy duty but long-wear design. Hard-case and rigid instead of the more popular soft and flexible ones. Cushioned but firm at the bridge of the nose, chin, and corners of the jaw. Buckled tight at the back of the head, steel grid pattern across the front.

Price doesn’t arch his eyebrows at it but it’s a near thing.

They duck their head in greeting when Laswell introduces them as Saint, eyes flicking up briefly to each team member, eye-shine reflecting green in the bright runway lights.

Soap whistles, impressed.

“Yer a big ‘un, tha’s fer damn sure. Didnae ken they make ‘em like ye,” he drawls. Ghost cuffs him upside the head, reminding him to behave.

Saint blinks and doesn’t say anything. Curious.

“Let’s do proper introductions inside,” Price decides.

It goes much the same way in the 141’s den as it did out on the tarmac. Saint stands quiet and still while the Omegas take their turns.

There’s no scent to familiarize themselves with, so it’s mostly offering theirs to the Alpha. Except Saint doesn’t duck down to the neck Gaz offers. Instead, they pluck up his hand and bring his wrist to their muzzle. Inhale so quietly that only the swell of their chest indicates that they’re breathing him in.

They chuff softly, hold so loose that Gaz’s hand nearly drops from theirs. It’s approval, it can’t be anything else, but it sounds so… detached.

Still, Gaz chuffs in return, and makes way for the others. Saint does the same to Soap and by the time Simon steps up, he’s already tugging his sleeve up and his glove down.

Simon, to his own surprise, receives the same polite huff as the two sergeants. Most Alphas have found his direct scent to be unpleasant - too sharp and savory, bordering on Alpha. But Saint doesn’t seem to mind in the slightest.

When it’s finally Price’s turn, the only difference is that Saint swipes their own wrist along his. Scent claim. Not marking the 141 as theirs, but rather Saint as belonging with them.

Laswell, suspiciously amused, takes her leave soon after.

The 141 has an Alpha. A permanent one.

Living with an Alpha would have been a learning curve on its own. Living with SAINT is something else entirely.

For one, they apply clinical-strength neutralizer religiously. They have spares stashed everywhere. In their go-bag, their combat gear, the den, the lockers - even one in Price’s office. It’s better than the ones with fragrance, but if not for their ever-present muzzle, no one would be able to tell that they’re an Alpha.

And speaking of the muzzle.

It goes beyond common courtesy and public conduct. Even in the den, they keep the thing tightly pressed to their face, and don’t remove it for anything. They eat in their room and drink through straws when necessary.

When Price tells them that the team wouldn’t mind if they used a bite guard in the den, they just chuff softly and brush a hand along his shoulder. The muzzle stayed.

It’s not to say they don’t seem comfortable. Day by day, little signs of trust and ease seep into their Alpha’s mannerisms if they know where to look for it. A brush of skin here, a sub-vocal purr there. Spending hours upon hours in the den, available for any of the Omegas to sit with or cuddle or chat to. As much as teammate as an Alpha in the traditional sense.

It doesn’t take Soap and Gaz long at all to start hanging all over them, but Saint takes it with all the patience of their namesake. Price finds Soap lounging in their lap most times that they’re sitting, or leaning hard into their side while they watch recruits.

The muzzle is a no-touch zone, but they don’t get even growl the first time Soap discovers that. They just redirect him with a quiet click of their tongue, and let him nuzzle in when he apologizes.

Gaz is hardly any better, scent marking Saint like some bad Alpha stereotype. Poor thing goes around smelling overwhelmingly of bergamot and honey sometimes, but they never mind, never stop him from pressing his face to their chest or their back or even into their hands. Rubbing his face over any bit of skin or fabric available, even their jugular, despite the vulnerability of such a spot.

Still, Saint is aloof.

They’re perfectly responsive to their Omegas, head tilting at the slightest vocalization, quick to offer physical comfort when asked. They hardly ever seek it out for themself though, and show none of the near-obsessive behaviors associated with even the most mild of Alphas on the spectrum.

“I dinnae think Alpha likes us,” Soap whines one evening.

Saint is eating in their room, leaving the Omegas to a cuddle pile while they wait for their return.

He’s been lamenting it for a while now, repressing the rejected pang in his gut any time Saint doesn’t vocalize back, or reach for them first.

They work out in the Alpha-Only gym on base and do their laundry in the designated Alpha wash. Neither of those are regulations, it’s a choice they make. And it hurts a bit.

Saint is sweet, but their politeness goes past the point of old-fashioned.

“Course they do,” Simon grunts, dismissive. “They probably like us too much.”

“How do you reckon?” Gaz asks.

“Alpha didn’ go t’ eat ‘til we were all fed,” he replies, shrugging.

And it’s true. Saint doesn’t collect a scrap of nutrition until every one of their Omegas has had something to eat. Even Price, stubborn and work-focused as he can be, is gently urged to eat before Saint fills their own belly.

It doesn’t stop there.

Saint is always the last one on or off a transport, and quick to notice if any of them are injured. They’re always present around large groups of other Alphas, especially recruits.

The sheer amount of time they spend available is unusual, preferring the den to rest in their off hours - even sleeping there on occasion.

Then Gaz’s heat is due. A week out and he’s already feeling it descending - it’s been well over six months since his last one. His skin feels itchy, his senses on overdrive. Thirsty and hungry and generally feeling restless beneath the skin.

“Alpha,” he calls.

Saint’s eyes are on him instantly, one-sided conversation with some other, non-Pack Omega forgotten. Gaz purrs, pleased.

“I want something of yours.”

They tilt their head, a silent question.

“A shirt or something,” he specifies.

And something in their gaze flickers. Gaz isn’t sure what it means, but it definitely looks positive.

Saint brings him something better - a blanket. It’s intimate; it’s perfect. It smells incredible, if… oddly faded. From his most reserved Pack member, it means the world.

Gaz balls himself up with it in the nest he assembles over the next day and a half, until he wakes up one morning with the knowledge that his heat will l well and truly have taken hold before midday.

He puts in his notice and calls his Pack.

Saint is the last to enter his barrack, a huge bag of supplies in their arms. Not just for Gaz, but for the rest of them. No one will be leaving unless duty calls.

And it’s perfect. The best heat Gaz has ever had. Surrounded by Pack and protected by his Alpha, who stays on watch while Price and Ghost and Soap fuck him through the dregs of preheat and well into Heat proper.

Half of him purrs at his Alpha’s dedication to protecting them, to providing for them. The other half protests the Alpha’s attention being anywhere but on him.

“Alpha,” he calls. And when that only earns him Saint’s eyes and not his affection, he barks, sharper, “Alpha.”

They come to him instantly, settled in between his legs, smooth their thumbs along the glands at the base of his neck. He curls into them trilling and chirping and needing more than just social acceptability right now.

And finally, finally, a low rumble sounds through his Alpha’s chest. It’s deep and rich, hits the subharmonics in a way that has all the Omegas going still and quiet. Their voice purrs out a moment later, practically vibrating their skulls.

“Easy, Omega.”

Gaz bares his neck, whispering, “Saint.”

They lean in, breathing loud and deep, warm hands soothing an ache in his lower back. “I’m here, Kyle.”

They fuck well into sundown, Kyle so wound up that he can’t bear to be parted from Saint to even let them breathe. Any space between them is whined or growled or bitten out of existence, the ever-indulgent Alpha soothing their Omega with their body, with the newly discovered vocalizations that he just can’t get enough of.

Ghost and Price have to feed and hydrate him between rounds, working together to manage his clingy limbs and careless (but sharp) teeth. In the meantime, Soap helps to do the same for Saint, who is far more cooperative.

“How’re you still goin’?” Soap wonders, amazed, slipping bites of granola between the bars of their muzzle. Saint is sitting upright with Gaz collected against their chest, sweaty but already breathing evenly again.

Saint licks a bit of chocolate off their lip and meets his eyes easy as anything, serene for how blown out their pupils are.

“I’m your Alpha. I go until you need me to stop.”

Which just sets them all off, each taking (needing) a turn with their Alpha.

By then, their neutralizer has begun to wear off, friction and sweat and fabric thinning the chemical deodorant to nothing. The scent is intoxicating, unlike anything any of them have ever smelled before. It’s overwhelmingly Alpha, overwhelmingly good. Even Ghost and Price, rare to bend the knee to anyone, find themselves weak for that scent.

No wonder Saint keeps it on lock, it’s practically a weapon in itself, not demanding submission but expecting it. A foregone conclusion. In a social setting it would be a brutal domination, rude wouldn’t even be the right word for it.

Saint isn’t just an Alpha, they’re on the extreme end of the spectrum.

The kind that comes with counseling and desensitizing therapies. Etiquette schools and specialized doctors.

The kind of Alpha that can not only manage four chaotic Omegas, but give them what they need.

With types like Saint, Alpha isn’t just a designation, it’s a title. And the 141 is proud that it’s theirs.

[tsdirtyshirley]

fleeting moments of captivated heart-shattering joy compounded and strung together like a hundred crystalline breaths in the dizzying glow of

[pucksandpower]

The Interview

Max Verstappen x journalism student!Reader

Summary: when you are given an assignment to interview someone, you can’t resist asking your boyfriend to be the subject … it’s just a shame that your professor doesn’t believe the interview actually happened

The classroom smells faintly of old books and freshly printed handouts as you sit in your usual spot, third row from the front, slightly to the left. The room is slowly emptying out, the hum of post-class chatter gradually fading as students make their way out into the hallway. You’re gathering your things, sliding your notebook into your bag, when you hear Professor Carter clear his throat.

“Y/N,” he says, his tone firm but not loud. “Could you stay behind for a moment?”

You pause, your hand gripping the strap of your bag. His voice isn’t one that invites argument, and you’re already running through the possibilities of what this could be about. Your mind flickers to your most recent assignment — the interview with Max. The nerves you’ve been trying to suppress all week twist in your stomach.

You watch as the last few students shuffle out, closing the door behind them. Professor Carter leans back in his chair, his glasses perched on the bridge of his nose as he flips through a stack of papers. His desk is a mess, as usual — books stacked haphazardly, coffee stains on nearly every surface, but his eyes are sharp when they finally meet yours.

“So,” he begins, tapping a finger on the paper in front of him. “Your latest assignment. The interview.”

You nod slowly, trying to gauge his mood. “Yes, sir.”

He holds up the paper, and you can see your neat handwriting sprawled across the page. “You interviewed Max Verstappen.”

It’s not a question, but you nod again anyway. “Yes.”

His eyes narrow slightly. “Tell me, Y/N, how exactly did you manage that?”

Your heart skips a beat. You knew this might happen — knew that choosing Max, of all people, might raise some eyebrows. But you hadn’t expected it to be this ... confrontational. You take a deep breath, trying to keep your voice steady.

“Well, I’ve known Max for a while,” you say, carefully choosing your words. “I asked him if he’d be willing to help me with the assignment, and he agreed.”

Professor Carter leans back in his chair, crossing his arms. “Known him for a while, you say?”

“Yes,” you reply, trying not to sound defensive. “We’ve been ... friends.”

He arches an eyebrow. “Friends.”

There’s something in his tone that makes you stiffen. You know what he’s implying — he doesn’t believe you. You fight the urge to fidget under his gaze, forcing yourself to stay calm.

“Professor,” you start, choosing your words carefully, “I understand that it might seem unlikely, but I assure you, the interview was real. I can-”

He holds up a hand, cutting you off. “Y/N, let’s be honest here. You’re a student at the University of Sheffield. Not exactly the kind of place where one casually befriends a Formula 1 driver.”

Your stomach twists tighter. “I’m not lying,” you say, a little more forcefully than you intended. “Max and I-”

“Enough,” he says, his voice rising slightly. He sets your paper down on the desk, his fingers drumming against the wood. “If you’re going to fabricate an interview, at least make it believable. I’ve seen this kind of thing before, you know. Students who get desperate, who think that stretching the truth — or outright inventing it — will get them the grade they want.”

You stare at him, disbelief coursing through you. “I didn’t fabricate anything,” you insist. “I really interviewed him.”

Professor Carter’s expression doesn’t change. “Then prove it.”

You blink. “Prove it?”

“Yes,” he says simply. “Show me some kind of proof that this interview actually happened. Otherwise, I’m going to have to give you a zero for academic dishonesty.”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut. A zero. That would tank your grade — maybe even your entire semester. But the worst part is that he’s asking for proof you can’t provide, not without exposing the relationship you’ve been so careful to keep private.

You hesitate, your mind racing. What do you do? Do you tell him the truth? Risk everything to save your grade? But the thought of Max — his need for privacy, the way you’ve both agreed to keep things quiet for now — weighs heavily on you. You can’t just throw that away. Not for this.

You swallow hard. “I ... I can’t.”

Professor Carter’s eyes narrow. “You can’t?”

“I mean, I can’t give you proof,” you clarify, your voice wavering slightly. “But that doesn’t mean I’m lying.”

He sighs, shaking his head. “Y/N, you’re a smart student. You should know that in journalism, credibility is everything. Without proof, your story doesn’t hold up.”

You bite your lip, frustration bubbling up inside you. “I’m telling you the truth. I did interview him. Just because I can’t show you proof doesn’t mean it didn’t happen.”

“And just because you say it did happen doesn’t mean it did,” he counters, his tone cool. He taps the paper again, a final, dismissive gesture. “I’m sorry, but unless you can provide evidence, I have no choice but to give you a zero.”

You’re stunned into silence, your mind reeling. You can’t believe this is happening. It feels unfair, like you’re being backed into a corner with no way out.

“Professor Carter,” you try again, your voice quieter now, almost pleading. “Please. I’m not lying. I wouldn’t risk my grade like this if it wasn’t true.”

He regards you for a moment, and for a split second, you think he might relent. But then he shakes his head, resolute. “I’m sorry, Y/N. My decision stands.”

The weight of his words presses down on you, and you feel a sharp sting behind your eyes. You blink rapidly, determined not to let him see you cry. This is supposed to be a professional conversation, and you won’t let your emotions get the better of you.

You take a deep breath, steadying yourself. “I understand,” you say, though your voice is tight. “Thank you for your time.”

He nods curtly, already turning his attention back to the stack of papers on his desk, dismissing you without another word. You force yourself to walk out of the classroom with your head held high, even though every step feels heavier than the last.

When you finally make it out into the hallway, the reality of the situation hits you full force. You lean against the wall, your bag slipping off your shoulder as you press the heels of your hands to your eyes, willing yourself to keep it together. You can’t believe this is happening. A zero. All because you refused to betray Max’s trust.

Your phone buzzes in your pocket, and you pull it out with trembling fingers. It’s a message from Max.

Hey, just finished training. Want to grab dinner later?

You stare at the screen, a lump forming in your throat. How do you even begin to explain this to him? Do you tell him everything? Or do you keep it to yourself, like you’ve been doing for the past year?

Your fingers hover over the keyboard, the words you want to say tangled up in your mind. Finally, you type a simple response.

Yeah. Let’s meet at our usual spot.

As you hit send, you take a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart. You’ll figure this out. Somehow. You have to.

***

The restaurant is quieter than usual, the low hum of conversation and clinking silverware blending into a muted backdrop. You sit across from Max in your usual booth by the window, the warm glow of candlelight casting soft shadows on his face.

He’s already ordered for both of you, the way he always does when he gets here before you. It’s a small thing, but it makes you smile — a reminder of how well he knows you, your likes and dislikes, the little details that make up your routine.

But tonight, the smile doesn’t quite reach your eyes. You can feel the weight of what happened earlier pressing down on you, a knot of tension in your chest that you can’t seem to shake. Max is talking about his day — something about the latest adjustments they’ve made to the car — but the words are barely registering. You nod along, trying to focus, but your mind keeps drifting back to the conversation with Professor Carter, the way he looked at you, the disbelief in his voice.

“Hey,” Max’s voice cuts through your thoughts, gentle but insistent. “You okay?”

You blink, realizing you’ve been staring at your untouched glass of water for the past minute. “Yeah, I’m fine,” you say quickly, forcing a smile. “Just ... tired.”

Max studies you for a moment, his blue eyes narrowing slightly. He’s not convinced, you can tell. But he doesn’t push, not yet. Instead, he leans back in his seat, taking a sip of his drink. “Long day, huh?”

“Something like that,” you murmur, picking up your fork and poking at the salad in front of you. You’re not really hungry, but you force yourself to take a bite, if only to keep your hands busy. The last thing you want is for Max to start asking questions. You know him too well — he’ll find a way to make this his fault, even though it’s not. And you can’t handle that right now, not on top of everything else.

Max is still watching you, though, and you can feel the weight of his gaze. He’s always been able to read you like a book, and tonight is no different. After a few more moments of silence, he sets his glass down with a soft clink.

“You’re doing that thing,” he says, his voice carefully neutral.

You glance up at him, confused. “What thing?”

“That thing where you say you’re fine, but you’re not.” His tone is gentle, but there’s a firmness underneath it. He’s not going to let this go. “Come on, what’s going on? Did something happen today?”

Your heart skips a beat, and you quickly drop your gaze back to your plate. “No, nothing happened,” you lie, trying to sound casual. “It’s just been a long week, that’s all.”

“Right.” He doesn’t sound convinced, and you can feel his eyes on you, searching for cracks in the facade. “Because you’re always this quiet when nothing’s wrong.”

You sigh, pushing the lettuce around your plate. “Max, I’m fine. Really.”

There’s a pause, and then you hear him exhale softly, like he’s trying to be patient. “You know, you’re a terrible liar.”

Your stomach twists at his words, but you keep your eyes on your plate. You know he’s right — you’ve never been good at hiding things from him. But this ... this is different. You can’t just blurt it out, can’t just tell him what happened without worrying about how he’ll react. He’ll get upset, maybe even angry, and he’ll blame himself for something that isn’t his fault.

“Just ... drop it, okay?” You say quietly, your voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Max’s expression softens, but the concern doesn’t leave his eyes. “Y/N,” he says gently, leaning forward. “If something’s bothering you, I want to help. You don’t have to deal with it on your own.”

You shake your head, still not meeting his gaze. “It’s nothing you can help with.”

There’s a beat of silence, and then Max’s hand is on yours, warm and solid, grounding you in the moment. “Let me decide that,” he says quietly. “Please.”

The sincerity in his voice almost breaks you, but you bite down on the words that are clawing at the back of your throat. You can’t do this, not here, not now. So instead, you pull your hand away gently, offering him a small smile.

“Really, Max, it’s fine,” you say, trying to sound reassuring. “Let’s just enjoy dinner, okay?”

He hesitates, clearly torn between wanting to respect your wishes and wanting to press for answers. But eventually, he nods, though the worry doesn’t leave his eyes. “Okay. But if you change your mind ...”

“I know,” you say softly. “Thank you.”

You both lapse into silence after that, the conversation stilted and awkward. You try to focus on the food, on the comfortable routine you’ve built together, but the knot in your chest only tightens with every passing minute. You hate this — hate that you’re keeping something from him, hate that you’re letting it affect your time together. But you don’t know what else to do.

It’s Max who finally breaks the silence, setting his fork down with a sigh. “You know, I’m not very good at this.”

You look up at him, frowning. “At what?”

He gestures between the two of you. “At ... whatever this is. The whole ‘let’s pretend nothing’s wrong’ thing. It’s not really my style.”

You can’t help but smile at that, despite everything. “I know.”

“So why are we doing it?” He asks, his tone gentle but probing. “Why are you pretending that everything’s fine when it’s clearly not?”

You hesitate, chewing on your bottom lip. “Because ... I don’t want to ruin dinner?”

Max’s lips quirk into a half-smile, but there’s no humor in his eyes. “Dinner’s already ruined if you’re not happy.”

The words hang between you, heavy and honest, and you feel the walls you’ve been trying to keep up start to crumble. You take a deep breath, feeling the tightness in your chest loosen just a fraction. Maybe ... maybe it’s time to tell him. Maybe he deserves to know.

“Okay,” you say quietly, setting your fork down. “But ... promise me you won’t get mad.”

Max raises an eyebrow. “Mad? Why would I get mad?”

“Just promise.”

He sighs, nodding. “Okay. I promise.”

You take another deep breath, steeling yourself. “It’s about my journalism assignment. The one where I interviewed you.”

Max nods slowly, waiting for you to continue.

“So ... my professor — Professor Carter — he, um ... he thinks I faked it.”

Max’s expression darkens immediately, his brows knitting together in confusion. “What? Why would he think that?”

You shrug, trying to keep your voice steady. “Because ... well, because he doesn’t believe that I actually know you. He thinks I made the whole thing up to get a good grade.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Max says, his voice rising slightly in disbelief. “Why would he assume that?”

“Because I’m just a student at Sheffield,” you explain, your words tumbling out faster now. “And you’re ... well, you. He doesn’t think someone like me could actually know someone like you.”

Max’s jaw clenches, and you can see the anger simmering beneath the surface. “That’s-” He cuts himself off, taking a deep breath. “What did he say?”

“He said ... he said he’s giving me a zero for academic dishonesty unless I can prove that the interview was real.”

Max’s eyes widen in shock. “A zero?”

You nod, swallowing hard. “Yeah.”

Max sits back in his seat, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “That’s insane. You shouldn’t be penalized for telling the truth. Did you explain to him that we’re ... you know ...”

You shake your head quickly. “No, I didn’t tell him about us. I didn’t want to ... I mean, we’ve been keeping things private for a reason, right? I didn’t want to drag you into this.”

Max frowns, his frustration evident. “Y/N, you shouldn’t have to choose between protecting our privacy and your education. That’s not fair.”

“I know,” you say softly, your voice barely above a whisper. “But I didn’t want you to feel guilty. I know you would have found a way to blame yourself for this.”

Max looks at you, his expression softening. “I don’t want you to suffer because of me,” he says quietly. “I’d rather the whole world knew about us than have you lose out on your grades.”

You shake your head. “It’s not your fault, Max. I made the decision to keep things quiet, too. I don’t regret it.”

“But now you’re paying the price,” he mutters, frustration lacing his tone.

You reach across the table, taking his hand in yours. “We both knew there would be challenges. We’ll figure this out.”

He squeezes your hand, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “I just hate that this is happening to you. If I could talk to your professor-”

“No,” you cut in firmly. “I don’t want you getting involved. That would just make things worse.”

Max frowns, clearly unhappy with your decision, but he doesn’t argue. Instead, he looks down at your joined hands, his thumb still tracing soft circles over your skin. “But what are you going to do?” He asks quietly.

You take a deep breath, steeling yourself. “I’ll figure it out. Maybe I can talk to him again, try to convince him without bringing you into it.”

Max shakes his head, clearly frustrated. “It’s not right, Y/N. You shouldn’t have to prove yourself like this.”

“I know,” you say, your voice soft but resolute. “But I don’t want to drag you into it. We’ve worked so hard to keep our relationship private, and I don’t want this to be the thing that changes that.”

Max looks at you for a long moment, his eyes searching yours. Finally, he sighs, squeezing your hand one last time before letting go. “Okay. I’ll respect your decision. But if it gets worse, if he keeps pushing ...”

“I’ll let you know,” you promise, trying to offer him a reassuring smile. “But for now, let’s just try to enjoy dinner, okay?”

Max nods, though the tension in his shoulders doesn’t quite ease. “Okay,” he agrees, though there’s a note of reluctance in his voice.

You both lapse into a more comfortable silence after that, the conversation slowly returning to more familiar, lighter topics. But even as you talk about other things, you can feel the weight of the situation lingering between you. Max’s concern is palpable, and you know he’s still thinking about it, even if he’s trying not to show it.

But for now, you’re both doing your best to push it aside, to focus on the time you have together. You know you’ll have to deal with the situation with Professor Carter eventually, but for tonight, you’re content to just be here with Max, to enjoy the quiet moments that are yours alone.

No matter what happens, you’ll figure it out together.

***

Professor Carter’s classroom is as stifling as ever, the air thick with the scent of old books and the faint smell of chalk dust. You’re sitting in your usual spot near the back, trying to focus on the lecture. But it’s impossible to concentrate. Every time Professor Carter glances in your direction, your stomach twists with anxiety. The weight of his accusation still hangs over you, and you can’t shake the feeling that everyone in the room knows what happened, that they’re all silently judging you.

Your notebook lies open in front of you, but the words on the page blur together. You can barely pay attention to the lecture, your mind constantly drifting back to the conversation with Max. You told him you’d handle this on your own, but now, sitting here under Professor Carter’s scrutinizing gaze, you’re starting to doubt yourself. What if you can’t convince him? What if you really do end up with a zero on the assignment?

As if sensing your distress, Professor Carter pauses mid-sentence, his eyes narrowing as he looks in your direction. “Miss Y/L/N, is there something you’d like to share with the class?” He asks, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

You snap out of your thoughts, your heart racing. “No, sir,” you mumble, trying to shrink into your seat.

He arches an eyebrow, clearly not satisfied with your response. “Then I suggest you pay attention. This material will be on the final exam, and I’d hate for you to miss out on any more important details.”

There’s a smattering of laughter from your classmates, and you feel your face flush with embarrassment. You nod quickly, your fingers tightening around your pen. “Yes, sir,” you say quietly.

Professor Carter smirks, clearly pleased with himself, and turns back to the board. You take a deep breath, trying to calm your nerves. But just as you’re about to refocus on the lecture, the door to the classroom swings open.

Every head in the room turns to look at the sudden interruption, and you feel your heart stop when you see who’s standing in the doorway.

Max.

He’s dressed casually, in a black T-shirt and jeans, but there’s no mistaking who he is. The entire room goes silent, the air thick with shock and disbelief. You can see the recognition in your classmates’ eyes, the way they start whispering to each other, nudging each other and pointing in his direction.

Max strides into the room with the kind of confidence that only he possesses, his gaze scanning the room until it lands on you. His expression softens for a moment when he sees you, but then he turns his attention to Professor Carter, who is staring at him with a mixture of surprise and confusion.

“Can I help you?” Professor Carter asks, his voice sharp, though there’s a note of uncertainty beneath it.

Max doesn’t miss a beat. “Yeah, actually, you can,” he says, his tone polite but firm. “I’m here about Y/N’s assignment.”

Professor Carter’s eyes widen slightly, and you can see the wheels turning in his head as he tries to piece together what’s happening. “I’m sorry, but this is a private class,” he says, his tone regaining its usual authority. “If you have concerns about a student’s work, you can schedule a meeting during my office hours.”

Max crosses his arms over his chest, unfazed. “I think we can sort this out right here.”

You feel a mix of panic and gratitude welling up inside you. You didn’t want Max to get involved, but now that he’s here, you can’t deny the relief that floods through you. He’s taking a stand for you, and you can see that he’s not going to back down.

Professor Carter, on the other hand, looks like he’s trying to maintain his composure, but there’s a flicker of irritation in his eyes. “Max Verstappen, I presume?” He says, his tone clipped.

Max nods. “That’s right. And I’m here to prove that Y/N didn’t fake her interview with me.”

There’s a collective gasp from the students, and you can feel the tension in the room spike. All eyes are on Max now, and you can see the shock on your classmates’ faces as they realize what’s happening. Professor Carter, however, doesn’t seem impressed.

“I see,” he says slowly, his gaze flicking to you for a moment before returning to Max. “And how exactly do you plan to do that?”

Max’s expression hardens, and you can see the determination in his eyes. “Simple. I’m here, aren’t I? She couldn’t have faked an interview with me if I’m standing right here.”

The room falls silent again, and you can feel your heart pounding in your chest. Professor Carter opens his mouth to respond, but for a moment, no words come out. It’s clear that he wasn’t expecting this. He was so sure of himself, so confident that you couldn’t possibly know someone like Max Verstappen. And now, here Max is, standing in front of him, making him eat his words.

“I ... appreciate your enthusiasm,” Professor Carter finally says, though his voice lacks its usual bite. “But this doesn’t prove anything. For all I know, you could be here out of some misguided attempt to protect her.”

Max’s jaw clenches, and you can see the frustration building in his eyes. “You think I would waste my time lying for someone? If she didn’t do the interview, I wouldn’t be here.”

Professor Carter’s gaze shifts to you, and you can see the doubt still lingering in his eyes. “Miss Y/L/N, I told you that if you could provide proof, I would reconsider your grade. But this ...” He gestures to Max. “This isn’t exactly the kind of proof I had in mind.”

You feel a surge of anger rising within you, and before you can stop yourself, you’re standing up, your voice trembling but firm. “What more proof do you need? He’s here, in front of the entire class. He’s telling you the interview was real. What else do I have to do to make you believe me?”

The room falls silent again, and you can see the shock on your classmates’ faces as they watch you stand up to Professor Carter. He looks taken aback, his usual smug expression faltering as he stares at you.

For a moment, no one speaks. Then, Max steps forward, his voice calm but filled with conviction. “Look, Professor, I get that this might be hard to believe. But Y/N isn’t lying. She interviewed me, and she did a damn good job, too. If you don’t believe me, you can check with my team. They’ll confirm it.”

Professor Carter hesitates, clearly torn between maintaining his authority and acknowledging the reality in front of him. He glances around the room, seeing the way his students are hanging on every word, waiting to see what he’ll do next.

Finally, he exhales sharply, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Fine. I’ll take your word for it, Mr. Verstappen. But I expect Miss Y/L/N to submit any additional documentation that can verify this interview. Understood?”

You nod quickly, relief flooding through you. “Yes, sir. Thank you.”

Professor Carter waves his hand dismissively, clearly eager to move on. “Now, if you’ll excuse us, we need to continue with the lesson.”

Max glances at you, a small, reassuring smile playing on his lips. “I’ll wait outside,” he murmurs, and with one last look at Professor Carter, he turns and walks out of the classroom.

As the door closes behind him, you sink back into your seat, your heart still racing. The tension in the room starts to dissipate, and you can feel the curious stares of your classmates on you, but for the first time since this whole ordeal began, you feel a sense of calm. Max believed in you enough to do this, to stand up for you, and that’s all that matters.

Professor Carter clears his throat, trying to regain control of the room. “Alright, everyone, back to the lesson. We’ve wasted enough time as it is.”

You open your notebook again, but this time, the words on the page seem clearer, more focused. You can do this. You’ve got this. And no matter what happens next, you know you’re not alone.

***

When you step out of the building, the late afternoon sun is warm on your face, but you barely notice it. The adrenaline from the confrontation in class is still coursing through your veins, and all you can think about is getting out of here, away from the stares and whispers that followed you as you left the room.

You spot him immediately.

Max is leaning against his car, casually checking his phone like he doesn’t have a care in the world. But you can see the way his shoulders tense when he catches sight of you, the way his eyes soften when they meet yours.

The sleek black car gleams in the sunlight, and you can’t help but notice the way people are staring, some pointing, others whispering to each other. Max Verstappen waiting outside a university lecture hall is not something anyone expected to see today.

You make your way over to him, trying to ignore the attention and the pounding of your heart. You had told him not to do this, told him you’d handle it on your own. And yet, here he is, right in the middle of everything, like he promised he wouldn’t be.

“Hey,” Max says casually, slipping his phone into his pocket as you approach. There’s a smile tugging at the corner of his lips, like he’s waiting for your reaction.

You stop in front of him, crossing your arms over your chest. “You promised me you wouldn’t get involved,” you say, your voice tight.

Max raises an eyebrow, looking entirely too calm for your liking. “I said I’d respect your decision. And I did — until I realized your professor is a jerk who needed to be put in his place.”

You narrow your eyes at him, trying to maintain your anger, but it’s difficult when he’s standing there looking so smug, so unbothered by the situation. “That’s not the point, Max. You went behind my back.”

He tilts his head, a small smirk playing on his lips. “Did I, though? Because I seem to remember you didn’t explicitly tell me not to.”

You huff in frustration, knowing he’s right but refusing to give him the satisfaction. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

Max shrugs, unbothered by your accusation. “Maybe. But I’m also right.”

You want to stay mad. You really do. But the way he’s looking at you, with that infuriating mix of confidence and affection, makes it impossible. You try to hold on to your irritation, try to keep the scowl on your face, but you can feel it slipping away.

Max must see it, too, because he steps closer, his voice dropping to a soft murmur. “You’re not really mad at me, are you?”

You hesitate, biting your lip. “Maybe a little.”

He chuckles, the sound warm and familiar. “No, you’re not.”

You look away, trying to maintain your resolve, but Max reaches out, gently turning your face back to him. His thumb brushes over your cheek, and you can’t help but lean into his touch, your anger melting away as quickly as it came.

“Stop trying to be cute,” you mumble, though your voice lacks any real bite.

Max grins, clearly enjoying this. “I can’t help it. It’s just who I am.”

You roll your eyes, but the smile that tugs at your lips betrays you. “You’re insufferable.”

“And yet, you still love me,” Max counters, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

You open your mouth to argue, but before you can say anything, Max leans down and presses his lips to yours, effectively cutting off any protest you might have had. The kiss is soft, gentle, but there’s an undeniable intensity behind it, a promise that he’ll always be there, even when you tell him not to be.

For a moment, you forget where you are, forget about the stares and the whispers, the anxiety that had been gnawing at you all day. All that matters is the feel of Max’s lips on yours, the way his hand cradles the back of your head, anchoring you to him.

When he finally pulls back, you’re breathless, your heart racing for a completely different reason now. Max looks down at you, his eyes dark with affection, and you can’t help but smile up at him, any remnants of anger long gone.

“Okay, fine,” you admit, still slightly dazed from the kiss. “Maybe I’m not that mad.”

Max chuckles, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead before pulling back completely. “I knew it.”

You shake your head, but there’s no real frustration behind it anymore. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

He grins, clearly pleased with himself. “I know.”

You glance around, noticing the continued stares from the students passing by. You sigh, knowing this moment of privacy is short-lived. “We should probably get out of here before someone decides to take a picture.”

Max follows your gaze, nodding in agreement. “Good idea. Come on, let’s get out of here.”

He opens the passenger door for you, and you slide into the car, trying to ignore the curious eyes still on you. Max walks around to the driver’s side, getting in and starting the engine. As the car purrs to life, he reaches over, taking your hand in his again.

“You sure you’re okay?” He asks, his tone more serious now, the teasing edge gone.

You nod, squeezing his hand. “Yeah. I’m okay. Thanks for being there, even if I didn’t ask for it.”

Max smiles softly, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “You don’t have to ask. I’ll always be there for you.”

And just like that, the tension that had been weighing on you all day finally eases. You know things aren’t completely resolved with Professor Carter, but right now, with Max beside you, it doesn’t seem as daunting. You’ll figure it out — together.

***

The classroom buzzes with the usual energy as students shuffle into their seats, chatting with friends or tapping away on their phones. It’s a typical day, but there’s a different kind of tension in the air. Today, Professor Carter is returning the results of the investigative journalism assignments, and no one is quite sure what to expect.

You settle into your usual spot near the back, trying to shake off the nerves. It’s been a few months since the whole incident with Max interrupting your class, and while things have calmed down somewhat, Professor Carter’s stern demeanor hasn’t wavered. You still catch him eyeing you from time to time, as if he’s waiting for you to slip up.

The door slams shut as Professor Carter strides in, a stack of papers in hand. The chatter in the room dies down instantly. He’s never been one for small talk or pleasantries, and today is no different. He doesn’t bother with a greeting, just dives straight into it.

“Good afternoon,” he says curtly, his voice slicing through the silence. “As you know, today I’ll be discussing the assignments you all turned in. Some of you excelled, others … less so.”

You swallow hard, your fingers fidgeting with the edge of your notebook. You did everything you could to make your article stand out, but now that the moment of judgment is here, doubt begins to creep in.

Professor Carter begins pacing the front of the room, flipping through the stack of papers as he speaks. “Several of you chose topics that were predictable but handled them with enough depth to warrant commendation. For example, Miss Klein tackled the opioid crisis in rural England — an important and underreported subject.” He glances up at a blonde girl in the front row, who nods in acknowledgment, her cheeks flushing slightly at the attention.

“Then we have Mr. Patel,” Professor Carter continues, stopping briefly to peer down at a lanky guy two rows in front of you. “Your examination of government surveillance policies in urban areas was thorough, albeit a bit heavy on the technical jargon. But it’s clear you put in the work.”

You watch as Professor Carter moves on to the next paper, calling out names and offering critiques with the same detached professionalism. The topics range from environmental justice issues to the economic implications of Brexit — serious, weighty subjects that demand rigorous analysis. The longer he speaks, the more you feel the sinking sensation in your stomach. Your topic, in comparison, feels like a joke. An entertaining joke, sure, but still …

And then he pauses.

Professor Carter reaches the last paper in the stack, and his expression falters for a moment before he collects himself. He clears his throat and addresses the room, his voice taking on a more formal tone.

“And then we come to one particular assignment,” he begins, his gaze sweeping across the room before landing squarely on you. You freeze, every nerve ending on high alert. “An assignment that, while unconventional in its subject matter, demonstrated an impressive level of dedication and — dare I say — ingenuity.”

A ripple of whispers spreads through the room. You feel the heat of a dozen eyes on you but keep your gaze firmly on Professor Carter. His words are oddly measured, as if he’s trying to make sense of them himself.

He raises the paper in his hand slightly, glancing at it before looking back at the class. “Miss Y/L/N,” he addresses you directly, causing all the whispers to stop. “Your decision to investigate whether or not Toto Wolff, the team principal of Mercedes-AMG Petronas Formula 1 Team, dyes his hair … was certainly unexpected.”

You hear a few muffled snickers, but you keep your face neutral, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“However,” Professor Carter continues, raising his voice slightly to silence the snickers, “the lengths you went to in pursuit of the truth were nothing short of remarkable. Going through Mercedes' trash? That shows initiative. Questionable ethics, perhaps, but initiative nonetheless.”

There’s a stunned silence in the room. You feel the urge to either laugh or shrink under your desk. You aren’t sure which. Instead, you nod slightly, acknowledging his words without letting the grin you’re fighting show.

Professor Carter takes a deep breath, as if bracing himself for what he’s about to say next. “In a field where skepticism is necessary, and where finding the truth often requires unorthodox methods, your work stood out. So much so that I found myself contemplating the absurdity of the situation. Here I am, reading about a billionaire’s grooming habits as though it were a matter of national importance.”

This time, the laughter from the class isn’t stifled. It rings out freely, and you feel your own lips twitch despite yourself.

“But,” Professor Carter interjects, silencing the room once more, “that is precisely the point of investigative journalism, isn’t it? To find the story others overlook, to dig deeper, even when the subject seems trivial. Miss Y/L/N, your article was, in its own way, insightful. You followed the evidence, and you made your case with conviction.”

He pauses, his eyes narrowing slightly as he looks at you. “Though I must say, I’m not entirely convinced that your methods were ... strictly ethical. Dumpster diving isn’t exactly taught in this classroom.”

You finally allow yourself a small, nervous laugh, shrugging lightly in response. “All in the name of journalism, right?”

Professor Carter lets out a dry chuckle, shaking his head. “I suppose so. Regardless, your paper has made an impact — certainly more than I anticipated.”

He drops your paper onto his desk and addresses the class one last time. “Let this be a lesson to all of you. Journalism isn’t always about the grand topics. Sometimes, the most interesting stories come from the strangest places. I encourage you all to think outside the box.”

With that, he begins handing back the assignments, and the classroom slowly returns to its usual rhythm. Conversations pick up again, but this time, they’re punctuated by curious glances and nods in your direction. You try to focus on the papers being passed down your row, but your thoughts are still stuck on Professor Carter’s words.

When your paper finally lands in front of you, you can’t resist flipping through it. There, scrawled in red ink at the top of the page, is your grade — a solid A. Next to it, Professor Carter has written a brief note: Keep pushing boundaries, but remember — ethics matter.

You smile to yourself, feeling a mix of relief and pride. The assignment had been a gamble, but it paid off in the end. And while the ethical considerations may have been a little murky, you can’t deny that the thrill of the chase had been worth it.

As class ends and students begin to file out, a few stop by your desk, offering congratulations or asking for details about how you managed to pull it off. You answer their questions with a grin, reliving the absurdity of your investigative methods. And though it feels surreal, you can’t help but feel a sense of validation.

As you gather your things and prepare to leave, Professor Carter catches your eye and nods in your direction, a rare hint of approval in his usually stern expression. You nod back, acknowledging the unspoken understanding between the two of you.

Stepping out of the classroom, you feel lighter than you have in weeks. The whispers and glances no longer bother you. Instead, they serve as a reminder that you’ve proven yourself, in your own way.

And as you walk through the corridors of the university, you can’t help but think about what Max will say when you tell him about today. Knowing him, he’ll probably tease you about your methods, but you also know he’ll be proud — just as you are.

Because sometimes, in journalism and in life, it’s the unconventional stories that make the biggest impact.

[multi-fandom-imagine]

Could you write about being fingered by Ford? The idea is just rather titillating.

A/n: 10/10! Love this idea! I apologize if this sucks.

Ford had the date all planed out.

Cook you your favorite meal✓

Go for a nice little hike✓

Then finish the night off watching a meteor shower and some star gazing.

He honestly had no clue how it lead to this, you a whimpering mess on his lap, Ford's calloused hands caressed your thighs with reverence, his touch igniting delicious sparks of pleasure within you. He gazed upon you with unbridled desire, hungry to bring you the delightful fulfillment you craved.

Lowering his head, Ford nuzzled the sensitive skin of you neck, his stubble grazing your delicate flesh. A low, rumbling growl escaped his lips as he felt her part her legs further, silently begging him to take you.

"Patience, darlin'," he murmured, his voice thick with lust. Slowly, tantalizingly, his calloused fingertips trailed up your inner thighs, inching ever closer to your most intimate place. He relished the way your breath hitched, the way your body instinctively arched toward his touch.

Finally, he slipped his fingers beneath the hem of your skirt, caressing the silky heat he found there. Your muscles clenched around him as he stroked your slick folds, sending jolts of ecstasy racing through you. Ford swallowed your soft moans with a searing kiss, determined to savor every delicious sound you made.

"That's it, love'," he growled against your lips. "Let me hear how good I make you feel..."

Ford's calloused digits worked skilled magic, coaxing breathless whimpers from your lips as you rode his fingers,a gasp leaving you as the man slipped another finger in your warmth, his sixth finger slowly rubbing your clit. He drank in the sight of your flushed, rapturous expression, his own pulse thundering with unbridled desire.

Lowering his head, Ford nuzzled the delicate curve of your neck, his stubbly jaw grazing her soft skin, glasses falling down the bridge of his nose. A rumbling growl of approval vibrated in his chest as he felt you clench needily around his plunging fingers.

"That's it, love'," he rasped, voice thick with lust. "Let it all out for me." His thumb brushed your swollen pearl in a maddening rhythm, coaxing ever more delicious sounds from your trembling lips.

Ford's free hand slid up to caress your cheek, guiding your face back to his. He captured your mouth in a searing, possessive kiss, swallowing your cries of bliss. He wanted to savor every last shudder, every spasm of pleasure that wracked your body.

Letting out a whine against his lips, your fingers clutched his tie as you rode his fingers. A shudder running down your spine as you felt your impending orgasm.Ford groaned in pure satisfaction as your slick walls clenched rhythmically around his plunging fingers. He swallowed your cries of bliss with a searing kiss, determined to prolong your ecstasy for as long as possible. His calloused palm cupped your cheek tenderly, his thumb caressing the soft, flushed skin.

The sight of your rapturous expression, the feeling of you trembling in his arms, ignited a primal hunger within him. He wanted nothing more than to worship every inch of your supple body, to explore your most intimate places until you were utterly spent.

Slowing the pace of his ministrations, Ford peppered your neck with reverent kisses, murmuring words of praise and adoration against your skin. His touch was equal parts soothing and sensual, coaxing the last tremors of your from your quivering form as your orgasm hit you.

" You're so goddamn perfect..."

Ford tenderly gathered you into his embrace, his calloused fingers caressing your flushed, quivering form. A satisfied rumble rose from his chest as he felt the last tremors of your climax shudder through you.

Pressing featherlight kisses along your temple, he murmured words of praise and adoration, reveling in the way you melted against him. Ford knew he would never tire of seeing you like this - utterly spent and happy in his arms.

Slowly, he withdrew his hand, gently trailing his fingertips along your sensitive flesh. He chuckled lowly as you shivered at his touch, his heart swelling with an overwhelming sense of pride and possession.

Cradling you close, Ford peppered your face with tender kisses, his rough stubble grazing your soft skin as you let out a small but tired giggle.

"You were absolutely perfect, darlin'." His fingers caressed your cheek, tilting your head up to meet his gaze. Ford's eyes gleamed with unbridled adoration, his heart brimming with the knowledge that he had pleased her so.

You were his, and he'd make damn sure you never forgot it.

[visionsofcarnality]

Carried Away. M. Murdock.

Matt gets a little excited when his partner rides his face

Warnings: NSFW. Face sitting, face riding, cunnilingus, swearing, cum, cum eating, Matt enjoys eating out his partner way too much. (if there’s such a thing.

This one’s for my babes @waywardxrhea @parker-murdock @zomtart @sleepysleepymom @justvalkyrie and @dorothleah you guys gas me up too much 😭

“Holy shit-“ You gasped softly when one of Matt’s arms pushed up from your stomach to grip your breast, tweaking the nipple harshly so that it went electricity down your belly directly to your clit. Matt moaned against your pussy when you gripped the headboard with one hand, rocking gently into his face so the bridge of his nose ground against you perfectly.

Matt was nowhere near complaining, making sinful noises into your skin as he gripped your ass cheek with his other hand, holding you taut to his face as he ate you furiously from below. His jaw left slight beard burn from his stubble on the inside of your thighs as he moved his mouth, but neither of you particularly cared. You especially didn’t when he sucked your clit into his mouth and grazed it with his teeth, letting it go with a a soft smacking sound as he widened his mouth to trail his tongue from your pretty hole up to the soft bundle of nerves and pleasure.

“Fuck, Matt.” You whimpered, legs shaking slightly as your eyes closed, leaning back from the headboard to change the angle, moaning as the sensations overwhelmed you. His tongue was fucking everywhere. Touching every inch of you that had been laid over his face, licking and sucking with an almost desperate enthusiasm.

The only response he gave was a throat groan, which brought a gentle squeak from your throat at the delicious vibration. A squeak that turned into a soft cry when his teeth once again nipped gently at the skin above your clit.

“God, Matt, please, i’m so close.” You whined, arching your back into the pleasure as he continued his current rhythm, pulling wave after wave of pleasure from your hot, flushed body. Without thinking, you reached behind you with one hand, fingers outstretched. You’d barely touched the underside of his cock before his hips bucked and you felt his abdomen tense in the way his torso moved.

“Shit-“ Was all you heard before a loud, stuttering groan left his chest, the vibrations pulling you over the edge as hot, wet droplets spurted into your hand and forearm. You moaned at the realization, gently rubbing up and down his twitching shaft as he continued to cum into your hand, hips twitching and squirming even as he still continued to eat you. Pulling you through the waves of your orgasm like you pulled him through his.

It felt like hours before he finally tapped the back of your thigh and you rolled off of him, letting his overstimulated cock flop onto his belly. You smiled to yourself in satisfaction, licking the pearly cum from your palm and wrist with a soft laugh.

“If I knew you could come from just me sitting on your face we would have tried that ages ago.” Matt flushed at the comment and smacked your leg, chuckling half-heartedly.

“Don’t tease.”

“Why not?” You sighed, basking in the afterglow of your orgasm. “That was the hottest thing i’ve ever seen.”

[nanaslutt]

Face sitting w/ Higuruma

contains: fem reader, face sitting, cumming untouched (Hiromi), dirty talk, asphyxiation, pussydrunk!Hiromi, big nose supremacy, implied multiple rounds

MDNI

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ

"Your nose is so pretty Hiromi." You whispered to the man above you. Higuruma was reading some book as you rested your head on his lap, studying his features. His nose was high with a beautiful arch, his lips soft and plump, his eyebrows thick but well kept, thanks to you, his face sharp and chiseled to match his strong, defined features, he was utterly gorgeous.

The man whose legs you were lying on tipped the book down, allowing him to have an unobstructed view of your face. He smiled softly at your serious expression before he spoke, "You think so?" He asked, still holding his book by his side. You kept your expression the same as your eyes traced down the slope of his nose.

You reached up and touched it, running your finger from the strong bridge to the tip, before you dragged your finger down to his lips, pulling his bottom one back in the process as you continued dragging it down his face, letting his lip fall back into place before you dropped your hand back down on your chest. "Yeah." You replied, your eyes finally meeting his. It was only then that you realized he had been watching you that whole time.

"What do you like about it?" He asked, egging you on. You swallowed hard as you looked at the feature once more before smiling and looking into his eyes again, "The shape is perfect, and it's so… big. It looks so pretty on your face." You said honestly, your face heating up at your own words. "Is that right?" He responded, his eyebrows raising at your unabashed honesty as he dropped his eyes to your lips briefly before looking back into your eyes.

"If it's so pretty…" Hiromi started, mindlessly folding a page of his book at the corner to save his spot before he shut it and placed it to his side, leaning his face towards yours. His large hand grabbed your chin as he got closer, his body bending over you to bring his lips agaisnt yours, "do you wanna sit on it?" He finished. You swallowed hard, feeling every muscle on your body go rigid as you heard your heart beat loudly in your ears.

"Hiromi…" You mumbled, looking away from his eyes as you tried to escape his watchful gaze. You were just trying to compliment him, how did it get like this? "What? I thought you said it was pretty. You should show me how much you really like it or I might not believe you." He said, his hot breath tickling the skin of your lips as he teased you.

You suddenly felt a warmth blossom in the bottom of your stomach as he hovered over you, teasing you by not closing the distance. Your hands reached up and curled into his house shirt as you fought to keep hold of your sanity, trying to not get swept away by his words. "Let me please you." He whispered against you before pressing a featherlight kiss against your slightly parted lips. You had started breathing heavier at some point, your body growing aroused by his words.

"Let me taste you." Another featherlight kiss. "Sit on my face, grind your clit agaisnt my nose." You moaned against his lips, leaning your head up as you made him kiss you harder, sick of his teasing. You could feel his smile against your lips, his own heavy breathing hitting your cheeks as he breathed through his nose during the kiss. "Your mouth is so dirty, Hiromi." You said bashfully as you broke the kiss, pulling back just slightly as you mumbled the barely audible words against his soft lips, red from the kiss.

"Let me show you how dirty it can really get." He teased, smirking against your lips as he forced your lips together again. Your hands abandoned their hold on his shirt as you wrapped them around his neck, scratching your nails over the nape of his neck as he kissed you, making him groan softly into your mouth, a sound that you swallowed up greedily.

——

"Hiromi this is… so embarrassing." You said as you sat on top of his chest, your bare cunt placed right between his pecs, your body moving up and down with his heavy breaths. "Why?" He asked as he ran his hands up and down the sides of your soft body, his eyes raking over your form as he waited for you to speak.

"I feel so exposed." You said, averting your eyes. Hiromi giggled, the vibrations in his chest tickling your inner thighs. "You don't usually feel embarrassed when I eat you out, why the sudden change?" He asked, tilting his head at you as he waited patiently for you to answer, despite how hard his cock was throbbing in his boxers at the thought of having you sit on his face while he tongue fucked your pussy.

His hands relaxed some of the nerves in your body as you tried to find the words. "I guess it's different 'cos I'm on top." Your eyes found his once more, only they weren't looking at your eyes, they were still dragging over your body, making you feel even more exposed. Hiromi didn't give any reaction of embarrassment when he looked back up to you and realized you were looking at him again, he just cupped your face in his hands and caressed your cheeks, watching how your eyes fluttered shut as you leaned into his touch.

"Nonsense, you have nothing to be embarrassed about. It's just me. All I want is to make you feel good, don't worry." He consoled you, his hands leaving your face and falling on your thighs, his hands caressing dangerously close to your cunt. "Now get up here, I don't know how much longer I can wait." He confessed, giving you a smirk that poorly disguised his arousal.

It was honestly a last-minute idea that popped into his head when he had asked you to sit on his face, but the second he had uttered the words out loud, his body had reacted, and it was then that he realized just how badly he really wanted this. The lawyer didn't know why he hadn't thought of this before. He always got so aroused when he ate you out.

In fact, he loved it so much that he can't remember a time when he didn't eat your pussy out before he fucked you, this should've seemed so obvious. Having you smother his face with your pussy while you rested your full weight against him? He needed to stop thinking or he was going to cream his pants prematurely.

You leaned forward and placed your hands above his head, pushing yourself up so you were hovering above his face, a good six inches or so away from his mouth. Higuruma felt his cock twitch steadily in his pants, pre-cum flooding his boxers. If he was able to look down at his crotch he was sure there would be a huge damp spot on the front.

"What if I hurt you?" You ask hesitantly, keeping your hands above his body, not yet ready to drop down onto his face. Higaruma was a very patient man, and thank god for that because you clearly needed to be reassured right now and although he wanted nothing more than to eat you out like a man starved, he would make sure you were confident first.

"You won't, I promise." He said, smoothing his hands over your thighs. When the worry didn't dissipate from your face, he continued. "Here-" He started, tapping his fingers against your thigh twice in demonstration, "If I tap you twice, let up for a moment." He instructed, watching the uncertainty slowly wash away from your face as you nodded. The man under you smiled before he spoke again, "I won't though."

Your heartbeat sounded even louder in your head when Higuruma put pressure on your thighs as he pulled you down on top of him, silently begging you to sit on him already, so you did. You absentmindedly hovered at first, but quickly corrected your mistake when you felt the burn in your thighs, your muscles letting you know you weren't fully relaxed.

Higuruma opened his mouth and stuck out his tongue as you sat against him, your taste flooding his tongue. You were now tangling your hands in his hair for stability, your fingers brushing the strands away from his forehead so you could see his beautiful, unobstructed face. You watched how his eyes fluttered back in their sockets the second you had sat down, a deep groan resonating in his chest.

You gasped at the stimulation when he began moving his tongue back and forth, keeping it flat as he rubbed it against your folds experimentally. "Tell me what feels good." He added, mumbling against your folds. You nodded before your breath got sucked out of your lungs when his lips wrapped around your clit.

Your body arched forward as he flicked your little bud between his lips with his soft tongue. Your hands dug deeper in his hair, making him groan at the painful pleasure as he suckled your clit. Higuruma's eyes were fighting to stay open. He wanted to watch you so bad, but the pleasure he was feeling from this was immense, it was almost too much to handle, resulting in his body twitching and his eyes fluttering.

You turned your head to the side to look at his stiff cock, throbbing harshly against the fabric of his boxers, but your vision was swiftly corrected by his hands digging into the fat of your thighs, making you look at him. His glossy, unfocused eyes looked deeply into yours as he silently told you to keep your eyes on him, to watch him.

You nodded in response, your body jerking and twitching each time he did something with his tongue that felt particularly good. "O-oh fuck, r-right there-" You gasped, your nails raking his scalp when his tongue ran down to prod at your entrance. He groaned loudly into your cunt, the sound sending vibrations through you, making you jerk against him.

Higuruma stuck his tongue out more, penetrating your entrance with his tongue as he began licking your inner walls. It was a sensation unlike anything you've ever felt before. You knew it felt good there because he often teased you by only fucking you with the tip of his cock, familiar with how many nerve endings there are in that particular spot.

The push and pull of his tongue inside you was making you dizzy. Saliva and your cum ran down his chin and spilled from the corners of his mouth as he tongue fucked you vigorously, opening his mouth wider agaisnt you to ensure he was reaching it as deep as he could. "Fuck! H-hiromi fuck, that feels s-so good-" You gasped, trying to contain the jerking and thrusting of your hips as you so desperately wanted to move.

Higuruma moaned at your praise, his hips fucking up into the air, pressing his cock against the inside of his boxers as he tried to get some sort of relief. He started picking up on you holding back on him when he cracked his eyes open and saw your eyes shut, mouth ajar, and your face scrunched in pleasure, but also restraint. He was able to read you like a book.

Pulling out his tongue quickly, resulting in a loud whine from you, he turned his head into the crook of your thigh and spoke, his voice still coming out muffled, "Use me, f-fuck my face." The words were rushed and needy, sounding like he needed it more than you did.

You didn't have to be told twice, you let your body take control as you rode his face, humping your cunt against his soft tongue which aided greatly in your pleasure. "A-ahhhh!" Your moans increased in volume when you stopped holding back. Your clit finally bumped into what had started this whole endeavor, his nose.

It was hard and provided just the right amount of stimulation you were looking for. You decided to repeat the process a couple of times, humping your hips against his mouth while Higuruma laid his tongue flat for you to grind on while simultaneously rubbing your clit against his nose. The man underneath you quickly picked up on your pattern, realizing you were trying to hump his nose on purpose.

His hands slid behind you to your ass as he pushed you further up on your face and started shaking his head back and forth. You almost screamed in surprise when his tongue started thrusting rapidly inside you as he drank up your juices greedily, while his nose abused your little clit, even more so with his own motions combined with your humping.

Higuruma was released the neediest, most obscene moans and groans you've ever heard from him, your body josting slightly even more not just from his head movements, but from his body shaking as his hips thrust into the air steadily. The friction he was getting on his cock was little, but the rubbing of his cockhead agaisnt the fabric from the way his cock was poking straight out against the boxers felt delicious.

His tip was always so sensitive, so it made his thrusts jerky and uneven, but it felt good nonetheless. He was sure he was going to cum like this, he could already feel the ball of pleasure start to coil up in his belly. His tongue movements got sloppier as he tried to work you up to your orgasm with him. Your own thrusts were twitchy and less intense the more your body hardened up as it prepared for your release.

"H-hiromi fuck me, k-keep fucking me with your tongue-" You gasped, your head falling back as your mouth dropped open, your nails digging against his scalp. "Ohmygod just like that- j-just like that don't fucking stop-" you babbled, moaning and whimpering his name mindlessly as you writhed on top of his face, your sounds getting higher in pitch.

You felt Hiromi's breath tickle your inner thigh through his nose each time your cunt jerked back, giving him the space to breathe. Honestly though, in this moment, he couldn't care all that much about breathing. The slight asphyxiation from you rutting against his nose made his mind feel cloudy, simultaneously making his cock more sensitive.

He released a long groan into your cunt as he came before you, his body jerking and spasming as he continued to rut his hips into the air, his cum seeping through his boxers and wetting them even more. You were about to ask if he just came, even though it was obvious, but your words were stolen from your mouth and replaced with gasps and whines as your orgasm crashed over you.

Hiromi's cock kept jerking in his boxers as he spilled the rest of his seed, still thrusting his tongue inside you as he helped you ride out your own orgasm on his face. Your body almost fell forward if not for your shaky arms reaching out and catching you against the sheets over his head as you came, your thighs squeezing around his head, now effectively cutting off his airway.

It wasn't long before he was able to breathe again though. Once your orgasm was over, your thighs went lax and so did the rest of your body as you rolled off of him, falling on your back next to his body, you a little higher up on the sheets than him. Higuruma gasped and twitched agaisnt the sheets, both of his hands coming down to cup over his cock and press against it, giving himself some sort of pressure as he basked in the aftershocks.

You weren't faring much better, your legs crossed as you laid partway on your side, your breathing rapid and loud as you tried to recover from such an intense orgasm. The two of you laid there for a good while, just letting your bodies recover with one another. After a whine, once both of your breathing had returned to normal, Higuruma turned his head to look at you, his face red and eyes lidded still, his mouth, chin, cheeks, and nose covered in your cum.

"Wow." He said quietly, making you smile as you rolled over on your side, sliding down the bed a bit so your leg was thrown over his as you rested with him. Higuruma used all of the strength he had left in his body to pull you more against him, your head now resting on his chest as he placed his chin on your head and wrapped his arms around your body.

"Y-yeah… wow." You replied, snuggling against him. "I came in my boxers." He blurted, making you giggle at his unexpected words. "What?" You laughed, trying to look up at him. You already knew that, why was he bringing it up again? If anything, someone would usually be embarrassed at that sort of thing. "Just in case you had any doubts if I liked it. I came in my boxers, didn't even touch myself." He reiterated, making you bury your head deeper into his chest at his words.

"O-okay okay, I get it. I… liked it too." You said, wanting him to shut up about it already. Hiromi stared blankly at the ceiling as he ignored your words, the only thing on his mind being how much he liked that. "Can you go again?" He asked, making your body go rigid against him. "Huh?" You asked, making sure you really heard his words properly.

You felt something hard poke your ass from the position you were laying in. Looking down you realized he was hard and ready to go again. "Can you sit on my face again? Please? I wanna see if I can get you to squirt like that." His words made your bare cunt throb around nothing. You sighed loudly before wrapping your arms around him harder, contemplating his words. "G-give me a couple more minutes and I'll be ready." You replied, resulting in a quiet, "yessss" that made you burst out into a fit of giggles.

[ahqkas]

♯ THE SWEET ESCAPE ( you find out the batboys have fanfics written about them ! )

— gn!reader, fluff + comedy, suggestive comments in dick’s part, jason’s too ( couldn’t stop myself ), based on this req.!!

© ahqkas — all rights reserved. even when credited, these works are prohibited to be reposted, translated or modified

. . . BRUCE WAYNE !

THE WAYNE MANOR WAS QUIET, SAVE FOR THE SOFT CRACKLE OF THE FIREPLACE and the gentle tapping of your fingers against your phone screen. bruce sat at his desk across the study, engrossed in paperwork, his reading glasses perched on the sharp bridge of his nose. the evening had fallen into a comfortable silence, the kind of peaceful lull that felt rare amidst the chaos of dark gotham.

every so often, though, he’d glance up, noticing the way you seemed utterly absorbed in whatever you were doing on your phone. your brows would furrow in concentration, then smooth out as a quiet laugh escaped you. it wasn’t just one laugh either; it was a series of them—sometimes soft giggles, other times a burst of snickers that you quickly tried to stifle.

you were so adorable and you had no idea.

bruce’s natural curiosity was piqued. you weren’t the type to be easily distracted, especially not for this long. “what’s so funny?” he asked, his deep voice breaking the quiet.

you didn’t immediately answer to his question, too caught up in scrolling through whatever was on your screen. another chuckle slipped out before you glanced up, realizing he was watching you with an arched brow.

“oh,” you acknowledged him now, your grin widening mischievously. “curiosity got to me.”

the man tilted his head slightly, waiting for you to elaborate.

“i’m checking out your batman fanfics,” you explained with your voice sounding entirely too casual as you went back to scrolling the net.

for a moment, bruce simply blinked, processing your words. “my what?” disbelief and concern were etched in his voice along with his eyes wide and brows furrowed.

“fanfiction,” you repeated, looking up at him with a glimmer of amusement in your eyes upon witnessing his reaction. it was funny, seeing him like this. “you know, the stories people write about you. well, about batman, but still. there’s an entire app of it.”

bruce leaned back in his chair, the leather creaking softly under his weight, his arms crossing over his chest in a way that made him look both skeptical and mildly intrigued. his sharp, discerning eyes, the same ones that had seen through countless lies and hidden riddles, were now fixed squarely on you. the faintest crease appeared between his brows, betraying just a hint of exasperation beneath his otherwise calm exterior. “and what exactly made you decide to look this up?” he asked in a steady voice but carrying the subtle undertone of someone bracing for impact—like a detective piecing together a story he wasn’t sure he wanted to hear the ending of.

you shrugged, biting back another laugh as your eyes returned to your phone. “i was curious. i mean, it’s not like you have a PR team or interviews for people to obsess over, so this is where the public’s imagination goes. it’s fascinating.”

pinching the bridge of his nose, the weight of your words settling over him like a blanket, and he let out a long, measured sigh. it was the kind of sigh reserved for moments when bruce wayne—esteemed billionaire and relentless vigilante—was confronted with something that defied his finely logic. his fingers pressed lightly against the frame of his glasses as if trying to stave off an impending headache. “fascinating isn’t the word i’d use,” he said in the end. there was no anger, just the faintest trace of amusement buried beneath the weariness, as if he couldn’t decide whether to lecture you or just accept the absurdity of the situation.

“it’s harmless.”

rising to his full height, he raked a hand through the dark strands of his hair. as always, curiosity—or perhaps concern—won out. he made his way over to you, his steps unhurried but purposeful. stopping just beside your plush chair, bruce rested a hand lightly on the back of it, his towering frame impossible to ignore as he looked down at you. “i’m not sure i want to know what that means,” the slight quirk of his lips betrayed the fact that some part of him couldn’t help but be curious.

“oh, you definitely don’t,” you teased, holding your phone away as he leaned down to try and get a look. “some of this is so creative. did you know there’s a whole subcategory where you’re a single dad trying to raise the batkids and find love?”

bruce raised an eyebrow. “you mean something i actually am doing?” except he’d already found love in you.

“exactly! except in this version, you’re baking cookies for PTA meetings and teaching kids how to ride bikes. it’s adorable.”

he shook his head slowly, the movement like it belonged in an old movie, as if trying to dismiss the mental image of whatever ridiculous stories you’d found. “and what about the rest of it?” he asked. “should i be worried?” the words were light, almost teasing, but there was a thread of genuine concern, as if he were bracing himself for the possibility that your exploration into this strange corner of the internet might have uncovered something truly outrageous—or worse, embarrassing.

“well . . . ” you hesitated, your grin turning a bit sheepish as the answer to his question brewed in your mind. “let’s just say not all of it is as wholesome as the single-dad stories.”

frowning, he leaned more into the back of your chair. “how unwholesome are we talking?”

you burst into laughter at his expression, your hand flying to cover your mouth and silence the sound of joy. “bruce, don’t worry. i’m not reading anything too scandalous. though . . . ” you trailed off, pretending to think deeply, “there was one story about you and superman . . . ”

bruce groaned again, this time louder, the sound resonating with a mix of frustration and resignation as if he had just heard the most absurd thing imaginable—which, frankly, he had. he dragged a hand down his face, his fingers briefly covering his glasses as though shielding himself from the mental image your words had planted. “i don’t think i want to hear the rest of that sentence,” he muttered, his voice tinged with disbelief.

the thought of batman x superman was enough to make even his composure falter. he shook his head slightly, as if trying to physically dispel the notion, but the faint pink creeping up his neck betrayed his discomfort. there were certain things even a man of the likes of bruce wayne was unprepared to confront, and apparently, this was one of them. just image clark’s reaction to this literature.

“but it was so well-written!” defending, you shook with laughter now. “i mean, the dialogue was spot on. and the angst! i had no idea people thought you two had a forbidden love affair going on.”

the poor stared at you, deadpan. “you’re enjoying this far too much.”

“of course i am. how often do i get to tease you about something you can’t control? this is gold.”

you laughed again, your joy infectious, and bruce couldn’t help but smile despite himself. the whole thing was ridiculous, but seeing you so happy—and knowing you could find lightness even in the strangest corners of his world—made it all worthwhile.

. . . DICK GRAYSON !

IN WAS A QUIET EVENING IN YOUR SHARED PENTHOUSE, the kind where the soft hum of the city below became a soothing backdrop to the peace inside. dick grayson, having wrapped up his latest patrol, was lounging on the couch, his legs stretched out and his suit traded for something more comfortable: a fitted t-shirt and sweatpants, casual yet effortlessly put together. you were curled up beside him, your phone in hand, completely absorbed in whatever you were doing. every few moments, a soft chuckle would escape your lips, followed by a quiet giggle, and your boyfriend couldn’t help but glance over at you, his curiosity piqued.

“hey,” he said, shifting on the couch and propping himself up on one elbow. “what are you reading? you’ve been at it for a while now.” His voice, as always, was light, teasing in its usual playful way, but with a hint of genuine curiosity. he could never resist wondering what kept your attention so thoroughly when he was nearby.

you glanced up from your phone, a mischievous glint in your eyes as you turned to face him. “curiosity got to me,” you said, voice carrying an almost conspiratorial tone. “i’m checking out nightwing fanfics.”

dick’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, and he blinked a few times as if trying to process what you’d just said. for a split second, he was silent, before his lips curved into a slow, teasing smile. “fanfics?” his voice dripped with amusement. “about me? are you telling me there’s a whole genre of stories about your boyfriend?”

you gave a little shrug, the hint of a grin tugging at your lips. “well, nightwing, i guess,” you corrected, “but yeah, turns out there are a lot of people who find your nightwing persona pretty . . . inspiring.” you paused and then added with a playful glint in your eye, “some of them even think you’re, like, the ultimate heartthrob. you’ve got a pretty good following.”

a soft chuckle escaped dick’s lips, and he sat up fully now, his eyes narrowing in mock contemplation. “heartthrob, huh? i knew i was good, but i didn’t realize i had a cult following.” he ran a hand through the dark strands of his hair, his usual cocky grin settling on his face, though there was a warmth to it as he leaned toward you. “you sure you’re not getting jealous over my popularity?”

laughing, you shook your head, the sound light and teasing, but there was something in your expression that made your boyfriend pause. it wasn’t just the laughter—it was the way your eyes lingered on the screen, a spark of genuine curiosity dancing in their depths. amusement tugged at your lips as you scrolled further, like you’d stumbled into some strange, secret world that you couldn’t quite tear yourself away from whatever strange rabbit hole you’d fallen into.

“so what are they writing about?” dick asked, now more intrigued than ever, leaning closer. he wasn’t the kind of person to shy away from teasing himself, and the thought of others putting him in such exaggerated, dramatic situations made his amusement even more apparent. “anything interesting? how am i portrayed? a misunderstood vigilante with a heart of gold?”

you scrolled to one of the stories, reading aloud a few choice lines. “this one’s about nightwing coming back from a long mission, injured, and you get nursed back to health by your adoring fan who just so happens to be the one who had intrigued you,” the mischievous smile now curled fully on your lips.

dick blinked, his blue eyes widening with mock disbelief as he leaned closer to you, trying to catch a glimpse of your phone screen. “wait, me?” he asked with his voice pitching slightly between surprise and amusement, the edges of a grin tugging at his lips. “i get hurt? in a fanfic?” he scoffed, sitting back and crossing his arms over his chest, feigning offense. “i call bullshit. i’m practically invincible,” he added with confidence, tilting his head as if daring you to prove him wrong. but there was a playful glint in his eyes, the kind that told you he was just as entertained by this as you were, even if he wasn’t quite ready to admit it. “what next? i’m crying because i stubbed my toe? these people clearly don’t know me.”

“well, apparently you’re human in this one, but you’re still handsome as ever.”

“but i mean, you know,” dick began, shifting a little closer to you on the couch, his grin widening as he tilted his head, watching your reaction, “if you want me to join you in reading through this . . . i guess i could show you how to write a real nightwing fanfic.” his voice was light and teasing, but there was an unmistakable edge to his tone—suggestive, playful, with just enough of a challenge to make your cheeks warm. his eyes sparkled with mischief as he leaned in slightly, closing the space between you, the corners of his mouth quirking into a smirk. “maybe it’ll be . . . more accurate,” he added, his voice dropping a fraction lower, the words rolling off his tongue like a dare. there was something so undeniably dick grayson about the way he said it—effortlessly charming, but with a teasing bite that left your mind spinning.

you gave him a sideways look, raising an eyebrow as you grinned. “and what’s the plot for that one, mr. grayson?” you asked, amused by his suggestion.

“i don’t know . . . maybe i’m the ultimate love interest who saves gotham and his secret love from some terrible villain, only to get up hurt and you have to kiss it better.” his voice dropped into a mock-serious tone. “it’ll be perfect.”

you burst out laughing, unable to keep your composure at the thought of that kind of nightwing story.

the two of you spent the next several minutes reading through the stories together—dick teasing you for the over-the-top details and wild scenarios, while you kept showing him new stories that had him both amused and mildly flustered. eventually, the two of you settled into a comfortable silence, the evening turning from playful banter into a warm, quiet togetherness. it was a rare moment of normalcy in the whirlwind life of a vigilante—and one dick cherished.

. . . JASON TODD !

JASON TODD WAS SPRAWLED ACROSS YOUR COUCH, HIS LONG FRAME TAKING UP MORE SPACE than seemed fair, boots kicked off and discarded in a lazy mess by the door. his socked feet, one crossed casually over the other, rested on the coffee table—much to your disapproval, though you’d given up pointing it out by now. the soft glow of the television flickered across his face, highlighting the sharp planes of his jaw as he absentmindedly flipped through channels before settling on an action movie he’d already half-forgotten. explosions and dramatic music filled the room, but his attention wasn’t really on the screen.

it kept drifting away, landing on you instead. you were curled up at the far end of the couch, legs tucked beneath you, and your phone clutched in your hands like it held the secrets of the universe. the light from the screen illuminated your features, catching the faint furrow of your brow as you scrolled. every so often, your expression shifted—a small smirk tugging at the corners of your lips, a quiet snort that made his ears perk up, or the way your eyes lit up just before you let out an amused laugh.

jason couldn’t help but watch you.

he wasn’t the type to pry into your business, but the way you kept snickering under your breath was impossible to ignore. “alright,” he finally said, his voice cutting through the quiet, “what’s so funny over there?”

you glanced up, startled by the sudden question, your fingers pausing mid-scroll as if caught red-handed. for a moment, your face was blank, a deer in headlights, but then the corners of your mouth began to twitch, giving you away almost instantly. there was a mischievous glint in your eye, one that jason knew all too well—a sure sign you were up to something. “nothing,” you said in a pitched voice, as if the word alone could absolve you of whatever it was you were hiding. but the slight curve of your lips, the way you bit back an involuntary grin, made it clear that “nothing” was far from the truth.

your boyfriend gave you a pointed look, the kind he’d perfected over years of interrogating lowlifes and getting them to crack under pressure. it wasn’t harsh—jason wasn’t like that with you—but it carried enough weight to make even the most confident liar squirm. his head tilted slightly, the corner of his mouth quirking up into a half-smirk that betrayed his amusement at your obvious reluctance. “uh-huh. sure, baby,” he said, his voice dripping with mock disbelief as he rested an arm on the back of the couch. “what are you reading?”

you hesitated for a second, weighing whether or not you should tell him. but then you shrugged, the grin on your face widening. why not? “curiosity got to me,” you admitted, holding up your phone. “i’m checking out your red hood fanfics.”

jason blinked, his head tilting slightly as if he hadn’t heard you right. “my what?”

“fanfiction,” you repeated, clearly enjoying his confusion. “you know, the stuff people write about you. well, about red hood. there’s a whole world of it out there. i just had to see it for myself.”

for a moment, jason just stared at you, his expression frozen in a mix of disbelief and sheer confusion. it was as if the words you’d just said refused to compute in his brain, the concept too absurd to fully grasp. his eyebrows furrowed slightly, a crease forming between them as he leaned back, clearly trying to piece it all together. “you mean to tell me,” he said slowly, his voice tinged with a cautious incredulity as he reached out to set the remote down on the coffee table with deliberate care, “that people are out there . . . writing stories about me?” the way he emphasized the word stories made it clear he was half expecting you to say you were joking. but the flicker of amusement in your eyes only deepened his bewilderment, and his lips parted slightly, as if he wanted to say more but couldn’t quite find the words. his gaze flicked to your phone briefly, then back to you, like he was trying to decide whether to be flattered, annoyed, or just flat-out amused.

“not you, exactly. red hood.”

“i don’t know what’s more insane—that people are doing this or that you’re actually reading it.”

you bit your lip, clearly trying not to laugh again. “you’re this super suave, dark-and-mysterious antihero who sweeps women off their feet with your tragic backstory.”

he snorted. “tragic backstory? yeah, real original.”

jason shook his head, his laughter rumbling low in his chest as he reached over to you with that quick, calculated motion you were used to. his long fingers closed around your phone before you could react, plucking it right out of your hands. “alright, that’s enough internet for you,” holding it just out of your reach when you tried to grab it back, he had the audacity to laugh even more

“hey!” you protested. “i wasn’t done!”

“oh, you’re done,” he said, grinning as he tossed the phone onto the couch behind him. “because if i have to sit here and listen to one more fanfic version of me, i might actually lose my mind.”

you pouted, crossing your arms. “but it’s so entertaining!”

he smirked, leaning in closer until his face was just inches from yours. “you want entertainment?” he murmured, his voice low and teasing. “how about the real red hood shows you why fanfics don’t do me justice?”

. . . TIM DRAKE !

TIM SAT ACROSS THE ROOM, HIS LAPTOP OPEN IN FRONT OF HIM as he worked on a few cases, tapping away at the keyboard with his usual speed and precision. the hum of gotham’s nighttime ambience outside the window, mixed with the soft buzz of the bat-computer, was strangely calming. yet, despite his focused demeanor, something in his peripheral vision caught his attention.

you were sitting next to him on the couch, your attention seemingly consumed by your phone. the screen lit up your face in the dim light of the room, and occasionally, a quiet chuckle escaped your lips. tim furrowed his brows, trying to focus on his work, but the sound of your laughter distracted him again.

it wasn’t the kind of laugh that came from a joke shared between the two of you, but rather something more private—an inside joke between you and whatever was on your phone. tim glanced over, raising an eyebrow.

“what are you doing?” he asked casually, though he was genuinely curious, a little intrigued by what could possibly be so entertaining.

you looked over at him, a smirk creeping onto your face. “curiosity got to me,” you said nonchalantly, clearly enjoying the moment. “i’m checking out your red robin fanfics.”

tim’s fingers stilled on the keyboard, the words hitting him with an almost physical force. he blinked, not entirely sure he had heard you correctly. “what?”

“fanfiction,” you repeated, turning your phone so he could see the glowing screen. “it’s a whole thing. i got curious, and it turns out that there’s quite a bit of red robin fanfics out there.” you gave the boy a grin, clearly amused by your discovery.

his mind raced. fanfic? about him? his alter ego? the boy suddenly felt a mix of embarrassment, intrigue, and a strange sense of amusement. he’d never really considered that people might write about him outside of gotham’s criminal scene. of course, he was familiar with fan culture, having read a fair share of comics and stories himself, but the idea of himself as a character in someone else’s imagination was a completely different world altogether.

“i—i mean, i guess i never thought about it,” he stammered with his voice a little less composed than usual. “what exactly do they write about?”

you leaned back, glancing at the page for a moment before looking up at him with a teasing glint in your eyes. “oh, you know. heroic rescues, dramatic fights, the usual stuff. but there are some . . . interesting spins.” your eyes sparkled as you watched him squirm slightly.

his face reddened just a touch. “interesting spins?” he repeated, his fingers subconsciously tapping against his thigh. “like what?”

“like you getting saved by batman.”

tim shook his head, his hands rubbing over his face as if trying to erase the image you’d just created in his mind. “okay, that’s . . . that’s a little too weird,” he muttered, half laughing at himself for even considering the possibilities. “i never thought i’d see the day when i was a fanfic character. did they get anything right?”

“actually,” you said, leaning in with mock seriousness, “some of it was kind of spot on. i mean, they really captured the whole brooding, self-deprecating vibe you’ve got going on.”

“i do not brood.”

“i beg to differ,” you shot back.

he glanced at you, a teasing smile still playing on his lips. “yeah, well, next time you want to get curious, just ask me. i’ll tell you all the ‘heroic rescues’ you need to know, no fanfic required.”

you laughed again, leaning against him, the warmth between you both more comforting than ever. tim’s nerves had been stretched thin when you first brought up the fanfiction, but now? now, he was just grateful that the conversation had turned into something lighter, a moment of genuine connection between the two of you. as you both sat there, laughing and joking about what ridiculous scenarios you’d found online, tim couldn’t help but feel a little proud. he might not have expected to find his alter ego splashed across the pages of a fanfiction site, but in a strange way, he was glad it was a part of the world people cared about. it made him feel, for once, like he wasn’t just a vigilante—he was someone worth writing about, someone worth being remembered. even if that meant a few ridiculous, outlandish stories in the process.

[fairy-angel222]

𝐆𝐨𝐣𝐨 𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮 𝐩𝐚𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚 𝐯𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐭 𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐨𝐟𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬 જ⁀⟡

You’re sat behind your desk, frames of your glasses sitting comfortably on the bridge of your nose as you type away. Humming softly the tune that had been stuck in your head. The ding of your phone pulls you out of your focus, your dnd being set for everyone except your mom and your boyfriend.

>>I’m horny, i need you so bad baby.

The message reads, accompanied by the attachment of Gojo’s bulge in his pants.

>>It’s all because i was thinking of you, don’t you feel bad?

You giggled with the shake of your head, leaning back into the softness of your office chair with your bottom lip between your teeth. Your fingers curled into the v cut of your blouse, undoing the first few buttons so that the swell of your breasts sat deliciously on display within its black lace. Pulling out your phone and snapping a photo with a sweet smile, the angle giving a view of everything down your shirt.

Sorry baby, work’s very busy right now.<<

You set the phone down with an accomplished smile, knowing that you would be fucked extra hard when you got home from work. With your shirt buttoned once more, you went back to your work. Fingers making quick work of the keys so you could finish as fast as possible.

A knock on your door made your head perk up. A kind “come in” being directed at the person behind the door.

“Miss, your husband is here. He says that it’s an emergency.” The intern informed, her cheeks bright red as she talked about your so called ‘husband’. Your eyes widened at Gojo’s persistence, standing up to make your way down to the main room.

“Um.. that’s not really necessary.” The girl smiled sheepishly, opening the door further to reveal none other than the tall white haired man who stood there with a grin. “Thanks sweetheart.” He winked at the girl, her heart clearly racing as she nodded and left.

“Hi baby, missed me?” Gojo teased excitedly, locking the door behind him before stalking up to your desk. “Cause i certainly missed you.” He groaned, dipping his head down to capture your lips hungry in a kiss. His hands roaming your body until they settled on your tits, squeezing them softly with a hum. “I love these so fucking much, you don’t know how much harder that picture made me.”

You moaned softly, your neck falling to the side to allow his mouth to trail down your neck. Your thighs already clenching when you felt your panties dampen. “You.. hmm.. y-you really came all the way here for this- ahh.” You tried to keep your composure, secretly happy that he was there to take care of the ache between your thighs that he caused.

“No baby i came to see you, this is just a bonus.” His lips met yours again, slender fingers working the buttons of your blouse to expose the bra that he got you last week. His mouth latching onto your nipples through the lacy fabric with a small moan of his own. Allowing his teeth to graze lightly over the perky bud.

You let out a breathy moan, hand tangling in his hair as he kissed down your stomach. Bunching your tight pencil skirt up to your hips before kissing up your thighs. Licking a teasing stripe up the matching lace panty.

“Been craving you all day.” He breathed, kissing your clit lightly before tugging the material out of your way. “Can’t wait to taste this sweet pussy of yours.”

Your hand flew to your mouth when Gojo latched onto you. His tongue skillfully lapping between your folds then swirling around your clit. His mouth never slowing as he messily licked at your wetness.

You couldn’t help the loud mewls spilling into your palm, back arching off your chair with a whimper. Your boyfriend’s tongue shooting intense pleasure straight to your stomach.

“Ahh— Satoru, s-so g-ood.” Your words came out as babbles, eyes fluttered shut as you rolled your hips onto his tongue. The mixture of your juices and his spit sloppily running down your skin as he ate you out. Large hands gripping your thighs tightly when you began to squirm, pleasurable tears welling in your eyes as you neared your orgasm.

Gojo smirked against you at the sweet noises that fell past your lips, burying himself nose deep into your pussy until his face glistened. Feeling his cock straining painfully in its confines.

“Toruu, fuck Toru ‘m so close.” You moaned, toes curling with a muffled cry as your legs began to shake. Letting go of the tight coil messily onto his awaiting tongue. Gojo groaned, the sound sending vibrations through your sensitive clit making your body jerk, your breathing heavy as you came down from your high.

“Pussy’s fucking perfect you know that?” He husked, giving it a small slap just to watch a shiver run through your body as you whined. Quickly freeing his cock before standing to his feet, hand finding your hair to pull you to him. “Have i ever told you how hot you are?” His tongue intertwined with yours so that you could taste the effect that he had on you.

Gojo pulled away, a lewd string of spit connecting your lips as he bent you over the desk. Wasting no time before collecting your slick with his reddened tip, prodding at your tight hole with his face in your neck. “Gonna fuck you so good baby. So so so fucking good.”

“Haah— o-oh fuck,” your body fell forward when Gojo thrusted into you, the stretch of his girth making you dizzy in the head as your hands gripped onto the desk’s edges.

“Nah baby, i want to feel you against me.” He grunted, pulling you up by your waist as he bottomed out. Your back rested on his chest as he began ramming up into you, heavy balls slapping your clit as cock fucked you deep. Kissing your g spot meanly with each thrust.

Your vision blurred, lips parted in a string of needy mewls as your head fell back onto his shoulder. Feeling his breath tickling your ear when he snaked his hand around your throat for his fingers to press on your lips. Easily slipping in and resting at the back of your tongue.

“Gotta be quiet f’ me yeah? As much as i’d love if you didn’t have to lift a finger i’m sure you love this job.” He grunted deeply, the sound of his hips snapping into your ass ringing through the office walls. You choked an agreeing cry, your mind going blank when he reached down to rub at your clit. “Such a dirty girl, letting me fuck you in your office.” He whispered darkly, lips ghosting over your cheek as he grinned from the corner of your eye. Speeding up his pace to one that always had you screaming.

Your body quivered, drooling messily onto his fingers as you babbled incoherently, your loud mewls barely audible in the heat of your approaching orgasm.

“Look at that. Gonna cum for me again hmm?” Gojo cooed, taking note of the way your eyes rolled back with every clench of your walls around his cock. “Gonna make a mess f’ me? Show me that both you and her wanted me as bad as i wanted you.” He gave an especially hard thrust to emphasize his point. His groans increasing in volume as his own thrusts got sloppy.

“That’s it baby. Let it all out.” You did as you were told, scream-like moan bubbling in your throat as your back arched, body shaking uncontrollably as you squirted hard. The mere force threatening to push Gojo’s cock out of you.

Gojo’s abs tensed, the feeling of your pussy’s tight embrace on his throbbing cock sending him over the edge with a cracked moan. “Fuck, you’re so h’hot when you cum. I’m gonna fill you up baby. Been horny for you all day.” Another high pitched moan. “Ahh f-fuckkk.”

Your boyfriend’s cum filled you in large spurts, being pumped so deep inside you that you could feel the increased load inside of you. You sighed with a shiver, his fingers retracting from your mouth and to his own. The man pulling out slowly to watch the thick substance leak out of your fluttering hole. He held you to his chest, both your chests heaving as you struggled to catch your breath. The silence being broken by Gojo’s hearty laugh. “I love you so fucking much.” Pressing a kiss to your forehead with a smile.

“Now.. you have your own bathroom in here right?” His eyes scanned the room, and you couldn’t help the laugh that you let out as reality struck him.

[anantaru]

GENSHIN + NUT IN ME NOVEMBER

— ꒰ synopsis ꒱ — who cares about NNN? your boyfriend and you certainly don't!

— ꒰ including ꒱ — neuvillette, scaramouche, childe, wriothesley

— ꒰ warnings ꒱ — fem! reader, breeding kink, slight size kink, unprotected sex, very messy & lots of cum, they're a little mean & tease a lot, pussy drunk genshin men

— ꒰ NEUVILLETTE ꒱

from the current appearances, neuvillette could hardly indulge in the magnificent view emitting from underneath his large body— and the handsome man was just about to open his mouth, precisely to spell out those candid words and praises into your ears when you're prompt in your own gentle ministrations by wrapping both arms around his neck to shush him before a mere word could slip, tickling the fine hair on the back of his head.

"it seems— ugh, like we've lost," neuvillette was barely capable to say anything out loud without in his words resulting in crumbling apart when you squeeze around him tighter, his eyes nearly rolling into the back of his head in pleasure at the way you were gripping him, your lungs feeling like they stretch out on each new whimper, whine and writhe as he fucks you in sheer desperation.

a faint outline of a groan exudes from the both of you when he bottoms into you again— while now, what was slow at first, meaning just gentle and slow thrusts in and out of you every so softly to build up the fizzing pleasure on your wet insides, soon manifested into something else, the rapid shoves making your things tense tight, your used cunt merging into his stiffened erection as you shake beneath him.

your face squeezes into that of deep pleasure, your nose puckered around the bridge and brows knitted together when your climax was right around the corner to trigger something unnamable in your stomach, a sinking fieriness that almost appeared to be as strong as to numb the salacious thrusts and grinds that were becoming messier, so greedy and harder to tame.

you hear it, those lewd noises, and your body reacts to them as well, a quivering murmur to his tone as soft tremors of neuvillette's groans exhale from his mouth and slip right into your searing kiss— because you see now, you're in control of his mind, and at this rate you're practically begging him to go harder on your cunt with each smack of his hips convulsing on your core when he slants back into you to press his delicate lips against yours, pushing his tongue in between as your slick smears along the thin skin of his shaft, your walls throbbing and turning with each new wave of unforgiving thrusts of his hips splitting you in half.

— ꒰ SCARAMOUCHE ꒱

"why did you even believe i would consider going without this for a whole month?"

oh, who would've thought? but this happened to be way easier for scaramouche, more delicious and empowering than any reluctance or guilt when the both of you haven't even gotten through one day of november without practically being all over each other— your hips arching into his strong thrusts forward, fingers curling into the disheveled bed sheets as your soft insides clench up around his rigid erection. 

"i thought it'll be— fuck, it'll be fun!" you attempt to reason with your boyfriend, although sweetly smirking against his lips demanding entry into your mouth as you began to pepper searing kisses on them, your tongue teasing into his warmth to lap across his wet muscle, your skin sticking against his own as his hips roll back and forth your clenching hole, breaking through your thighs squeezing together with fierce need.

scaramouche breaks the kiss at once, "look at me," he demands, visibly swallowing before taking a deep breath, his voice surprisingly low, a pinch of a rasp tottering on top of your lips as his tone was evidently wrapped inside the limit of a domineering cocoon fully consisting of vicious pleasure.

"you know that's no fun," you tremble as you shake under his looming body, his hips pressing in deep, in fact, so deep that you were now full of him, crowded as your pussy made his pace stutter, your hole overflowing with his throbbing cock and altering the steady stream of pleasure running through your veins, his grin only widening at the feeling of how much you liked the way he fucked you so desperately.

"but this is fun, wouldn't you agree?" scaramouche made sure to convey each of his words with a new, even stronger, sharp thrust into your warm hole as his balls tighten against you, the heaviness of his length pressing through your solid ring pulls your body in a tremble, your face now buried in the curve of his neck as you climax with a loud cry of his name, the sudden compression of your pussy making it harder for him to contain himself as he cums hard as well, spilling hot white ropes of sticky cum deep inside your pulsing spots that the heaviness of him made you wince softly.

"this— oh this feel so good." kuni mumbles against your lips with a large smirk manifesting on his handsome features, grunting as he continues to pound sloppily into you, "you feel so good," his hips treasuring how your cunt continuously throbbed around his shaft as you close your eyes due to exhaustion, breathing out heavily at the same time, "all mine."

— ꒰ CHILDE ꒱

"ajax, i don't— ahh, think that's what no nut november is about,"

you really do not have to tell childe— and the salacious thoughts he had about breaking the little bet between you was clinging on to his brain ever so vividly, until he simply could not resist himself and split your thighs underneath him the second he stepped home, pressing his slender fingers into the flesh of your ass as he moves you back and forth on his length, the hot breathes he expelled going hand in hand with each new thrust controlling your frame, his heaves fanning against your skin as his delicious traces invade your psyche and cloud your mind.

"you wouldn't say?" there was a curve in his voice, one that made his sentence sound all the more mischievous and deadly as childe clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth.

you know you're done for when his hips suddenly pick up on pace, as if he wanted, no, needed to show you that he was very much aware that he was breaking the rules of such silly little bet, every massive shove amplified by the enduring limbs in his muscular frame, your inflamed pussy squelches loudly with the wet smacks of his hips giving you no time to rest.

you whimper, if you can even call it that because in truth, it was a desperate attempt of a pathetic little sob, your glasslike eyes beclouded with deep-rooted bliss— and ugh, the harbinger was just absolutely intoxicating, it's totally unfair! and you were reacting just the way he wanted you to as you found yourself to indulge in his maddening fragrance penetrating your tottering skin, your nose buried into his neck as you inhale it deeper, sneakily teasing your fingers into his silken hair.

it only needed a couple more thrusts before you unravel underneath his looming shade at the same time as the tightened bubble in childe's stomach snapped in two, thick and heavy whites causing havoc inside of your pussy when you feel his tongue push into your mouth as to drink in your filthy moans, swallow the desperate attempts to signalize just how fucking good he felt when he pushes his load all into your little cunt to keep it there, the delicious pleasure on your lower area weighing you down the bed as you're nothing but a tremble left, your hole tensing every so often before he pulls out to watch the sweet mess he made on you.

— ꒰ WRIOTHESLEY ꒱

a flavorful multitude of skilled touches deeply dwell inside of your swelling sensitivity— with one trace in particular that sought out to reach the deepest parts of your responsive nerves.

wriothesley turns the air in the room heavy within the period of a single heart beat as he presses into your hole, the lewd squelches of wetness slapping against each other overcrowding the room as he fucks you with his weighty cock— a thin sparkle of sweat persisting over his chiseled chest as you squeeze roughly at his shaft, sending him deeper into you.

but wriothesley needed more, he had to make it somehow messier than it already was— because careful now and listen close, but the duke had found your overly irritating talk about being so dear confident about going a whole fucking month without doing this a little bit insulting, in fact, have you already forgotten what kind of emotions he was able to awake within you with nothing but his cock fucking you filthily until your thighs tremble on either side of him?

now, your bodies were sticked up together, the scent of lewd sex hanging in the air and mixed with the glazing scent of cologne and sweaty musk enticing the duke to fuck you harder, his once precise thrusts developing into sloppy and desperate movements, your skin practically on fire when he races through your walls with each squeeze of your cunt knocking the air from his lungs.

your fingers slide through his matted hair, your body lost between the pressure of his thick shaft dragging along your sensitivity as your arousal smeared all over his base, drenching the sheets below as he feels his balls tighten, he's so close, his body suddenly even heavier against your own as he slants himself forward, your erected nipples rubbing across his chiseled chest when he pins you down at once, leaning into you until merely a hairbreadth away.

"isn't this so much better, hm?"

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