carvehisname

[carvehisname]

Choose your Keanu character: John Constantine (x plus size female reader) in…..

Porn w/o plot.

TW: p in v, noncon, dubcon, angst, rough sex

gif by Pinterest, dividers by @uzmacchiato

You are in Constantine’s bedroom, cleaning off his windows again, too-tight dress inching up to show off the plush feminine curve atop your thighs. The stockings you wear are intentionally a size smaller, and you are popping from the top like dough does from the can. This is how he likes you, obscene and exaggerated and filthy. 

And bursting from your clothing, every sweet part of you on display—every curve and mound and roll. Your hair clamped up into a messy bun, tendrils spilling down your back. Mascara thickly applied so he can watch it run down your face in black rivulets when he makes you cry. 

You wipe down the glass, your face determined yet embarrassed by the sudden audition of an audience behind you. Constantine divests himself of his tie, then sits on the bed to watch you work. And, of course, he just can’t resist saying something, amusement thick and heady in his tone. “Do I have a maid now?”

You can feel him—that black stare assessing and appraising and calculating. You think he might sport a smirk, but when you catch his reflection in the recently squeakily cleaned window, he wears only a set frown and hooded, bruised eyes. 

And, of course, that rumpled dress shirt and those black slacks that do his figure no justice. 

He adjusts his erection absentmindedly with the heel of his palm, the other elbow leaning him up on the bed for support. His hand is pathetic. It will never be sufficient. Neither will any other being on this astral plain or the next or the next. Only your sweet pussy will ever be enough to satisfy him now that he’s had a taste.

You are some kind of sweet torture he has exacted upon himself. Sent from heaven to be his personal hell. He intends to pay it back to you. In full. 

You look over your shoulder at him demurely, trying your best to tempt and tease, not bothering pulling the dress down over the swells of your ass, your cheeky underwear revealed, standing stark against your skin. “How long has it been since you’ve cleaned your windows?” You ask quietly. 

He doesn’t answer, just watches you and makes you burn.

You turn around to show him the front of this outfit you put together just for him; plump tits pressed together, cleavage plentiful for harvest, nipples proudly protruding. Belly soft and round and nestled securely into the black cloth. 

You can’t look at his eyes, so you focus instead on his Adam’s apple bobbing hard under the thin, pale skin of his throat. 

You make your way up to him, blood rushing from your cheeks down your neck and over your chest. Your heart hammers loudly in your ears, fingers and toes aching from the rush of electric adrenaline in your veins.

When you are almost caught between his legs, you stop, placing both your hands on his knees and smiling at him, leaning over to stare directly into his eyes, cleavage spilling out, heavy and panting. “Want you, John.”

He grabs you, hands snaking around your waist, and stands, backing you into the windows you had just cleaned so thoroughly. You gasp, holding onto his biceps for support while he turns you around and presses you up against the cool glass. Constantine, he is thin, but he is a big boy, and he handles all your weight like a champ. His hard on presses invasively into your middle back, big feet framing your stockinged toes. 

He pulls your tits free of their smothering prison unceremoniously, hands greedily caging each one and kneading, palms pinching your nipples. You moan, pressing your forehead against the cool glass while he toys with curious panther-sized paws 

“God, aren’t these just perfect,” he says from above, tugging your nipples taught and inspiring the first of many tears tonight. It hurts so nicely, as he lifts your breasts into the air by only the most sensitive peaked part of them, then lets them flop back down after you hiss with pain. 

Your dress is riding up even more, the hem caught at the small of your back, your underwear the only thing between his skin and your sopping pussy. He hooks a finger underneath the lining of these slutty lace filigrees, grabs your neck with the other hand, and then rips them clean off.

“Constantine!” Your voice is cut off by his fingers tightening around its vulnerable source, and as he toys with how much air you are allowed to have for a few self indulgent moments, he talks in your ear. 

“I’ll buy you new ones. Actually, no I fucking won’t.” Your vision goes blurry from the squeeze of his hand. “Just another barrier between my cock and this sloppy cunt,” he scoffs. 

The finger that had just torn your panties off slips around your hip, nestling under your tummy to tuck his hand into the slippery fountain beneath, thus proving his point. You’re a fucking mess. 

You gasp, writhe, groan, clamp your thighs together at the still foreign sensation of his spidering fingers tickling your labia, exploring the unmapped and still incredibly sensitive, swollen inner workings. His hand tightening around your neck means stop resisting and spread your thighs, and with a hopeless groan you obey.

He uses his middle finger to find your clit, dipping down to collect some cum from your entrance to rub onto the tender puffy head.

“Ah,” you groan, hips jumping at his hand, desperate for more friction while he teases her with light, purposeless strokes. 

His other hand releases your throat in favor of a handful of your chest. And he must not be able to make up his mind tonight, because a moment later he is pulling your head back with the nape of your hair in his fist and melding his tongue with your own.

You open your mouth eagerly for him, moaning into his throat when he dips his index finger into your opening. 

Fuck. So tight—your sopping walls clamping around his finger, sucking him deeper. He obliges, of course, and finds the spongy spot on your upper wall that makes you scream. 

He breaks the kiss to watch you ruin on his fingers, lips swollen and plump and red from his teeth and tongue, eyes screwed shut, plump little tongue hanging out the side of your mouth in adorable concentration of an impending orgasm.

You rut against his hand, strong slim fingers long and nestled inside, palm protecting the rest of you from the cool air of the room, thumb rubbing incantations into your clit.

He struggles a third finger inside of you, and you don’t have time to tell him you’re coming before the fluid is spurring on his hand and dripping from his wrist and making your stockings see through. 

You whine when he leaves you empty, fingers popping from the juicy mess to shove third knuckle deep down your throat. Your body tries to crumple as you choke, but he has his long arm smushed into your torso, protecting you from the ground.

Uninterested in mercy tonight, he tugs you backwards until you meet the bed, then lets you fall into it, eyes and mouth open comically wide, tits bouncing violently. 

You place your hands on either side of you for some steadiness, but he uses this position to bind you up, pulling the dress down to your elbows, hiking the bottom up above your belly to trap your arms in the tight fabric. He pushes you back easily, and fall you do, your bare shiny cunt on complete display. Embarrassed, you close your thighs, creating a plushy perfect barrier for him to effortlessly ruin. 

He pulls your thighs apart, inserting himself between them, admiring your sensitive places with an appreciative, lusty grin. “You might want to prepare yourself,” he says, giving you absolutely no time to do so before sucking all the plump of your pussy into his mouth. 

Squealing, attempting to scooch away from his assault. Screaming. Yelping, lower back straining off the bed, feet digging into the sides of the mattress. Crying and screeching that it’s too much. Too sensitive. Ohpleasejohngodpleaseno—

He pauses for a moment to look up at you with a seldom light in those long dead eyes, face shiny wet, tendrils of your cum pulling on his cheeks and chin as if summoning him back.

His grin is salacious, proud, it would be  infuriating if he didn’t have you quite literally on the tip of his big, greedy tongue. 

“Already tapping out?” He asks, “I’m not even close to being done.”

“I came,” you whine, struggling.

“And you’ll cum again,” he tells you, “and again and again, if I want. You’re going to give your body to me, tonight. Every orgasm you have is mine.”

You groan, head hitting the bed as he descends upon you again, slurping and licking and sucking, eyes rolled back in your head, whole body clenched, drool running down your chin. He doesn’t stop, adding two fingers in a V to pump up inside you, your traitorous body allowing him full slippery and unfiltered access to your undoing. 

You never thought it was possible to cum so much that it hurts, for your clitoris to be so sensitive that every flick of his tongue upon it feels like a jolt of lightning that makes you convulse. All you can do is cry and cum, everything about you completely ruined down to your pretty mascara and your pink panties lying on the floor in shreds. 

You are a babbling, quivering, sweaty mess when he finally decides to bully his way inside and find his own pleasure so deep it actually brings back your fight just a tiny bit. Gurgling and gasping and gnashing your teeth, trying to curl around him to encourage his fat cock head away from your vulnerable cervix but he pushes your shoulders back down into the bed and throws your knees up around his shoulders with a little “uh, uh , naughty girl.” 

With his fingers, in a rare vulnerable and loving moment, Constantine presses damp sticky hair back from your cheeks and parts your lips. A dollop of your drool plops onto his finger, and he licks it off, then licks your teeth, slipping inside your mouth for a joining kiss as he fills up every little crevice between your thighs, inside and out, with his cum. 

Soaked and sweaty and heaving, he collapses on top of you, pressing his forehead to yours. “You're cleaning my windows again?”

Unable to make sensible noises with your mouth, you hum into his lips. And when you talk, it sounds like you have been screaming quite a lot, your voice dry and scratchy. “You said you…… liked maids, remember?” 

He laughs, shakes his head and then goes to roll off of you to get cleaned up. You grab at him, pleading with your wide eyes. “Please stay, John.”

With a sigh, he settles down beside you, wrapping those long arms around your waist and pressing his nose into your disheveled hair, and you hate how your heart fills with an aching satisfaction, because you know that beautiful feeling is only temporary. “For a little while, needy girl,” the handsome sorcerer promises.

[carvehisname]

𝓦𝓱𝓲𝓽𝓮 𝓛𝓪𝓬𝓮 /𝓟𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓵 𝓓𝓲𝓿𝓲𝓭𝓮𝓻𝓼 - 𝓟𝓪𝓻𝓽 1 🤍

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[carvehisname]

[carvehisname]

Choose your Keanu character: Dr. William Beckham (x plus size student reader) in……..

… That Drabble AU where he’s an anatomy teacher

TW: older man x younger woman, misogyny, rough sex mentioned, perverted thoughts, nsfw, potentially triggering things being referenced about a fat female character, dead dove.

Gif by @reevesdriver

dividers by @thecutestgrotto

While my hand flicked over the stack of papers, red marks and percentages left in its wake, my eyes had different ideas. I didn’t know if she had just been out vacationing or it was a side effect of her job volunteering with the underprivileged youth, but her pillowy thighs were dark from the sun. Didn’t she know that too much of that stuff could cause skin cancer? 

Her shorts were meant to be loose but when she sat down in the too-small desk they still pressed into the skin of her leg around 3 or 4 inches above the knee and left me wondering about what was underneath. Had she been tanning in a revealing swimsuit? Would her belly be soft and creamy, unpuckered by UV? 

Damn. Too much red. I was a harsh grader, but not that harsh. I went back with blue ink and crossed the mark out, writing a different number on the side and then flipping the page. 

I looked back up and there she was, her eyes on me. I resisted the urge to grin, but I held her gaze until she looked down the second she realized I was staring back. Her cheeks heated and the stain ran down her neck and into her collarbones, into her cleavage hidden by that pesky sunshine yellow t-shirt. 

“Y/n,” I called, keeping my gaze level, “can you come and pass these tests out?” She looked up at me as she started to exit her seat, her shorts riding up, digging in just enough to make me hungry.

“Yep,” she said, taking her gaze from mine again. Women her age absolutely had no clue how to hide attraction. Usually, it was annoying. On her, it was adorable and I was very thankful for it. 

She walked up to my desk, and I handed her the stack of papers. She took them and began to do as I had asked, placing them in front of her classmates or handing them down an aisle when she didn’t want to walk between students because her ass and tummy risked bumping items off of desks. 

I tried not to stare at her, but I knew that I was failing. It didn’t matter, the other students were either busy studying or looking at their test grades now…Plus, I didn’t care. 

Discussion began among her peers about their grades. Signs of frustration and chaos rippled through the room. She was the last one to look at her test packet. 98%, and she had mostly earned it. The only part of it that was lacking was the very back, where I’d asked for a drawing and description of the arteries and veins of the heart. She’d done the minimal amount that I had requested, because she knew that she had done so well on the other questions, her effort didn’t have to extend to drawings. It was infuriating, to say the least, that she cared so little about my approval.

She placed her test face down and went back to work on the model of the human arm. I stared unabashedly at the way she bit her lip, tucked her hair behind one ear, wisps of it falling from her ponytail and onto her neck. 

A red shirt blocked my view, and I turned my attention to the student standing in front of me. “How can I help you, Katie?” I smiled at her warmly. 

“Could I ask a question about the test?” She asked. 

“Yes, you certainly can. However, I’d have you bring this to your tutor's attention first and then come to me if your question remains unanswered.”

Y/n peered up at us, curious to hear her title being mentioned. She smiled at Katie. “I can help you.”

I let my grin bloom. “That’s my girl.”

The blush that took over her face when I directed my praise toward her was obscene. Her inability to control the reactions of her body made me feel both terribly guilty that I had provoked them and incredibly excited that I could get such a reaction. 

Katie went to sit beside her and show her what she needed help with. I busied myself with the laptop in front of me, still thinking about y/n and her innocence and indolence. Not entirely of my own free will, I thought about how her mouth would look stretched around my cock, that same hot blush still beating across her nose and cheeks. Tears running from her eyes, trying to please me by fitting all of me into her mouth—trying to be a good student. 

I could imagine what her ass would look like bruised and her nipples would look like chafed and overworked. I could imagine her excoriated knees scratching the ground and her mouth struggling to take me, so I let my mind wander. 

My cock stirred, pressing up against my thigh in the tan slacks and threatening to harden so that I couldn’t stand up in front of the class without exposure. I wondered if she would stare if I did. I couldn’t risk the rumors that would follow my name around if the students saw my erection, though, so I stopped thinking and instead busied myself with typing emails and responding to messages. 

When it was time for the students to leave, I called y/n back to stay over for a few moments. She agreed and came to my desk, taking the seat across from me and trying to maintain my gaze without getting flustered. She failed so miserably. 

“What are the main things that the class is struggling with?” I asked her. 

“Um, mostly the tiny arteries and veins and where they are or what they do,” she told me. 

“Any suggestions you have that could help?”

She thought for a moment, brown furrowed, lips turned down, clearly nervous about being put on the spot. “Maybe more time on that in class?” 

I nodded. “We have a lot to go through. Is there anything you could make or invest in that could make things more clear for them? The reason I chose the arteries and veins supplying the heart for our open ended question was because I knew that we would need to focus on the subject more in depth.”

“Well, I guess I could make a post or some packets for everyone,” she told me 

“That would be…awesome.” I nodded at her for encouragement. “Now let’s discuss your test?”

She nodded despite her face scrunching up in mortification and confusion. 

“The back,” I clarified, “you did your illustration but you didn’t write anything?” 

She chuckled. “Yeah, I thought I was going to run out of time.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Y/n, you were the first student to turn your test in and take a break.”

She must have thought I didn’t notice. “Uh-I” stuttering for a moment, her voice filling with thick fluid that made her tone crackle. “I got a good enough grade that I didn’t figure-“

“It’s important to understand the material,” I explained, still smiling at her, leaning over the desk. “And it’s important for me to know that you understand the material.”

“I do.”

“Multiple choice questions are often easy to guess,” I said. “The drawing and explanations on the back are what lets me know that you’re paying attention.” I cocked my head. “You are paying attention?”

She pursed her lips, perhaps suddenly aware of my observations surrounding her behavior. Her arms pulled in front of her chest and pressed her breasts together. I resisted the urge to let my eyes linger for too long. 

I remembered her falling asleep in my class, leaving early, dozing off, or just not showing up altogether. Unabashedly sitting on the sectional couch in the library and reading her textbook when class let out and I came up to get a coffee from the cafe right beside the lounge. 

“Hello y/n,” I’d say. 

She’d greet me back pleasantly, not seeming to realize that she had just missed my class entirely for absolutely no reason. My blood sizzled thinking about it. 

“I try to pay attention,” she said, her voice quieter. “I just feel like I can read the book and learn more than listening to you lecture.” She stopped and then backtracked, scrambling over the words. “I mean, I feel that way in all my classes. I’m not a person who learns by explanation, you know? The books are what help me learn.” She seemed out of breath, her chest rose and fell sharply, pressing the fat of her breasts up over her collar. 

“Mmm,” I leaned back in my seat. “I understand.” 

She nodded, perking up at my softness “I will come to class more, I promise.” So eager to please, but so damn disobediently clueless. 

“Good,” I nodded, resisting the urge to put girl at the end of that sentence just to watch her get flustered again. 

She rubbed her palms together and picked at her thumbnails. She didn’t know I could watch her do those things from my position. I was taller than her by more than a foot and I could see down to where her knees went under my desk, to those pretty soft thighs. 

I contemplated throwing her against the chalkboard, bracing her, and fucking her until I was satisfied. I thought about making her draw out my diagram of the human heart and all of its descriptions while I shoved my fingers into her fat cunt and sucked at her swollen clit. I’d give her a time limit and ruin her orgasm each minute she didn’t hit a milestone. 

“You’re extremely gifted, y/n. I’d like to see you do well on the next diagram. I know you can.” 

She laughed, blinking at me. “Sure, but I’m not that…gifted.”

I looked at her curiously, perplexed that she was denying her own intelligence while simultaneously flaunting it so boldly. She needed discipline so desperately in all areas. I would almost be doing her a disservice not to give it to her. 

I smile. “You are, y/n. You make me very proud. I won’t deal with you downplaying yourself, alright?” I’m still smiling warmly, but my voice folds deeper, and my eyes narrow—I’m challenging her, in a sense. Testing her without a paper. 

“Uh…sure.” She looks away, and my fingers itch to smush her cherubic cheeks and make her keep my eyes. 

“Excellent.” 

[carvehisname]

[carvehisname]

KEANU REEVES in Wick Is Pain (2025)

[carvehisname]

Do you know who you’re fucking with? Yes, yes I do.

[carvehisname]

here's my dump of gifs (gifs by @scarlettspectra)

⭒˗ˏˋ𓆩 ⚠ 𓆪ˎˊ˗⭒ please, don’t repost/reupload my gifs and screenshots without my permission or credits

[carvehisname]

Choose your Keanu character: Dr. William Beckham (x plus size student reader) in……..

… That Drabble AU where he’s an anatomy teacher

TW: older man x younger woman, misogyny, rough sex mentioned, perverted thoughts, nsfw, potentially triggering things being referenced about a fat female character, dead dove.

Gif by @reevesdriver

dividers by @thecutestgrotto

While my hand flicked over the stack of papers, red marks and percentages left in its wake, my eyes had different ideas. I didn’t know if she had just been out vacationing or it was a side effect of her job volunteering with the underprivileged youth, but her pillowy thighs were dark from the sun. Didn’t she know that too much of that stuff could cause skin cancer? 

Her shorts were meant to be loose but when she sat down in the too-small desk they still pressed into the skin of her leg around 3 or 4 inches above the knee and left me wondering about what was underneath. Had she been tanning in a revealing swimsuit? Would her belly be soft and creamy, unpuckered by UV? 

Damn. Too much red. I was a harsh grader, but not that harsh. I went back with blue ink and crossed the mark out, writing a different number on the side and then flipping the page. 

I looked back up and there she was, her eyes on me. I resisted the urge to grin, but I held her gaze until she looked down the second she realized I was staring back. Her cheeks heated and the stain ran down her neck and into her collarbones, into her cleavage hidden by that pesky sunshine yellow t-shirt. 

“Y/n,” I called, keeping my gaze level, “can you come and pass these tests out?” She looked up at me as she started to exit her seat, her shorts riding up, digging in just enough to make me hungry.

“Yep,” she said, taking her gaze from mine again. Women her age absolutely had no clue how to hide attraction. Usually, it was annoying. On her, it was adorable and I was very thankful for it. 

She walked up to my desk, and I handed her the stack of papers. She took them and began to do as I had asked, placing them in front of her classmates or handing them down an aisle when she didn’t want to walk between students because her ass and tummy risked bumping items off of desks. 

I tried not to stare at her, but I knew that I was failing. It didn’t matter, the other students were either busy studying or looking at their test grades now…Plus, I didn’t care. 

Discussion began among her peers about their grades. Signs of frustration and chaos rippled through the room. She was the last one to look at her test packet. 98%, and she had mostly earned it. The only part of it that was lacking was the very back, where I’d asked for a drawing and description of the arteries and veins of the heart. She’d done the minimal amount that I had requested, because she knew that she had done so well on the other questions, her effort didn’t have to extend to drawings. It was infuriating, to say the least, that she cared so little about my approval.

She placed her test face down and went back to work on the model of the human arm. I stared unabashedly at the way she bit her lip, tucked her hair behind one ear, wisps of it falling from her ponytail and onto her neck. 

A red shirt blocked my view, and I turned my attention to the student standing in front of me. “How can I help you, Katie?” I smiled at her warmly. 

“Could I ask a question about the test?” She asked. 

“Yes, you certainly can. However, I’d have you bring this to your tutor's attention first and then come to me if your question remains unanswered.”

Y/n peered up at us, curious to hear her title being mentioned. She smiled at Katie. “I can help you.”

I let my grin bloom. “That’s my girl.”

The blush that took over her face when I directed my praise toward her was obscene. Her inability to control the reactions of her body made me feel both terribly guilty that I had provoked them and incredibly excited that I could get such a reaction. 

Katie went to sit beside her and show her what she needed help with. I busied myself with the laptop in front of me, still thinking about y/n and her innocence and indolence. Not entirely of my own free will, I thought about how her mouth would look stretched around my cock, that same hot blush still beating across her nose and cheeks. Tears running from her eyes, trying to please me by fitting all of me into her mouth—trying to be a good student. 

I could imagine what her ass would look like bruised and her nipples would look like chafed and overworked. I could imagine her excoriated knees scratching the ground and her mouth struggling to take me, so I let my mind wander. 

My cock stirred, pressing up against my thigh in the tan slacks and threatening to harden so that I couldn’t stand up in front of the class without exposure. I wondered if she would stare if I did. I couldn’t risk the rumors that would follow my name around if the students saw my erection, though, so I stopped thinking and instead busied myself with typing emails and responding to messages. 

When it was time for the students to leave, I called y/n back to stay over for a few moments. She agreed and came to my desk, taking the seat across from me and trying to maintain my gaze without getting flustered. She failed so miserably. 

“What are the main things that the class is struggling with?” I asked her. 

“Um, mostly the tiny arteries and veins and where they are or what they do,” she told me. 

“Any suggestions you have that could help?”

She thought for a moment, brown furrowed, lips turned down, clearly nervous about being put on the spot. “Maybe more time on that in class?” 

I nodded. “We have a lot to go through. Is there anything you could make or invest in that could make things more clear for them? The reason I chose the arteries and veins supplying the heart for our open ended question was because I knew that we would need to focus on the subject more in depth.”

“Well, I guess I could make a post or some packets for everyone,” she told me 

“That would be…awesome.” I nodded at her for encouragement. “Now let’s discuss your test?”

She nodded despite her face scrunching up in mortification and confusion. 

“The back,” I clarified, “you did your illustration but you didn’t write anything?” 

She chuckled. “Yeah, I thought I was going to run out of time.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Y/n, you were the first student to turn your test in and take a break.”

She must have thought I didn’t notice. “Uh-I” stuttering for a moment, her voice filling with thick fluid that made her tone crackle. “I got a good enough grade that I didn’t figure-“

“It’s important to understand the material,” I explained, still smiling at her, leaning over the desk. “And it’s important for me to know that you understand the material.”

“I do.”

“Multiple choice questions are often easy to guess,” I said. “The drawing and explanations on the back are what lets me know that you’re paying attention.” I cocked my head. “You are paying attention?”

She pursed her lips, perhaps suddenly aware of my observations surrounding her behavior. Her arms pulled in front of her chest and pressed her breasts together. I resisted the urge to let my eyes linger for too long. 

I remembered her falling asleep in my class, leaving early, dozing off, or just not showing up altogether. Unabashedly sitting on the sectional couch in the library and reading her textbook when class let out and I came up to get a coffee from the cafe right beside the lounge. 

“Hello y/n,” I’d say. 

She’d greet me back pleasantly, not seeming to realize that she had just missed my class entirely for absolutely no reason. My blood sizzled thinking about it. 

“I try to pay attention,” she said, her voice quieter. “I just feel like I can read the book and learn more than listening to you lecture.” She stopped and then backtracked, scrambling over the words. “I mean, I feel that way in all my classes. I’m not a person who learns by explanation, you know? The books are what help me learn.” She seemed out of breath, her chest rose and fell sharply, pressing the fat of her breasts up over her collar. 

“Mmm,” I leaned back in my seat. “I understand.” 

She nodded, perking up at my softness “I will come to class more, I promise.” So eager to please, but so damn disobediently clueless. 

“Good,” I nodded, resisting the urge to put girl at the end of that sentence just to watch her get flustered again. 

She rubbed her palms together and picked at her thumbnails. She didn’t know I could watch her do those things from my position. I was taller than her by more than a foot and I could see down to where her knees went under my desk, to those pretty soft thighs. 

I contemplated throwing her against the chalkboard, bracing her, and fucking her until I was satisfied. I thought about making her draw out my diagram of the human heart and all of its descriptions while I shoved my fingers into her fat cunt and sucked at her swollen clit. I’d give her a time limit and ruin her orgasm each minute she didn’t hit a milestone. 

“You’re extremely gifted, y/n. I’d like to see you do well on the next diagram. I know you can.” 

She laughed, blinking at me. “Sure, but I’m not that…gifted.”

I looked at her curiously, perplexed that she was denying her own intelligence while simultaneously flaunting it so boldly. She needed discipline so desperately in all areas. I would almost be doing her a disservice not to give it to her. 

I smile. “You are, y/n. You make me very proud. I won’t deal with you downplaying yourself, alright?” I’m still smiling warmly, but my voice folds deeper, and my eyes narrow—I’m challenging her, in a sense. Testing her without a paper. 

“Uh…sure.” She looks away, and my fingers itch to smush her cherubic cheeks and make her keep my eyes. 

“Excellent.”