#This doesn’t violate anything right?

[jackslesbiansubconcious]

Me rn:

[rose-tinted-nostalgia]

I know perception is reality, and two people experiencing the same exact situation can have wildly different takes that are both technically correct, but sometimes, there really is an objective right and wrong, and sometimes I wish there was a way to see that, some referee hovering outside these ugly conversations to assign truth because getting these people to admit their faults is impossible and I’m really staring to feel like a crazy person.

[softyuujis]

I want to put my two cents on a Caleb headcanon cause I saw a few and I don’t like em so here’s mine for the possessive girlies out there.

Caleb is a BIG virgin. Has never looked at anyone who isn’t MC/you. Has never had a thought of another girl or woman who wasn’t you. Never imagined a life with someone else other than you. It’s ALWAYS and will always be you. He wants every first to be special and it’ll only be special if it’s with you. First hug, first hand hold, first kiss, first time intimate; it HAS to be just you, just you and him together.

HOWEVER, he’s not dumb. He knows his first time together with you has to be perfect. He can’t be coming undone in his pants before he’s had a chance to enter you. He can’t get overtly excited touching you resulting in making a fool of himself. So naturally he turns to books. From female anatomy books that explain the clit and where the g-spot is. To romance books to smut books. Anything describing the female pleasure you bet he’s checking it out, reading word for word, 100% taking notes and reading them twice, thrice so it’s imbedded into his head so when the time finally comes he doesn’t fumble.

And while boys and men use porn to get off, Caleb uses it like he’s got a school assignment where has to watch a movie and take notes. From porn on the popular page, to the inexperienced couples making their very first videos, Caleb assesses each and has pen to paper. Scrutinizing each facial movement, determining if the pleasure written is legitimate or amped up for show (he especially hates those). Every touch, every glide, every thrust, he zeros in on it and puts it to paper.

Does he get hard? Originally, no. He sees this as any ordinary assignment. For the sake of your pleasure. But then one girl looks a little like you for a second, and maybe the man beside her from the side looks a little like him. And then his mind drift to you. You in these positions, him right there with you, touching you, making you moan. He never reaches completion if he doesn’t imagine you, you and him, together. After all, all that he’s doing is for you. For your comfort, your pleasure, you moans and shakes underneath him. So he does a good job, so he’s good for you.

And while technically it would be much easier to put what’s he learned to use on someone else, he can’t go through that betrayal. He is after all, all yours. Being touched by another would be a violation of your relationship. Yes, he’ll keep the good guy act in public, smile to everyone, laugh at a few jokes but words and insincere smiles is all anyone else gets. You receive him wholeheartedly. All his jokes, all his touches and brushes of skin. All his thoughts and attention. All you. All of him is yours.

[b1mbodoll]

hung virgin jake is too good!!! he watches too much porn and thinks he can just slide into you, surprised and a little mad at your whining, mocking you when you tell him it's too much

pairings: sim jaeyun x f! reader

warnings: noncon + use of the word r*pe + big dick! jake + virgin! jake + blood + creampies + breeding + degradation + impact play + manipulation + fingering

💌: shut up i just moaned /pos /lh ☆ ok hi this is gabi after writing. i didn’t mean to make this so dark, but what is b1mbodoll without noncon.

jakey thinkin he can just slide in with no prep…. i actually feel insane. you’re whimpering and begging him to take it slow n be gentle because he’s so big. so fucking girthy, too. he thinks a little spit on your tight pussy and the steady dribbles of precum trailing along his length are enough to spread you open.

his cock is heavy where it rests over your cunt and genuine fear courses through you because there’s no way he’ll fit like this. “j-jakey, wait,” you pant, hands reaching out to push at his abdomen, eyes wide. “you need to prep me, baby, look at you. you’re too big, ‘s gonna hurt.”

“no, sweetheart, you’re wrong. i’ve seen a buncha videos before, it’ll feel good, jus’ take it, yeah?”

he sounds so earnest; there’s no way he truly thinks porn is real, right? you can’t take him and you’re unsure how else to convince him of that. “i can’t! jakey, you’re not listeni — fuck! oh god, stopstop.”

it feels like you’re being split in two, tiny pussy stretched beyond it’s limits despite your pleas for jake to fucking stop as he forces the blunt head of his fat cock inside; just the tip and it’s already too much, your inner walls spasming and clenching around him, eyes squeezed tightly because it hurts so bad and he hasn’t even filled you up completely yet.

jake stops once his cockhead slips in, afraid to cum before he’s had the chance to properly fuck you, nostrils flaring while he tries to hold off his orgasm, dick pulsing and his balls tight, more and more precum drooling from his slit and wetting your hole, teeth sinking into his lip so hard the soft skin breaks, the taste of blood bringing him back to his senses.

you feel so good wrapped around him n he cant help but continue to sheath himself in your pussy, pressing his hips forward and groaning as his cock bullies its way into you, inch after inch causing you to let out pained cries that make his chest ache but he can’t stop, not until you’re stuffed full of his thick cum.

you’re hitting him now, throwing your fists at his chest in a weak attempt to get him off, full on sobs making the guilt he felt a second ago shift into something meaner.

“you’re fucking weak,” he spits, and gone is your sweet boyfriend. you don’t recognize the man above you. “y’wanna cry so bad, i’ll give you something to cry about, whore.”

jake’s earlier fear of cumming too soon is long forgotten; he catches your hands when you go to strike him again and pins them to the mattress before slamming his hips against yours, remaining inches now fully inside and you can feel him snug against your cervix, prodding at the entrance of your womb.

he doesn’t give you a chance to at least try accomodating to the discomfort, setting a brutal pace immediately, headboard knocking against the wall as his cock ruins you, hurts you, violates you.

you don’t want this anymore, so why is he continuing this torment?

jake believes you were made for him, for his cock. it shouldn’t hurt.. you’re lying. you have to be. it’s supposed to feel good. crocodile tears and yelps wont change his mind. you’re his little plaything. his pocket pussy. he’ll only get better at fucking you with practice, so he’ll use you whenever and however he wants.

you can’t do anything except let him have his way with you, too tired to continue fighting him, but just coherent enough to try convincing him with your words.

your voice is strained, throat raw but you ignore the soreness and attempt to speak through whines. “jake, y’gotta stop. i don’t — oh god — don’t want this. y’know what the means don’t you? this is…”

tears blur your vision.

“this is what, huh? ‘s rape? is that what you were gonna say?” the condescending tone like a knife to your heart. “you’re such a fuckin’ dummy — hah fuck, so tight —” he groans. “this isn’t rape. you like it, i know you do. your pussy’s so tight, so fucking wet, all for me.”

your face crumples at his words; there really is no getting through to him.

jake continues to abuse your poor, sensitive cunt. it’s sickening how every brutal thrust allows for his cock to kiss the opening of your uterus, his balls slapping your ass creating an audible plap, plap, plap that makes you cringe and your hole gushes, drenching the sheets with your combined juices; the realization that you’re wet makes you wonder… was jake right? do you like this? it’s too much for you to process, body beginning to go limp beneath him.

“stay with me,” barks jake, clapping his palm against your cheek, “‘m not — fuck! — done, haven’t even cum yet. can’t pass out on me, i won’t let you.”

as if to prove his point, jake speeds up the pace, driving his length so deep it’s agonizing. “pretty pussy gripped me even tighter when i did this,” he backhands you this time and again, your walls contract, squeezing him so tight it makes him think you don’t wanna let go.

“are you a..” he starts, wracking his brain for the word used in a particularly violent porn clip he saw, split lip reopening when he smiles, “are you a painslut? like bein’ fucked open and slapped around, hm?”

you shake your head in denial, but jake’s having none of it. “yeah you fucking do, slut. say it. tell me you like this or i’ll do so much worse.”

“y-yes!” you all but scream, “yes i like it, jakey. i like it, i do, i do, i do! j-jus’ cum, ‘kay? fill me up, do it!”

god, jake really is stupid. you’re only agreeing and urging him to cum to get this over with but he seems to think you actually want him to cream your insides.

maybe you really do; if the way you wrap your legs around him are any indication.

his orgasm’s building with every drag of his impossibly thick cock, your body surrendering to him, forcibly used for his own pleasure and he presses his mouth to yours, his eyes shutting as your lips meet, your own wide open due to the taste of iron flooding your senses, a mess of spit and jake’s blood smearing onto your skin

he humps at you like a dog; desperate, sloppy, uncoordinated.

and although you hate to admit it, you can feel your own impending climax, not quite there but close. you need more; you need — oh fuck.

jake stills once he’s fucked into your womb, ropes of his thick, sticky cum painting you white and there’s so much, it feels neverending; despite the pain, despite the rough treatment you received and despite the fact that he did all of this without your consent; you cum.

you clamp around him tighter, if that were even possible, and pleasure makes your mind go blank. you try to block him out, unable to believe he did this and the fact that you came, but he makes it impossible.

how are you supposed to ignore jaeyun when two of his thick fingers join his cock inside of you after catching the globs of sperm that have dribbled out of you.

“said i’d fill you up,” he reminds you. “now i gotta make sure it sticks.”

[plastic-oasis]

Plastic oasis homestuck au…

[calebsmoocher]

Sucking him off while he fucks you with his evol

Being a renowned thief, Caleb knows where to go first when his things go missing: her room. In his search, however, he finds a peculiar, pink, phallic possession of hers. Cw: smut, so MDNI, oral (m receiving), inappropriate use of evol, use of sex toy, girl i tried to put fluff in there

She had a habit of taking things. Well, borrowing, she’d justify vehemently. First it was his sweaters. Turn his back once and she’d snatch the pillars of comfort that got him through the winter.

“You know, I do your laundry as well,” he’d say. She wouldn’t spare him a glance, swaying slowly in her chair. She’d be hunched over her coursework, pen tapping at her lip.

“Yeah? Well why can’t I find my sweater? The pink one with hearts.”

“Now I’ve gotta fold your laundry as well?” He approached her focused form, leaning down to hover above her head. His fingers pinched the fabric of his sweater, the expanse of fabric allowing him to tug on it without the chance of pulling her arm with it. “It doesn’t even fit you.”

“I’m not taking it off. I’m too warm,” she whined, throwing her head back to lean against him. Warmth flooded his cheeks. Stifling a cough, he pushed her head back down playfully.

“I’m not asking; don’t worry. Go back to doing your work.”

Sometimes it would be his headphones. 

“I have to twist mine a certain way to get them to work!” She’d cry.

Or his switch. 

“Oh please, just ten more minutes. I even beat your high score!”

Even on occasion his aerospace textbooks. 

Caleb was rifling through his bookcase, wanting to refresh his mind on his academy coursework. It was only after he cleared the first two shelves when had clocked his biggest mistake being not checking her room first. And there they were, right as his eyes landed on her desk. She had three of them stacked under her monitor.

“You’re just taking anything at this point. Are you sure it’s not because you miss me? Should I also take some time off?”

She’d scoff, handing him the books. “Yes, my eyes miss my monitor being at eye-level. You’re going to be the one massaging me when I have neck problems from hunching over this screen.”

With her constant violations of petty thievery, it was impossible to tell his room apart from hers. 

And this behaviour continued its way to Skyhaven. She was staying with him while on leave at the association. Over her frequent but brief visits, a lot of her items had already accumulated within his house.

Caleb had just returned from an early finish at the fleet. He narrowed his eyes; his house was empty. Had she gone sightseeing without him? Pulling his uniform cap off, he figured he’d start on dinner. Would she even be back in time? Should he call her? He swallowed thickly. He should lay off her; she wasn’t a child anymore. 

He pulled his gloves off and reached for his necklace on the bedside table. But his nails hit the smooth surface, no chain in sight. That was weird. He had placed it here before he left in the morning, the particular fleet mission not allowing him to wear metallic accessories. Had he placed it somewhere else? He wasn’t one to forget where he’d place such an important keepsake. Maybe his table? He turned around before scoffing. Oh. Nevermind. He was ashamed it hadn’t been his first instinct. Of course, she had taken it. Or borrowed it, whatever. 

The first place he looked was her desk. It didn’t immediately jump out at him. Of course, she could have it on, he thought. But now that he was in her room, it’d give him the chance to retrieve any other items she had managed to paw off him. 

He pulled the top drawer of her bedside table out. Score, he thought. There was an assortment of silver jewelry poking out between the ruffles of fabric of one of his favourite shirts. He’d hit two birds with one stone, he guessed. But when he pulled the shirt away his eyes widened, blood rushing to his ears. The pounding echo of his heartbeat was sounding right in his ears. Hidden, poorly under his shirt he’d add, was a pinkish translucent, silicon dildo. And it was rolling side to side in all its thick, girthy, glory. Caleb gaped. This thing was huge. Easily ten inches, with artificial veins protruding from its smooth surface. 

The familiar chime of her placing her keys on the kitchen bench caught his attention with a jolt. He slammed the draw shut.  

“Caleb?” The girl swung her head up at the sharp noise, cautiously dropping her bag. The noise had come from her bedroom. When she went to investigate, he was standing over her bed, not facing her. “You’re back already? I bought some mushrooms and water chestnuts. How about we make wontons tonight?” Caleb sucked in a breath before turning, slowly. He shot her a smile. As he took her in, there his chain lay, gleaming brightly on her chest. Maybe curiosity really had killed the cat. She followed his gaze and smiled sheepishly.

“Sorry, I felt like wearing it. I didn’t want it to be lonely.” “You’re cute.”

She reached for the clasp behind her neck. “Were you looking for…” Her voice slowed as her eyes moved over his rigid form. His face was calm, but the tips of his ears were ember. She furrowed her brows, eyes tracing down to his hands. He was holding her shirt. His shirt. The shirt. Her heart dropped. 

No. Why did all the embarrassing shit happen to her? She didn’t have to address this. She’d turn right around and march back into the kitchen.

“You can say your excuses now. I’m listening.” Caleb had straightened up, relaxing from his previously robotic stance. 

Run. Run. That’s all she knew how to do. Because crossing this boundary would destroy her. His jaw tightened in the silence. Was he letting her run away from this? Or was it finally time to address the overbearing tension that had been neglected for so long that it had seeped its way into their every interaction?

“I…” she took a step back. The kiss they silently swore to never talk about haunted her. Had it harrowed over his mind in the same ways? 

She could play it off as not being a big deal. “I’m an adult. This… These things are natural,” she would argue.

“But wrapped in my shirt? I don’t think that’s appropriate.You know my feelings towards you,” is what he’d say in reply. Cold, callous and without the comforting, teasing lilt to his voice. She shook her head, wanting to scream into her fists. There were too many bad possibilities to come. 

She felt the sting of tears brim at her waterline. Fuck. Caleb noticed, mouth opening then shutting then opening again. His eyes were frantic over her form.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to invade your privacy. I know it’s…” He began to stammer. “It’s…normal to…”

She cut him off. “It’s not weird, right?”

He shook his head slowly. A pause. “Weird that it was…?” At a loss for words, he gestured to his shirt still held tightly in his hand. Wrapped in his shirt.

Fuck. She swallowed thickly.

“Does it mean anything?” His voice was gentle. Cautious.

She shut her eyes tightly. “Maybe.” Her voice was barely above a whisper. “Is it weird?” Her voice was on the precipice of breaking. She felt his hand at the back of her head, bringing her in for a ginger hug. He laughed softly.

“No, it’s not weird.” He tilted her chin to meet her reluctant gaze. “How often do you use it?”

This time she actually sobbed. “You’re joking, right?”

He struggled to suppress a smile, wanting to shift the heaviness in the room out. “Do you think about me when you…”

Oh, she had had enough of this man. Almost smacking him across the face, she pressed her palm over his mouth. Fuck this was no happening right now. She did not just hear that. 

Her eyes clenched shut as she hung her head. She felt him snicker into her palm and her brows creased.

“I’ve heard you in the shower, you know? Do you think about me when you’re…” She trailed off with purpose and furrowed her brows up at him. It contrasted his sickly sweet smile. 

“Yes, I do.” His smile widened at her gasp. “Always. It’s only ever been you.”

“Caleb…”

He pulled her hand away from his mouth. His hand slid down from her head to her lower back, thumb pressing small strokes into the fabric. 

“Can I kiss you?”

Instead of answering, she reached up to gently clasp at his neck, guiding him down. The few seconds it took for him to close in on her strained her breath. His eyes trained on her. The part of his lips and ragged breath that fanned over her own. She didn’t want to bask in it any longer, lest she lost the adrenaline thumping through her veins. His kiss was firm, nothing like the cautious exterior he had been so careful to display. His left hand cupped her cheek, tipping her jaw up to deepen the kiss. She clung to his wrist. 

His scent engulfed her. She wanted to get closer, worm her way right against his chest. She wanted to run her fingers through his hair. See if she could elicit a sound so vulnerable from him. 

When he broke the kiss, it was only to begin pressing frantic kisses down her jaw and neck. She gasped, using the moment to gently grab strands of hair at the back of his head, running her nails down to his nape. 

He groaned into her. And she felt a spark in her stomach.

“Will you…” His breath was short as he continued to press kisses into her skin through his words. “Will you show me how you use it on yourself?” He had opened her bedside table again, pawing blinding at the silicone toy. Fuck, he was joking. 

Her face reddened. “Caleb…”

“Am I asking for too much?” He asked genuinely through a laugh. 

She rolled her eyes, feeling the adrenaline plateau inside her. He had left her breathless far too many times in the span of five minutes. 

“I think you’ve done enough.” She pushed at his chest, guiding him backwards. When his legs hit her chair, she pushed him down into it. He laughed through his chest, gleaming up at her with an arrogant smile.

“You have me all to yourself. I’m completely in your care.”

She flushed at his brazenness, slowly dropping to her knees before him. Maybe the adrenaline was spiking again, but seeing him from this new angle had her heart threatening to jump out of her throat. 

“Can I use my mouth on you?” 

His arrogance slipped. He caressed her head again, searching her eyes. “Please,” he said. Gently, weakly.

She sucked in a breath before shakily reaching for his zipper. The whine of the zipper undoing was the only sound besides their ragged breaths. His eyes scrutinised her every move, mouth agape. He helped her drag his pants down, pooling at his knees. He guided her to look up at him again, and they both had a chance to recognise the mutual fear thrumming within them.

“You’re so pretty.” He stroked her hair. “My pretty girl.”

Through his briefs she guessed he was half-hard. She brought her hand up, palming him gently. She had never done this. Was this okay? Was she being too rough? Not rough enough? He sensed her hesitance, encompassing his own hand over hers.

“Like this,” he offered, pressing firmly. His fingers curled around hers, encouraging her to take a confident grip over the fabric. It was hot, and it filled her entire hand. She assumed a steady pace, moving her grip up and down. He let out a shaky breath, and his other hand tightened around the arm chair. She could feel his cock twitch and begin to fully harden. Something in her stomach jumped. Gaining confidence, she tugged at the waistband of his briefs, shimmying them down to join his pants. His cock sprung up against his stomach, beads of precum dripping down a thick girth. She swallowed in anticipation. And placed a fleeting kiss on his tip.

“Fuck…” His cheeks were dusted pink. He leaned forward planting his own quick kiss on her forehead before reaching down between her legs. “Should I help you out as well?” He tugged on her skirt, flipping the fabric up over her ass. His breath hitched as he stared down at her cotton panties. “Are these new?”

If she wasn’t gripping his cock and trying to pleasure him as best she could, she would have slapped him upside the head. “What, don’t tell me you’re a panty sniffer.”

He barked back a laugh. “I think it’s more concerning that you still ask me to do your laundry at your ripe age.”

“Yes, I’ve got the Colonel wrapped around my finger, doing trivial things like my laundry.”

He traced the seams of the fabric, pressing into her skin. “Yes, you’ve got the Colonel entirely to yourself. Will you be good to him?” His fingers followed the fabric to circle at her heat. She gasped. It was hard to keep a steady rhythm as his fingers teased pushing in. Eventually, he settled for drawing gentle circles at her clit; then looping down to tease her entrance through the fabric. “Don’t stop.”

She listened, guiding him into her mouth. She sucked at the tip, rolling her tongue to sweep the underside of his cock. She watched him intently, stomach mimicking all the sharp intakes he did as he shifted in his seat.

“You feel so good,” he whined. The steady motions of his hand were breaking up. But it felt good. Knowing that she was doing this to him. That her cunt was leaking and swollen in anticipation for his fingers. “Good girl,” he choked out, “you’re so good to me.”

She took him deeper, supporting the base of his cock with both of her hands. Her eyes were trained on his. Shaking slightly, she experimented with taking him deeper. The tip of his cock hit the back of her throat and she lurched back, gasping for her as he slid out from her.

“Fuck, are you okay?”

She laughed. “I’m okay. Was I okay? Did it feel good?”

He stroked her chin, wiping the saliva from her lips. “You were amazing. You made me feel so good.” He brushed the stray hairs away from her eyes. “Don’t push yourself to take more than you can.”

“I wanna keep going.” She nudged his hand away, taking the base of his cock into her hands again.

“Woah, wait up.” He reached over her towards her bed, grabbing her pillow. “Lift your legs.” Shakily, she let him place the pillow between her and the floor. She sunk down into the plush, her knees buzzing from being pressed into the carpet. 

“Thanks…”

He leaned over her again, and she heard the drag of her bedside table opening. “I think it’s time you showed me how you’ve been using this toy of yours.” Her ears reddened. 

“Caleb, that’s embarrassing.” She tried to grab the dildo from him, but he held it out of her reach. “Don’t you want me to keep using my mouth on you? You said it feels good. I want you to cum.” He remained unfazed by her words, much to her dismay. 

“I really want to use this on you, though. Won’t you let me see you take it?” He studied the obscene phallic item closely. Now that she could see it in comparison to Caleb’s cock, she noted that while Caleb was thicker, the toy was longer. That’s what she got for ordering a size large. 

“What are you going to do?” She mumbled. Her cheeks were still ablaze as she watched him.

“Don’t worry. I have an idea you’ll like.” To her horror, she watched as the dildo began to hover in his hand, held up by an invisible force. It rounded her field of vision until it prodded at the fabric of her panties. She felt her stomach flip. Like the ground beneath had suddenly given out and she was in free fall.  “Pull your panties to the side.”

Shakily, she did as she was told. The rush of cold air almost made her jump until she felt the the cool silicone press against her heat. 

“Your toy is so big. Can you really take all of it?”

She covered her face. She was never going to live this down. “Not all of it. Please be gentle.” She felt him kiss her forehead before lifting her head to meet his gaze. 

“I’ll let you decide. You’re the one showing me how you use it, remember?” Confused, she nodded anyway. She guided the dildo into her swollen cunt, gasping shakily at the intrusion. No matter what she did, the initial push would always elicit a quivering moan. “Good girl. Hands on me.” She expected the toy to slide back out of her once she withdrew her hands but it stayed perfectly in place. Her hands returned to their position at the base of his cock. More precum had leaked out, dripping down into her hands. She suckled on the tip, eager to prevent anymore from making a mess. Caleb groaned, positioning one hand at the back of her head. The other, he held out beside her in a beckoning motion. 

“Mmph!” Her eyes snapped open as the toy began to move inside her. Slowly. On its own. But shallowly. Her eyes caught onto Caleb’s fingers, matching the steady push and pull of the toy inside her. 

“You can hold onto me. Show me how much you can take.”

Mouth full of his cock, she latched onto his hand for support, feeling him tug her fingers back and forth with him. Her index and third finger curled around his own two fingers. And he moved them slowly, bringing them closer to his palm. She felt the toy push into her. When his fingers expanded out again, she felt the toy retreat. 

“Go faster or go slower; whatever you want. I want to see.” 

Tears brimmed at her eyes. Her heart was pounding in her chest. Slowly, she maneuvered his fingers faster, fucking herself. His eyes gleamed as he stared down at her. His breath was uneven. He could barely contain his groans from spilling out. Here she was, fucking herself with her secret dildo through his evol. He didn’t know how much longer he could watch before he came.

She moaned onto his cock, the vibrations setting him off with another groan. The salty taste of his precum was all she could taste. His girth alone was stretching her mouth, forcing laboured breaths through her nose.

“You’re doing so well. Keep going. Keep fucking yourself.”

Maybe there was no shame in it. He wanted to see her fall apart. She pushed and pulled his fingers faster. Rougher. Brazenly pistoning the dildo in and out of herself. Her body jolted forwards, forcing his cock deeper in her mouth. She wasn’t sure she could fit more than half of him in her mouth without gagging. 

“Mmmph.” She couldn’t even speak. And his words only pushed her further towards the edge.

“Fuck, you feel you so fucking good. Keep going, baby. I’m gonna cum.”

She moaned in reply. Her mind was going delirious. Her fingers began to falter around his, losing pace of the toy. She couldn’t keep focused on so many things at once.

Caleb leaned down to her ear. “Want me to decide?” 

She groaned in approval, forfeiting control and letting her hand slide back down to his cock.

“Alright then.” The pace of the toy picked up. It was harder and faster, but she could take it. Her legs were shaking, barely able to hold her body up. She watched his fingers strain in their curled position, his frantic want for her to cum amplified through the dildo’s relentless thrusts.

“Are you going to cum?” 

She moaned in affirmation, voice getting frantic. Her walls were clamping down along the toy. To stop it? To keep it from pulling out? She couldn’t tell; all her thoughts had melted down into drool seeping from the corners of her lips. She felt the coil in her stomach twinge and strain as her legs shook.

“Fuck. Come. You can let go. Let go for me.” 

She whined, squeezing her legs together. The next thrust pushed her over the edge, snapping the coil and forcing her legs to squeeze as tight as she could. Caleb slowed his fingers, letting her ride out her orgasm. 

She sucked in a huge gasp of air before lowering back down on his cock. She was determined to have him cum in her mouth after that.

“Fuck. Holy shit,” he groaned. His grip on her head tightened, following her movements as she moved up and down his length. “Stop. I’m gonna cum.” She met his eyes and shook her head. “I’m going to come in your mouth. Please…” 

She gasped. “Do it. I want it.”

He groaned, throwing his head back. He couldn’t stop his hips from bucking, pushing his cock further into her mouth. She tried to swallow the gag, determined to let him finish. He bit his lip to filter out the sound of his groans as he came. Ropes of come spilled into her mouth. Hot and slightly thick. She furrowed her brows, not allowing any to escape. She wanted to be good for him.

He gave a few more weak thrusts up into her before sagging back down into the chair.

“You…” He laughed. His hands came around her face, lifting her off him. “Are you okay?”

She was breathless, forcing a smile through her exhaustion.

“Tired, but okay. How was it?”

“You killed me.” He wiped a hand over his brow. He was still using his evol to keep the dildo in place inside her. “Can I take it out?”

“Yeah. Slowly.” The toy withdrew from her and she winced as she felt the run of warm liquid down her thighs.

“Fuuck,” he dragged out. Despite the mess on both of them, he lifted her off her knees and pulled her into his lap. “Does it hurt anywhere?” She shook her head, leaning against him. He moved in to kiss her, but before he could she frowned.

“You want to kiss me? After all that?”

He shook his head in dismissal, scoffing at her. His lips met hers and he gave her a firm kiss. She felt her cheeks tingle at the sight. 

“Let’s stay like this for a minute. Then I’ll clean ya up, promise.”

She nodded, reaching up to brush his hair away from his sweaty forehead. A silence enveloped them as they caught their breaths.

She shifted in his lap, looking up at him.

“How come you were in my room?” 

He gave her an expression of feigned hurt. “Now I’m not allowed to come into your room?”

Shaking her head, the corner of her lips curled up. “I caught you snooping.”

He kissed her nose. “I think I caught you with something worse, you pervert.” Hell, he was never going to let her live this down. 

a/n: the idea that made me create a tumblr! This has unfortunately just opened my mind to what else his evol might be capable of. 

[morganbritton132]

This little idea (or this one) hasn’t left me yet so suffer through more of my ramblings.

Look, Eddie was gonna stay away from Steve.

He watched Steve swipe Billy’s keys off a table at lunch and then chuck them into the woods behind the school last week, and decided that he wants no part of that.

If King Steve is testing out teen rebellion, that’s fine but Eddie is eighteen and he doesn’t have rich boy money to bail him out when shit hits the fan. So…

He keeps his distance. He goes to class. He misses three days of school because he’s got laryngitis again. Now he’s sitting in a booth at the diner, miserably eating ice cream and watching Steve Harrington stroll in.

Steve didn’t have to sit with him. The diner was practically empty because it was 10:30AM on a Tuesday when everybody else is at school. So, no. Steve didn’t have to slide in across from him.

“I’m not driving you anywhere.”

“I wasn’t going to ask,” Steve says like Eddie was weird for thinking he might. “Got my car back. You sound awful, by the way.”

Eddie doesn’t say anything else because his throat is on fire, but Steve talks. He talks largely about nothing but in that way that you do when you haven’t talked to anybody in a long time which makes no sense. Steve is popular.

Eddie kinda spaces out because he doesn’t care about baseball, but his attention snaps back into focus ten minutes later when a hand clamps down on Steve’s shoulder. Steve is too casual, “Hey, Hop.”

“How’d the appointment go?” Hopper asks in a voice that sounds like it’s physically being restrained. “The MRI, right? Everything come back clear?”

“Clear as crystal, Chief,” Steve replies. “Got the uh, the A-Okay. Back to normal.”

“Uh-huh,” Hopper nods and then yanks Steve up by his shirt. “Then why’d Owens say you were a no show?”

Steve sputters. This is the first time Eddie’s ever seen him lost for words, but it doesn’t last as Steve scoffs, “That’s like a health code violation!”

He doesn’t get to say much else because Hopper pulls him out of the building. Eddie watches them argue in the parking lot and then pays his bill.

He’s leaving when Hopper marches back into the building but is luckily spared a glance from the chief. He’s not sure if Hopper even noticed him sitting there and he is fine with that.

What Eddie should do is get in his van and go home, but instead, he finds himself walking towards where Steve is waiting next to Hopper’s truck. As he gets closer, he sees that Steve is less waiting and more handcuffed to the side mirror so he can’t leave.

Steve rolls his eyes about the whole thing when he notices Eddie and then offers him a cig from the pack he stole out of the truck’s open window. Eddie shakes his head so Steve pockets the pack before asking, “You can pick a lock, right? I’ve seen you do it before.”

Eddie almost asks ‘when?’ but just sighs instead because…yes. He can.

Hopper returns to his truck five minutes later with coffee to an open handcuff dangling from his mirror. No kid in sight.

[rafeslittlepup]

Bunnywife reader goes out with the kids alone and a stranger insult her or even hit her.. she doesn’t wanna tell it to rafe but the kids tell it to rafe as soon as they get home.. Rafe get really mad

the whole thing was so small it almost felt embarrassing to even bring up. a rude man at the farmer’s market. he muttered some comment about how she was “taking up the whole sidewalk with that huge stroller”.

she shyly laughed it off, tugged the twins closer and offered a sweet “excuse me.” but then his elbow bumped her. hard. could’ve looked accidental to anyone else, but she knew, it wasn’t.

she didn’t cry, but she kinda wanted to, didn’t make a scene. she just kept walking. jamie was the only one who saw her hand shaking.

rafe was already on edge lately, closing deals, short-tempered, protective as ever, she didn’t wanted to complain and stress him even more. so she smiled when he kissed her forehead at the door.

“daddy,”

jamie said with a pout, clutching his toy car,

“a man hit mommy…”

ten minutes later, rafe was back in the car. he made jamie describe the man. where they were, what stall they were near.

she begged him not to go. “oh, it wasn’t a big deal, rafe. i didn’t even fall-”

“you didn’t even fall?” he repeated, eyes narrowing.

“some guy put his hands on you.” she flinched and he ran a hand through his hair.

“he touched you. with our kids there. and you were just gonna let it slide? don’t ask me not to protect you, baby. that’s the only thing i know how to do right.”

the next day the guy’s car got mysteriously pulled, his store was flagged for code violations. and though rafe didn’t say anything, there was a quiet donation from “cameron foundation” to rebuild a family-run fruit stand that some idiot had been harassing.

[kenntoria]

synopsis ୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ you and nanami babysit a friend’s baby for a day, get hit with baby fever a couple of times, and briefly imagine your future family — but by the end, you both agree you’re not ready yet, and that’s okay.

tori’s notes ᝰ.ᐟ did i mention that i am in love with him

you don’t know how it happened, exactly. one minute you were minding your business, eating grapes in bed and watching something trashy on tv, and the next your best friend was begging you to babysit her toddler for a day while she went on an impromptu out-of-town trip. some kind of family emergency, she said. just one day. she swore her baby girl was an angel.

you believed her. mostly.

“she just learned how to say ‘cookie,’” your friend had said, all proud over the phone. “it’s all she wants. you just have to tell her she’s already had three and she’ll believe you.”

which sounded suspicious. but nanami was standing in the kitchen, looking so devastatingly domestic as he stirred something on the stove, and when you said, “hey, what if we babysat a toddler tomorrow?” he just turned a little, blinked, and said, “i’ll need to pick up some groceries, then.”

and so now you’re here.

now you’re lying on the living room floor, on your stomach, with a two-year-old girl next to you who is currently… licking a book.

“no,” you say gently, reaching out to pull the hardcover away from her mouth. “we don’t eat books, baby. we read them.”

she looks at you like you’ve spoken ancient greek. then she sneezes on your arm.

“i think she’s wiped that book on her entire face,” you tell nanami, who’s seated cross-legged across from you. he’s wearing sweatpants, his hair slightly rumpled from when she kept grabbing it and saying “fuzzy!” over and over. he looks radiant. it’s honestly unfair.

“you said it was waterproof,” he reminds you calmly, reaching for a stuffed giraffe the toddler dropped. “she’s not doing anything to it that the publishing company didn’t anticipate.”

the toddler claps her hands. “cookie?”

you and nanami freeze.

you whisper, “did she already have three?”

he tilts his head. “depends if we’re counting the one she dropped in her lap and forgot about.”

you both look down at her. she’s smiling up at you like a baby who knows you’ll cave.

you melt.

—

a few hours in, you and nanami have entered a strange, fragile rhythm. it’s quiet when the toddler is entertained—she’s currently nesting in the pile of throw pillows on the couch—and tense when she’s quiet for too long, like the laws of physics are being violated. she doesn’t like loud noises or vegetables or when nanami isn’t within a three-foot radius of her. she does, however, love pressing her tiny hands to the window and saying “car!” every single time one passes, even if it’s the same one going in circles around the block.

she loves nanami.

and nanami—

he’s holding her on his hip while he makes lunch. a little piece of her hair is caught in the collar of his t-shirt and she’s babbling at him, unintelligible nonsense in the most passionate tone, like she’s giving a very important speech and nanami is the only one allowed to hear it.

he nods along, totally serious. “i see. yes. that’s a fair point.”

your chest squeezes.

“ken,” you call softly from the doorway, “you’re gonna make me ovulate.”

he gives you a flat look over the toddler’s head. “don’t say things like that with a child in the room.”

“but look at you,” you whisper, walking up and placing a hand on his back. “you’re like… ridiculously hot right now. if you don’t want me getting baby fever, don’t be all gentle and capable and handsome.”

he huffs. “you already have baby fever.”

you nod solemnly. “i know. i didn’t expect it to hit this hard. she called me ‘mama’ five minutes ago when she was sleepy and i almost burst into tears.”

nanami glances down at the little girl in his arms. she’s tugging on his collar with laser focus, her face slightly scrunched in concentration.

“she thinks i’m her dad,” he says.

you lean your head against his shoulder. “you’re giving off dad energy.”

“i’m stirring mac and cheese.”

“exactly.”

—

after lunch, you all go for a walk.

technically, it’s more of a march. she doesn’t want to stay in the stroller. she wants to walk. all by herself. she is, apparently, a big girl now.

she makes it halfway down the block before she’s reaching up with grabby hands for nanami again. and he—of course—scoops her up without a word, settling her against his chest like it’s second nature. like he’s been carrying her around her whole life.

you watch them with your hand tucked into his back pocket. your heart is swelling and swelling and swelling. your whole chest feels too small for it. your head spins a little with how easy this feels, how natural.

he catches your eye. lifts his eyebrows.

you mouth, baby fever.

he mouths back, severe case.

you grin.

—

back at home, while the toddler naps on nanami’s chest, you scroll through your phone and whisper plans to him.

“if we ever had a baby, i’d want them to have your eyebrows.”

“mm.”

“and your shoulders.”

“you want a very intimidating infant.”

you snort. “okay. i want your patience. your hair. your sense of calm.”

he’s quiet for a second.

“i want your laugh,” he murmurs.

you blink. “my laugh?”

he nods. “and your hands. and your sense of wonder. and the way you love people.”

you set your phone down and look at him for a long moment. the baby’s sprawled across his chest, one fist curled into the fabric of his shirt, her face completely peaceful. nanami’s got one arm gently supporting her, the other hand brushing her back in soothing little circles. and he’s looking at you like there’s nowhere else he wants to be.

and for a moment, just a fleeting heartbeat of time, you really believe it. you see it all. a house. a child. late mornings in bed, loud laughter, tired evenings, shared looks over the heads of tiny humans. us.

but then—

the toddler stirs. she snuffles, snorts, then rolls off nanami’s chest and promptly bonks her head on his stomach, which startles her awake. and she wails.

nanami sits up instantly. you scramble to help. it takes ten minutes of rocking and bouncing and hunting down a mysterious lost bunny plushie before she’s calm again, tears drying on her cheeks, her face buried in your neck.

you and nanami sit down heavily on the couch. your eyes are wide. he looks pale.

“that was terrifying,” you whisper.

“horrible,” he agrees.

“i got elbowed in the throat.”

“she kicked me in the kidney.”

you stare at each other for a long moment.

then he says, “i love you.”

you smile, soft and wide and warm. “i love you, too.”

he looks down at the toddler sleeping again in your arms.

then, very gently, “i don’t think we’re ready for this.”

you let out a laugh, careful not to wake her. “god, no.”

he leans his head on your shoulder. “thank god.”

—

by the time your friend comes back, the toddler is freshly bathed, fed, and completely passed out in nanami’s arms again. he’s got a smear of applesauce on his sweatpants and your hoodie is covered in bunny stickers. your place looks like a tornado tore through it. your fridge is somehow entirely empty except for juice boxes and half a cucumber. your back is killing you and you’ve watched encanto twice.

but.

your friend gasps when she sees them—nanami gently tucking the baby into her carrier, brushing her hair back with such tenderness it makes you ache a little.

“you guys are naturals,” she says, beaming. “you’d make such good parents.”

you and nanami share a look.

you both smile.

and then, at the exact same time:

“maybe in a few years.”

(you fall asleep that night tangled together on the couch, surrounded by stuffed animals, with nanami’s hand over your belly like he’s guarding the future. it’s not now. but maybe one day. and that’s more than enough.)

[neferaskingdom]

♡ Flirting? That’s a Track Limit Violation | MV1

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Leclerc!Reader [Face Claim: None]

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Summary: Y/N drops a cryptic elevator pic hugging some random dude and it’s like throwing a grenade into the F1 paddock. Charles and Arthur are ready to form an FBI task force, and the drivers are gossiping harder than a group of high schoolers at lunch. Max? He’s out here pretending he doesn’t care, but we all know he’s five seconds away from flipping a table. Nobody has a clue who the guy is, but Max is sweating, the internet is thriving, and the drama is peak entertainment.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

A/N: thank you soo much for 100 followers guys I never knew this many people would end up liking this little fic. screaming, crying, throwing up fr 😭. also sorry to everyone who had to read the wonky letters version. tumblr messed up my format and I had to individually fix the words.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Part 3 of my wheel-to-wheel but still in denial series: Masterlist

y/n_leclerc posted an Instagram Story:

📸: A blurry photo of Y/N hugging a guy in an elevator, only his back visible.

Caption: A single red heart emoji❤️

Replies:

danielricciardo:

Popcorn out. Watching the Leclerc brothers have an absolute meltdown in 3… 2… 1… 😂

charles_leclerc:

Who the hell is this guy? Y/N, answer me RIGHT NOW!

arthur_leclerc:

This better be a joke, or I’m tracking your location. WHO. IS. HE?

landonorris:

Wait… bitch did you just drop a boyfriend announcement with a blurry elevator pic?? DID MAX SEE THIS?!?

      ↪ y/n_leclerc:

What does Max have to do with anything???

      ↪ landonorris:

OH MY LORD I CANNOT WITH YOU TWO

georgerussell63:

who dis?

alex_albon:

I feel like I just witnessed the calm before the storm. Charles is going to explode. Arthur’s already spiraling.

y/n_leclerc posted a photo:

Liked by landonorris, pierregasly, alex_albon, and 500,903 others.

Comments:

charles_leclerc:

Y/N, explain yourself. Who’s this guy?

arthur_leclerc:

SIS, YOU CAN’T JUST DROP A HEART AND EXPECT US TO BE CALM.

maxverstappen1:

So… new friend? Or something else?

      ↪ landonorris:

Max, you sound… interested? 👀

      ↪ georgerussell63:

Max, if you’re going to be subtle, you’re failing.

      ↪ danielricciardo:

Can we all just take a moment to appreciate how Charles is losing his mind over this while Max tries to act like he doesn’t care? 😂

      ↪ alex_albon:

Max pretending this is just a casual question while we all know he’s about to punch a wall.

lilyzneimer:

y/n_leclerc, the WAGs feel personally betrayed. We thought we were your ride or dies! 💔

charles_leclerc:

NO ONE IS ANSWERING MY QUESTIONS, AND I’M ABOUT TO START FLYING TO FIND THIS GUY.

      ↪ arthur_leclerc:

Charles, wait for me. I’ve got your back.

      ↪ y/n_leclerc:

Can you guys relax? It’s really not that serious.

lilymhe:

Hello??? y/n_leclerc, you ditched us for a man??? What happened to me being the love of your life? 😭

carmenmmundt:

I thought I was your only love 😞. I feel betrayed babes💔

f1_gossips tweeted:

F1 drivers are officially in meltdown mode after Y/N Leclerc posts a cryptic heart emoji with a mystery man. Charles and Arthur Leclerc are leading the charge, while Max Verstappen seems unusually ‘curious.’ What’s really going on here? 🤔

Comments:

user1:

Max ‘I’m totally not jealous’ Verstappen is the best version of Max.

user2:

Charles is on the verge of hunting this guy down while Max plays detective in the background.

user3:

MAX PRETENDING NOT TO CARE WHILE LITERALLY SWEATING THROUGH HIS RACE SUIT. I SEE YOU, VERSTAPPEN

user4:

This is going to end with Max accidentally confessing feelings. You heard it here first.

user5:

Y/N dropping a single heart emoji and causing the grid to spiral. POWER MOVE. 😈

user6:

Max is acting like he’s not freaking out, but I bet he’s checking her Insta every 10 minutes.

user7:

Arthur and Charles are about to pull up with baseball bats, and Max is trying to act like he’s just ‘concerned.’

y/n_leclerc posted an Instagram Story:

📸: Screenshot of her Instagram comments blowing up with messages from drivers, brothers, and the WAGs.

Caption: Y’all are doing TOO much. Chill, it’s not what you think! 😂

Replies:

charles_leclerc:

IF IT’S NOT WHAT WE THINK, THEN TELL US WHO HE IS. 😡

arthur_leclerc:

Sister, you better have a GOOD explanation for this. We are not playing.

landonorris:

Bro, Charles is about to have a meltdown, and Max is getting quieter. I don’t know which one is scarier.

danielricciardo:

I’ve never seen Charles so unhinged, and I live for this chaos. 🧨

georgerussell63:

You’ve been eerily quiet for someone who usually has a lot to say. Dont tell me this is serious?!?!

y/n_leclerc posted:

📸: Y/N and her best friend posing dramatically in the same elevator.

Caption: Relax, it’s just y/n_bff, my best friend. 😂 Y’all really lost your minds over an elevator hug, huh? Charles, Arthur, you can calm down now.

Liked by charles_leclerc, danielricciardo, landonorris, and 420,876 others.

Comments:

charles_leclerc:

ARE YOU KIDDING ME?! YOU MADE US ALL PANIC FOR THIS?!

arthur_leclerc:

Y/N, YOU CANNOT DO THIS TO US.

maxverstappen1:

So… just a friend, huh? Good to know.

      ↪ landonorris:

Max, let out the biggest sigh of relief

      ↪ danielricciardo:

Max pretending he wasn’t two seconds away from launching an investigation.

      ↪ alex_albon:

Max, it's ok to breathe now. 😂

lilymhe:

Y/N, we need to talk about this betrayal. A PRANK AND YOU DIDN’T TELL US? 💔

      ↪ carmenmmundt:

You better make it up to us. We feel personally attacked.

f1gossips tweeted:

UPDATE: Y/N Leclerc has revealed the mystery man is just her best friend, but the damage has already been done. Max Verstappen, despite claiming not to care, was very quick to ask for details. Fans are now speculating on Max’s sudden interest. Could there be something brewing? 👀 #MaxYN #LeclercBrothers #PrankChaos #MaxNotJealous

Comments:

user8:

Max is like, ‘I’m not jealous, but… WHO IS THIS GUY?’ 😂

user9:

Charles and Arthur over here ready to fight while Max is low-key spiraling.

user10:

Max trying so hard to be subtle and failing MISERABLY.

user11:

Y/N is playing with fire, and I LOVE IT. She’s making Max sweat.

Groupchat Messages: (maxy/n truthers):

dudududu:

So… no real boyfriend?

albono:

Max, she literally just said that. You can chill now.

dudududu:

I wasn’t not chill. Just… you know, looking out for her.

albono:

Uh-huh. You sound real concerned for a ‘friend,’ Max. 😂

shoeysupremacy:

MAX, JUST ADMIT YOU’RE JEALOUS. IT’S PAINFUL TO WATCH.

norizz:

Max pretending not to care is the worst acting I’ve ever seen.

georgieporgie:

It’s the slowest, most awkward flirtation I’ve ever witnessed, and it’s amazing.

Twitter Reactions:

user12:

The longer this goes on, the more I think Max is one step away from confessing his feelings.

user13:

Max: ‘I’m not jealous, I’m just… CONCERNED.’

user14:

Max watching this whole thing unfold like it’s the worst pit stop of his life.

user15:

Max really out here pretending he didn’t have a minor breakdown over a blurry elevator pic.

y/n_leclerc posted a photo:

Caption: guys I think this might be my favourite spot now.

 Liked by charles_leclerc, danielricciardo, landonorris, and 220,896 others.

Comments: 

maxverstappen1:

Just making sure. No weird guys in elevators, right?

      ↪ y/n_leclerc:

Max, stop worrying about elevators. You’re being ridiculous.

      ↪ maxverstappen1:

I’m just saying. You could do better than a blurry elevator hug. Maybe someone who drives fast for a living. Just a thought.

      ↪ danielricciardo:

OH MY GOD, MAX IS FLIRTING. MAX IS REALLY DOING THIS.

      ↪ landonorris:

Max ‘I’m not jealous’ Verstappen is actually… shooting his shot? 😂

      ↪ georgerussell63:

Y/N, this is your fault. You’ve broken Max.

user16:

MAX FLIRTING??? IS THIS REAL LIFE???

user17:

Max really out here going from ‘I’m not jealous’ to flirting in the comments. What a journey.

user18:

I LOVE THIS. Y/N has Max spinning, and it’s beautiful.

user19:

Max flirted, and the world just shifted on its axis. Did anyone else feel that?

user20:

Max shooting his shot in the most awkward, Max way possible is sending me.

y/n_leclerc posted a photo:

Caption: Sunsets🌞

Liked by charles_leclerc, maxverstappen1, landonorris, and 426,276 others.

Comments:

maxverstappen1:

The only thing more beautiful than this sunset is you

      ↪ y/n_leclerc:

...Max, what are you doing?

      ↪ danielricciardo:

OH MY GOD, MAX, DID YOU JUST— DID YOU JUST FLIRT IN PUBLIC? 😂

      ↪ charles_leclerc:

MAX, WHAT THE HELL IS THIS?!! 😡

      ↪ arthur_leclerc:

YOU’RE DEAD, VERSTAPPEN.

      ↪ landonorris:

Y/N, RUN. MAX IS LOSING IT.

      ↪ lilymhe:

Y/N, is this your new strategy? Break him down with elevator pranks and watch him crumble? Genius.

user21:

MAX REALLY WENT FOR IT. This man is shooting his shot ON MAIN. 😱

user22:

Y/N’s sundress got Max sweating more than a red flag in Q3. 💀

user23:

Charles and Arthur in full meltdown mode while Max is out here simping. We LOVE TO SEE IT.

user24:

MAX JUST FLIRTED IN THE COMMENTS LIKE IT’S CASUAL?!

y/n_leclerc posted a photo:

Caption: Caffeine fix ☕

Liked by maxverstappen1, danielricciardo, landonorris, and 420,876 others.

Comments:

maxverstappen1:

Bet that coffee isn’t as sweet as you. 😘

      ↪ y/n_leclerc:

MAX, STOP. WHAT ARE YOU DOING. 😳

      ↪ landonorris:

STOP. MAX, YOU’RE MAKING IT WORSE. 😂

      ↪ danielricciardo:

MAX, YOU CAN’T JUST DROP FLIRTY COMMENTS EVERYWHERE. Y/N’S IN SHOCK. 💀

      ↪ georgerussell63:

Max, for real. Are you okay? Blink twice if you need help.

lilymhe:

Y/N, please explain what kind of witchcraft you used to make Max simp THIS HARD. I need tips. 😂

alex_albon:

I’m both terrified and impressed at how fast Max has gone from 'I don't even like her' to 'full-on simp mode.'

charles_leclerc:

MAX. ENOUGH. I CAN’T HANDLE THIS.

      ↪ arthur_leclerc:

I’m grabbing the car keys. We’re handling this in person.

user25:

Max flirting in broad daylight while Charles and Arthur spiral into madness. THIS IS PEAK ENTERTAINMENT.

user26:

I need a documentary on how Max went from ‘I fucking hate her’ to dropping flirty lines under every post. 💀

user27:

Max is playing the long game. But damn, is he bad at being subtle.

user28:

I can’t decide if I’m living for this or dying of secondhand embarrassment for Y/N. Max, STOP. 😂

user29:

Y/N, blink twice if Max has you trapped in a flirty comment loop and you don’t know how to escape.

y/n_leclerc posted a photo:

Caption: “In the presence of great art, time stands still”

ps. yes I did copy that from google 🤗

Liked by landonorris, pierregasly, alex_albon, and 500,903 others.

Comments:

maxverstappen1:

Tried to focus on the art but my eyes keep wandering back to you

      ↪ alex_albon:

MAX, WHY ARE YOU LIKE THIS? 😵

      ↪ landonorris:

Max, bro… this is getting uncomfortable. 😂

      ↪ danielricciardo:

MAX IS GOING FULL ROMEO. SOMEONE STOP HIM BEFORE IT’S TOO LATE.

      ↪ georgerussell63:

Y/N, how are you even still functioning with this level of public simping?

      ↪ pierregasly:

I’m cackling. Max is like a flirty tornado right now. 💀

user30:

Max is one more flirty comment away from proposing marriage on Instagram Live.

user31:

Y/N is going to have a nervous breakdown at this rate. Max, CHILL.

user32:

Charles is gonna have a full-on crisis meeting about Max’s public simping. 😂

user33:

Max flirting with Y/N like he’s auditioning for a rom-com. WHAT IS HAPPENING.

user34:

Y/N trying to roast Max while he keeps throwing out flirty comments is actually hilarious. I hope she survives this.

user35:

Max went from “just friends” to dropping Shakespearean lines in under 24 hours. ICONIC.

DMs between Max and Y/N:

y/n_leclerc:

Max.

maxverstappen1:

Yes, Y/N? 😏

y/n_leclerc:

We need to talk. Immediately.

maxverstappen1:

Am I in trouble? Because I can explain everything. 😇

y/n_leclerc:

MAX, WHAT IS GOING ON WITH YOU? The flirting in the comments?? I literally had to restrict my brothers from my posts to stop them from finding and KILLING YOU. 😩

maxverstappen1:

You restricted them?! 😅

y/n_leclerc:

YES. Because you’re out here leaving cheesy flirty comments like we’re on Love Island or something! And the public thinks we’re secretly dating. WHAT ARE YOU DOING? MAX. You’ve been openly flirting with me in front of CHARLES. On Instagram. IN FRONT OF THE WORLD. They’re going crazy.

maxverstappen1:

Oh, right. I forgot about the brothers. Oops. 😅

y/n_leclerc:

Forgot about the brothers?? You’re practically signing up for your own funeral. 😩

maxverstappen1:

Come on, Y/N, it’s not that bad. 😏

y/n_leclerc:

...Max. I’ve got people DMing me, my brothers are two steps away from driving to your house, and the internet is convinced we’re dating. You're taking the jokes way too far, and I don’t know what you’re playing at, but it needs to stop.

maxverstappen1:

...I wasn’t joking.

y/n_leclerc:

Excuse me?

maxverstappen1:

I’m not joking. About the flirting.

y/n_leclerc:

MAX. WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU’RE NOT JOKING?! 😳

maxverstappen1:

I like you.

y/n_leclerc:

...Like, “like me” like me?

maxverstappen1:

Yes. 🙃

y/n_leclerc:

No. This is a prank. You’re pranking me. Where’s the camera? WHERE IS IT? 😵

maxverstappen1:

It’s not a prank, Y/N. I’ve liked you for a while.

y/n_leclerc:

MAX. You can’t just drop a BOMB like this in my DMs. What the hell do you mean “for a while”?!

maxverstappen1:

Years. 😅

y/n_leclerc:

YEARS?! WHAT DO YOU MEAN YEARS?! 😱

maxverstappen1:

I didn’t say anything because I didn’t want to ruin our thing. You know, the teasing, the banter. But when I saw that elevator post, I thought you had a boyfriend. It freaked me out. I realized I had to say something.

y/n_leclerc:

Oh my god, this is so much worse than I thought. 😵‍💫

maxverstappen1:

I didn’t want to mess things up, but I can’t keep pretending. I care about you, Y/N. More than just friends. I had to shoot my shot.

y/n_leclerc:

...You saw one blurry elevator pic and had a full-on emotional breakdown?

maxverstappen1:

Pretty much, yeah.

y/n_leclerc:

Max, this isn’t real life. This is some Netflix rom-com level nonsense, and I’m... confused.

maxverstappen1:

I know it’s sudden. But I’ve liked you for years. I just didn’t want to lose you and watch you love someone that wasn’t me

y/n_leclerc:

...oh.

come over

maxverstappen1:

what? 

y/n_leclerc:

come over to my place so that I can kiss you dumbass cuz believe it or not but I kinda like you too

maxverstappen1:

OH 

gimme 5.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

[reiding-writing]

I don't know if you're taking requests but imagine cold!reader killing someone like they're working on a case and the unsub reminds her of her professor and everything he did so when she ends up facing the unsub she doesn't hesitate and pulls the trigger, like how would spencer and the team react to this?

ONE BAD DAY. /spencer reid/

all it takes is one bad day for you to regress back to the beginning.

s11!cold!reader angst 3.1k series masterlist. main masterlist.

AN | kinda somewhat merged a few asks together for this one, hope it’s alright 🤞 MENTIONS OF RAPE AND SA

You’re halfway through the briefing when the bile rises.

On the projector, a smiling man in a white coat beams out at you. Dr Elliot Keene. Forty-two. Respected neurologist. Devoted husband, award-winner, keynote speaker. Also, allegedly, a rapist.

Not just any kind—no, his victims couldn’t scream. Couldn’t move. Couldn’t even blink. Coma patients, sedated and voiceless, tucked away in pristine hospital rooms, their bodies trusted to his care. The bastard violated them anyway.

Hotch’s voice is steady as he outlines the case. There are four confirmed victims so far, and at least two more under review. Garcia’s findings link Keene’s security badge to restricted access during odd hours. No alibi. No witnesses. Just enough to take him in, if he’ll come quietly.

You don’t realise your jaw’s clenched until your molars ache.

“Keene’s wife is cooperating,” JJ adds, flipping through her notes. “She says he’s been... different lately. More paranoid. Sleeping in his office.”

“Because he knows he’s going to be caught,” Morgan mutters.

There’s a short pause before Hotch turns to you. “Alright. You and Reid will take the south wing. Keene was last seen on camera heading that way. He’s probably trying to get out through the staff tunnels.”

You nod, maybe a beat too fast. “Copy that.”

You feel Spencer’s eyes on you as you head to gear up. He doesn’t say anything—of course he doesn’t—but he watches. He always watches. And it’s not even that you mind, most days. But today, you can’t take it. The weight of his concern. The gentle, knowing worry that radiates off him like a low hum.

So you avoid his gaze. Pull on your vest. Strap your sidearm with practised ease. Keep moving, keep busy. Keep your stupid hands from shaking.

—

The hospital is colder than it should be. Sterile tiles under your boots, flickering fluorescents overhead. You and Spencer move in tandem, clearing corridors, checking closed doors.

He glances at you after a moment of silence too long. “You okay?”

You don’t look at him. “Fine.”

“You seem—”

“Spencer,” you cut in, sharper than intended. “We’ve got a suspect to find.”

He backs off, but you feel the shift in his posture. He’s not convinced. You don’t blame him.

How could you be fine?

Every step echoes with ghosts.

You don’t think about him on purpose. But this—Keene—it’s too close. Too familiar. Another respected man behind closed doors, taking what he thought was his by right.

Back then, it was his hand on your shoulder during late office hours, his mouth too close to your ear, the way he’d remind you of your grade before inviting you for “extra help.” You were nineteen. Desperate to pass. Desperate to be believed. You tried to cut it off after the pregnancy, and he didn’t listen.

And how could you have told anyone? Your academic career was at risk. A lack of a bachelor’s degree, a student too young to be given a jump up the rungs of the ladder.

Potential, was what Wittchen saw in you. Or maybe you were just an easy mark.

Just like Keene’s patients couldn’t scream, you hadn’t been able to either.

You shake it off. Grip your firearm tighter. Focus.

—

The comms crackle. Hotch’s voice comes through. “Target spotted. East car park. Looks like he’s trying to get into a vehicle.”

You and Spencer pivot, heading through the lower corridor and out onto the side lot. The late afternoon sun hits your eyes hard. You blink once. Twice.

There he is.

Keene.

Sweat clings to his brow. His lab coat’s gone, replaced by a rumpled hoodie and jeans. He’s crouched low behind a row of parked cars, just barely visible.

Hotch’s voice cuts in again. “We’ve got him boxed in. He’s surrounded. Proceed with caution.”

The rest of the team fans out. Morgan and JJ take the west, Rossi to the north. Spencer shifts beside you, waiting on your call.

You don’t hesitate.

“I’ll talk to him,” you say.

Spencer’s brow creases. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

You move slowly, gun raised, your voice loud but level. “Dr Keene! FBI. You’re surrounded. Step out with your hands where I can see them.”

There’s a pause. Then, slowly, he rises.

He looks worse up close. Pale. Shaking. Still trying to keep his arrogance intact, but you see the cracks. His eyes flick from you to the others, calculating.

You keep walking. “Hands up.”

He lifts them, but his left hand dips slightly. Towards his coat pocket.

“Don’t.” you warn.

But he keeps moving.

Just a bit more.

Your finger squeezes the trigger before the thought even finishes forming.

And he drops like a puppet with its strings cut.

The silence is deafening.

—

You don’t move at first.

You hear shouts behind you—Rossi calling in for a medic, Morgan yelling something you can’t quite make out. Spencer’s voice, sharp with alarm. But it all feels distant. Muffled.

The body’s lying still. A slow, blooming pool of blood beneath the torso.

Then Hotch is beside you. Calm, but there’s steel in his voice. “What happened?”

“He reached into his pocket.”

Morgan jogs over, crouches beside the corpse. Gently, he peels back the man’s fingers. A black pistol lies in the dead man’s hand. Safety off.

“Well,” Morgan mutters, “she wasn’t wrong.”

Hotch exhales through his nose. “Lucky.”

His eyes land on you. Not in anger. Not yet. But disappointment? Worry? Yes.

And that’s worse.

“You were supposed to give him a chance to surrender,” he says quietly.

“He didn’t look like he wanted to surrender,” you reply, your voice flat.

“That’s not your call to make in a moment like that—”

“He had a gun.” you snap, louder than you mean to.

Hotch’s jaw tics. “We'll review your body cam. Go wait by the vehicle. Now.”

You don’t argue. You just turn and walk.

—

Spencer catches up with you as you reach the SUV.

“Hey,” he says softly.

You ignore him.

“What happened back there—”

“Don’t.”

He steps in front of you, gently. “I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

Your fists clench.

You don’t want this. You don’t want his concern, his softness, his damned vulnerability.

Not now.

Not when you can still feel the weight of the trigger against your finger. Not when the ghost of your professor is whispering in your head, reminding you how powerless you’d felt then—and how powerful you feel now.

So you turn on him.

“I said don’t.”

Spencer flinches, just slightly. But he doesn’t back off.

“Look, I know this case is—”

“What? You know?” Your voice is cold enough to freeze the marrow in bones. “You think because of what happened last year you know how I feel right now?”

He doesn’t answer.

You step closer. “You don’t. So stop acting like you can fix it.”

Silence stretches between you.

He opens his mouth. Closes it again. Looks, for the first time in a long while, genuinely lost.

You get in the SUV and slam the door behind you.

—

The motel is nondescript and quiet, a leftover from some 80s renovation. The kind of place with vending machines that still take quarters and beds that creak if you breathe too hard.

You toss your gear on the desk and sit at the edge of the bed.

The tremors start once you’re alone.

Your fingers twitch. Your shoulders ache with tension. The adrenaline’s worn off and left nothing but static behind.

You get up, move automatically. Strip off the vest. The boots. Turn the shower on, wait for the water to run hot. Step in. Scrub harder than necessary. Watch the blood wash down the drain—even though it’s not yours. Never was.

Later, you sit in the dark with a half-finished takeaway container and the TV on mute. Some local news broadcast flashes images of the hospital scene. A blurred body. A headline: Respected Doctor Killed During FBI Arrest.

Your name won’t be in the papers. But it’ll be in the report. In the quiet, knowing glances from your team. In Hotch’s tense sigh. In Spencer’s silence.

You can already feel it.

The shift.

The way they’ll look at you tomorrow. Like you’re dangerous. Like you’re broken. Like you’ve gone backwards.

You dig your fingernails into your palm.

Fine.

If that’s what they want, they can have it.

You survived this long by not feeling.

You’ll do it again.

—

Quantico is colder than it should be. Not in temperature. In tone. In presence.

You walk the halls like a ghost—quiet, distant, untouchable. You’ve stripped yourself back to something basic. Efficient. Ice-cold. Just like you used to be.

The change is obvious.

Morgan sees it in how you don’t smile anymore. JJ in the way you no longer linger to ask about her family. Garcia, especially, feels it in your voice—monotone, clipped—when you answer her questions like you’re checking boxes. Even Rossi, who’s known his fair share of emotionally distant agents, watches you with a kind of reluctant déjà vu.

But it’s Spencer who feels it the most. Because he remembers who you were before all this—back when you didn’t let anyone in, when the walls were ten feet high and reinforced with sarcasm and disdain. It took years to dismantle that fortress. And in one day, it’s like you rebuilt it brick by stupidly reinforced brick.

He doesn’t want to push. He knows better than most that pressure makes you retreat deeper. So he tries subtlety. Soft re-entry. An offered coffee. A quiet word. A gentle presence at your side during debriefings.

But today, when he follows you out of the briefing room and quietly offers to walk with you to your car, you cut him down with five words.

“Mind your own fucking business, Reid.”

It lands like a slap.

You don’t even look at him when you say it. Just brush past and disappear down the hall, your coat swinging behind you like a closing curtain.

Spencer stands frozen for a beat. Then turns, slowly, like he’s just walked into a gust of cold wind.

—

He doesn’t try again that night.

He lets you drive home alone, even though every fibre of him wants to be in the car with you, making sure your hands don’t shake on the wheel. Making sure you eat dinner. Making sure you sleep.

But he knows you.

Knows this is fear wearing the face of fury. Defence disguised as cruelty.

So instead of following you immediately, he calculates.

He gives you time. Watches the clock.

Thirty minutes to get home.

Fifteen to change. Ten more to pretend you’re fine. Another twenty to heat food, or pour yourself a drink. Maybe you'll put something on the TV. Maybe not.

When the hour mark hits, he gets in his car.

—

You open the door before he knocks a second time.

The look you give him could sour milk.

“Jesus Christ, Spencer. What the hell are you doing here?”

Your voice is lower than usual. Hoarse. You haven’t cried—he can tell. But you haven’t exactly been relaxed either.

“I wanted to talk to you,” he says quietly.

You don’t move to let him in.

“Not in the mood for a lecture.”

“It’s not a lecture,”

Your eyes narrow. “Looks like one.”

Silence stretches between you.

He swallows. “I’ll stay in the corridor if you want me to,”

You sigh, deep and exhausted. Then step back.

“Five minutes.”

He steps inside.

You close the door, but your back never turns fully toward him. A survival habit. Always keep the exit in view.

Spencer stands awkwardly in the entranceway for a beat, then speaks.

“I know you think you’re dealing with this,”

You roll your eyes and move to the kitchen. “And here comes the lecture.”

“It’s not,” He follows, not too close. “Just… do you know the statistics of trauma patients who process events alone versus those who share with even one trusted person?”

You open the fridge. Pull out something left over. Chicken, maybe. You don’t look at him.

“I’m a Psychologist. Of course I do.”

“Sixty-eight percent show measurable improvement when they talk. Thirty-four percent get worse when they don’t.”

You move to the microwave.

“I’m not one of your subjects, Spencer.”

“I know.”

He’s pacing now. Quiet but relentless. There’s a tremble in his voice, but it’s not fear—it’s urgency. Desperation dressed in facts.

“But you’re you. And I’m me. And I love you. And I’ve watched you do this before—go cold, shut down, shut everyone out. I know why you do it. I even get it. But that doesn’t mean I’m going to let it happen without trying,”

You say nothing. Pour sauce over the chicken. Grab a fork.

“I know you’re hurting,” he says softly. “I know the case… I know what it reminded you of.”

You freeze just a second. A breath. Then keep moving.

“I don’t need pity.”

“It’s not pity. It’s love. I love you. And you’re hurting.”

You don’t answer.

So he keeps going.

“I read this paper last year—it was about emotional suppression in law enforcement, and it talked about how the illusion of control is one of the hardest addictions to break. We think if we can control the reaction, we can control the pain. But really, we just displace it. Store it in the body. It shows up later—migraines, insomnia, nightmares, fractured relationships. Do you even realise how much you mean to us? To me?”

You sit at the table. Eat quietly.

He doesn’t stop.

“I can’t lose you to this. I won’t. And I know you think pushing us away keeps you safe, but you’re making things worse. You’re not a problem to be solved. You’re someone I care about—deeply. And I—”

His voice falters.

You keep eating.

He clears his throat. “It hurts. Watching you go back to the version of yourself you’ve worked so hard to grow out of.”

You still don’t respond.

He takes a shaky breath.

“You hurt my feelings today,”

The fork pauses, halfway to your mouth.

Your head turns slowly.

“I hurt your feelings?”

It comes out sharp. Disbelieving. A little too loud for how quiet the room is.

Spencer blinks. Opens his mouth. Closes it again. Like he wants to rewind the words back into his vocal cords.

You stand. Cross the room.

“You haven’t stopped talking since you got here, don’t freeze up on me now.” you say firmly, “Stand up for yourself.”

He looks up at you, startled.

“If there’s anybody you can be honest with, it’s me. So stop acting like I’m some fragile thing you need to walk around. If I was cruel, say it. If I crossed a line, tell me.”

He licks his lips.

“You weren’t cruel,” he says. “Not really. But the way you shut me out—it felt like you didn’t trust me with the worst parts of you. You told me you’d confide in me about these things, but you gave up the second it got hard,”

You look away.

“I know why,” he continues, “I know it’s not about me. But it feels like it is.”

You stay quiet.

He steps closer.

“We talked about this. About communication. About letting someone stay even when it’s uncomfortable. And I know it’s hard. I know everything in you is telling you to keep this locked down, to bury it and move forward like nothing happened. But I want you to want to talk to me. I need that. Not just for me—for you,”

You finally look at him.

“I don’t have to say it out loud for you to know what the problem is.”

“I want you to say it anyway,”

You hesitate.

Then, “I’m not ready,”

His face softens. Just slightly.

“Okay,”

You take a breath.

“I need you to go back to your apartment now,”

He doesn’t move.

“Please, Spencer. I’m asking,”

He nods, slowly.

And you think that’s it—he’ll leave. Walk out, let the silence swallow everything again.

But then you say it.

“I’ll come over in the morning,”

He looks up.

“For breakfast,” you clarify. “Before work,”

A pause.

“Maybe I’ll be ready to talk then,”

You don’t promise.

But you offer. And for someone like you, that means something.

He gives a small, tired smile. The kind that doesn’t quite reach his eyes, but tries.

“Okay,” he says again, this time softer.

You walk him to the door. He doesn’t touch you. Doesn’t try to hold your hand or kiss your cheek or squeeze your shoulder.

But you both linger for a moment before he steps out.

And just before you close the door, you hear him say, “Thank you,”

[kerosenee-kisses]

Afternoon Delight | Itoshi Rin

summary: rin gets home from practice a little earlier than usual, only to find you in the middle of your afternoon cat nap.

cw: 18+, afab reader, no pronouns, proplayer! rin, established relationship, somno, dubcon, briefest mention of suicide (rin would rather die than break your trust, essentially), spit, choking lite

a/n: i didn’t think i would write anything else about rin but he seems to be my muse!! this was a lot of fun to write and i hope you enjoy!

I have so many ideas i want to bring to life, here’s hoping that I'm able to do just that. banners by @cafekitsune

wc: 1.8k

tags: @rroxii

It wasn’t every day that Rin got to leave practice early. Especially not three days ahead of a major game. But the summer hasn’t been particularly forgiving as far as the weather is concerned. Apparently, conducting practice amid one of the worst heatwaves in recent history is considered, as you so aptly put it this morning, “A human rights violation.” 

“I’ll kill your coach for not cancelling practice,” you’d hissed while you both had an especially early breakfast – his coach wanted to get as much done before the heat became unbearable. 

So, home is exactly where Rin finds himself when he’d normally be in the middle of grudge match scrimmages. It pisses him off that the weather is screwing with his conditioning, but at least he can spend the afternoon with you for once. You’d begged and pleaded with him to stay at home with you from the time you woke up until you begrudgingly kissed him goodbye. At least he knows you’ll be thrilled to see him. A small smile quirks up his lips, but he schools his features at once.  

A blast of glacial air greets Rin when he opens the door to the apartment. It’s a much-needed respite from the scorching afternoon sun. Rin drops his duffel and removes his shoes at the entryway. He tries not to feel too disappointed that you haven’t launched yourself at him in greeting. In fact, you haven’t acknowledged his arrival at all.  

Rin calls out to you as he moves through the empty living area. There’s no sign of you in the kitchen or dining room. You’re not in the home office either, even though you had promised to lock yourself in there and write all day. Thankfully, he finds you sleeping soundly in the bedroom, tucked under your favorite blanket. It’s even colder here than in the rest of the apartment.  

“What the fuck is your problem, you hate the cold,” he mutters as he raises the temperature a few degrees. He’ll never understand why you insist on turning the room into an ice box just so you can sleep with that garish, fuzzy blanket you’ve had for forever. You rarely sleep without it, though there’s nothing special about it other than it being fucking hideous. So much so that Rin had almost thrown it away when he was helping you pack ahead of your moving in. You’d nearly cancelled the move altogether. Nearly cancelled his life, too.  

Even with such a hideous blanket on, Rin regards you fondly. You’re so lovely when you sleep, so serene. He strips down to his underwear so he can join you for your nap. He doesn’t make a habit of sleeping in the middle of day, but he is easily seduced by the idea of holding you close. Considering you normally wrap yourself in this blanket like it’s your sarcophagus, Rin removes it easily enough. But his mouth dries upon his success. You lay in bed fully naked, body soft with sleep and glistening with a sheen of sweat.  

It’s difficult for him to think straight. There’s something darkly erotic about your bare body, presented to him so enticingly. Blood rushes to his cock so suddenly that he’s left lightheaded. You’re too beautiful, you’re too vulnerable. He wants to kiss and bite all over your pliant skin, wake you with his cock, and he’s mortified about it.  

Rin settles into bed beside you despite the warring thoughts battling through his head. He’s 94% certain that you won’t mind him doing this. In fact, he thinks you’ll be entirely too pleased, smug even, to see what you’ve reduced him to. But what if he betrays your trust? What if you hate him for it? He’d have to kill himself. 

Rin grazes your already pebbled nipple with his finger; each swirl around the pert bud draws it even tauter.  

“You drive me fucking crazy,” he whispers against the skin of your breast. “You should take responsibility for that.” 

Rin lowers his mouth to your nipple and sucks. The taste of sweat on your skin, the scent of your perfume, your shaky breathing, overwhelms his senses. You overwhelm his senses. If he didn’t love you so damn much, he would resent you for making him feel so out of control. 

Rin skates his hand along the slick skin of your stomach, supple satin beneath his palm. The feel of it is addictive. He needs to touch even more of you. Eager, Rin eases his middle finger into your cunt and your breath hitches. He looks up at your face and is equal parts relieved and aroused by the relaxed expression decorating it. Why does he find you so irresistible always?   

You squirm when he pushes his ring finger into your wet heat too. He finds a rhythm that pulls a sleepy moan of his name out of you. It goes straight to his foggy head, and he sucks on your tit even more earnestly in the hopes that you’ll say his name again. 

Rin’s not sure what siren song your sleeping body is serenading him with, but he is helpless against it. Each of his movements is dictated by a lust he has never known.  His own breathing speeds up when your arousal gushes out with each pump of his fingers inside you.    

Rin sits up so he can push your legs apart, enough for him to kneel between them. Your pretty cunt is dripping wet for him. While he’s desperate to have a taste, his cock, strained and throbbing in his shorts, is too hard to ignore. He taps the head of it on your clit and you both jolt at the contact. Rin slicks himself with your arousal before he nestles his cock between the glistening lips of your pussy. His entire body runs even hotter now that he’s inside you. Maybe he should’ve left the AC blasting after all.  

He rocks into you so deep that the headboard knocks into the wall. More of your arousal gushes out of you with each determined thrust. Your hips lift to meet his and Rin grits out a swear. He can’t believe the way you’re unconsciously reacting to him. 

He takes hold of your waist and fucks into you hard. Your pussy clenches down on him so tight he feels white hot pleasure sear down his spine. You’re so pretty like this, fucking yourself on him in your dreams. You whimper and moan until a focused thrust into your sweet spot makes your eyelids flutter. Rin grips your waist even tighter, intent on waking you up now. He needs your eyes on him. He slows his pace to deep, languid thrusts of his hips into yours.  

“Rin, what’s going on?” you ask sleepily. 

Rin cradles the back of your head in his hand and lifts it so you can see where you two are joined. Your body tenses, your brow dips as you come hard on his cock. Each scream of his name sends shivers down his back. He slows his movements so he can watch the pleasure surge through you.  

You lift yourself onto your elbows and kiss him like you would much rather devour him instead. He groans when you take his bottom lip between your teeth and tug.  

“Oh, my fucking god,” you moan into his mouth. “Fuck me again. Want you deeper, baby.” 

 Rin pulls away from you abruptly, leaving you gasping as he moves to stand up. You look about 5 seconds away from cursing him when he takes hold of your hips and pulls them to the edge of the bed. He sinks his cock back into you and really fucks you into the mattress. The way you’re looking at him in awe, with unshed tears shining in your eyes, makes him feel like he’s your god. Like he means everything to you.  

He needs to show you that you mean everything to him, too. 

Rin hooks his arms under your knees and pushes them back until they’re nearly flush against the bed. You whimper as he fucks against your sweet spot more sharply than before. He’s focused on making you scream his name again and again and again, until it’s the last word on your lips.  

Rin kneels onto the bed and bends you in half. He grunts at how soft and hot your tight walls feel around his cock. They draw him closer to your core so you can melt into each other. 

“Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop,” you whimper tearfully. You grab onto his lower back to pull him deeper still.  

Your lips part on a heated cry of his name, and you stick your tongue out for him. He’s turned on but confused by the sight beneath him until he realizes that drool is dripping from his panting mouth. Rin lets it drip between your parted lips, then he spits onto the center of your tongue. You sound absolutely debauched beneath him as you groan his name and it shuts down his brain completely.  He lowers himself onto his elbows and kisses you again. Rin licks along the length of your tongue and you jerk up into him. 

“Fuck,” he grunts as your pussy pulses around him. Rin reaches between your trembling bodies to play with your clit as his thrusts slow. He kisses and licks your neck, and you tighten around him. The snug fit of you wrapped around him is almost too much. He hisses again and sinks his teeth into your frantic pulse point.  

“Rin!” you shriek as pleasure washes over you. He’s never seen you more satisfied. And it’s all because of him. 

He shivers when you run your fingers through his hair. You drag your nails along his scalp and Rin moans. He feels your touch everywhere, down to the soles of his feet. His rhythm stutters as you pet along either side of his neck, stroking from under his ear to his shoulder. Gentle caresses that burn him up inside. He’s so close, and you being so affectionate with him is fanning the flames. 

You rest your hands on either side of his neck and press your thumbs into it. Rin’s mind goes blank. He drops his full weight on top of you, his heart beating out of his chest, desperate to reach yours. He presses into you sloppily, near delirium as he cums for you. 

He gulps in a lungful of air when you release him, and he kisses you boneless into the bed. You push at his chest so you can both steady your breaths. Wonder sparkles in your gaze.

“Wow...Just when I thought you couldn’t get any sexier,” you sigh into his mouth.  

Rin’s entire body heats up and he buries his face into your neck again. He grows even hotter when your carefree laughter reaches his ears, as embarrassing as it is captivating.  

“Don’t worry, baby,” you say into Rin’s hair. “I’ll be sure to return the favor.” 

[writerpeach]

Studious Seduction

Oh My Girl Arin x m! reader

10k words

Thanks to @i-am-lifeform24 for help with editing

Part One | Part Two

---

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"This seems like a bad idea, Miss Choi."

"It's a terrible idea, professor. Which is why we're doing it." 

Without a doubt, there’s very little chance that you won’t be spotted here. Heading up a stairwell that leads up to who knows where is hardly ideal, especially with the sudden rain shower that's started to pour above, foreshadowing this bad decision made in tandem. 

Yet, you’ve never been one to make the best choices. An inappropriate relationship with one of your students has to be ranked at the top of the list, wrong for a myriad of reasons—all that could get you fired. Still, it somehow continues unimpeded, knowing the risks, both of you doubling down even. 

At this point, you’re not sure if you’re a bad influence on Arin, or if she’s a bad influence on you. 

To make matters worse, today’s outfit of choice is this poor excuse for a school uniform that draws all your attention. A risky little ensemble that consists of a white shirt and black tie combo that only pretends to be proper, covering very little of her midriff, as well as this dark little pleated miniskirt so short it might as well not exist for how little of her thighs it hides. It leaves more of her creamy skin uncovered, and being her professor, you know it's not appropriate to look—yet you can’t stop yourself from doing so anyways. 

And then there’s those dark frames on her face, the cherry on top that puts this whole thing together, that takes her from an innocent, responsible student more than invested in class, to this devilish vixen who struts into your office, demanding to be ruined, never taking no for an answer. 

There’s almost no room for imagination, offering you such an obscene view when Arin heads up the stairs, purposefully walking in front of you with slow, deliberate steps. You can see the shape of her perfectly round butt cheeks exposed, her tight fitting thong doing anything but covering up delicious pale flesh. Of course, she knows exactly where your line of sight goes when you walk behind her, making an effort to shake her wide hips a little more with each step, giving you a shameless view of her tight, succulent ass.

This outfit is every dress code violation she could possibly make rolled into one. 

But who's going to admonish her? You? Who can't even think logically at the moment when all your thoughts have turned to mush? Not a chance when all you want to do is slip your hand between her thighs too delicious to resist until she makes a mess on your fingers, the floor, and anywhere else that becomes collateral damage.

Right now, you have the perfect opportunity for exactly that. You’ve lost track of how many steps you’ve walked, but eventually, the stairwell comes to an end, with a set of metal double doors that leads up to the rooftop. As good a place as any other, you think, especially when there's little reason anyone else would want to venture towards the top level during this never-ending rainstorm.

“Here?” you question, when Arin presses your back against the cold wall just underneath the final level of the stairwell. A solitary gaze into her eyes is all you get before she wraps her hands around your neck and plants a heated, sloppy kiss on your lips. She nods in affirmation, but doesn’t give you the time to catch your breath, slipping her tongue into your mouth to make an attempt to taste all of you.

“It's really open here. Pretty easy to get caught," you tell her when she moves from your lips, placing wet kisses across your jawline, moving lower down to your neck. 

"That's the point, professor." Arin places your hands firmly around her waist, leading you exactly where she wants your touch. Her legs spread a little further apart so you can push her skirt up, revealing just how tiny of a thong she's wearing. "I don't care if we get caught. Make a mess of me—" 

She sighs when your fingertips press against her clothed core, so aroused you can already feel her slick leaking through the flimsy fabric. You add more pressure in response, rewarded with Arin's soft gasps against the sensitive skin of your neck.

"We could get in a lot of trouble, Yewon," you breathe out, barely paying attention to anything beyond this. In fact, you hardly care about what could go wrong either, so consumed with lust, one singular desire that Arin shares, and your fingertips ache to slip underneath these panties and sink right in. 

"When has that ever stopped us before?" 

She has a point. 

This is risky as it gets. And that’s what makes it all more exciting. 

Without wasting any more time, you slip a finger underneath the fabric of her panties, into her ridiculously warm cunt. A second one slides in right after, and soaked as she already is, barely puts up any resistance, the entrance of her tight little hole eagerly swallowing you up.

“Professor—“

A few strokes is all you manage before Arin throws her head back in delight, rolling her hips, moaning from nothing more but your fingers slowly pumping in and out of her needy cunt. 

Arin clings to your shoulder as the tempo picks up, her other hand quickly traveling down your torso until it reaches your pants. She finds the button to your slacks right away, unzipping them to slip a hand inside your boxers. You let out a groan when she runs a gentle hand along the length of your shaft, slow and teasing—until she wraps her entire hand around it and grips you tight.

“Yewon..." A wave of pleasure rushes through your whole body. She's stroking your cock with such a perfect grip, slender fingers reaching down to fondle your balls, eager for what they’ve stored up just for her. Meanwhile, the sounds that come from her own throat as she rides your fingers become a necessary distraction, urging you to thrust into her a little faster, a little rougher— 

"How many loads are you going to give me today, professor? I hope they're all as thick as they were yesterday—"

It's rather ridiculous, the things you hear come out of Arin's mouth. The demure looking girl in the front row, raising her hand up high, blushing just at the sight of you, now says the filthiest things when she's got her mouth on your earlobe and her pussy filled with your fingers. She's every bit the opposite of an exemplary student, but you suppose that's your fault, given you're the one who's trading straight A's for the roughest, raunchiest sex that almost always ends up with you finishing inside her. 

But the way Arin sounds when she moans directly in your ear, riding your fingers so selfishly while they stay buried inside her cunt, it makes you forget all that. None of that matters. All that does is satisfying her needs and yours, and you won't stop until she's absolutely drenched your fingers, even if it ruins that pathetic pair of panties. 

"Don't stop, professor. I'm so close…"

She's lost all inhibitions in her frantic desire to keep rocking her hips hard against your fingers. You can feel the tension about to snap, her walls squeezing the life out of your slick digits—all while she tries to keep a steady rhythm in her own pumping, giving your cock a good squeeze each time your fingers plunge to the hilt.

"Professor, please, don’t stop, don’t stop—" Arin’s breathing grows unsteady, heavy, and she gasps for air between every syllable that escapes her lips. You’ll do everything to oblige her, steadily thrusting, curling your fingers to find that sweet spot that gets her to moan the loudest until she lets go of your cock, clinging her entire weight onto you.

"You're gonna make me fucking cum—"

Nothing gets said in response, obeying Arin’s pleas, an uninterrupted stream of juices beginning to coat your fingers while she lets out one continuous moan, unable to speak coherently upon climax. Biting down hard on her bottom lip, she nearly draws blood before the wetness gushes down your fingers, rendering her panties useless, completely ruined with all this sticky arousal.

Her walls flutter around you, this explosive orgasm lasting far longer than you expect—but you don’t let up, pumping away as she spills more, riding this out until it turns into a second one shortly after. And when you press your thumb firmly against her clit, right as she starts to come down from her high, the violent trembles in her body repeat, sending her over the edge a third time, forcing her body to shake against yours, another loud, shameless moan spilling out of her in overstimulation. 

It's a wonder how the rest of campus hasn’t heard the screams echoing all the way down the staircase. Were it not for the rain pouring overhead drowning out her cries of pleasure, it would be near impossible for anyone passing by to not hear a thing. So you’re blessed by the rains, both above, and between Arin’s sticky thighs. 

After it’s all said and done, she can hardly support her own weight when the sensation of your fingers inside her becomes too much for her oversensitive cunt, Arin’s sweaty frame nearly toppling over as she breathes heavily. Good thing you're right here to do what she temporarily can’t, clinging to your body, your hard cock still poking against her as you keep her upright amidst these intense aftershocks. 

"That was, fuck—you've really outdone yourself, professor. I can hardly stand."

When you pull your fingers out, you can’t hide the smirk that spreads across your face with all this slick clinging to your fingertips as she leans on your body to take a breath. The praise washes over you while Arin unexpectedly grabs your wrist, bringing your soaked fingers, all the way up to her lips to fervently suck the delicious liquid off. 

You intently watch her lick herself off you, tongue lewdly swirling around the length of each wet digit, making an effort to swallow all of her mess. Her lips glisten with spit and wetness, a ravenous look in her bespectacled eyes as she cleans whatever she can, tasting every drop of her delicious essence, staring at you seductively until nothing is left. 

"Guess I don't need these anymore," Arin says after a pause, gradually recovering as she peels her drenched thong down her legs, letting it drop to her ankles before she slips it off, stuffing it into your front pocket. A cute little smile later, and she looks more than eager for what's next, unable to tear her gaze away from how hard you’ve been left thanks to her. 

"I should finish what I started, don't you think, professor?" 

You don't even get to answer when Arin drops to her knees on the cold floor, tugging your pants and boxers further down, freeing your cock that so desperately needs it—so desperately needs her. With a cute, light giggle, she spits onto your swollen shaft, pumping the entire length with her delicate fingers, a low moan rising in your throat as she pays extra attention to the underside where she knows you're the most sensitive.

Her slender fingers work up the length of your cock, coming back down with a grip so wonderfully tight. She’s so ready, so eager to have her soft lips around it already. You can practically see her salivating when she leans in a little closer to lap her tongue around your cock in one long, lazy lick, pressing her lips into a light kiss on the tip of your shaft. 

“Yewon—“

You can’t hold in a grunt when Arin rubs your tip against her mouth, not opening up enough to take you whole yet, instead tracing her full, soft lips over your needy cockhead. 

“Don’t you worry, professor. Gonna make you feel so good. I promise.” 

The anticipation explodes all at once as she parts her lips, slipping the entire head of your cock inside. The moment her wet mouth makes contact with your shaft, you groan at the sudden warmth, a sharp contrast from her icy cold hands. She takes more of your length down, hollowing her cheeks, keeping an intense, erotic gaze while slowly bobbing her head up and down. 

"Mhmph—" Her warm breath sends shivers down your spine as her lips slip further and further down, the tip of her tongue flicking against what hasn’t disappeared into her mouth. You can’t help but let out all types of unabashed moans while she guides more of you inside, spit dripping down to your balls as she slides deeper, until nothing of you is left to swallow up, the head of your cock hitting the back of her tight throat with ease. 

"Yewon, fuck,” you say, nearly breathless, and the way Arin looks up at you with her mouth so proudly sealed around every inch—there’s nothing better. “I'll never get enough of your pretty fucking mouth.” 

Arin hums against the length of your shaft at your praise, working more of her magic on you, lips getting down so devastatingly deep against your base. She’s oh so eager, so unwaveringly committed to covering every single inch in saliva. Her hot little mouth slides down effortlessly, bobbing her head back, each stroke just a bit sloppier, a little wetter than the one before, with zero intention of giving you a chance to gather yourself.

“Nobody gives a blowjob like I do, right, professor? Nobody can make you cum as hard as I can. I love being on my knees for you so much, being a good little slut for my professor. That’s what I am, aren't I?"

Nodding your head is all you can do, breath heavy in disbelief of how good this oral assault is, the enthusiasm on display really proving how much Arin enjoys having your cock shoved down her wet, inviting throat. 

You’d sacrifice your entire livelihood for a blowjob like this. 

It’s quite simple to lose track of how many times her talented mouth takes your entire length down, so good at pleasuring you it's impossible to find words. The way her wet tongue flicks against your slit when she slides off, only to have you plunging all the way back into the heat of her throat—it's far, far too good.

"I want you to cum on my face, professor," Arin tells you, so casually as she pulls away for a brief second before going right back to licking up the length of your hard cock, spitting all the excess saliva over the rest of you. Then she’s back to placing hungry wet kisses against each inch, her tongue making a slick path before she gives the leaking slit of your cock another teasing, torturous swirl. "I want all of it."

At this rate, you think you could blow a load anywhere she wanted you to, already so close to bursting just at her tongue lavishing your cock with these feverish licks. She has this way of making you feel so special, like worshiping your cock is all that matters to her, your pleasure the most important aspect in her life. Her greedy mouth proves just that, making you groan so easily, especially when she dips down to pay attention to your balls and slurps so messily on them like she wants your load at any cost. 

A few lazy licks down your sack and you’re back down her throat—just trapped there helplessly as she holds you, her pretty mouth so goddamn overwhelming when she swallows as much of your length as she possibly can, not showing even the slightest hint of strain. Her full lips stay motionless when they slide right down to your base, gaze locked tight, making your cock throb within her tight, wet throat. 

“Stay there, Yewon, shit,” you groan, hands clutching her head against your crotch to speed up the path to climax. Each second she remains there feels like absolute heaven, fostering all this unbearable bliss, all while those doe eyes speak for her when her mouth can’t—impatiently waiting, desperately wanting to empty your balls. 

When she releases her lips from your length, there’s a sexy little gasp that comes with the messy string of saliva pulling her back down. Repeating the act, she plunges right back down, nose nestling comfortably against your abdomen, lips wrapped entirely around the base of your length. “Yewon, god, you know what’s gonna happen if you keep doing that.“ 

"Oh, you’re gonna cum? Want you to paint my pretty face. Don’t you, professor?” 

There’s no answer to offer other than what she wants, all thoughts drowned by another wet slurp when Arin once again takes every inch of you down her throat, the overwhelming warmth of her mouth suffocating your length. Then she rises, exposing your shaft to the cool air for only a moment until her throat tightens when you’re back down, fully sheathed. 

Arin’s so dedicated to hearing you moan that these steadfast strokes show no relent, slurping from base to tip, hair all a mess as she bobs faster and faster, maintaining never-ending eye contact that’ll be the death of you.

“Need it. Need it so bad, your hot cum dripping down my face when I walk back down these stairs. Can’t wait to feel how thick and heavy a load you’ll give me.” 

Her pace only begins to go into overdrive, picking up rampantly when Arin places her hands on your thighs for better stability, the hot slickness of her mouth far too much to handle. She takes every inch, all of you disappearing down, without needing to stop to take a breath, like she’s proving a point at how good she can get you off. There's no restraint as she bobs her head without inhibitions, sloppily, noisily, not even gagging when her throat delivers an unimaginable level of pleasure. 

"Oh my god, Yewon, fuck—"

With each desperate stroke, you're so close to that edge, quickly approaching the inevitable. The tightness in your balls grows beyond your control, and there’s no time to think straight when her mouth feels this fucking good, almost there, absolutely about to—

"I'm gonna fucking cum, Yewon," you groan out just in time, with no qualms about how needy you sound. One last slow descent down to your base, then Arin pops your needy shaft from her mouth right when it seems you’re about to burst any second. 

And looking as salacious as possible, she simply tilts her head slightly backwards, jerking you off while directing the tip of your cock straight at her face, eagerly anticipating the release that's about to cover her.

“Cum all over me, professor.” 

You let out a strained, guttural moan the moment your first pearlescent stream shoots out, streaking across the bridge of her nose. These frantic strokes don’t let up, guiding your milky seed that unloads onto the perfect target—her glasses, coating the lenses in white and getting it all over her rosy cheeks. Another strand fires off as she shifts your cock downwards, a thick stream blasting across her parted lips that deserve so much of this load for helping you reach an explosive release. 

She pumps, and pumps, until there’s nothing left, and by the time your orgasm winds down, Arin is a total mess, one you’ll never get tired of seeing your load plastered all over her. Her stunning features wear you like a proud smile, drenched in her handiwork, thick streaks that cling to her cheeks, those soft lips, and anywhere else it happens to land as she strokes your length to ensure not a drop goes to waste. 

That look is all too familiar when the weight of your load starts to drip down, an orgasmic feeling that brings a grin onto her cum-stained face.

“That’s a big load, professor. Just what I wanted," she says as she removes her stained glasses, taking a nice, long lick right over the lens and making a show of the entire thing. "I think I'm obsessed. With your cum. It tastes so good, but looks better on my face."

"Yewon—you're ridiculous, you know that?" you tell her as she carefully slips the glasses back on, and wipes up whatever has run off to the corners of her lips, bringing her sticky fingers into her own mouth to slurp them clean.

"It's not my fault my professor's cum tastes so good."

But before she can even begin to clean off your cock, or savor what an absolute mess she’s covered in, the sound of footsteps nearby force her to stop mid-stroke, causing both your heads to turn with a shared look of panic. There's only enough time to tuck yourself back into your pants, but there's nothing to do at all about this massive load that's dripping all over Arin, nor what’s done a number on the stairwell. 

"Get behind me, Yewon. Quick."

Arin nods and does as you say, scrambling to her feet, also making sure her thong is still tucked away into your pocket as you zip your pants up. The sounds of footsteps echo louder, yet there's only one real way to escape this stairwell, because you're not going out that door when the rain hasn't let up one bit. 

When the moment those footsteps approach the stairwell entrance, they slow to a halt, making your heart beat faster. Arin moves fast enough to get behind you just in time, out of sight and behind your broad frame. And the two of you wait there, her body pressed against yours, trying to hold her breath, dreading to explain yourself to whoever just made this abrupt end to your fun. 

"Professor? Is that you?" The voice sounds so familiar, but you can't quite pick it out, too muffled by the rain. But there's no doubt you've heard this voice before. It's certainly one of your students, so at least you won’t have to explain this to a faculty member. "What a surprise, seeing you here!"

Normally, you'd have all the time in the world for pleasantries and small talk, but this is the last place where you can do anything of the sort as you try to shield Arin. From who exactly, you have no idea as they walk into frame. Their name escapes you, not that you really care when all you want is to get out of this situation. 

"Is something the matter, professor? Why are you standing there?"

"Oh, uh, nothing. I had some time between classes and came up here to check out the rain. It's not letting up is it?" You put on the best smile possible, knowing Arin can't be spotted right behind you. Luckily, your taller frame can block her body completely, and given how the area is poorly lit, there isn't much worry about the mess that's on her face at the very least.

"No, it isn't. We don't usually get so much rain this time of year, huh?" The unnamed student asks as she glances out the window, and for a brief second you fear the worst—but she doesn't seem to notice anything at all that shouldn't be there. "I didn't even bring an umbrella today either..."

"You might check the library, they'll have them."

"The library?"

"They used to offer some a few months back, but I guess everyone forgot. I'm sure they still have a few left."

"I might give that a try then, thanks. It's good to see you, professor." 

When your student smiles and waves goodbye, heading back the stairs without another word, you're able to finally breathe a huge sigh of relief, knowing the ordeal is finally over, despite taking years off your life. "Jesus, Yewon."

"That was close.” Her own breath stays ragged and heavy, almost completely forgetful to the mess you've left on her face that still glistens. "Good save. Really pulled that umbrella story out of thin air, didn’t you?” 

“Whatever it takes. Hey, they might have umbrellas. I’ve never gone there except to rail you.” 

Arin laughs, then suddenly remembers she still has your filth all over her. “Better go clean up I guess..."

"This was a really terrible idea."

"Hey, this was my terrible idea," Arin corrects with a grin that manages to shine through all the mess. "And I don’t hear you complaining about me giving you a nice, sloppy blowjob, professor.” 

“I could never complain about seeing my favorite student on her knees.” 

“I'll go on ahead. Maybe I'll see you later? For office hours?"

You say nothing more as you let her pass you to head down the stairs first, standing here a bit longer for your heart rate to calm before you too make your exit. You've got a class in under an hour that you haven't prepared for, and now how could you, coming so close from potentially losing your job. But yet, somehow, through all that, Arin was right—the rush of getting caught is exhilarating, but that was far too close for comfort. 

✦ ✦

So after all that, logic would dictate that you should be a little more careful, that maybe you should stop having sex with your student in places you're bound to get caught—but logic went out the window the moment you bent Arin over your desk for the very first time. What else are you going to do though, take her home to your apartment where there's actual privacy, where you don't have to keep quiet?

That sounds so very drab and mundane, and you'd rather spend another ten hours grading papers than go the proper route. You don't even know what you would do if you wound up in Arin's bedsheets, having all the freedom to rail her for hours instead of the thrill of being in public where you have to be quick and quiet.

There's nothing wrong or unhealthy with this relationship. Not one bit. 

You've told yourself on multiple occasions that you should dial it down a notch, not meet quite so often, or at least not in places that will put your career at risk. After all, your luck is going to run out one of these days, and the day could very well come when more than just a student catches the two of you, maybe one of the other professors, or god forbid the university staff. 

And then it's all over for both of you. 

Yet, there isn't a day when you don't seek each other out, find some empty closet, a vacant faculty office, or that spot near the back of the library that's so dusty that no one frequents. 

The risk is almost as good as being balls deep inside Arin itself. 

You can't exactly help yourself when she wears these slutty little outfits that practically beg you to rip them off her, nothing but the shortest skirts imaginable to class, where you have to stop your eyes from wandering throughout the entirety of the lecture. 

Arin sits in the front row for a reason, and that's not to get a better view of the whiteboard. No, it's so she can spread her legs open when no one's paying attention, flash whatever sexy pair of panties she has underneath (or the lack thereof on occasion), and sometimes even play with herself so she can show off how wet she is. 

Somehow, no one's really noticed how often you have her in your office, where there's less talk about class going on, and more your head buried between her thighs, or having her bent over your desk in some obscene position with her mouth stuffed by her ruined underwear and screaming through it.

With everything that’s transpired today, one would think you’d call it early and pack up. Not you though. Not even an hour has gone by since your close call, and Arin is in your office again, sucking you off underneath your desk while you work on grading papers—at least you should be, if only you could focus for more than a few seconds without this warm mouth slobbering on your cock. 

"I bet none of your other students can deepthroat you as good as I can."

"You said you were going to be quiet."

"And you said you were going to fuck me, professor."

You haven't exactly broken that promise, it's more like Arin decided she wasn't going to wait until you finished, always finding an excuse to get in her favorite position whenever she wants to suck you off. 

Luckily, for your students, you're going to be in such a tremendous mood after finishing in this girl's hungry mouth. These papers are downright horrendous—so fucking awful and unreadable it makes you wonder if you should intentionally pound Arin in your office with the door wide open, just so you’ll get caught, lose your job, and never have to deal with some of these students ever again.

Not even a few papers in and you’ve lost every ounce of focus, groaning while Arin empties your balls, her mouth right at your base when your spills right down her throat. With your fingers gripping the back of her head, it's impossible to not avoid bucking your hips into her pretty, sloppy mouth as she drains each thick shot from your pulsing cock, swallowing it all with pride to make sure there's not a single trace of your creamy release that hasn't gone directly into her stomach. 

"All those students probably failed anyways," she tells you, letting the saliva fall from her lips as she shows off her empty mouth with a pleased smile, planting a nice, loud wet kiss on your tip before getting back up to her feet.

"Yeah? Including you?"

"Of course not, professor. We both know before you even look at my paper that I've got a perfect grade." 

"Is that so? And what have you done to deserve that, Yewon?" 

Before you've even gotten your pants back on properly, Arin is already claiming a spot on the edge of your desk, undoing her tie so that it hangs loosely around her neck, and then spreads those luscious thighs as wide apart as they can go, her gorgeous, dripping pussy on display without any underwear in the way. "I can think of a few things. Doesn't emptying you down my throat count for something?"

"Hm, I dunno,” you ponder, shamelessly staring between those delectable thighs at what’s all yours. “Maybe a few points. That'll get you a passing grade at best."

"Just a few? What about all the times I've ridden your cock this week alone, professor? And how many times did you cum inside me?"

"I've completely lost track, Yewon. I guess that'll get you at least ten percent higher."

"How generous of you," she retorts, tone all full with playful sarcasm, unbuttoning her white shirt enough so you can see the color of her bra. It's purple, just like the thong in your pocket that serves as a nice trophy. "Are you forgetting how many times I took your thick cock in my ass until you blew your load inside?"

"Does that really count if you beg me to do so every time you step in my office?"

"Oh no, you can't blame me for how much you love my ass, professor. That's at least twenty points."

"That's a little greedy, don't you think?"

"Absolutely not. If anything, I deserve extra for all those times I let you fuck my face," Arin suggests, spreading her legs further apart to give a clearer view of her bare cunt that’s glistening so beautifully, accompanied with a set of fingers teasing herself for your benefit. 

"Again, you're forgetting the part where you keep dropping down to your knees and begging for it."

Arin can't help but smile, both at knowing you're right—and also how you can't take your eyes off the show her fingers put on when she rubs at her clit, getting wet so easily from playing with herself while staring into your eyes. It's the look on your face that drives her crazy and gives her the urge to show off even more, sliding two digits past her swollen lips into her tight hole, so eager to get herself off in front of you. 

"What about now, profess—" she asks before a moan interrupts her words, leaning backwards to prop herself up so you can watch every bit as she fingers herself. "Does this count for anything?"

"It depends. If you can make yourself cum without my help, then maybe, that'll bump up your grade, Yewon."

"Twenty-five. For making myself cum right in your office," she manages between hitched breaths, pumping her fingers deep in and out, almost bucking her hips off the table at her own touch.

"Twenty. You're not there yet, Yewon," you correct, watching Arin roll her head back with her eyes shut, so beautiful when she's in bliss, achingly sexy how her slender fingers disappear knuckle deep into her own cunt. You've barely had any time to recover since emptying your load down her throat just a minute ago, but the mere sight is more than enough to have you as hard as the wooden desk she’s writhing on. 

Arin reaches down to further unbutton her shirt, giving the full glimpse of her breasts covered up in that pretty lace as her tight frame falls back against the cold surface all splayed out. While this shameless girl continues fingering her pussy, you simply enjoy the view, stroking your cock every few seconds to spur her on. Every desperate moan and gasp from her lips gets louder, all that nectar trickling down between her spread thighs you’re dying to lick clean—but you won’t, because she has to do this on her own. 

You let the lack of words exchanged linger in the air while Arin fingers herself a bit rougher, moving a bit more frantic, knowing all the signs from experience that she isn't too far from that much craved release. 

“Professor," Arin breathes out, the quiver in her voice an obvious indication. Her fingers get so drenched, pulling them out from her heat for a moment to reveal how sticky wet they are as she groans, not bothering to hide how she slides them back in to curl right into herself. "Oh god, professor—“ 

When the pleasure becomes too much, when her back arches off the desk with breathless cries, there's no missing the split second Arin's entire body tenses up—thighs quivering, fingers buried so deep you can hear the wetness while she shakes on the desk from the intensity of her orgasm. It's a moment of euphoria that's only reached because you're watching so attentively, eyes glued the entire time as she rides her fingers long past completion, toes curling, moans echoing through your small office.

Even when Arin is finished, she's unable to regain her composure for more than a few ragged breaths, eyes still closed while the bliss hits hard, long after her high. And you savor every second of her looking so beautiful in this post-climax haze, an absolute mess on your desk that you’re thankful hasn't soaked into your papers.

"Fuck, that was too good, professor," Arin murmurs, slowly pulling her fingers out from herself, just to rub her oversensitive clit, borderline crying from the overstimulation. “It’s too bad it wasn’t your cock I came on.” 

"Then maybe I should deduct points for that?"

"Hey, that's not fair… you just told me—I’d get points for making myself cum."

"I did, but—you would have earned extra for waiting for me to do it. Guess you'll just have to earn back those points another way."

"How exactly should I do that, professor?" Arin asks with the best faux ignorance possible, sitting herself up to scoot off the desk, then leaning down to wrap her slick fingers around your shaft. "If you bend me over and pound me with this cock until your cum is leaking inside me, would that be enough?"

"Perhaps. That would certainly help raise your grade some points.” 

"Give it all to me then," she pleads, giving your cock a handful of languid strokes, just enough to leave a nice trail of her slick along the entire length. "Fuck a load into me, professor. Fuck your top student all over this office."

"Top student? Really?" You can't help but laugh at that, knowing full well Arin is certainly anything but. Far from it actually, not even top ten. "Then I better go find her then."

"Hey! Just shut up and give it to me already," Arin says with that pout still intact, keeping these strokes going on your cock that make you throb so easily, and you’re not sure who needs it more at this point. 

"Fine, but not here. I'm tired of this place. Let's go somewhere else."

It's rather late into the afternoon, with the majority of classes for the day having ended already. That leaves enough of the campus vacant, lowering the risk of getting caught wherever you decide to take Arin—but the risk still isn't zero. Wandering around the university after hours isn't the best idea, especially when there are plenty of places for students to hang out, and worse, faculty offices open late.

So you keep it simple. 

You keep several feet ahead of each other, heading up a couple floors to that really small bathroom by the science department that no one ever uses because it doesn't lock properly. There are much bigger and better bathrooms scattered about, so everyone usually forgets this tiny, shabby thing exists, especially late into the day. Not the most romantic spot, but it’s suitable, and keeps you from scouring the halls without having to dodge other faculty and students. 

You enter first, flicking on the light, and do a quick scan around the room while Arin slips in, pulling the door shut as quickly as possible. There's nothing but a toilet, a sink, and a mirror, but most importantly it looks clean, which is the most important thing. It's not that surprising given that nobody really uses it to begin with.

It’s as perfect a place as ever. 

Double checking the lock still doesn't work, nothing has changed on that front. Arin quickly moves to lean against the wall, and she’s already unbuttoning her shirt, all the way this time, to give the full view of those perky breasts without any bra to ruin the view. You're on her in a flash, claiming those lips with a kiss full of nothing but aggression to match just how badly you want to ruin this girl right now.

"Fuck me," Arin urges as she palms your bulge through your pants, impatient to get your cock inside of her. Her fingers fumble with the button to your pants, thoughts clouded with desire, and she’s so eager to release your aching shaft, to give it all the attention it so desperately craves.

You’ve got just a modicum of patience left to not let that happen quite yet.

Instead, with your lips still attached, you pick Arin’s slender frame off the ground, and guide her over to the sink, placing her there as gently as you can. When she settles down on the edge of the counter, there's no hesitation to shove that tiny skirt up past her waist, revealing her absolutely beautiful cunt still left glistening in the aftermath of her orgasm from a moment earlier, and you're just dying to fill her all up. 

Still, somehow you hold back for a moment, to let it all sink in. The sight is divine enough, this privileged student of yours in this rather pathetic excuse for a school uniform, half naked, shirt wide open with her tits fully out, that barely-there skirt, and those sexy thigh highs that bring all the attention to her immaculate thighs that make you want to ruin her even faster. She knows that’s your biggest weakness, knows how weak in the knees they leave you whenever you get to slide them off with your teeth—but now they make her look like pure sin. 

"I know you wanna get that dick in me," she says, voice so sultry, and her thighs spread obscenely wide apart, so that every inch of her mouthwatering cunt is put on display with not a drop of modesty—not like Arin even knows what that word is. 

"Not yet. Haven't gotten to taste you today." As per usual, Arin’s been more than a little greedy, and it feels like she’s had her lips on your cock all day and this is the first opportunity to return the favor. 

Any protest in those pretty eyes doesn't last when her hands wrap around your skull, drawing your face straight between her thighs that you have no trouble diving into. With your lips feasting on her cunt right off the bat, you give Arin all the attention she craves so badly, licking along the length of her slit, all the way up until your tongue starts flicking at her engorged clit. 

"God, so fucking good," Arin breathes out, the silence in the empty bathroom getting cut with all her beautiful moans that ring out. For your efforts, you’re rewarded by her thighs locking around your head, as your lips get a tight seal around her swollen clit that has her grinding that delicious cunt all over your mouth. 

"Professor!" she chokes out, while continuing this harsh grip on the back of your head while you slurp on her clit so mercilessly, every bit hungry to taste all those delicious juices that spill out. "Oh my god, professor, oh fuck!"

Your mouth doesn't quit, because nobody tastes better than Arin. You're an addict, every bit obsessed with this girl's cunt since the first time that you slid between these thighs. There's nothing you love more than this, her taste lingering on your tongue, all while these delicious thighs squeeze around your head, suffocating you perfectly as you eat her out with so much fervor she almost can't handle how good you make her feel.

"My god, Yewon—you taste so fucking delicious," you tell her between long licks, slurping on her clit without restraint to savor every last bit of her soaking cunt. "I can eat your pretty pussy all day. For hours and hours."

"I won't say no to that, professor.” Her desperate hands dig into your scalp to hold your face right there, exactly where she wants, where she needs, gasping when her hips grind down against you. "Fuck, your tongue is so, so good."

This is your favorite part about going down on her, being trapped between those perfect thighs that squeeze and tremble while you sloppily eat her out, drowning in her heavenly aroma and all this nectar, her delicious pussy that tastes even better the longer you indulge. 

It's never enough though, no matter how much time you get to spend with your tongue buried inside her cunt, or how many times she cums all over your face—the taste of her is heaven, and you love turning this girl into nothing more than a whimpering, quivering mess who can’t even think straight. 

"Just like that, professor, fuck, don't stop, oh my god, don't fucking stop, please—“

She whines so freely while grinding down hard against your hungry lips you can hardly breathe. Not that you have any problem about that, because you know exactly where Arin is, can feel those thighs vibrate all around you to know those limits are about to be surpassed, and you don't plan to let up for even a moment.

You ramp up your efforts in devouring her cunt without a moment to rest, your tongue all over her clit, sucking so harshly, so relentlessly, drowning in these delicious juices. It’s obvious how Arin's hips can't stay steady for a second longer, seconds from losing herself entirely. "Professor! Fuck, I'm so fucking close. Keep going, keep—oh fuck, right there, I'm gonna cum so fucking hard, fuck—"

Arin bucks her hips into your face with wild abandon, her juices smearing across your lips when you bring her to the verge of release, until she finally topples over completely. 

Everything goes muffled while she keeps her thighs squeezed tightly around your head, violently trembling throughout her orgasm as you lick her through the entire thing. Like every other time you've brought her over that blissful edge, it's beautiful, turning your face into a mess, and you greedily lap up everything that freely spills into your mouth from her overflowing cunt. 

When those thighs let off and relax, you look up at Arin's blissed out visage, completely enamored in the pleasure, shivering and trembling with a high-pitched squeal as you give her clit one more loud slurp for good measure. Your focus then shifts back to her messy folds, delving deep into them to clean up those juices she's gushing so profusely, a never ending stream of wet, sticky deliciousness. 

"Fuck, your cunt always tastes so amazing," you mutter, lapping at the girl's slick covered thighs, getting out every drop that leaks out with a few soft licks. Arin stays motionless on the counter, looking straight up to the ceiling while her chest heaves, still seeing stars.

After indulging a little while longer, and spending all the time necessary getting those warm thighs mostly clean, there's only one thing left to do. Your mouth pulls away, but only so you can yank your pants down to your ankles, your stiff cock aching to get inside of her. 

"Gonna fucking ruin you, Yewon. Hope you’re ready for me to wreck that tight little cunt."

"When am I not? Please, give it to me already," Arin desperately pleads, pulling herself from her haze to look at the throbbing length you're stroking as her eyes beg you to sink in and fill her up. 

Sitting herself up on the sink, she keeps herself propped up with her hands planted behind her body, spreading her thighs apart as far as possible, with her wet cunt presented so lewdly and invitingly. "Shove that dick right in me, professor. Give it to me as hard as you can."

Without another thought wasted, you slowly guide the swollen tip of your cock past those drenched lower lips, groaning unabashedly when all this slippery warmth welcomes you deep inside. It's far too easy, how you slide into her, walls so dripping with arousal that allow this ache to dissipate when you effortlessly impale Arin all the way, right to the hilt.

"My god, Yewon, fucking love this tight pussy," you groan as her walls clamp down, holding you right inside that delicious grip with no plans to release you. 

She's so soaking wet when you start pounding away inside, each thrust coated in all those messy juices as your cock bottoms out every time. Your deep strokes make full use of her open shirt, causing her modest breasts to bounce as her back hits the mirror with each hard slam. Arin clenches around you with such an unyielding grip as you pump in and out, loving how rough you are, how forceful your hips are, moaning louder and louder, still sensitive from the previous release. 

“And I love being stretched on your huge fucking cock.”

There's not an ounce of mercy in your thrusts, just pure carnal lust taking hold. Her wet folds remain parted, taking the full length of your pounding shaft, every last inch driving into that slick little cunt without restraint. You take advantage of how her legs drape over the sink, grabbing her thighs, spreading them to give you more leverage to angle your thrusts deeper, and she kicks her heels off to give you even more control, allowing you to use her body however you please.

"It feels so good, professor," she says, while each thrust stays rough and deliberate, buried to the hilt in her wetness. "This cock of yours—is so perfect."

"That's because your cunt is made for it," you groan, sweat forming on her skin under your grip as your hips slam against her. It's absolute bliss, watching the way her entire body responds each time you sink in, hearing her soft whines that she’s unable to hold any back while getting fucked so mercilessly over this counter top. "You take my cock so well."

"Of course I do," she insists, the biggest grin on her face that gets interrupted with more moans. "I'm the professor's favorite student, after all."

"But definitely the worst one," you fire back, fingertips digging hard into her bare thighs all wrapped up in these sexy thigh high stockings as they jiggle with every relentless thrust.

"So—how many points is this?" Arin asks, bracing herself against the mirror when you pound into her even harder, every inch of your cock covered in her sweet essence.

"As many as you fucking want, Yewon."

"Then make it a thousand. I can use them on the next assignment, right?"

"Use them on whatever you want, the final exam even. So long as I get to cum inside you."

"Of course, professor. Fill me all the way up. Cum inside me as much as you fucking want," she says, and those tits bounce more hypnotically every time you pick up the pace, slamming deeper with more force each time. After every plunge balls deep, that tightness becomes more overwhelming, urging you to give your all, as if the sight of her all sprawled out and creaming on your cock isn't enough already. 

It's merciless. And your hips start to reach their limit, but Arin's desperate cries of pleasure become so loud, that she has no choice but to muffle herself with her hand, almost forgetting that this seldom used bathroom is still right by the science lab—and anyone could be lingering around. 

"Fucking fill me, professor. Empty your balls. Just keep—oh god, fuck, fuck," Arin whimpers, the limits of her body creeping up fast as your cock pistons so harshly in and out of her hot cunt. "Wanna milk every last drop right out of you, make you cum so fucking hard."

"Only if you’re good and cum on this cock, Yewon. Cum all over me, and I'll fucking fill this cunt up."

"Yes, god, yes," she says, practically falling back against the mirror while you brutally hammer into her at full force. She barely keeps the coherence when it all peaks, when you feel those impossibly tight walls clenching around your cock, borderline painful, forcing you to use every ounce of strength to not burst inside her just yet. 

"Fuck, professor, this dick is so amazing—I'm gonna cum all over it, all over your fucking huge cock," Arin says as her pussy squeezes the life out of your cock with every impale in that wet, intoxicating heat. A flood of her fluids almost forces you out, an absolute mess that drowns your shaft in slick rips through her body without any care, and all you can do is fuck her through it. 

Even when her orgasm subsides, and she somehow becomes tighter, wetter, easier to sink into, you don't show any remorse while fucking her tight pussy until you can't possibly hold on any further. 

"You're close, aren't you, professor?" Arin gasps between collecting her breath as the pleasure begins to fade, watching the struggle you're going through to hold it back. "I know you are. Please, let me have all that cum. Blow your fucking load in me, let it all out." 

That's all you need to be shoved straight over the edge, taking a few final strokes before that pressure builds up to a boiling point, and nothing’s going to stop you when you’re about to burst. “Yewon—“ 

Her name barely escapes before you’re throbbing, letting out all types of lustful grunts while her pussy smothers you in  warmth, offering the best place for such a messy release of seed that shoots out, coating her insides the way she begs for. 

Your cock violently pulsates until you’re left with nothing but orgasmic relief, unloading shot after shot deep inside Arin with the thickest spurts imaginable that empty into her warm little pussy. These tight, tight walls take every drop, welcoming such a huge load that’s even somehow stronger than what her mouth did to you earlier.  

There’s no way you could do anything else with how delicious she looks on this bathroom counter. With whatever remnants of energy are left, you use all the power in your hips until they lose steam, remaining inside her euphoric cunt that refuses to relinquish you. You ride out wave after wave, each spasm pumping more cum into her, all this intoxicating bliss that feels like it’ll never end. 

And truly, both of you wish it never would. 

“Professor…” Arin can barely speak between breaths, riding this collective high that fills the room with heavy panting, and sweat glistens on whatever bare skin her revealing outfit offers. You’re right there with her, caressing her thighs, her messy cunt wringing out as much out of you as possible, like it doesn’t want your cock to escape, even after your entire load is buried inside that delicious warmth. 

“Came so hard on you, professor, fuck... I love the way your cum feels when you push it deeper, all the way into my womb. Wanna keep it all here until you’re ready for round two.” 

"You're fucking insatiable, Yewon," you sigh, dropping Arin's legs back onto the counter, which relinquishes the intense grip you’ve held, allowing her body a chance to relax. When your breathing returns to something somewhat stable, you lean over to give her a tired kiss, one that’s easily returned with whatever remaining energy she has. 

“Can you blame me when your dick is this good? It’s only your fault I turned into such a greedy little cumslut.” 

“Or maybe you were already like that before I even met you…"

"Yeah. Maybe."

Arin looks away as she starts to giggle, giving you a perfect chance to kiss that exposed cheek. When she glances back, you share an impossibly long stare, one that goes on far too long without words until you lean in for another kiss—

One that gets interrupted by a knock at the door. 

"Hello? Is anyone there? Custodial services, I'm here to clean up." 

You must have angered some kind of god for this to happen two times in one day. Even worse, there’s no easy way out of this while you're still buried inside Arin, the least of your concerns as this creamy mess threatens to spill out. 

"I, uh—need a moment. Spilled something on my shirt that won't come out. Be out in a bit," you blurt out, barely thinking while you look around at the poor bathroom that's been defiled. Arin can't help herself, covering her mouth to help from not immediately bursting into laughter as she fumbles to button back up her shirt. 

“You’re such a bad liar,” Arin whispers, but you just roll your eyes at her, glancing over the sweat on her body that you’d no doubt be licking clean were the two of you not nervously waiting to see if this unfamiliar man outside will buy your story.

"No problem, sir. Take your time, I'll be back after.” The janitor shuffles his feet, and you listen carefully, wondering just how obvious the two of you were being. When you can no longer hear footsteps, you release the longest sigh, and slowly pull out of Arin, along with an utterly unreal amount of hot semen that spills out. 

"Can't believe he bought that," Arin sighs while hopping off the counter, where more of your cum gushes out as soon as she stands up. "Can't believe you came so much inside me, either."

"If I recall, you were quite literally begging me not to stop."

"No need to be smug about it, professor."

Arin does her best to look presentable in the mirror and fix her disheveled hair, shirt only half buttoned, and skirt a complete mess, but it all seems so futile. There's no real way to hide how she looks after getting railed over the sink relentlessly, or the cum still dripping all over her thighs that she doesn't even bother to clean up. 

"We should get out of here before he comes back," Arin says after giving her appearance a once-over, making any minor adjustment to try and fix how ruined she looks. "Shall I leave first, professor?"

The question has only one obvious answer, but you still can't form your lips properly to speak it. "Not so fast, Miss Choi."

"Oh? Am I forgetting something?" Arin asks while running fingers through her hair again. You step towards her, pressing into her back to wrap your arms around her tiny frame before planting a kiss on the side of her neck.

"Yeah—me. You're not leaving this room without me."

You notice her grin in the mirror as your lips graze her skin again, nipping right on that sensitive spot that makes her gasp. 

"Don't tell me you're wanting to go again. After we almost got caught. Again—"

"No, not yet," you say between kisses, drawing closer and closer up her neck. "Need a little bit more rest for that."

"You poor thing. Did my pussy wear you out that much, professor?"

"You can barely stand upright as it is," you retort, taking your mouth away from her neck for a moment. Arin stifles a laugh that turns into a moan when your hand creeps up her skirt to touch her dripping folds still leaking your cum. "You need this a lot more than I do."

"Is that so? Well—fuck," Arin moans, unable to hide her body betraying her words as she grips the edge of the counter when two of your fingers slide into her without warning, pushing a mixture of her nectar and the load you pumped inside deep into her messy cunt. 

"It's too bad I can't continue this," you say, and withdraw those fingers from Arin's clenching pussy that so desperately tries to keep them in to no avail. "Let's get out of here. But you're not leaving my side."

"If you insist, professor." Arin has no further words, fixing up her skirt while so much thick seed oozes beneath. "But isn't it a little risky to leave together?"

"Probably. But besides, even if somebody does see us, so what? There's not much they can do about it even if they can already tell what just happened. And what are you always saying—how much you love the risk?"

"Guess I'm rubbing off on you, hmm?"

"Not a chance, Miss Choi," you correct, causing that grin across her face to grow wider. "I'm just tired of sneaking around so much."

"Me too, professor." 

You turn to leave, opening the bathroom door to poke your head around the corner. Luckily, there doesn't seem to be anyone around, only a couple of students you don't recognize standing nearby chatting, paying no mind as you and Arin sneak out successfully together.

“Where are we headed?” asks Arin as she settles in right next to you, something that's going to take getting used to. 

"Dunno. Cafeteria is still open. Guess we can head there first."

"Not if it's still raining. It's a bit of a trek, isn't it?" 

"My car's right out front. And if we so happen to take a little detour..." 

"Now who's being insatiable, professor?" she asks, with this little teasing giggle in her voice. 

“What? Who said I planned on doing anything with you other than grabbing some dinner? You know, I don't think you've had anything in your mouth today but my—"

"Professor!" Arin's not used to your conversation being this open, or being on the opposite side of being so flustered. "Save it for when we're not outside! Or better, the back seat. With the doors locked, preferably."

"As you wish, Miss Choi. Besides, but there's nothing I rather eat than your—"

She desperately covers your mouth to stop any further words from escaping as you head to the parking lot, surprised to see there's nothing but abundant sunshine now. Even more surprising is the fact nobody looks twice as the two of you walk together. Maybe it's luck, or maybe everybody here knows damn well what happens on campus between you two. 

And maybe you'll stop sneaking around campus every day, finding just enough time to spend the last half of your lunch hour buried between Arin’s thighs while she tries to hold her moans. 

But maybe you won't. 

[multific]

Echoes Between Us

Yelena Belova x Reader

Summary: After a mission goes wrong, you begin hearing her thoughts, only hers. You try to shut it out, to pretend it doesn’t hurt, but her unspoken guilt and longing start breaking down your walls.

It started on a rooftop.

The explosion had thrown you both backwards, you had hit the metal railing hard, and your temple cracked open.

You don’t remember much of the fall, only the cold echo of her voice screaming your name.

And then you woke up.

But something wasn’t right.

You could hear her. Not speaking but thinking.

Why wasn’t I faster?

If she dies, I swear I’ll burn every name on that list.

Please don’t make me lose her.

You thought you were hallucinating. Until you looked at her across the hospital room, and she hadn’t said a word aloud.

She was pacing, silent, brooding.

And yet you heard her whisper, I should have thrown myself in front of her. She’s too good for this. For me.

You didn’t tell her. Not at first.

You didn’t know how.

How do you tell someone you can hear every terrified beat of their heart, even when they refuse to say anything aloud?

So you kept quiet. You healed.

And every day, she visited. With food, or sarcasm, or flowers she never acknowledged buying.

And every day, her thoughts poured into you like water through cracked stone.

She’s going to leave. They always do.

Don’t fall asleep here, idiot. She’ll think it means something.

But it does. Doesn’t it?

It made your chest ache.

She never told you how much she cared. But her thoughts were screaming.

Weeks passed.

You got stronger. The bruises faded. But the voice never stopped.

Sometimes, you’d hear her in your head even before she knocked on your door.

Tell her she looks beautiful.

Don’t. She’ll laugh. She’ll think it’s a joke.

But she is. She’s everything.

You bit your tongue until it bled.

One night, she showed up later than usual. Her knuckles were bloodied. Her eyes were glassy.

“Trouble?” you asked.

She didn’t answer at first. Just stared at you for too long.

Then, in her thoughts, I want to crawl into her arms and stay there until this damn world forgets us.

You stepped forward, heart pounding. “Why don’t you ever tell me what you’re thinking?”

She blinked. “I do.”

“No,” you whispered, chest tight. “Not the things that matter.”

Her expression changed.

You couldn’t take it anymore.

“I hear you,” you said softly. “Not just when you talk. I hear you.”

Her eyes darkened. “What?”

“Since that night on the roof. I hear your thoughts. Yours only. And I-I’ve tried to ignore it, but it’s constant. You never stop screaming in silence.”

The room filled with stillness.

She stepped back like you’d hit her. Her jaw clenched.

“That’s a violation. You shouldn’t be in my head.”

“I know,” you said quickly, “I know. I didn’t ask for this. But I can’t turn it off. And I’ve heard how you blame yourself. How much it hurts you to even think of loving someone. You carry so much and never say it. And I just-”

You hesitated for a moment. You took a deep breath. If you hear her thoughts, you must say yours.

“I love you. And I know you love me too. I’ve heard it a hundred times.”

Her breath hitched. For once, silence is inside your mind.

You took a step forward, slow. Careful. As if you were approaching a wounded animal, and it felt like that.

“You don’t have to hide it anymore.”

Still nothing.

Then, a whisper barely a thought.

Please say that again.

You touched her hand.

“I love you.”

Then came the storm. Her thoughts flooded all at once.

She means it.

No one has ever stayed. Not like this.

Maybe I can stop running.

Then, her voice out loud, thick with emotion.

“I’m so used to being alone. I didn’t think I deserved this. You. Any of it.”

You wrapped your arms around her gently.

“Then we’ll unlearn that together.”

She held you like a lifeline. Like the world had been quiet for too long and she was learning how to speak again.

Later, curled in your shared bed, her fingers traced lazy shapes on your back.

“You still hear me?” she murmured sleepily.

You nodded. “Always.”

She smiled, eyes soft. “Then listen to this...”

I’m in love with you. I’m not afraid anymore.

You kissed her shoulder. “Then don’t whisper next time. Tell me out loud.”

She rolled over and kissed you slow and full. “Alright. I love you.”

And this time, you didn’t need to hear it in her thoughts to believe it.

You already knew.

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

Wattpad

/DO NOT TRANSLATE, STEAL OR REPOST ANY OF MY WORKS TO THIS OR OTHER PLATFORMS/

[timmydraker]

Tim who isn’t actually a very ‘good’ person.

He’s not a bigot or against minorities, nor does he do anything to violate someone’s right or beliefs, but he can just be… a prick?

Like he isn’t a victim of Damian most of the time because he’s antagonistic towards a literally child, assassin or not. He’s not a total dick, but he doesn’t really show much empathy towards Damian for a while and with his hatred of the League I wouldn’t be surprised if part of that was prejudice against Damian. (Especially if it’s one of the universe where Taliah drugged Bruce, he could maybe even blame Damian for that subconsciously.)

He’s also a womaniser, given he’s one who respects woman’s right and works to support them (unless it’s 1990 Tim, which is a whole other can of worms.) He has partners coming in and out and sure part of that is commitment issues and having to lie to partners about either identity, but often it just seems like he’s having fun and nothing else. If he explains this to his partner at the time, good for them, but it doesn’t really seem like that at times.

He’d also bordering on the line between cocky in a self assured way and cocky in an overconfident asshole way. He’s smart, not get me wrong, but there are people smarter than him and while he could out smart some big names, sometimes he bites off more than he can chew.

Same goes with his own contingency plans, I get the feeling he makes just… a few too many. I get why he does, what I think is a bit off about this is how he seemingly doesn’t see anything wrong at all with making plans to terminate his friends and seems to be lacking remorse for it even if he wouldn’t want to actively do it.

Tim’s loose morals are a bit different as there are many heroes and instances in which I’m like, yeah fair enough I wouldn’t save that guy either. Plus, the reason he became Robin was because Bruce was harming innocent people, not Two Face or Riddler.

He’s far more the comic made trope of a ‘Billionaire Playboy Philanthropist’ than Brucie had ever really been.

He’s actually a bit arrogant and actually acts like a playboy, not as a persona but for real. Even Tony Stark has been portrayed to be playing up his character where I feel like Tim doesn’t as much.

He’s genuinely a sneaky little shit, arrogant and cocky and too smart for his own good.

Man’s body count is double digits and neither of those numbers are under 5, and that’s not even the amount of people he’s blown up.

[superbat-lmao]

A mage who doesn’t like child soldiers targets Batman in Gotham. They know that several vigilantes connected to him are children or were children when they started.

Their vendetta against him basically boils down to, “What the hell were you thinking?” and they cast a spell against him accordingly.

Every day, a new family member will be able to read Bruce’s mind for 24 hours. It’s entirely random and the definition of “family member” is incredibly loose, but everyone knows the Robins are his children because of how berserk he went when Robin II died.

On the one hand, it’s a horrific violation of everyone’s privacy.

On the other, Bruce finally figures out what his kids think of him and don’t say. And his kids are finally able to realize that yes, he cares about them exactly as much as they want him to. He’s literally the absolute worst at showing it or communicating that, but he cares.

Dick gets confirmation that Bruce knows how good he is, how capable he is to lead a team. That Bruce doesn’t secretly think that when he screws up it’s because he isn’t cut out to be a vigilante. When he screws up, Bruce gets scared and lashes out in the only way an emotionally repressed father can, by making it worse. That Bruce doesn’t think Dick is incapable of looking after himself or making the right call. All of Bruce’s attempts to control Dick or his life were because he was scared. Because he wanted Dick to be better than him, and he is, just not in the ways Bruce was first able to see. Having more friends and being connected to people is infinitely more important than college, though it took time for Bruce to see that. Dick is Bruce’s first son and he couldn’t be more proud.

Jason realizes that Bruce loves him. That he tears himself apart over their relationship. That he feels there’s a clear line between Bruce’s opinion of Jason and of Jason’s actions. Because murder is wrong and Bruce’s philosophy is grounded in second chances. Because he just wants Jason to come home and his son’s actions scare him because he’s more isolated from backup than his brothers. Jason can literally feel how Bruce thinks, how he sees murder and how he thinks about himself. Bruce doesn’t think it’s a line he would be able to walk away from, and Jason feels more precarious seeing the world as his father thinks about it than in his own head. There is far less judgement in Bruce’s thoughts. Just pure concern. And self doubt over what to say. Bruce never sought to replace him, would have joined him, and has missed him. Those were always Jason’s major concerns.

Tim sees that Bruce views him as his son. That he wasn’t a substitute for Jason and he doesn’t secretly think Tim shouldn’t have been Robin. Bruce thinks that Tim reminds him a lot of himself and based on all the things people say about him, that makes Bruce nervous. Because he wants Tim to have fun and be a kid, not feel chained to work the way Bruce is. He knows they both have workaholic tendencies and wants better for Tim, wants him to have friends and a life outside of work. But Tim also knew Bruce at his lowest and so he will always feel guilty that it was Tim who pulled him out of his grief spiral, because Bruce wasn’t strong enough to do it himself.

Damian learns that Bruce was so excited for him to be born and devastated when he thought Talia had lost the pregnancy. That he was furious his son had been hidden from him. That he loves Damian and loved Talia and wasn’t sure how to separate out those feelings. That he would have wanted Damian no matter his level of training, if he gave up this lifestyle or anything. That there is nothing Damian, or any of his family could do to make Bruce stop loving them. Damian is wanted. He can also see that Bruce struggles with knowing how to handle him being a kid that acts like an adult. How he knows how capable Damian is, but that no children should go through that. Bruce didn’t have that sort of childhood. And while his own wasn’t exactly happy, he still got to be a kid. And innocence and youth aren’t things to be looked down on, just experienced. And Bruce doesn’t want Damian to not have those experiences, even if he doesn’t value them as others do. He learns that Bruce trusts him and that his father feels emotions acutely and strongly, such that he becomes reactive in a way that feels accusatory or disappointed but is just afraid.

They all realize that Bruce needs them and hates himself for needing them. That they are his children and he loves them and wants them safe. But that those feelings constantly war with how capable they are, how good his children are at what they do. How much they care about the helping and protecting others. That every time he says something they beat themselves up over, it’s because he’s scared they’ll get hurt or make a mistake that they can’t undo and will have to live with. He never wanted them to join him and it’s not because he thought they couldn’t do it, but precisely because he knows they can. And that sometimes, that isn’t enough. Even metas can get hurt and even Superman could die. By comparison his children are so vulnerable and there’s only so much he can do to keep them safe.

Does he verbalize this?

Bruce thinks so.

But all his kids hear is:

You were too reckless.

You disobeyed orders.

You’re off patrol.

And oddly? This solves like half of the current problems his kids have with him. Because they never really believed him before and always felt the conversations were one-sided.

It does create several new problems thought because Bruce just had like a significant invasion of privacy as the most paranoid person on the planet, so it takes a while for him to calm down and actually work things out with his kids in a way that lasts and isn’t just a bandaid over a bullet hole.