#dumb idiot gets stuck in a computer

[mahomadjicks]

Cant believe this freak downloaded bonzi buddy on my computer

#toontown #operation dessert storm #toontown ods #installer wizard #More obscure cog postinggggggg #don’t mind the images in the back #added them in as a last minute knee jerk lmao #dumb idiot gets stuck in a computer

[makncheese12]

Top Shelf pt. 2

Part 1, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7

Masterlist

Summary: being the kid of a well-known book store owner was easy, so was running into famous people. But being book smart doesn’t make everyone people smart.

Warning: my writing, I don’t know how to fully play chess so it’s a bit weird haha, very awkward, a little rushed if you come back tomorrow sometime after twelve it should be better

Word count - 3.1k

Credits: @novmoth (my friend from school who feeds into my delusions and gives me more ideas for this story🫶🏻)

“So,” Lyle starts as you move a piece across the chess board and look up to him then back down at the half played board. “You mean to tell me you ran into Jenna Ortega—“ he says through gritted teeth and puts his hands together and leans his forehead against them.

“—and you didn’t know who she was? She’s known world-wide after her recent show on Netflix!”

Why was he so surprised? He knew your parents situation and how it was critical that your mothers family didn’t find her.

Why would you want to be on social media so much anyway? All the drama involving celebrities and people switching up on them after finding some stuff they don’t like.

Hell people could even find information to black mail or threaten you with, that would just be your luck.

It was better to not get caught up in all of that. All you had was Instagram that had nothing to do with the last name and TikTok with no post that you barely used.

“You know I don’t watch a lot of TV.” You mumble watching him move the white piece taking your black on the board between the two of you. “Dude,” Mj starts looking up from pride and prejudice.

“We all used to watch her on stuck in the middle in sixth grade at Rosa’s place before Marco moved.” She says, clearly uninterested in the conversation yet wanting to be right.

You knit your eye brows together making Lyle stare at you like you were some kind of idiot. “She played Harley, middle child AKA stuck in the middle.” You continue to stare dumb founder.

The large man only groans and Mj scoffs at your lack of knowledge. Dru is then seen, holding a pile of games he wanted to try out.

“The chick with the hot sister who used her for an invention with her boyfriend.” He hums, placing the games next to the computer nearby.

Realization hits you like a brick and you nod, now knowing who they were talking about and the seeing the resemblance.

She both sounded and looked older now, you noted before moving a chess piece.

“If that’s what it takes for you to remember things then we’re all doomed.” Mj states as she pulls her legs up to her chest.

“Okay, when did she come exactly?” Lyle stares at the board, eyes clearly focused but keeping his attention on the conversation.

You think back to the interaction as he makes his move. “A few hours ago, right after lunch when people usually come in.”

“Wonder how she got here without getting noticed.” Mj wonders out loud. This girl must have been a big deal if she can’t get away without being noticed.

“Check,” Lyle hums and your eyes snap back to the board to see him move his piece. You narrow your eyes at the board for a moment and huff out.

You two had decided to create your own set of rules after playing together for so long it had become a bit boring. With his idea, you both made the game a little more interesting and complicated.

“She probably has little disguises, you know to specifically get away from the paps.” Dru mumbles, face inches away from the screen.

You grimace at the sight, now seeing why he needed glasses yet he was still doing it with them on.

“He has a point.” Lyle replies watching you make your move before his smile grows. “Checkmate.” He flaunts making you groan as he snatches your king.

“Your slacking, Y/N, do better.” He shakes his head before putting all the pieces back in place.

His teasing only making you groan again, louder this time making him chuckle.

“You’re making me feel like a sin getting scolding by his father after a bad game.” You mumble before sitting up again and making the first move.

“Good,” he laughs watching you make the same move as before. “You need it.” He says in response.

“Fuck the game, what are you going to do about Jenna Ortega?” Mj speaks up closing her book and slamming it on the table.

Usually, you’d scold her for doing so but it was after hours and no one was inside to bother.

Lyle huffs. “Never say that again, this game is very important.” Mj rolls her eyes in response, everything was important to him.

“What would you have me do? Send her a quick text and ask her to come back?” You laugh at the thought.

It would have to be a miracle to get any celebrities number, it would have to be a god send to get her phone number.

“You’re such a pessimist.” Lyle snorts and you send him a glare. “I would be if a cute celebrity showed up and I never saw her again.” Dru calls out making you huff.

“I will see her again, actually. I think, at least.” Mj perks up at this. “Oh? How so?” She asks, leaning forward on the table.

You send her a glare and lean away. Why was she suddenly acting like a fourth grade friend who finds out about your crush.

“She borrowed the book, so she kind of has to come back.” You grumble scooting your seat farther away from her.

You didn’t really think you’d actually be excited for someone to return for a book. Sure, there were cute people that came in and out of the library all the time. But none had really had any real affect on you like she did.

Though the interaction was short and quick, it was probably one of the most interesting ones you had with a customer.

You’d do anything to see those freckles in person again.

The clicking sound of a phone brings you out of your thoughts as you glance up to Lyle whose holding up his phone.

“Sorry,” he mumbles as he begins angry typing. “You just looked so aesthetic with the chess board, I gotta post it to Insta.”

You roll your eyes before they move to Mj who paces back and fourth.

“Okay, so that would probably be your only chance at actually talking to her.” She says as if she were talking to herself.

“She’s so delusional

“That is if you don’t fuck it up,” she mutters that last part with a as she continues pacing making you point to your face that is clearly unamused.

“But how will you do that? You’re a horrible flirt, that much is true and your humor is as dead as Lyle’s hair.”

“Hey!” He quickly goes to cover his purple hair with his large arms. “There’s no hiding that atrocities.” Mj rolls her eyes, once again for the hundredth time tonight.

“I say you just go for it.” Dru says tapping his computer key quickly and you notice the game to be ‘cookie clicker’, an online game that is not any of the games in his pile.

“Be yourself and you’ll be fine, if she doesn’t like that oh well.” He says inching closer to the screen, glasses almost touching it.

“Wow DD,” Lyle says, looking up from his screen that was suddenly getting lots of notifications. “I never thought you could be so poetic.” He teases and Dru sends him a side eye glare.

“That wasn’t even poetic, just common sense.” He replies, eyes traveling back to his screen.

Lyle sticks his tongue out at the older man who doesn’t even notice.

“I want sushi,” You say standing up watching the abandoned chess pieces fall from their place. “Let’s go get some.”

“Right behind you,” Mj says eagerly as she grabs her book and jacket, Lyle not too far behind her.

“Wait, give me a second!” Dru calls but you just laugh and continue your way to the door.

“Wait! I want sushi too! Stop!” He calls out louder as Lyle holds the door open. “Just abandon mission dude! Sushi is way better.” Lyle says as you begin walking down the street, Dru coming out not long after making sure to lock the door.

————

You carefully pull books out of the return section as the beat of your music rings through your ears making you bop your head lightly.

You glance over to Lyle who sat in the desk chair, playing Call Of Duty mobile on his phone. You wouldn’t usually be allowed to do that but it was a particularly slow day.

It had been two weeks since Jenna had last came to the library and to say you were disappointed was an understatement.

You knew it could be months before she would have to return the book and you would have to charge her for it if she really didn’t and that is what you didn’t want to do.

Mj made sure you didn’t forget either, sending you cheesy pick-up lines and ‘how to flirt’ website which only aggravated you and hurt your ego.

You did look at a few though and had to admit some were actually good while others made you skin crawl.

You don’t notice the sound of the bell ringing or the way Lyle quirks up slightly glancing toward you

Jenna looks up to him as her body guards walk to a side table in front of the window allowing her a little freedom to walk after seeing there weren’t many people.

He makes his lips into kissy form and a small ‘ooh’ leaves before turning to you, back turned as you sort through the books.

He looks back to Jenna who is now standing at the front desk contemplating to help her or not.

He decides against it but doesn’t want to leave the celebrity waiting. He stands up and quickly grabs the closest thing to the back room door before putting his finger to his lips.

“Shh..” He says, eying her as a playful threat before chucking the item at you and rushing through the door.

The thing hits your head and you whip around, barely missing Lyle as your eyes land on Jenna who held her books, glancing between the storage room and you.

“Did you..” you say, pulling your headphones out and picking up a mouse key that had been ripped off from the cord. “Did you just throw a mouse key at me?” You ask with playful tone as you walk toward her.

Jenna thinks back to Lyle’s silence threat before speaking. “You weren’t paying attention, it’s bad customer service.” She just shrugs.

“Oh, my bad.” You say putting your hands up in defense and her smile grows. “I’m sorry I was doing my job,.” You say shaking your head before playing glaring at her.

Be confident, all girls like that!

Mj’s words ring through your head making you cringe slightly.

Not too confident, that’ll get you punched.

Dru had stated after and your lips pull up at the memory of Dru getting punched at the skating rink during you tenth grade year.

You think of all the pick-up lines that actually seemed subtle and weren’t cringe worthy but decided against it as she pushes the books toward you.

“So, what’d you think?” You ask taking them and scanning the under the red light and pressing the ‘return’ button on the computer screen.

“I actually enjoyed between shades of gray surprisingly even though it was pretty dark,” she says shyly and you nod. “But the other wasn’t really good.”

“Just shows I have better taste than you.” You tease lightly, attempting to flirt but realizing it wasn’t actually flirting.

You were starting to realize how bad of a glitter you really were and Mj was right.

You feel your phone buzz go off multiple times at a time as Lyle comes out of the storage closet with a box full of old tapes you had just put back in there a little while ago.

He takes his seat and watches through the corner of his eye, looking through the black blocks clearly acting like he was doing something as he ease-dropped.

You roll your eyes before leaning against the counter, rolling your thumbs around each other, becoming nervous by the sudden pressure of his gaze.

“Does he always stare at you like that?” She suddenly asks, amusement clear in her voice making you snort.

“Unfortunately yes,” you say and his head yanks toward you, fake offense taking over his features. “He’s always been weird but I guess that’s what makes us friends.”

He forms a heart with his hands before blowing you a kiss making you grimace at the large man.

“So,” you say looking back up to her, noticing her biting the inside of her lip slightly before looking back to you. “Looking for anything else or should I just get back to work?” You ask, smirking slightly as you look up toward her.

You hear a quiet snort come from Lyle and send him a mental glare in the process. Oh how you wished it was Dru here instead, hell even Mj would do.

“Actually, yes.” She says, perking up slightly at your mention. “I was hoping to get another suggestion from you, since you know.” She finishes making you raise an eye brow and hum to yourself.

You think through the hundreds of books you’ve read before coming to your conclusion and standing up straight.

“I have one,” you say and she nods. “I figured.” She replies as you pass through the low door and around the counter.

“It’s sort of the same as Between Shades of Gray, same time frame.” You say walking toward the historical section. “I will need to help get it though,” you snort to yourself, feeling glare in the back of your head.

“I’m actually six foot two if you remember correctly, it’s just the angle your looking at that makes me look shorter.” She argues and your smile grows.

“I’m sorry, I completely forgot I hope I haven’t offended you too deeply.” You tell her, bowing slightly as she passes you walking into the aisle with her head high.

“But in all seriousness,” you say scanning over the the spines of the books. “What made you think the name ‘Top Shelf’ wouldn’t be quite literally the top shelf.” You reach out and grab the book ‘The Book Thief’ before turning to her.

“I thought it was like a metaphor or something.” she mumbles taking the book from your hands, reading the cover.

“Oh definitely, especially with the owners being tall themselves.” You say, laughing at her glare at you through her eye lashes.

She rolls her eyes before moving past you and toward the front desk.

You follow after her quickly and go behind the desk again before pushing past Lyle who was messing with the computer.

“Excuse you,” he stares at you wide eyed as you click back to the search bar. “Your fault you were in my way.” You mumble only giving him a glance.

“Name?” You asks glancing toward and you can almost feel the glare Lyle gives you.

“You’re joking?” She asks, clearly unamused. “It’s policy.” You send her another playful smile watching huff out.

“Jenna Ortega.” She says before Lyle pinches your side making you jump slightly. “Stop that,” you whisper before kicking your leg back at him, you miss completely.

“Burrowing or buying?” You ask and she again, rolls her eyes. “Burrowing.”

You feel Lyle pinch your other side and you send him a glare, clearly wanting him out of your bubble and away from your conversation. “You’re so annoying.” You say before watching him stick his tongue and move back to his seat.

You look back toward Jenna who was, once again, chewing her lip.

You take her credit card and swipe it quickly, using your hand to keep him a safe distance away from you.

“Anything else?” You ask, glancing up to the girl who is already staring at you.

“Actually,” she mumbles quietly as Lyle pinches your arm pit making you elbow his chest and he lets out a hard huff.

“You seem pretty cool and I was wondering..” she hesitates for a moment, trying her best to maintain eye contact which makes Lyle stop, chest against your back.

She continues you hesitate as you bag the book and slide it toward, you fidgeted slightly as anxiety creeps up to your core.

“If I could have your number? Or maybe I could give you mine?..” there’s a sort of shyness in her voice and she begins to bite the inside of her lip again.

You stare at her dumb founded a second, not fully expecting that.

But then again it was very obvious it was coming from the first part of her sentence, that was clear especially to Lyle who glances between you two.

The two wait for your response that seems to never come which makes Lyle’s eye twitch and Jenna to shift on her feet.

“You can say no, of course I just thought I’d ask.” She says, voice even quieter which makes Lyle decided to take matters into his own hands.

He snatches the phone from your pocket and sends you a small knowing smirk before turning to the girl. “Excuse her, she’s not used to these kind of interactions.” He says unlocking you phone and opening your contacts and going to the number screen.

“She is, after all, a librarians daughter. She just has no game what’s so ever.” He shakes his head and clicks his mouth. You quickly snap out of your dazed state to glare toward him.

“Yeah, sorry but I’d actually love that.” You say before watching her smile grow and all the nervousness leave her body as she begins to type.

“Cool,” she says before handing you your phone back. “Very cool.” Lyle states as he nods and gives you a knowing look.

“Text me,” she says before picking up her bag and walking toward the door. “I mean it!” You watch her stern look as her body guards stand and open the door for her with a goofy smile on your face.

“I will!” You call out as the door shuts behind her.

“Holy shit,” Lyle mutters watching her walk down the street. “Holy shit.” You repeat, still a little shocked by the whole situation.

“Jenna Ortega thinks my best friend is cool and gave her her number.” He says pulling out his phone and typing quickly before you feel a buzz in come from the phone in your hand.

You open the text messages in the group chat and see a series of text between Lyle, Mj and Dru. They had to have been spamming the entire time.

You read over the last text and snort.

My best friend is cooler than you, you also owe me twenty bucks <3

Read next part here!

A/N: Lyle being R’s wingman is in fact canon🫶🏻

Also, while you’re here why don’t you request something for different characters. I have some drafts for other things I’m working on but I would let to create some you guys ideas!

#Jenna Ortega #Top shelf #jenna ortega fanfic #Jenna Ortega x reader #tara carpenter #scream 5 #scream 6 #wednesday Addams #Vada Cavell #jenna ortega x you #Lorraine day #x #the fallout #Jenna Ortega imagine

[tired-biscuit]

Grow Fonder

𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴: kiba inuzuka/fem!reader

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀: 18+ mdni // age gap (10+ years), teacher/student relationship, power dynamic, mention of explicit pictures, oral (m!receiving), fingering, creampie, slightly dominant reader, slightly awkward professor!kiba. reader is a senju, cos i couldn't bother with y/l/n. modern/college AU.

𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁: 18.4k+

𝗮𝘂𝘁𝗵𝗼𝗿'𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲: this one was a challenge to write, not gonna lie. whoever reads this entire monster of a fic, i'm sending you a big kiss and a hug, 'cause you're a real one fr. <3

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: After sending an accidental email containing your nude to your zoology professor, interesting things commence.

𝗺𝗮𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁

YOU’RE tired.

There are plenty of reasons as to why. It’s late. You’ve studied all night. The clock that’s situated across the old refrigerator currently ticks a little over half past eleven, annoyingly reminding you that it’d be a wise decision to head to bed and get some much needed rest before your morning classes start. 

The sink you now linger by has finally been emptied of the dirty dishes that had been piling up over the course of the week. Unlike yourself, both of your roommates had been smart enough to finish their chores early and part just as quickly. Already soundly asleep; the doors that lead to their respectful bedrooms are closed shut.

You aren’t surprised, really. It’s a perfect night for snoozing, after all – cold and quiet. As you stand in the little kitchenette of your modest student apartment, dressed in your warmest pajamas and fuzzy socks, there isn’t a sound to be heard besides the mellow pitter-patter of rain that occasionally makes the window to your left rattle.

The sound calms you, but your mind still continues to whir as you open the tap and wait for the water to reach room temperature. Much like the ancient boiler that takes ages to start working, your kitchen is just as busted and could definitely use some renovating. 

Perhaps you could gather a couple of your friends and throw a splash of colour on the walls with their help, maybe add some indoor plants that you could place on the windowsills? Now that you’ve finally finished and submitted the assignment to your dumb zoology professor, you could do it over the weekend, buy a bottle of wine or two, and–

Wait.

Did you send the assignment…?

You’re nearly finished with filling up your water bottle when it dawns upon you, the acknowledgement sharp as ice. Blinking whilst still standing next to the sink, you watch as the cool liquid begins to overflow the rim of the bottle, dousing both of your hands with cold water that never even got the chance to heat up. 

Your face twists at the unpleasant sensation.

It must be a mistake. Has to be. 

Right?

Staring at the tap you’ve just turned off, anxiety begins to creep in. You must be wrong – you’re sure of it, no, you’re positive – and yet slow, albeit steady panic still continues to crawl inside your brain like an icky spider. With every passing second you spend inside the kitchen you’re barely paying rent for, looking like some stupid standing emoji, the cloud of doubt looming above your head grows bigger and bigger.

You definitely remember seeing that file amongst the mess of documents on your computer whilst you’d been typing the email. And that’s fine, there’s nothing wrong with that, but now you’re stuck wondering if your stupid, idiotic self actually managed to… send it somehow?

In mere seconds, your water bottle is sent flying into the sink as you sprint back towards your bedroom with quick-paced footsteps; all of them executed in absolute haste. You haven’t even run a long distance, and your breaths are already shaky by the time you reach your desk, teeth chewing on the fresh manicure that you've saved up for as you practically yank open your laptop and tap the browser with eyes as wide open as a frightful fawn’s. 

“C’mon, c’mon, c’mon.” Impatience seeps out of you now. Your pupils turn big as saucers as you take the moment to just scan the page that finally opens up after the computer comes back to life. 

Palms turn clammy as you begin to click around. Dread is blooming and increasing inside your chest, pulsating inside of you in a beat like that of a warrior drum. Even your fingers are trembling above the used touchpad in the same quivery way your upper lip does now. Every breath you suck into your lungs is becoming increasingly painful.

Finally landing onto the thing you’ve been searching for like some fucking maniac – special thanks to your shitty apartment’s equally as shitty Internet connection – you check and skim through the email you’ve sent out just a couple of minutes ago. 

[You] Thursday, 11:27 PM

Dear Professor Inuzuka,

I’m terribly sorry for reaching out this late, however I’ve finally finished fixing all of the mistakes in my assignment that you were so kind to point out. Attached below is the document containing the final version. 

Again, I apologize for all the inconvenience I might have caused with my tardiness. Hopefully this email finds you well.

Kind regards,

y/n Senju

So far so good, right? As your eyes scan the text, you attempt to ignore the way your heart continues to thunder inside your chest. Besides the dryness, there’s nothing off with the message itself, it seems.

And that is indeed true; there really isn’t anything wrong with the message. The problem hides in the assignment you’ve sent – or the lack thereof.

So you open the file that is attached below your rather snippy email. And cringe at the image that pops up. Ignoring the sweat that trickles down your neck, you close the damn thing so swiftly that the screen threatens to lag, and repeat it all over again. And again. Just to be sure and to suffer some more while you’re at it.

There’s no doubt about it now. Stomach clenching in pure horror, nausea overcomes you as you see yourself on the screen – body almost completely nude – instead of the paper you’ve just spent hours working on like a lunatic.

Congratulations! Being the braindead girl that you are when you’re tired, you’ve just succeeded in sending your nude to the worst person imaginable, if you exclude your parents. Your fucking nude – sent to your fucking zoology professor, who you borderline despise because of how mean he can get during lessons.

Great.

Speaking of mean, you’re surprised you aren’t dead already because of it. Whenever you look at the screen and see his name, the world begins to spin. You actually feel physically ill. Sinking your teeth into your bottom lip in an attempt of biting down a miserable sob and stabilizing yourself, you’re beginning to tremble in your cheap desk chair that had come along with the dorm’s furniture.

I mean, what the fuck are you supposed to do now? Yell at your professor in all caps lock to not open the email? Block him? Never show your face on campus again? Move across the state and start a new life under the pseudonym of your favourite fictional character?

Now that you think about it, he’d probably like that. Considering how the first semester is going so far, getting you out of his class is probably his number one priority. He’s always had it in for you for absolutely no reason – not any reason that you know of, anyway. You’d just be doing him a favour at this point.

But pushing all of that to the side, you’re still panicking. Staring at the screen through blurry vision because of the quickly-upcoming tears that are threatening to spill any moment now, you’re just about ready to bawl your eyes out. To tear your hair out. To take yourself out. 

Ping!

The sound makes you nearly jump out of your skin. Dread overcomes you all over again as your phone flashes the notification of a new email that shows up a second before your laptop comes in sync with the device, and updates the list of unopened messages in your browser. 

It seems that Mr. Inuzuka doesn’t intend to give you enough time to do any of the, ‘getting rid of this situation, and consequently yourself’ schemes you were planning on executing, because right now, his response is waiting for you to click open in bold font.

Your stomach is still twisting; pressing even harder on your rising nausea. The lump that’s formed inside your throat is so big that it’s impossible to swallow as you take a deep breath and – click!

As is expected, his reply is snippy, but nonetheless mortifying.

[K.I.] Thursday, 11:39 PM

Miss Senju,

I think you might have sent me the wrong file by mistake.

While I do feel flattered by your attempt (?) at bringing light to the nuisance that is your overdo assignment, I am not quite sure if it’d be proper for your email to find me as well as you’d hoped for.

If you can, send the proper document as soon as you’re able.

Sincerely,

Kiba

Jesus almighty on a fucking cross, he’s seen it. All cute and glistening underneath the nearly see-through damp patch of your lace thongs; your bitter professor has seen your all the more sweet pussy in 4K. Bent over and yearning to be filled. At this point, you might as well begin your search for a gravestone, because you’re just about ready to dig yourself a hole and simply die in it.

But instead of doing that, you read the message again.

Flattered, he tells you. What a fucking prick, of course he’s chosen to fuck with your already crumbling sanity just for the fun of it. 

Zoning out whilst staring at the email, you can nearly taste the sarcasm dripping off of the letters in that taunting sort of way he prefers using with you every chance he gets. If you try hard enough, you can even hear him in your head – oddly enough, it fails to make you sick.

Flattered.

You should feel repulsed by the word and the way it’s used, you know that, and yet all you feel coursing your veins… is piping hot thrill.

Because whether you like it or not, whenever Mr. Inuzuka zeroes in on you during lessons, you cannot keep yourself from perking up like you’re his dog – or his bitch, so to speak. He walks over and looks down at you with those sharp, brown eyes, and fuck, it feels like a gift of sorts. One with your name on it, specifically. Pretty bow on it and everything, even though he’s fucking mean as hell.

Truth be told, you don’t just dislike it; you hate it. Hate him because of the way he chooses to treat you. 

Or do you? 

Yes, he makes you answer the silliest, most complex of questions for reasons unknown all the time, but have you ever asked yourself why he does it? Maybe him pestering you, not being fair just like the world isn’t fair, constantly drilling you to strive for higher goals and getting better grades could actually be considered… a good thing?

Because let’s be honest, professors rarely give a crap, don’t they? More often than not, their salaries just aren't high enough for them to actually care about their students and waste any more time on them than what is absolutely necessary. But Mr. Inuzuka… He clearly cares about you in his own weird, overbearingly strict way, right?

After all, when you nearly get every single one of his questions wrong  – of course you do, you’re nothing but a ditzy girl that’s constantly daydreaming about things that have nothing to do with his lessons, apparently – it makes him smile. It’s this conceited grin that shows off his pretty teeth, and that makes his face radiant. A complete change of character.

And as if that wasn’t enough already, he likes to rest both of his palms on your desk then. With no ring in sight and with eyes as dark as ever whilst they search your own, he tells you to apply yourself. Low and serious, despite the smile, which you yearn to slap off of his pretty face as soon as it appears. He looks at you almost like he pities you in a way. 

Some small, docile part of you wishes he did.

You just can’t help yourself. Because even at those times, it isn’t anger that brings your very blood to a simmer as you stare at that wretched grin that adorns his lips. No, it’s pure infatuation, no matter how harshly he drags you down with it. Right there; in front of the entire class, as well as all the super popular girls you’re low-key terrified of, with all their sneering and whispering going around.

However, all of that you can endure – to a reasonable degree, of course. Trouble starts whenever Mr. Inuzuka decides that just smiling at your incompetence simply isn’t enough. When the time comes that he chooses to kick it up a notch for whatever reason and he bullies you some more. As he leans back in his chair, leisurely crossing one ankle over the other like he owns absolutely no care in the world, and chides ever-so-sweetly, “Wrong again, Miss Senju. Like I’ve suggested before, maybe you should apply yourself if you wish to see better results.”

And yet he’s telling you he’s fucking flattered, now?!

Confusion fogging your mind, your fingers are sweat-riddled to the point of slipping off the goddamn keys as you begin to type your reply, paying no heed whatsoever at keeping the email as formal as you had done with the one before it.

[You] Thursday, 11:42 PM

mr. inuzuka, i am SO, SO, SO SORRY!!!! ik i’ve sent the wrong file, i am absolutely mortified that you had to see that. please forgive me, i swear it was an honest mistake!!!!! i really am so sorry

i’ll send the right one right away, don’t report me to the faculty or something. please please pLEASE i’m so close to graduating, oh god

Not even two full minutes later, another reply chimes in.

[K.I.] Thursday, 11:44 PM

Reporting you would be utter nonsense. 

Besides, you’re an adult, are you not? 

A flash of anger rushes through you at his choice of wording, however you somehow succeed in stifling it as you type the short reply with utmost aggression. Who does he think he is, talking to you like that? You’re about to die from embarrassment, and here he is: being snarky at your expense.

[You] Thursday, 11:45 PM

yes, sir. i am indeed a functioning adult

Only semi-satisfied with your rather snippy reply, you secretly hope that he can distinguish the sarcasm amongst the intimidation that lingers in-between. Even if you’re in absolutely no position to be commanding the situation, you can at least try to touch the reins that he holds in his hands, right?

Ping!

[K.I.] Thursday, 11:45 PM

Good. Please act like one, then. 

Ping!

[K.I.] Thursday, 11:45 PM

If it’s not too hard of a task for you, of course. :-)

Fucker. It seems that he indeed can recognize sarcasm over text. You’d roll your eyes at the stupid emoji if you weren’t so jittery. He’s already getting on your nerves from how flustered and stressed he makes you over goddamn email.

[You] Thursday, 11:46 PM

with all due respect, professor…….. it’s pretty hard for me to remain calm and act like a ‘functioning adult’ after the picture i’ve just sent you

Ping!

[K.I.] Thursday, 11:47 PM

Why so upset? It's not even that bad of a picture.

Another email immediately follows after the first one.

[K.I.] Thursday, 11:48 PM

What I meant was that you shouldn’t feel embarrassed at all by the little mishap.

Of course. You haven’t even been given the chance to ask for an explanation and he’s already giving it to you.

Biting the inside of your cheek, you fail to suppress the flush of heat that blooms on your face as you reread the two messages. Telling you that your nude isn’t bad; Mr. Inuzuka cannot possibly be serious. But now that you already have him here… 

You could ask? 

Your fingers linger over the keys for a moment as you stare at the screen. It surely wouldn’t hurt. You’ve already dug a hole deep enough, what’s another inch?

Right?

[You] Thursday, 11:50 PM

am i supposed to be saying thank you for the ever so kind semi-compliment?

[K.I.] Thursday, 11:53 PM

Maybe I should be the one saying thank you instead?

Holy shit. His suddenly lewd answer sends a heatwave rushing through your chest. It aims straight down to your stomach, your very core; warms it up real nice. Are you actually reading this right?

Ping!

[K.I.] Thursday, 11:54 PM

fuckk i can’t believe i actually sent that 

Ping!

[K.I.] Thursday, 11:55 PM

i’m sorry, that was terribly uncalled for. i don’t know what got into me, but i’ve had a bit to drink

Your heart hurts from how fast it’s beating now as you watch his nice and tidy spelling deteriorate with every extra email he sends you. Palms turn clammy again and digits fidgety in a way like they do during pesky finals week. The stress has gotten so bad that you even have to take a minute just to breathe, and breathe, and breathe. 

In and out, the intensity you’re using to suck air into your aching lungs makes you feel light-headed by the time you begin to type your response.

[You] Thursday, 11:58 PM

it’s okay... we’ve both made mistakes tonight.

Ping! He answers nearly in an instant.

[K.I.] Thursday, 11:59 PM

might make more if we keep talking… i should go.

He should go, it’s true. And yet the thought of ending the conversation saddens you all of a sudden. You’re not ready to let him go just yet, are you? 

Christ, what is with you? Are you that sleep-deprived that you’re willing to mess with your professor just for the fun of it?

[You] Thursday, 11:59 PM

oh…. are you sure?

It seems so.

It feels like eons are passing as you wait for Mr. Inuzuka to finish brooding and weighing his options miles away. Sitting in silence, with your face illuminated by the screen of your laptop, you can’t believe yourself. I mean, truly, what on earth has gotten into you? You’re flirting with your professor at midnight, asking him to keep chatting with you as if he’s your classmate instead of your teacher. 

It all makes you start biting your nails again; skin pulling taught with nervosity. By the time his reply finally arrives, you’ve almost ruined the pretty manicure.

[K.I.] Friday, 12:03 AM

well… would you like me to stay?

Your pulse quickens. He wants to talk to you, it’s obvious, he’s just too big of a coward to admit it. Silly man. But it’s not like you’re going to outright admit that you wish to chat with him some more, too.

[You] Friday, 12:04 AM

well, you’re actually bearable now... so i guess i can talk to you a bit more if i really have to haha?

[K.I.] Friday, 12:06 AM

you don’t have to talk to me if you don’t want to, sweetheart. i can always go grade your assignment if you’d prefer that, just send it to me :-)

Now that makes you tingle all over, if you ignore the jab. Makes you pull your knees all the way up to your chest so that you can press your forehead against them and stifle the squeal that’s bubbling up your throat and threatening to slip past your lips, forming a risk to wake your roommates. He’s such a smartass; so insufferable, and you’re so in love with his wit and crude charm.

And you're also lucky that he can’t see you right now. That he can’t guess how much the pet name actually fazes you just because it comes from a man like him. Even the corners of your lips are twitching from the smile that keeps insisting to form as you type.

[You] Friday, 12:06 AM

no, no!!! talking to you is just fine

[K.I.] Friday, 12:07 AM

yeah? even if i use these bad boys? :-) :-) :-)

[You] Friday, 12:07 AM

sure… 

[K.I.] Friday, 12:08 AM

continuously? :-) :-)

[You] Friday, 12:08 AM

mhm

[K.I.] Friday, 12:09 AM

damn. you must really like me then, hm? ;-)

Heat crawls up your neck as you read the message one, two; three times. His little emojis are so stupid that they’re almost endearing in a way. It turns you soft – pliant like a naive teacher’s pet. You have to physically shake your head to snap out of it.

[You] Friday, 12:11 AM

i’ll like you even more if you give me a good grade on my assignment

There, that’s better. You’ve even attached the right document this time.

[K.I.] Friday, 12:12 AM

haha. do you think you deserve it?

[You] Friday, 12:13 AM

enduring your emojis like the tough bitch i am, i think i deserve the world

[K.I.] Friday, 12:14 AM

:-(  are they really that bad?

[You] Friday, 12:14 AM

i just think the lil nose makes them weird

[K.I.] Friday, 12:15 AM

well, i for one am rather fond of my nose. flatters my side profile

[You] Friday, 12:16 AM

sure, but your pretty side profile isn’t enough to convince me into liking your silly emojis, sir

Too far?

[K.I.] Friday, 12:20 AM

pretty, huh?

Seems not.

[You] Friday, 12:21 AM

that wasn’t the point and you know it

[K.I.] Friday, 12:22 AM

aha, right right. i’m sorry, sweetheart

[You] Friday, 12:23 AM

gosh, i’m surprised your head doesn’t float away with an ego that big

[K.I.] Friday, 12:25 AM

probably because i’m lucky enough to have another big thing that grounds me just as good

Jesus. Fucking. Christ. How did you get here so fast? 

Oh, right… The nude.

[You] Friday, 12:25 AM

yeah? and what exactly is this big thing of yours?

[K.I.] Friday, 12:27 AM

my brain

[You] Friday, 12:28 AM

oh wow

Oh, wow really.

[K.I.] Friday, 12:29 AM

what? did you think i was going to say something else?

[You] Friday, 12:29 AM

no, of course not!! i was just surprised you actually have a brain

[K.I.] Friday, 12:30 AM

sure you were :-)

[You] Friday, 12:31 AM

ughhhhhh……….. here you are, forcing me to see those stupid emojis again

[K.I.] Friday, 12:32 AM

B) look here’s one without a nose! lil guy has sunglasses on hehe

[You] Friday, 12:34 AM

sir, please….. this is silly. even for a millennial like u

[K.I.] Friday, 12:37 AM

well, how about you give me your number so i can call you then? that way you won’t have to see ‘em?? :-)

A smile ghosts over your lips as you read the message, pulse erratic. It’s surprising how smooth he is; circling around you so slowly that it doesn’t even feel rushed. Making you comfortable, stripping you layer by layer before going in for the kill.

Perhaps he actually does have a brain, after all.

—

Kiba can barely keep his eyes open when he arrives to work the next morning.

The poor man is still half asleep and is tired to the point it’s becoming too exhausting to even stand straight. He can feel the tightness in his shoulders when he rolls them in an attempt to release some tension that’s been building up over the course of a restless night, however the seams that hold his button up together make him halt midway as soon as they begin to protest to the sudden flex in his biceps.

He loosens a sigh. Just had to doll up, didn’t he?

It had been a mistake; looking handsome for someone who he definitely shouldn’t be trying to impress. The conversation you had with him over the phone last night hadn’t exactly crossed any boundaries, but it did leave him feeling somewhat thoughtful and lonely. 

After you had said goodnight with what he guessed was a smile on your face, he had started to feel empty inside. The line disconnected and all of a sudden he was alone with his thoughts; contemplating his life choices. Surely, he wouldn’t be having any reason to talk to you – his student – until three in the morning if he had a wife? 

Kiba had never married, after all. No, he’s all alone; still vigorous and full of life as he had been in his twenties, and is completely left to his own devices exactly like he had been during that time, too. He picks and chooses only what’s best for him. Concerns himself only with his own interests. Only thinks about himself. Some may call it a life without a sense of purpose, but he likes it just fine.

Never having kids to hold him back, he’s now slowly inching towards his mid-thirties by being the fun uncle instead of a dad. More and more of his friends are building families and settling down, and he’s just… drifting.

So, can he even be blamed for trying to woo his pretty student after seeing her equally as cute cunt? 

You’re young and soft, he wants to touch you all over. Is just thinking about letting off some steam, it’s not like it’d be anything serious. Only a quick roll around the sheets; a single night of greed you’ve certainly been hinting at over the phone, too. After all, you’ll graduate real soon and forget all about him. Will marry and have kids just like nearly every other person he knows is doing right now. So, what’s the problem?

Well, he could lose his job for starters. And you’re nearly a whole decade younger than him. He holds tremendous power over you with the position he possesses. It’d be frowned upon if anybody found out. It’s super risky. The faculty could expel you for it. His mother would beat his ass. Had he mentioned that he could very well lose his job?

But that picture… goddamn. 

He even has it saved on his phone.

Speaking of the picture, to say that he was shocked when he had opened the file the first time would have been an understatement. He had closed the thing so fast that he felt like a panicked teenager again: hearing his mother slip the keys into the front door whilst he was still looking at porn on the family computer. Pure stress.

But after a couple of quick-paced breaths, all of which had been so heavy they nearly fogged the blank screen of his computer, Kiba’s fingers found the mouse again. He’d moved the cursor slowly; cautiously. Clicked the file once more. Stared. Felt his eyelids turn heavy and his grey sweatpants strain by the time he had clicked the reply button and started typing.

Maybe he shouldn’t have drunk those two beers. Not that he was by any means drunk from them, but perhaps it would have stopped him from responding to your email the way he did. Would have stopped his hand from ever reaching the waistband of his sweats and slipping under. Would have halted all the stroking and grunting to follow right afterwards. Would have stifled the need, and wiped away the sticky mess he had spilled all over his hand and stomach by the time he had decided to start flirting with you and convince you into giving him your number because he just couldn’t get enough – not even after cumming.

Post-nut clarity, my ass.

Guilt seeps into Kiba’s chest, filling it with something gooey and disgusting as the thought of what he did crosses his mind for the hundredth time ever since yesterday; forcing him to drop his gaze in shame with a brow furrowed so tight, there’s a small ‘v’ etched right in-between. 

God-fucking-damn. It feels like everyone knows he’s jerked it to his student and came all over himself like some pathetic loser, because – by some odd miracle – a picture of her pretty pussy had somehow made its way onto his computer screen.

This is bad. So bad, in fact, that he even feels the need to place a hand over his heart, pretending that he’s whisking away imaginary dust from his fancy shirt instead of trying to tame the sudden jump in his accelerating pulse.

But speaking of the shirt, the light blue button up he’s yanked from the hanger this morning compliments his burly physique and hugs the broad span of his shoulders so tight that it’s no wonder the seams are threatening to tear. The pants he’s picked are in a colour of soft beige he usually never wears and doesn’t even remember buying. 

The combination he picked is good, but is also unlike him to pick it in the first place. He’s at least rolled up his sleeves up to his elbows as a meek attempt to feel more like himself, but it doesn’t ease the discomfort, just like the fact he’s wearing his favourite pair of shoes doesn’t.

All right, perhaps it’s not all that bad. Looking down at his outfit, the young professor has to admit he actually looks pretty decent for a change. Even a couple of his co-workers that linger in the halls flatter him as he starts heading towards the teachers’ lounge, twirling his keys around his index finger in an attempt to seem unbothered. 

Sure, the small praises are probably given only because the leather jacket he usually opts to wear is nowhere in sight, but Kiba still supposes that he understands it to some extent. He actually looks like a teacher for once instead of a burly biker. 

Still, his hair remains as wild as ever, no matter how nicely he dresses himself. The chestnut spikes stick in various directions, but are slightly droopy from his failed attempts to smooth them down. He looks like he’s been tossing and turning amongst the sheets all night instead of sleeping in them. And to be fair, he did just that… amongst other things. 

But never mind that! Besides the hair situation, Kiba also lacks a tie; the top two buttons where it should reside, already undone. He had tried putting it on, he promises that he did, but the damn thing just chokes him to oblivion and makes him want to flick it in the trash instead of tying it into a tidy knot around his neck.

Well, at least he’s tried to look presentable if anything else. Him being – sort of, kind of – dressed up to code should practically be celebrated at this point.

And yet, the reason as to why he’s done it creeps back into his mind and makes him spiral all over again. He hasn’t even reached the lounge yet and his feet are already dragging down the hall that’s filled with students whose names he can’t even recall most of the time; mind clouded with a thunderstorm so big you’d be able to see lightning flashing behind his eyes if you looked closely enough. 

Luckily for him, nobody does. He turns some heads from college girls he’s never spared a glance for; invokes a quicker heartbeat in the new substitute teacher he thinks is called Hinata H-something, but that’s it. Some of the young adults that surround him are just too busy still being half-asleep much like himself to notice their zoology professor passing by, whilst the other, more upbeat and social half is buzzing with chatter consisting of upcoming plans on how they’re going to spend their weekend. 

The fog in his head clears for the briefest second at that. 

Oh, right. It’s Friday.

He knows that he should feel chipper about the upcoming weekend, but for some reason he doesn’t. Deep down, Kiba knows it’s because he won’t see you until Tuesday, but he won’t admit that, of course. Won’t admit that he’s already formed some sort of twisted attachment to you like the sick fuck he is. Jesus, he seriously needs to get his shit together. You’re like, what, twenty? Twenty-two? He isn’t old enough to be your dad, but ten years is still… a lot.

His train of thought is broken when he bumps into somebody.

“Oops, I’m so sorry–” a voice starts.

Oh, lord.

There’s a brief beat of silence that makes blood rush into Kiba’s ears as his eyes connect with your own and he feels his pupils dilate to the point of ache from how fast they overtake his chocolate brown irises. Even his stomach twists uncomfortably at the tingling sensation your hand leaves behind when it grazes his arm in a rather foolish attempt to keep yourself steady. It makes his skin heat up underneath all the layers of clothing he’s got on, and fuck; it feels so good.

God, now that you're so close, he can tell that you smell absolutely divine. He has no clue what perfume it is that you’re wearing, he’s never really been a fan of them, really, but this one specifically makes his nostrils flare and his jaw turn slack as he turns so fucking desperate that he tries inhaling the scent through his mouth.

What an idiot. Keep yourself together, moron!

“It’s, uh, it’s fine! I’m fine.” He takes a small step back when he sees your lips begin to curl into a smile in response to the stupid expression that’s still lingering on his face. He’s wary; cautious – you’re in public and he’s your teacher. “No biggie.”  

You stare up at him, eyebrow quirking in pure puzzlement. He’s just so red now; face blooming a bashful crimson as he literally has to fight against his instincts to not stare at you for too long. He can’t stop the colour from tinting into an even deeper shade, it’s almost pathetic. And fuck, the change of tone you equip now only makes him blush even further as you say, “Well, good morning to you, too, professor.”

What the fuck? Weren’t you supposed to be the bashful one, considering that he’s your teacher and that you were the one that had sent him the picture by mistake?

The twirling of the keys Kiba holds in his hand has long since come to an abrupt stop as he swings them into his palm and holds on tight. Never mind all the pressure, he’ll sort this out like the big boy he is. He’s handled worse than cute lil’ you. 

Well, probably. He’s not so sure about that anymore, to be honest.

“Yeah, uh…” Wow. Some big boy he is; right off the start Kiba’s grip remains so tenacious that it turns his knuckles stark white, similar to those of a common coward. And as if that wasn’t bad enough already, he even has to clear his throat before he mutters back a meek, “G’mornin’.”

“Slept well?” you ask, making sure you’re quiet just enough that nobody else can hear you. The last thing you want is to scare him off.

And despite your caution, his gaze still immediately falls to the floor that had been scrubbed clean by the janitor just the previous night. “Not really,” Kiba answers, rubbing the back of his neck. The sleeve of his sky-blue shirt strains around his bicep with the action, making your eyes linger on the muscle that’s rippling underneath the cotton. God, he’s built so big and strong. So dreamy.

“Hmm?” Batting your eyelashes, you pretend to be coy just because of the flex alone. “How so, Sir?”

He swallows hard at the title; his Adam’s apple bobbing. The way he’s scratching the back of his head is so unnerving. “Well…”

“Not to be nosy, or anything,” you say, and before he can even start another sentence, you intrude with a grin, “but I can’t help but wonder what exactly was the thing that had kept you awake at night?”

Why, you little minx.

Your head tilts to the side at the timid nature he portrays all of a sudden. He’s jittery as hell, even more so when you step onto the tips of your toes to observe him even more closely. By the time you run your eyes along the sharp line of his jaw and skip over the freckles dusting the bridge of his nose, he’s feeling nauseous just from how fast his heartbeat has gotten behind that broad ribcage of his. Even a thin film of sweat covers his forehead now, making his tan skin slightly glisten under the fluorescent lights of the school.

You’re just dressed so cute, it’s no wonder he’s sweating. A short skirt that’s just up to code from how high it reaches above your knees, and a pretty blouse tucked right into it; the buttons properly done all the way up unlike his own. Looking so nice and tidy, he just wants to ruin you entirely. Especially because he now knows what’s hiding underneath the pretty skirt that you insist on flaunting around him.

Yes, he actually knows. The blood that’s previously been turning his ears hot, rushes straight below Kiba’s belt at the realization. 

And so, all of the arrogance is gone in mere seconds; the subtle disdain that he usually offers you whenever you step foot inside his classroom, nowhere to be seen now. Standing in their place are nothing but nervousness and fidgety fingers – to which you secretly offer just the tiniest fraction of your attention towards for reasons you’ll never admit to a living soul besides him – perhaps.

However, nervous or not, Mr. Inuzuka still manages to move before you can get another word in, or better yet: lean into him even further. He steps to the side in one fluid movement, causing space between you whilst giving the keys in his hand a single, nerve-wracking spin again. 

The sound of the jingle makes you want to chuckle, but you resist the temptation as you fix your bag onto your shoulder and plant your heels back onto the ground.

“Cat got your tongue, Sir?” The smile you offer makes him want to teach you a lesson. A proper one.

“See you in class,” he disregards your witty comment instead, gaze already flicking onto just about anything but you. He clears his throat again, the hand that had just been rubbing his neck, running through his chestnut hair now. Goodness, the unruly spikes look so fluffy to the touch, you wanna twirl one right around your finger. Especially as his voice softens and he says, “Try not to be late for once, yeah?”

Your smile comes off as more of a smirk than anything else, even though he can’t see it because he’s already headed towards the door leading to the place you’re not allowed to enter; is practically scurrying down the hall like a petrified little puppy despite being so fucking big. “Wouldn’t dream of it, Mr. Inuzuka.” 

Oh, fuck you, Kiba thinks as he dismisses you with a flick of the wrist. 

But goddammit, in the span of a just mere couple of seconds, he slows down as the distance between you increases. Turns his head back. As if an invisible rope is tugging him right back to you, he looks over his shoulder; looks at you. And there you are. 

Looking right back. 

—

“Kiba,” Mr. Aburame acknowledges his colleague with a subtle jerk of his chin the moment he frantically steps foot inside the teachers’ lounge. “Good morn-”

“Yeah, mornin’,” the man in question cuts in, absent-mindedly walking right past Shino as if he were a mere ghost. He doesn’t even spare him a glance, much less his signature grin. No, with his expression oddly troubled, Kiba just makes a beeline leading straight towards the coffee machine in the corner of the room, turning his back towards him in the process. 

The action could be considered rather rude – perhaps even insulting to some – however, it’s the way he looks so utterly zoned out whilst doing it that tells the entomology professor all he needs to know.

The impoliteness hadn’t been intentional at all. 

And that sparks Mr. Aburame’s attention almost immediately.

After all, Shino knows Kiba like the back of his own hand – perhaps even better than that. If the years spent working in the same building, co-existing as colleagues and later on as friends, have taught him anything, it’s that the menace that’s currently standing in the opposite corner of the room – stepping from one foot to another and looking fidgety as fuck – is quite literally his polar opposite. 

Immensely introverted and silent to a point he sometimes comes across as eerie to certain people, Shino Aburame is a man who tends to keep to himself. While Kiba thrives on chaos and mayhem, he, on the other hand, prefers logic and order.

And whilst we’re on the topic of logic, there is none whatsoever when it comes to finding an explanation for how such two different people manage to get along, nor for how exactly the dynamic proceeds to work. It’s just how things function around here; how they’ve always functioned when it comes to them.

Still, Shino remains pleased about the fact that it works, no matter that it’s unexplained and that he oftentimes comes off as aloof and uncaring when compared to his boisterous opposite. Actually, he finds it just fine. But now that the harmony has been disrupted, he finds himself feeling obligated to sort it out. So he crosses one ankle over the other and asks, “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” the brunet replies with a gesture that resembles a tired wave of his hand. His response is almost automatic. It’s like he blurts it out by default as he adds, “Jus’ dandy.”

Shino quirks a brow whilst he watches him mess around with the coffee machine. The thing is brand new and still requires some learning. “You’re sure?”

Luckily for Kiba, he keeps his face hidden as he rummages through the cupboard for his mug. “Yup,” he mumbles, popping the ‘p’. Child.

“Well, all right… It’s just that you seem to be slightly off, that is all.” And that’s worry. Concern for his friend, hidden underneath a clear statement that nobody had asked for. 

The cupboard closes with a soft click. There’s a small pause before the friend in question sighs. “I’m just tired, man.”

“Because?”

“Couldn’t sleep.”

“Ah,” the other professor mumbles in reply. That certainly could explain his inability to focus. But on the other hand… he seemed completely fine until stumbling into one of his students. It wouldn’t hurt to ask, now would it? “Anyway, I saw you with that Senju girl earlier... Out in the hallway.”

Thump, thump, thump. Fuck, Kiba’s heart starts to hurt immediately at that. He should have known that it wouldn’t be that easy when it comes to Shino fucking Aburame. Where the fuck had he been hiding anyway? Did he hear anything? See something?

“Yeah? Ya did?” The way the mug almost slips out of his hand at the mention of you could almost be considered comical. Kiba’s jaw clenches, making the cords in his neck turn stiff and protrude against his tan skin as he grips the handle so hard his knuckles turn white from the sudden pressure. 

He swallows audibly whilst placing it under the machine. The sound of him swallowing his own spit is the only thing that can be heard besides the brewing noises to follow soon afterwards he presses the button. It’s so quiet; just him and the stupid Megamind in the room. Kiba’s arrived early for once, after all. Nobody feels the need to be here yet. “Is that what her last name is, then?”

“Yep,” is all Shino offers, popping the ‘p’ just like he had done earlier. Kiba can’t quite tell if the action is meant to mock or to comfort him.

“Well, uh,” the poor man takes a breather, rubbing the back of his neck with one twitchy palm. “You know me… Can't even remember a student’s face, much less an entire name, hah. Especially a last name like that… ‘Senju.’ Silly last name, don’t ya think?”

“Is that so?” Shino angles his head in almost a nonchalant manner, tuning in on his sudden babbling and overexplaining. “Because it seemed to me like you knew her rather well?”

Silence. And then: beep! 

Coffee’s done, Mr. Inuzuka!

Kiba jumps at the sound, looking like he might just bounce right out of his skin. He clears his throat whilst grabbing his mug almost urgently now; as if in relief that he gets to do something with his hands, even though the ceramic mug is probably going to burn the skin right off of his fingers. 

“Well, I don’t,” he says finally, eyes insisting on steering clear from the only other person in the room. He sucks in a sharp breath through pursed lips as he sets down the mug onto the counter and shakes his hands to get rid of the heat searing his palms. “Don’t know her all that well, I-I mean.” Jesus, has the room always been this hot?

“Really? You’re sure?” Mr. Aburame repeats and blinks at the loud thud that comes from the drawer as his colleague pushes it with way too much fervour right after grabbing the teaspoon.

“Yes, Shino. I don’t know her.” Fed up. Kiba mixes the sugar into his coffee with too much force, making a couple of droplets spill over the rim and onto the counter. Not bothering to clean up the little mess properly, he just swipes his hand across it.

But his stiff posture and refusal to say more don’t stop the entomology professor from prodding further, “Well, what did you talk about for so long, then? If you don’t know her like you say you don’t, of course?”

Mr. Inuzuka shrugs. “Nothing much.”

And Mr. Aburame pushes. “Try and enlighten me, please.”

“Christ.” He scrubs a tired hand across his face; two fingers rubbing circles into his left temple as if it hurts just to think. “She just said good morning, all right? Damn… What are you breathin’ down my neck for, all of a sudden?”

“Just good morning, huh? That’s interesting.” Shino doesn’t even try to hide the fact that he doesn’t believe him. Ignoring the question, he seems utterly unconvinced.

“Why are you acting so weird about this?”

“Why? Because you’re acting weird.”

Kiba groans at the stare he feels burning into his back, but otherwise remains silent; tossing the spoon into the little dishwasher they had all pitched in for the previous year. For once in his life, he doesn’t wish to talk and elaborate any further.

And that makes the other professor hum as he feigns light amusement, even though it’s much deeper than that. Much more nerve-nibbling. 

Seconds pass and nothing but thick silence settles between the two men. Not being able to endure it any longer, there’s an agitated, “What?” that’s voiced from Kiba right before the exasperated exhale joins it soon after. Before Shino can even answer, there is yet another, “What is it, dude? Spit it out.”

“Oh, nothing,” Mr. Aburame says, shrugging him off with a wave of his hand. His voice is light as a feather, despite the depth. “It just seemed to me that the girl had a lot more to say to you than you’re willing to tell me… Other than ‘good morning’, that is. But I could be wrong, of course.” He had even put the air quotes in. Damn fucker.

Chocolate brown eyes dip down to the hot drink of similar colour. Kiba blows on the liquid, the rich smell of coffee filling his nose before he takes a small sip. It warms his insides, despite that he already feels hot all over. Great. He can’t even relax enough to consume his daily dose of caffeine now.

Brows furrowed, he places the mug back onto the counter with a frown. “Well, she didn’t.”

“Do you really–”

“For fuck’s sake,” Kiba snaps, turning and meeting Shino’s eyes for the first time ever since stepping into the room. He’s clearly riled up, judging by the sudden need to adorn every single sentence with a dirty cussword. “I fuckin’ told you; she said good morning, and that’s it. Besides, even if she didn’t, what me and her have is none of your goddamn business.”

Shino’s eyes widen slightly behind the thick spectacles he never seems to take off. If he’s shocked, he definitely doesn’t show it. Even his voice remains placid with that blunt undertone he always possesses in both classroom and hallways alike as he finally breaks the quiet to say, “You must be joking.”

“What?” The zoology professor is beet red now, the blush still subtle but persistent enough to tinge his cheeks when he turns back to fully look at his colleague.

Goddammit, you and your tight little body. You just had to doll up and look so pretty today; with your uniform extra nice and tidy, thigh-high socks a crisp white and pinching the plush fat. He just couldn’t help but steal a glance when you had passed by – act all weird about it like some stupid moron, too – and now Shino is getting suspicious. “What?”

Shino’s brows knit together as he uses his pointer finger to fix his glasses that sit on the bridge of his narrow nose. He wastes no time with dilly-dallying around the subject, but his voice does turn a smidge quieter in fear of anybody walking in as he says, “She’s your student, Kiba.”

Kiba’s expression copies the one his friend wears now. He tilts his head like a dog before crossing his arms across his chest. “I know.” All wary, his posture immediately turns defensive; spine ramrod straight. He definitely does not like this piece of knowledge. “I know that she’s my student.”

Turning even more quiet, Shino says, “Well, then you should also know that you shouldn’t have anything forming between yourself and your student.”

“We were just–”

“You were looking,” the Aburame interrupts. “At your student. You even turned your head back as she passed, I saw you do it.”

The brunet blinks in surprise. “Is it illegal to look at other people now, or somethin’?” Fuck, he can feel the tingle of the blush on his face as it deepens into a darker colour. There you are: prancing around in that little skirt again right in his mind’s eye. Not now.

Shino doesn’t miss it, Kiba can tell by the downward twitch of his lips. “When you’re looking at them like that; it sure could be, considering the position you hold.”

“Wow.” Kiba’s jaw clicks in bitter disapproval as he taps his fingers against his bicep and laughs with a huff. “I didn’t even–”

“You’re red.” Mr. Aburame cuts in again. “Your face,” he gestures over to him, “it’s completely red.”

“Well, it’s hot.” That must have been the stupidest excuse he’s ever given him, even he knows that.

The entomology professor sighs before he retaliates, “The temperature in the room is the exact same as it was a couple of minutes ago. There’s nobody here but us, and as far as I know – neither of us have touched the thermostat.”

Silence lingers between the two men yet again. It’s almost half a minute of tension before Kiba swiftly spins on his heels, aiming for the door. Listening to the sound of footsteps and the soft jingle of keys that sound out immediately after, a prominent scowl forms on his sun-kissed face. Of course Shino feels the need to follow after him. 

“Kiba, just listen–”

“Get off my back, Shino.” The demand is spoken through gritted teeth. He doesn’t even turn around as he adds, “You’re fucking insane.”

“Listen–”

“No.”

“Stop behaving like a child with your little tantrum, and just listen to me already,” Mr. Aburame hisses. “You’ll cause a scene with the way you’re acting, for crying out loud.”

Kiba shakes off the hand that Shino puts onto his shoulder as if it burns him. If they weren’t in public, he’d break his fingers one after the other, he’s positive. “I said no.”

Shino’s brow furrows. “I could report you for this, you know.”

Now that does make Kiba come to an abrupt halt. 

He stops in his tracks, turns around, and takes those couple of footsteps keeping him from Mr. Aburame like an angry bull; all until he’s close enough to be glaring up at the slightly taller man with daggers in his eyes and hushed anger on his tongue, “What the fuck are you goin’ on about?” His voice goes even lower, turns even more dangerous, “There’s nothing to report.”

“Yet.” The glare he receives in return for the statement doesn’t faze a calm and collected man like Shino. Doesn’t even make him flinch, despite that he knows Kiba’s hand is absolutely itching to grab him by the front of his tweed blazer.

And speaking of Kiba; he is at a loss for words now. His expression is blanching, skin turning pale. And yet he still somehow manages to croak out, “I thought you were my friend.”

There’s actual hurt lacing his voice.

“I am.” Mr. Aburame’s shoulders slump at the disappointment in his colleague’s voice. “This is me looking out for you as your friend, can’t you see that?”

“Yeah, right.” Kiba stares at him. Something seems to shift somewhere deep within his conscience, because now he scoffs and his eyes turn hard. “Friend, huh? As far as I know, friends don’t threaten each other like that, Shino.”

“I’m serious.” Shino’s lips are a firm, straight line of not judgment, per se, but rather concern. “I don’t care what kind of opinion you have about me right now. You’re not thinking rationally, and I could report you for it.”

“Do I ever?” There’s fire inside his eyes now; caramelized sugar that’s long since been burned by the dancing flames. “Think rationally?”

There’s a pause. And then, “No.” Hesitance.

Kiba’s scowl deepens, it sits on his face like a mask. “So, are you gonna report me, then?”

It’s a talent, really – how fast he’s able to become sturdy and protect himself just by sheer will and intimidation when the need calls for it. It’s like he uses his personality as a shield, instead of the body and strong bones that hold it together.

Transforming into an entirely different person in a blink of an eye.

The entomology professor sighs, eyes unmoving from his friend’s burning stare that just refuses to budge, now. He’s nothing like the flustered mess he had been just five minutes ago. Still pale, his eyes look slightly bigger and darker than they normally do. It’s instinct for survival that makes Kiba’s eyes so big, Shino knows. They grow even larger as long seconds drift by; each of them lasting an eternity. 

Mr. Aburame has no clue how much time has passed before he finally bows his head and says, “No. I won’t.”

And all Mr. Inuzuka replies with, is a, “Thought so.” before he taps Shino’s chest roughly and walks away.

And that’s it.

—

But the problem is that that isn’t it.

Guilt still eats away at Kiba’s morality when he looks up and finds you standing across his desk at the end of his final lesson; looking eager and surprisingly – expectant.

Shino’s words from this morning had really done it for him, he can’t lie. Ever since their little argument in the teachers’ lounge, Kiba had been doing nothing but chewing on and turning over the warnings that his friend had planted into his good for nothing brain. Comparing them, too, and tossing them to the side, just to bring them right back. 

So far, the whole situation has put him onto an emotional rollercoaster; one with hundreds upon hundreds of seemingly never-ending loops. He can’t wait to get off of it, honestly.

And as if Shino being a pain in his ass wasn’t enough already, you had also offered Kiba your fair share of things to think about. Giving him the googly eyes whenever you’d seen him roaming the halls; your smile had been riddling his troubled mind even further, making him lose that last bit of focus he had been devastatingly clinging onto for hours on end.

Far too busy forming a mental pros and cons list if he should try and chase after you or not, nearly all of Kiba’s lessons had suffered for it as a result, and had ended up becoming a complete academic disaster. At this point, all he wants to do is go home and crawl into bed.

But he can’t do that with you here, of course. 

So he stays put. Like a good boy.

“Hi there,” you chime happily when he snaps back into reality and acknowledges you. “Long time no see.”

“H-hey.” Kiba’s face blooms with colour almost immediately when his voice cracks and he stutters as a result. How many more times will he blush today, goddammit?! He forces himself to maintain eye contact with you as he clears his throat, but it’s almost exhausting to do so.

Calming down his pulse is work enough, after all. You make his heartbeat accelerate with just a mere greeting. With the way you’re standing so close to him, he wouldn’t be surprised if you could actually hear it – his heart. And speaking of close, looking up at you and all your pretty glory that’s just mere inches away now: Shino’s warnings are becoming somewhat blurry and faded.

Especially so when you press both of your palms against his desk and smile at him. Just like he has a habit of doing to you.

God, he could eat you right up because of it. You’re like a little cupcake; all sugary and nice. It’s so damn hard to not stare at the way your blouse tightens around the fat of your tits, but he tries. He really tries.

“So,” you start.

“So,” he repeats, knee bouncing without stop. So nervous.

“How are you holding up?” you ask, drumming your fingers against the desk. The sound of your nails tapping the wood makes him realize how quiet the place actually is. There’s nobody left inside the classroom but him and you. Crap. 

He almost doesn’t hear you as you add, “Still tired?”

“A bit, yeah,” he chokes out finally, voice so low you hear him only because you’re leaning in so close. “I’m gonna, uh… head home soon. To get some rest.”

He’s done for the day and so are you, it seems. It’s barely half past four, but it’s already dark out. Winter sucks, it makes Kiba miss the sun. But despite all of that, he catches himself preferring the darkness outside when you round the corner of his desk and rest your lower back against it.

“Aww… Leaving so soon, Mr. Inuzuka?” He can see the way the tops of your socks dig into the soft flesh of your thighs as you pout; you’re that close. The moment you cross one ankle over the other and sigh, he follows the movement with his eyes, not being capable enough to hide the greed anymore. Fuck, even your skirt has lifted by an inch. “I was actually hoping I’d be able to talk to you about my assignment. If you don’t mind.”

“Well, I… I guess I could stay,” Kiba finds himself saying, gaze still glued to your legs that he yearns to reach out for and touch so badly, “for a lil’ bit longer…?”

Wow, he’s way easier than you’d expected.

“Really, you would? That’d be so great,” you utter, nudging his foot with your own. The sudden contact makes him visibly flinch in his chair, causing him to push away and roll back a small distance until you have to step in front of him and catch the armrests as a means to stop him.

Staring up at you now, Kiba stills entirely. You’ve got him trapped, and his breath hitches in the back of his throat because of it. So close that he can count your eyelashes one by one if he wanted to, he feels his body turn rigid by the nearly non-existent proximity. It’s all so overwhelming: your warmth, the way you look at him, the sickeningly sweet scent of strawberries that comes from the chewing gum that’s inside your mouth. 

“Going somewhere, professor?” you ask sweetly, smiling a grin that he realizes makes his legs weak. “I thought you said you and I were gonna talk.”

“We can talk,” Kiba mutters, his throat feeling so dry and tight because your hand is slipping and is touching his thigh now, “just stop with the games. I ain’t good at playin’ them.”

“What games?” You bite the inside of your cheek, puckering your lips in a way that makes you look coy despite that your hand is literally inching higher and higher. “I’m not playing any games.”

His voice is a shaky whisper, “Stop fucking with me.”

And yours is a goddamn purr, because it’s so rewarding to see him this helpless for once; it’s an absolute treat, “But, Sir… I thought you wanted me to do just that? Didn’t you like the little picture I sent you?”

“I–...” It’s hard to be mad at you when you keep batting your eyelashes at him. As if you’re this innocent little thing that doesn’t want to be bent over. Ignoring the thought, he tries to be stern as he says, “I never said that.”

“No?” You blink, eyes glazed over and pupils big. “But you were hinting at it over the phone last night, weren’t you? After I gave you my number when you had asked for it?”

“I–... You can’t–”

“Yes, I can.”

Bullseye, you’ve shot him right through the morality with that one.

It’s hard to breathe properly at this point, the accusation you’re making against him is making his vision spin. Kiba is tugging at the collar of his shirt, lips parting as he tries to let more oxygen into his lungs and say something smart back as a means to throw you off your game. 

That pathway soon becomes useless, however, because the moment he opens his mouth, you slam your own right against it without any warning whatsoever.

And just like that, he’s done. 

The kiss sucks all the air right out of him, no matter how delicate it is at first. Wipes his mind clean, makes his eyelids flutter shut. Makes him melt into you, until he’s yours to command. And fuck, the realization of what you’re doing – kissing your professor – hits you bright and clear just as it hits him. Like you’re both sitting inside a speeding car, aiming straight towards a cliff that neither of you knows how to avoid.

The drop is going to be deadly if you reach it. And that scares the shit out you, but thrills you at the same time. So it’s no wonder that he can sense your hesitancy before the courage kicks in, your lips nudging his own until he finally opens his mouth a fraction wider so that you can slip your tongue in.

And wow, he tastes sweet. Like a goddamn blueberry muffin he’s probably had for lunch earlier. You can still taste it in your mouth by the time he cups your jaw to lightly push you back so that you can part.

“What,” you gasp softly, your Cupid’s bow touching his upper lip with every word, “don’t you want me, professor? Not even a little bit?”

“No, you don’t get it… I want–” he starts, unable to finish when you kiss him again in answer. It seems to deepen the daze he’s in, making him lose his train of thought in an instant. You’re practically digging the hole for him at this point. “Fuck, I want you, pretty girl. I mean, look at you… ‘Course I want you.”

“Yeah?” You smile again, the beam sweet as summer fruit. “How bad do you want me?”

“So bad,” Kiba mumbles in an instant, brown eyes already hazy with lust when you come closer and merely hint at kissing him again. “I wanna do such nasty things to you; fuck you stupid on the desk and all of that, but I need you to sit on my dick first, ‘kay? Think you can do that?”

Your pulse quickens at how fast his decency fades, but you force yourself to remain calm. “Even if I’m your student? You still want me to do that?”

“Yeah, yeah… C’mere, now.” It’s shameful how quick he answers. Maybe if he wasn’t as down bad as a freshman at a frat party; too busy staring up at you whilst impatiently patting his thigh and tugging at your hand, he’d actually manage to acknowledge the disdain he should be feeling for himself. “Be a good girl and sit the fuck down, will you?”

His gaze is hard when you look at him, profound impatience lacing every word. That’s the Mr. Inuzuka you know, all right. All bad and horny as hell.

It seems like Shino is bound to be disappointed after all.

Because now, things are escalating fast. You’re already crawling into your handsome professor’s lap, making him spread his legs in a way that gives him better footing so that he can keep the chair from spinning. Making him groan into your mouth as his hand rests on the side of your head; thick fingers tangling into your hair with a need to push further and gain more, more, more.

But it’s all so sweet and gentle, no matter the speed. Your mouths connect and part slowly, thin strings of saliva barely there. He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear and dips down to trace the curve of your hip with the tips of his fingers. Unusually cautious; he’s taking his time, trying to calm himself down during it. 

By the time he allows his hands to finally begin roaming your body, Kiba’s lips are already sticky from how much lip gloss you’ve managed to smear onto them with your own.

So keeping the steadiness in mind, poor, flustered Mr. Inuzuka starts with your thighs first. He reaches the hem of your skirt and pushes it ever so slightly up your legs before he rounds the curve and squeezes your ass instead. His hands become full immediately, and you definitely like to be groped like this; you tell him that with the way you preen and start to claw at his fancy dress shirt like you’re some desperate kitty in heat.

You’re already grinding against him, so young and demanding that he can barely keep up. Making him plead for you to do something – anything. And you may pretend that you’re calm and collected, perhaps even nonchalant, but your pussy is clenching; sopping hole fluttering around nothing. He’s pressed so tight against you after all, nudging you right between your legs – the ridge of him prominent. 

And it’s all so warm, Kiba can feel the heat right through his pants. Can feel how warm and soft your little cunt is as you press it even harder against his clothed cock and start to grind against it; dragging it up and down in these slow, salacious kind of movements that could, quite frankly, make him consider marriage at this point.

Blood rushes south at the contact, leaving his head empty aside from the overwhelming buzz that’s otherwise plaguing his mind. His dick is starting to strain his pants, and the pressure from the zipper hurts. Growing big and hard fast, the cotton of his underwear sticks to him because of the pre-cum that’s already leaking underneath.

“Fuck,” he hushes so quietly that you want to laugh, his rough palm drawing patterns over the curve of your spine. He’s a greedy man, his hands touch you all over when you hide your face into the crook of his neck and start to kiss him there, eager mouth searching for his sweetspot. 

He seems to have one everywhere – a sweetspot – as long as the kisses come from you. The little affections are even making his hair stand up; are making him bare his teeth. “You gotta–... Mmh, you gotta do something, pretty. My dick is starting to hurt, so how ‘bout you lemme shove it in that cute pussy of yours, yeah?”

“Is it, now?” Your hands grip his broad shoulders as you readjust yourself, every word resembling a soft purr. The smirk that adorns your lips the moment he stiffens underneath you touches his pulse point, now. His heartbeat is so fast that your own feels like it’s stalling behind. “Need me to make it all better? To fuck you until it doesn’t hurt anymore?”

He starts nodding vehemently when your hands land on his chest and start fiddling with the buttons instead; pushing his limits even further, making him see red. You’re holding him in the palm of your hand and he doesn’t even know it yet. No matter what framed degree he hangs on his wall, he’ll still turn dumb at the mere chance of scoring some pussy.

Your nostrils flare as you exhale through your nose in a derisive huff. “Can you ask for it nicely, maybe?”

“Please.” The word is breathless, a mere pant, but it’s blurted out quickly. He clears his throat when you raise your eyebrows; tries to hide the blush that overtakes his entire face as you wait for him to try again. “Pretty please.”

“Now that wasn’t so hard, was it?” You kiss him once more before ending the affection much too quickly for his liking. A lewd pop noise forms; one that usually sounds out whenever you’re finished with a sucker, not your zoology professor’s mouth. “Lemme take care of it, now.”

“Why are you– Oh.”

The small wink you offer him as you slide off of his lap and kneel right between his legs makes Kiba’s heart stammer and his chest tighten as the realization of what’s to happen sinks in. 

He takes the hint of what you’re trying to do now, and he just can’t help it, but this lewd sort of happiness overtakes him in an instant. You’re just so young; still thriving in your slut-era, which most of his ex-girlfriends had long since moved on from in search of boring routine and family-oriented weekend trips he’d much rather miss out on than attend. 

But you – you’re not even nearly there yet. No, as you kneel in front of him: clearly willing to take his dick down your throat right underneath the desk, perhaps even contemplating the chance of letting him cum all over your face at the end of it, you’re absolutely perfect. You’re a mere pet; one that loves sucking up to her teacher. Quite literally.

So he spreads his legs wider, giving you the space you need as his insides begin to twist with naughty anticipation. He’s excited; throbbing in his pants, his dick eager to meet your throat. “How come you wanna do this instead of sitting on me? Wouldn’t it be easier to just let me do all the work?”

“It’s just–...” It’s hard to hide the tremble of your fingers as you reach up to unbuckle his belt and undo the button of his pants. The nerves are finally catching up to you. “I wanna leave a good first impression.”

Kiba’s toes twitch in his shoes when you trace the ridge that pushes up as soon as the zipper is tugged all the way down, heat rushing up his thighs. The way you palm him over his boxers tells him that you’ve definitely held a cock before. Good for you, even though it’s hard to ignore the sudden flash of jealousy. What the fuck is he feeling envious for? “And why is that?” 

“Because,” you say, your shrug seemingly nonchalant, even if you’re far from it, “if I suck your cock good enough, then maybe you’ll consider giving me a decent grade on my assignment…?”

Oh.

“You’ll like me more if I do that, right?” His voice is a mere mumble now, a gentle coo, “Like you told me last night?”

“Mhmm.” His fingers graze your cheek. You can see his pupils dilate when you press your lips to one fingertip and kiss it. He’s completely red in the face again by the time you kiss another one and add, “I’ll love you for it, actually.”

“Oh, honey.” 

“Yes, baby?”

Kiba’s eyes turn soft like his heart does at that, and he needs to remind himself that you’re just using him. After all, there’s literally no way in hell that a young, pretty thing like yourself would be at all interested in loving a man that’s inching towards his mid-thirties and teaches stupid college kids for a living. And come to think of it, why should he be even thinking about a thing like that; much less stressing over it? 

Wasn’t he perfectly content being alone?

So he blinks. Snaps out of it and taps your temple twice as if he’s trying to get through to that wicked brain of yours, tone all of a sudden patronizing and complacent instead of warm, “As far as I remember, the due date was two weeks ago.”

You blink, too. Surprised. “Yes, but–”

“So, is that my problem, then? My fault?”

What? “But–”

He taps your temple again. “I asked you a question, sweetheart.”

“No, sir.” Heat creeps up your neck at how stern he is with you all of a sudden. It seems that a switch had been flicked inside his head, you’ve said something he didn’t like. Finally gaining the self-control he’s been desperately trying to grasp for all this time, he’s back to being mean again. “It isn’t your fault.”

“The best I can give you is a D.” He pauses to look down at you. And winks.

Rolling your eyes, you puff out an exasperated exhale. “Funny.” Fucker.

“I think so, too. Now,” he says, “are you gonna take it or not?”

“I will.” You pout at the change of demeanor, digits tightening around his girth when his hand rests atop your own. He still hasn’t given any hint that he’ll give you a better grade, but he does coax you into palming him slowly now; guiding you to a steady rhythm that drags across his entire length. 

Christ, he’s so big that you can feel the pain in your throat already. It makes your mouth salivate. “Professor…”

“Mm?”

“About my grade…?”

Ouch.

“Tell you what– hah…” The chuckle that slips past his lips and interrupts him mid-sentence never seems to reach his eyes. “You look mad cute on your knees like that, so if you blow me good enough, I’ll consider raising your grade. How’s that sound?”

“I thought you wanted me to sit on your dick?” you grumble, but hook your fingers to the waistband of his boxers in silent agreement. It’s about time you face the monster cock that’s hiding underneath.

“I thought you wanted to leave a good first impression?” he quips in an instant, brain working at full capacity, now that you aren’t all lovey-dovey with him anymore and aren’t kissing him all over. The fact that he sort of wants it back makes him feel bitter inside. It’s all so fucked up and makes him all the more agitated. “Stop actin’ bratty. You’re not gonna win.”

“I liked you more when you were all red and stuttering, you know,” you manage to say before your breath hitches as you at long last tug down the waistband and get a good look at him. Your eyes look sad despite the hearts in them. “You were actually nice to me.”

His own heart stutters deep in his chest at that. It’s almost enough to break him.

Almost. But not quite enough.

“Yeah? Well, that’s just too bad now, is it?” His gaze turns heavy-lidded the moment you press a kiss right atop the vein that runs along his entire length. The skin your lips touch is silky smooth, its warmth transferring to your hand and nestling itself between your fingers. You can feel the rush of blood within – the heat makes him readjust himself on his chair as he grips the armrest tighter. “Maybe if you weren’t trying to take advantage of me, I wouldn’t be such a dick.”

“That’s rather ironic, don’t you think?” You sigh, giving him the smallest kitten lick to lap up the bead of pre-cum that’s leaking out of the head already. His teeth sink into his bottom lip at that; eyelids turning even heavier at the sensation. The salt is fast to melt on your tongue as you say, “I mean, aren’t you taking advantage of me, too?”

His hand rests on the side of your head, thumb stroking your cheekbone before he touches the corner of your lips. There’s a beat of silence – a comfortable one, despite all the words that want out. But instead of answering the question, he just says, “I don’t like being used.” 

“Me neither,” is all you reply before you open your mouth wider to take him.

It’s hard to resist a groan for Kiba when you finally start to suck. Everything hits him all at once. Your ‘o’ face is adorable. Lips plush and cheeks hollowed; throat tight. The way you twirl your tongue is skilful, clearly experienced. It drags drool all over his cock, making it even easier for him to push it deeper as you attempt to relax.

“That’s it,” he mutters, running his fingers through your hair. He pulls it back from your face, helps you out. Like a proper gentleman, even if he’s far from it. “Such a good girl... So pretty, with a mouth full of cock.”

You try to pretend you don’t drink up the praise. He pretends he doesn’t notice it.

He’s deep in your throat fast – bulging. Throbbing and twitching, you can feel every rush of blood that makes him harder, bigger. When you push your tongue out to take more inches, it makes his palm slam flat against the desk. Even his digits curl at the pleasure. Knuckles turn stark white.

The tears come forth only when he’s more than halfway down your throat, turning the whites in your eyes glassy. It’s not long before the gag follows, the first tear spilling and messing up your mascara as it slides down your cheek. He snickers at that, his lips twitching as you pull back to take a breath. There are strings of saliva connecting you to him already – thick and glimmering ropes of silver that break only when you use your hand to stroke him. 

“Pretty good,” he comments with a smile, mischief prominent in his eyes. He’s clearly over the moon, but he isn’t going to tell you that, of course.

“I know.” You gasp for air but keep the sass. One quick little breather before taking him again, you’re rubbing your cheek against his dick – nearly worshiping it. “I can take more, though.”

“Yeah?” His brow arches. His heartbeat is just about to become violently quick from how you keep petting yourself against his cock. Goddamn, who knew the younger generation was so messed up? “Gonna do a lil’ show-and-tell for me, then?” 

The moment you nod, he’s on you. With his hand on the back of your head, he pushes you further now; doesn’t exactly force you to take more, but clearly encourages it in his brutish ways. His eyes are big and dark when you look up through your blurry vision. They watch your every move, warm and rich like hot chocolate.

Christ, you’re so into this. Clearly adore sucking dick just to make men weak in the knees. The sounds of your sloppy blowjob fill the classroom, they make him only fall harder for you. But despite all of that, and how they present such a lovely contrast to the dull subject he otherwise teaches inside the space, he’s becoming worried someone might walk in and hear you.

He never locked the door, did he?

Kiba’s hand tightens its hold on the desk at the thought; blunt nails sinking deep into the wood. It’s dangerous and it might ruin his life, he knows, but you’re already here, aren’t you? Already choking on his cock, making it glimmer with your drool that’s only there because of how exquisitely sloppy you are.

So, what’s a little more risk? 

He doesn’t think anymore as he tugs on your hair and makes you moan in answer. Doesn’t ponder anymore the moment the whine slips out of your already full mouth. No, he just focuses on the shiver running down his spine, turning his mind even more blank than it already was. 

It’s such a delicate little noise – your moan. One that brings him closer to cumming in an instant, especially because you suck him in even harder now and your tits are rubbing against his thighs like you’re some deity with a whorish mouth.

No, seriously. You know how to work that mouth so well. The way you take his cock down your throat forces sweat to coat his brow. It’s all so intense; the fever in his belly rising every time you use your hand to stroke the length you can’t reach with your lips. You even cup his balls and squeeze them in a way that makes his toes curl in his shoes again. Pull your head back to drag your tongue along the side of his dick, kissing it softly before sucking it again. All of that.

He’s groaning and sweating. Manspreading and pushing back into his chair. Blushing, cursing.

So it’s no surprise how it takes him only mere minutes to cum. You don’t even have to try for long because you’re his student, his little pet that’s just too good at sucking his cock and fulfilling a fantasy he didn’t even know he had hidden somewhere deep within him. It’s all so easy.

“Jus’ a lil’-... m-more, sweetheart.” He’s panting now, holding on for dear life. “Oh, fuck yeah, mhmm.”

The thrill only shortens his line of endurance. As the bobbing of your head quickens and your throat tightens, holding him prisoner – he’s done. Your eyes squeeze shut, mascara running; drool escaping the corners of your lips as you fight back a gag from the way he hits the back of your throat. His teeth sink into the knuckles of his fist to stifle the guttural moan that’s about to leave his mouth as soon as that last twitch hits him and heat spills inside his stomach.

And then he starts to cum.

His chest is heaving during it, eyes closing the moment your own open. He’s such a gorgeous man; so handsome in the most rugged way. His jaw is clenched tight as your own turns slack from hurting so much. Chestnut hair tousled and chiseled cheeks red, you want to kiss him, no matter the thick layer of sweat on his skin. 

But you know better than to move whilst a man is cumming, it makes them too sensitive to function properly and it’d probably hurt him more than please him if you chose to suck the life out of him right in that moment. 

So you stay put. Allow the thick ropes of white to coat your tongue like a good girl, and slowly start to feel him soften in your mouth. 

His release tastes salty and slightly bitter; probably because of the beer he’s told you about drinking last night and because of all the stress he’s endured ever since. Perhaps you should treat him to a fruit salad and tell him to fucking relax when you get the chance. Perhaps.

“Hey… I’m done,” he whispers after a while, his fingers caressing your face to bring you back from your trance. The intensity you’ve made him cum with has turned his voice appealingly raspy. He’s not just done, he’s finished. Utterly spent.

You blink after staring at him for too long, eyelashes fluttering. Slackening your jaw even further, you let him pull his softening cock out of your mouth. Oops.

Kiba sighs, gaze almost droopy as he reaches to take care of the single droplet of cum leaking out the sensitive head. He’s still half-hard, still so hung even though he’s spilled everything he’s had. But you lean in before he can. Help him by cleaning up the droplet by dragging your tongue across it instead. 

And that turns him wide-eyed, makes his upper lip quiver with a subtle hiss as you continue to tidy him up all nice and neat, and keep doing so until all he has left to do is zip up his pants and fix the button. You don’t miss the lovestruck expression adorning his face now. He’s infatuated. So easy.

But so are you.

Silence lingers as you stare at each other; him in his chair, you on your knees. Chests rising and falling in nearly the same rhythm but not quite.

He offers you his hand after a moment of thought. “Will a B suffice?”

You take it in a heartbeat. It’s much bigger than yours. So warm that it makes you burn from within as he pulls you up, fingers long and thick to touch your own. “I don’t care about the grade anymore, professor.”

“No?” He finds it hard to hide a smile as you sit onto his lap and fix his collar. “How come?”

“It’s like you said,” you mumble, avoiding eye contact. 

“You don’t like being used.”

—

The next few weeks to follow are interesting, to say the least.

You haven’t done anything else with Professor Inuzuka ever since that Friday in his classroom. Excluding the couple of kisses you’ve shared, he’s left you feeling utterly confused after parting that same evening; has sparked something you don’t particularly understand, and has jumbled your heartstrings into a messy knot that closely resembles the old headphones you had kept inside your pocket before switching to AirPods. 

And besides leaving you puzzled, your growing feelings for him had also been the sole reason why you’d chosen not to take advantage of him and his position.

Somewhere in-between, you had just realized that you were on your knees – sucking his dick, not because you had to, but because you wanted to. Wanted him. 

And whilst your decision had been rather sweet, he’d still chosen to take pity on you by grading your assignment through rose-coloured spectacles first thing Monday morning. 

C+, with a little note of encouragement attached. Way more than you’d expected to get from him, to be honest. It seems that your blowjob really was superb.

But even after getting the grade, you still continue to talk to him. Usually over the phone, all of your conversations are kept on the down low as a precaution to not attract any unnecessary attention. After all, he’s told you all about Mr. Aburame and his suspicions, which certainly explains why the man has been patrolling and swooping above you like a hawk whenever you sit in his entomology class whilst Kiba attempts to fix his friendship with him. It just makes you all the more careful.

Speaking of Kiba, you exchange brief glances with him whenever you pass by each other in the halls. It’s almost invisible – the look – but you catch the meek twitch of one corner of his mouth whenever you smile and say good morning. He always just nods his head in reply. It’s become quite the routine.

And it’s all so discreet, too: the subtle way his eyes follow you, the mere brush of his arm against your own before the second of contact passes and it’s all over as quickly as it started. And that’s pretty much it.

Because unlike yourself, Kiba holds back. Like, really holds back. He’s still trying to figure out what he wants; if he’s ready to commit. So he merely dips his toes in the water occasionally, and doesn’t give you special treatment of any kind – not even in his classroom. 

He doesn’t hug you or kiss you. Doesn’t text you good morning and good night. You take the same exams as everyone else, complete the same assignments and study for the same final. 

But sometimes – rarely – he softens. Allows himself the pleasure of something more. Like right now – indulging in a completely spontaneous study session, for example. One that’s held at his apartment, the only person he’s teaching being you. 

How fun.

“Ugh… I’m not quite getting this, Si– Kiba.” Saying his first name so casually, without any title whatsoever, still feels weird. He had insisted that you use it whenever you’re alone, but to remain wary when you’re in public because of obvious reasons. After testing it out for a couple of weeks or so, you suppose that you’ll stop mixing it up with ‘Sir’ eventually.

The small chuckle he lets out right after your whiny sentence immediately brushes the nape of your neck. You’re sitting on his bed, staring at the screen of your laptop that you’d brought with you, with your back propped against his chest. It’s all so comfortable and cozy that you could fall right asleep if you didn’t have something else already riddling your mind.

Something rather nasty and naughty.

Because with each passing minute, you can feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, as well as the way how it grows faster whenever you move; how it spikes when you touch him. Despite the white cotton t-shirt he has on, his skin is warm and smells like coconut. He’s all fresh and tidy, like he’s showered just before you got here.

And does that mean something? Sadly, you can’t tell when it comes to him. He’s one confusing man, constantly refusing to let you into his fickle mind.

“You wanna take a lil’ break?” The light kiss he presses to your neck all of a sudden yanks you from your thoughts. He’s so cautious all the time, but seems to be more willing to give affection in the safety of his home. It makes you all the more eager to accept it, especially as the tip of his nose brushes your jawline and he says, “It’ll probably help you focus later on.”

“Yes, please,” you chime, despite that you can’t focus at all. Not when his mouth is this close to your pulse point, at least. “A break sounds so nice, actually.” Goodness, your tone is so sugary that you might just give yourself a toothache. 

“We can watch a movie if you’d like?” he says as he begins to pull back, thoughts innocent for a change. “‘Cause I think I’ve still got–”

“How about we stay like this for a while instead…?” Fingers tangling into his hair, you bring him right back. Make his mouth linger in the very same spot he had been accommodating before. “Pretty please, hmm?”

He stiffens underneath you in an instant, you swear that you can feel the tension that overtakes him so fucking fast. Even more so as you run your fingers through the brown locks and tug, twirling one right around your finger like you’ve always wanted to do.

“Well, I, uh–” He stumbles now, his breath shaky before he swallows hard. “I suppose that we can?”

“Yay, great!” Your tiny cheer is hushed. The room has become so dark, shadows dance across the walls of his bedroom that you haven’t gotten the chance to look at more clearly. It’s almost six already. Winter really is fast to push away the sun, and you hate walking in the dark, but maybe you can convince him to let you stay the night if you play your cards right.

“So…” He’s so quiet as he asks, “What do you wanna do, then?”

“Well…” And you’re so confident as you reply, “I think you know.”

“Do I?”

“Mhmm.”

Silence.

“You want me to…?” He stops immediately, unable to finish the sentence. It’s so cute how awkward he gets whenever you obtain the dominant role. It might be the risk of losing the way he lives his life. Might be the pride. You suppose you’ll never know.

“Yeah,” you finish for him simply.

Silence falls between you again as he thinks. Eons pass and you hear his breathing quicken with each one. His voice is deeper than it normally is as he suddenly says, “Shut the laptop, then.”

You do as he asks without another word, of course you do. You even shove the device onto the edge of the bed with the help of your foot to gain more room. 

The darkness to fall upon the space gradually eases Kiba’s worries as he lets his eyes get used to the shadows. They make him more comfortable because the shame isn’t as visible when they’re near. Especially as your hand lands atop of his own and guides it right between your legs so effortlessly that he knows you’ve pulled the same trick on someone else before. 

But it doesn't matter. He’s too busy purring, because the other one continuously strokes his cheek, your fingers pricked by the stubble to scrape the skin. It’s as if you’re urging him on. Coaxing him to succumb. Maybe it isn’t his fault, but yours.

Still, he doesn’t dare say anything. Just stares straight ahead, eyes focused on the window across the room as he starts to stroke your thighs; nice and slow. He does it for several minutes, easing his touch closer and closer to the center. Traces it ever so gently and hears you fight back a curse. 

He traces the waistband of your cute leggings, then. Glides one finger along the edge and listens to your breathing stagger when his hand finally slips underneath them and your equally as cute underwear. 

And fuck, your little cunt is so fucking soft. Sticky and warm right at the first touch, it’s delightful. The little button of nerves he presses his finger against the moment he finds it makes you squirm instantly. He applies pressure steadily, experience telling him it’s better this way instead of going all in at once. So he circles slowly, parts your gooey pussy lips even slower. Gathers the wetness and feels your back arch against him in answer.

Your Cupid’s bow twitches when his other hand sneaks up to your tits without any warning whatsoever, making its way right underneath your t-shirt. He pinches your nipple between two rough fingertips and circles your clit at the same time. It makes you burn from within as your head falls back against his shoulder.

The flames grow bigger and hotter when he hunches slightly to kiss your neck, then. Chestnut hair tickles your cheek as he opens his mouth by a fraction and latches it to your throat; the scent of coconut overriding your senses fast. His tongue is warm as it twirls across the tendon on your neck repeatedly, preparing the terrain for his teeth, which he sinks into you when you least expect it. 

When both of his incisors strike home, you flutter your eyelids shut despite the darkness. The sensation turns your vision violet, with dots of dark blue.

The way he places a hickey onto your skin should bother you, but it doesn’t. Who cares if your friends will bombard you with questions later, all that matters right now is that it feels good. That he’s making you feel good.

Especially as his fingers reach even lower and he slowly eases two of them inside your sticky hole that craves all of his attention. Slick covering every inch of those two digits, he pushes them in right to the knuckle in a series of steady pumps that make your legs quiver and your knees want to meet.

Not once does he let you squeeze your legs shut, however. The way you try and fight against him arouses him so much that you can feel the hardness pressing against your lower back. He’s already beginning to get big – is beginning to yearn.

“Shit, shit, shit.” You finally let a moan slip after nearly fifteen minutes of sweet torture. This little mewl that makes his ears perk. That makes his cock semi-hard. “Ki–”

“Shh. Stay still,” he hushes as his other hand lands on your stomach. “I got you.”

But you aren’t listening. Making him stop just long enough so you can pull your leggings and panties down your legs in one go, you’re throwing your clothes onto the floor with one careless swing of hand. And before he can even say anything, before he can even do anything; you’re turning around and pushing against him. Crawling right on top of him.

He laughs quietly as his head hits the pillow, looking up at you with rather giddy eyes. “Somebody’s impatient, huh?”

“Shut up,” you utter before you fumble with the waistband of his sweatpants. “Been waiting for this for weeks.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No, you’re not.” 

He only snickers in answer as you pull his cock out and begin to palm it desperately. You’ve even come to such a point that you spit onto your hand just so the drool can help you out when it comes to taking him faster; you just need him that bad. The final rush of blood to get him ready cannot come soon enough, but when it does at long last, he’s sweating and grunting – begging you to sit on him.

And despite the begging, he’s acquired that signature spark in those warm brown eyes of his by the time you finally straddle his hips and align yourself with his leaking cockhead. They burn bright – all mischievous and playful, and so fucking youthful at the face you make when you feel the stretch and still proceed to sit down on his dick like the good student you are.

You take him slowly. Inch by inch, but he’s so big that it hurts nonetheless.

His hands find your hips, one reaching up quickly to caress that same face and push back the strand of hair that obscures it. His pupils are humongous when you make eye contact, it’s ridiculous, and his voice is a mere grunt as he says, “Good lord, you feel so fuckin’ good.”

“I know,” you mumble, brow furrowed in the same focused manner his own dips into. You can smell yourself on his fingers. The scent only spurs you on. “Sure took y-you long enough to realize that.”

“I didn’t wanna lead you on,” he explains, panting. “Didn’t want ya to think I was using you, just because I didn’t make up my mind yet… Especially ‘cause you didn’t wanna do it either.”

“That’s sweet and all,” you reply, his words secretly making your pulse quicken, “but you have no clue how badly I’ve wanted your dick inside me. You’ve literally left me hanging for weeks. Get that through your thick skull, will you?”

“I’m sorry.” He snickers, the laugh soft and light. Like wind chimes. “Truly this time.”

A shiver rushes down your spine at the sound; at the feeling of warmth settling inside your belly. He’s so big inside you that it’s hard to stay still. It makes you all the more wet, causes the inner side of your thighs to glisten with transparent slick. “You better be.”

“Trust me.” He looks up at you as he speaks further, “I am. If I knew you wanted me that bad, I would have fucked you silly on the desk I grade papers on, like I told you back then.”

“I’ll take that as a promise. You owe me.” You roll your eyes at the sudden flash of ego whilst your fingers curl around the hem of your top and you pull it over your head. Fully bare and exposed, you finally feel free; skin burning hot to the touch no matter that there’s nothing to cover it anymore.

Fingers stroking your sides, Kiba’s gaze turns soft immediately at the sight of you. He seems to be struggling to find the right words, but nevertheless gathers the courage to say, “You look lovely.”

Your voice is as warm as his eyes, now, “Really?”

“Mhmm.” His eyelids grow heavy all over again. “Pretty.”

“How about now?” Poor man, he looks like he’s losing brain cells just because of getting some pussy. Especially as you lift your hips just by a few measly inches and slam them back down just as slowly. The squelch that sounds out makes both of your faces heat up instantly. “Am I still lovely?”

“Y-yeah,” he stutters and hates himself for it. Fingers twitch, pores ooze sweat. He hasn’t felt this nervous fucking a woman ever since he was nineteen. 

And while that may have been a long time ago – ages, actually – he can still compete with your peers, right? He’s still just as vigorous and full of stamina as them, right? He just needs to take it easy. To really concentrate. He’s not that old yet, he can do this, goddammit!

“Yeah?” You push him further, palms resting on his chest until his shirt is starting to crinkle underneath them. “You like seeing me sitting on your cock like this, handsome?”

Oh, Jesus motherfucking Christ–

He nods, his expression almost pained when you repeat the exact same movement. Couple inches out, then slamming back down onto them, right to the hilt. Until your clit kisses the dark hair he’s trimmed just for you. Until he’s near your cervix and feels so fucking snug beside it.

“You’re so fucking big, Kiba,” you pant, smiling. “Your cock feels–… Feels s’good inside me.”

God, you’re one nasty girl, aren’t you? Always teasing and provoking him. Making his eyes look at the place where you connect, and then smirking when you catch him ogling.

“Fuck me,” he breathes.

“I am, baby,” you reply.

“No,” he says, trying to focus, focus, focus. His hands find your hips again, one immediately slipping onto the curve of your ass to squeeze it. “Ride it, princess. Need you to move.”

Oh?

There’s a look of determination in his eye that wasn’t there before as he looks up at you and narrows his gaze. He’s so red again, it’s stupid how red he gets all the time, but you oblige by quickening your pace in a way that makes him sigh in delight.

His hand moves by its own accord. He traces your hip, rounds the curve. Glides across your soft stomach, inching up between your tits. Stops to feel your heartbeat before reaching even higher. All until he’s got it wrapped around your throat; squeezing just enough to hear you gasp.

Still completely dressed, he’s so sweaty that your fingers practically slide across his abs when you push his shirt upwards in response to him choking you. Your nails drag across the skin and firm muscle; making him hiss through gritted teeth. It hurts, but it’s not nearly enough to make him relent.

After all, the way you try to gather air into your lungs whilst bouncing on his cock is just so nice to watch. It’s all so unhurried and relaxed. Kinky. You’re so wet, he can hear it. Strings of silvery arousal that bridge the narrow gap between his cock and your cunt. He’s never had a girl this delirious before, never had the pleasure to see someone melt for him as intensely as you do right now.

You truly have been waiting for him to come around. 

With the thought still in mind, his fingers move from your throat and tangle into your hair as he pulls you closer. Your chest collides with his own; teeth clash in a messy series of kisses he initiates first. You’re both sucking on each other’s tongues, exchanging saliva and moaning into each other’s mouths when you feel him bend his knees and get ready.

“Ki–” You moan, the high-pitched squeal breaking your voice. “Ki–ba.”

“Mhmm, yeah,” he hums, eyes glazed over, mind blank. “Pretty name your professor’s got, huh? You like saying it while bouncing on his cock?”

You nod frantically, like a little bimbo. Like a good student – a teacher’s pet. Even if you wanted to answer, nothing but quiet whimpers and slutty moans manage to escape your mouth. It brings a crooked grin forth – one you’ve never seen before. It’s almost boyish.

Meanwhile, Kiba doesn’t seem to mind your inability to answer him properly. Not when he presses his lips into a firm line of concentration and starts to buck his hips upward, meeting your own halfway. Doing his fair share. Helping you out.

The first thrust makes your mouth form a tiny ‘o’ he’s already seen before. The second makes your eyelids flutter, threatening to become squeezed shut. By the third, you’re gasping and begging him for something neither of you knows what it is.

“Goddamn, you– Hah...” 

A droplet of sweat trickles down his temple at how hard he tries to keep himself in check. At how intensely he’s focusing. It’s enough to make his teeth hurt from how hard he’s gritting them. But god-fucking-damn it, the friction is wonderful. Young pussy, just for him.

And he, well, he obliterates it. Straight up ruins your tight little cunt. He lacks speed and stamina, sure, but he possesses enough raw power to bully your womb into fucking shambles just the same; even better than that. He screws you dumb, splits you in half from how deep he reaches and how harshly he makes you sink right back.

He manages to make you cum once, and almost breaks his endurance with it, too. You just get so tight when you become undone, after all; clench around his dick and suck him right in, so persistent to milk him dry. But he saves himself. Clenches his jaw again, and stills for long enough to take a breather and to calm down enough to keep on going.

But yes, even with the little breaks, he absolutely wrecks you again the moment you give him the okay to do so. He overstimulates you by rubbing tight little circles into your clit, until you’re gushing and purring for the second time around; eyes crossing and mouth drooling.

He’s doing so good. It’s a little over thirty minutes as he reaches the point of no return and can’t possibly last any longer. Thirty fucking minutes of brutal rawdogging that makes you cum once more – bullied pussy trying to milk him all over again.

“Pill?” He’s panting so hard that he can barely say the word.

You’re not doing any better, nearly wheezing, fighting for air as you reply, “Implant.”

“Good girl,” he praises, pressing you so tight against him that you can’t possibly suck a breath in. “Gonna fill you up, then… Nice and full.”

You laugh, all breathless and exhausted. “When?”

“Mm, now.”

Kiba doesn’t lie. A couple of more thrusts that are so fast and brutal that they have you spilling tears, and he really does fill you up all nice and full. Paints your velvety walls entirely white; sticks his seed so far into you that it coats your cervix and almost surely floods your womb.

“Oh, god. Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck…” He squeezes his eyes shut; furrows his brow so hard that it makes his head hurt. He can even feel the end of one eyebrow twitch because of it. 

It doesn’t stop even as he calms down enough to listen to your erratic breaths that you puff out right into the crook of his neck.

“Sweetheart.” His arms release the death grip he’s held your smaller frame in until this very moment, before he cautiously runs his broad hand along your spine. You’re sweating just as much as him, he can feel the salt lingering on your skin. Christ, he really must have worked you up, huh? “You okay?”

“Mhmmm.” You’re still so high from everything that the expression you give him is comically dazed. Your head feels so heavy, you can barely keep it up from his chest. “Dandy, baby… Jus’ dandy.”

He snorts, trying to stifle his laughter immediately.

“Whaaat?” You pout when he chuckles again. “What is it, hmm?”

“Nothin’,” he mutters, lips twitching into a lazy grin. “You’re just so fucking cute, goddammit, ahh… Just wanna squeeze you to death.”

“That isn’t gonna work, you know,” you whisper, despite that you feel heat searing your face at the compliment. “One little praise isn’t gonna make me fuck you again… ‘M too tired.”

“Mm… How ‘bout a lil’ kiss, then?” He can’t believe how soft he’s become so quickly.

“Just one?”

“I can do more.”

“Hmm…” Your eyes narrow. “Alrighty then.” You can’t believe it either.

Kiba holds your face with both hands when you lean down to press your lips against his own. It’s a soft kiss. Sweet and tender, like a marshmallow roasted on a stick; all gooey inside. Promising something that could hurt you if you’re too eager to taste it before it cools off, but also offering something that can satisfy you just as well if you just take your time with it.

And speaking of hurting you; he’s bound to do it. Whatever you have right now won’t work out, it can’t possibly work out. This kind of relationship just isn’t done this way. He’s a teacher and you’re his student. And besides, he’s been alone for so long... He’ll never be able to partake in the role and fill the part you want him to play.

Or maybe, he just needs time. To get to know you, to adjust. Maybe you just need to graduate. Maybe going on a couple of dates isn't such a bad idea, because it doesn’t mean that he’s expected to settle, necessarily. Maybe you can take it slow. Make him drift, instead of sink right into it.

It’s the reason why he says, “I wanna take you out when you’re done with school. Like a real, proper date... If you’d be cool with that.”

“Why, your heart’s running away with your head, mister,” you tease, wiggling your brows when you both feel content to speak again. “What ever happened to staying away from me?”

“Well, you know what they say,” Kiba sighs, pulling you in for another tender kiss. Everything feels so intimate and warm – he’s going to burst from how good you feel.

“Absence makes the heart grow fonder.”

tags: @mrs-bakashi

#it's finally here oml #kiba inuzuka smut #kiba smut #kiba x reader #kiba x you #kiba x y/n #naruto smut

[aikoiya]

Fear The Man That Fears No God

My mom was watching something on Netflix a bit ago called the "3 Body Problem" about aliens coming to earth to kill us & take over.

You know, the norm.

But she & I both noticed some very antireligious ideas in it.

Something that really stuck out to me was something that this nuts-o physicist lady named Ye Wenjie said.

Turns out, she was the one who first contacted the aliens as a young woman. Her father had just been killed by a group of atheists who were mad that he wouldn't say that there was no God.

Instead, he said the most honest thing from his perspective, that there was no conclusive (secularly accepted) evidence one way or the other.

And they didn't like that answer.

She contacted the aliens & essentially said, "help us, we've messed things up."

Which is what drew them there.

Now, what got me sputtering like an idiot in confused disbelief was this weird, sacrilegious story that I have zero idea where it came from.

---

"So Einstein dies. He finds himself in heaven, and he has his violin. He's overjoyed. He loves his violin more than physics. Even more than women. He's excited to find out how well he can play in heaven. He imagines he'll be pretty damn good. So he starts tuning up, and the angels rush at him.

'What are you doing?' they say.

'I'm getting ready to play.'

'Don't do that. God won't like it. He's a saxophonist.'

So Einstein stops. He doesn't play. But it's difficult. He loves music. And there's actually not much to do in heaven. And sure enough, from high above, he hears the saxophone. He's playing 'Take the 'A' Train', do you know that one? Einstein knows it too. And he thinks, I'm going to do it. I'm going to play with him. We're going to sound great together. So he starts playing 'Take the 'A' Train'. The saxophone stops, and God appears. He marches over to Einstein and kicks him in the balls, which hurts, even in heaven. Then he smashes Einstein's beloved violin to bits. Eternity without music. Heaven has become hell for Einstein. And as he writhes on the ground, holding his smashed balls, an angel comes over and says: 'We warned you: Never play with God.'"

---

Like, I get that it's supposed to be some sort of joke that's supposed to help Saul later, I think.

But this when added with the Sophons, which feels like an attempt to suggest that anything miraculous that happens is just a delusion. (Which is dumb, because miraculous things happened even before Ye made contact with them, so the Sophons weren't behind them at all.)

As well as the portrayal of a handful of religious individuals as following the Sophons despite the fact that they themselves say that they are just microscopic computers the size of a photon. They also say that they are incapable of telling lies, which is their purported reasoning for wishing to get rid of humanity. As they believe it means that they are incapable of co-existing.

Seems to suggest that this was a very antireligious show. Not just anti-Christian. Not just atheistic or areligious. Antireligious.

Which... considering how religion is one of the cornerstones of culture, isn't a great stance to take.

But, I can't help but wonder if the author of the books missed something.

Like, yes, people do terrible things in the name of God, but what I fear most is the sort of things that people would do in the name of no God.

For one, it's speculated that Hilter may have been antireligious. That the only God he worshipped was the laws of the universe & is quoted as having said that science, not religion, that would pave humanity's way forward. Heck, he used science at the time as an excuse for his antisemitism.

And Stalin was an atheist.

In other words, it matters not who they pray to, if someone wishes to do terrible things, then they'll do them regardless of whether they have an excuse or not.

Fear the man who fears no God. Fear those who worship only science, for it is ever-changing & they will use the current understanding of it as an excuse to commit evil. But even more than that, fear he who worships only himself. For they who do will commit terrible acts far beyond any other.

Aikoiya's Writing Tips Masterlist

#tw antireligion #fear the man who fears no God

[mica949]

Toppat Android!Charles lore Slight warning for robot violence!

Burt pretended he didn’t like Charles’s presence, but he caught him smiling every now and then. 

He was jumping back and forth between jobs, trying to find something in the clan that he would like to do for the foreseeable future. For now, he was working in intel and communications. Along with Burt, it was his job to send messages to the different divisions: the  ones who stayed on earth and ones who went up to the space station. 

It was actually pretty fun. He was learning code, leading how to encrypt messages so the government wouldn’t be able to read them. In fact, he was getting curious…

“Hey Burt.” He ignored the way the other sighed as he spoke up again. “How good are you at decoding stuff?”

Burt looked him up and down, then spoke in his usual monotone. “Pretty good. Only been doing this for about 20 years.”

Wow, 20 years? That was intense. But hey, boosted his chances. “Do you think you could decode my coding? And like, change stuff?”

Charles couldn’t read the expression on Burt’s face. “Would you… want that?”

“Oh yeah. There’s like, a lot of memories that are blocked off, and I know they put in an anti-Toppat coding cus my head keeps screaming at me. Stuff like that, y’know?” He shrugged his shoulders. 

“I probably could. I’ve done this kind of thing before.” Now it was Charles’s turn to raise an eyebrow. Burt ignored him though, reaching under a table and pulling out a series of cables. “What kind do you use? I got USB, USBC, parallel, all that stuff.” 

“Oh. Uh, USBC, I think.” He took his headphones off, feeling the small port behind his left ear. “Yeah, USBC.” 

After looking through the cables, Burt pulled out a long red cord and abruptly stuck it in the port. Charles was about to complain, but suddenly felt completely overwhelmed at how much information there was. The port allowed for a two sided link, and from his place in his chair Charles could feel the dormant mechanisms in the station, just waiting for orders. 

“Wow. That’s… intense.” It felt as though a crowd had its eyes on him, waiting for him to lead. He had to squeeze his eyes shut and send through the port go away, I’m not in charge here, just getting some adjustments, I’ll be out of your nonexistent hair soon.

Burt was silent, but Charles could hear clicking on the computer and feel his folders being opened and looked through. It was honestly kind of violating, but he was used to it. Just forced himself to take deeper breaths.

“They used the same encrypting for you that they use for their ‘top secret’ messages. What idiots.” Charles poked an eye open, seeing Burt look exhausted as he looked through his mind. “Who wrote this? Objective C is so outdated.”

“Well, I was made a long time ago. It’s probably just easier to keep it that way.”

“Still. You’d be able to run a lot faster on C++.”

“Maybe that’s why I’m so dumb.” He said with a chuckle.”

“…You’re not dumb.” Burt muttered. Honestly, Charles’s heart felt a bit warmed. “Oh, you’re right. They do have anti-toppat coding. Seriously, who programmed you? There’s so many if/elses in here. I could replace them with a switch and…”

Charles chuckled. He’d never seen Burt so passionate about anything. “Well. Just delete it. Or don’t, if that would break me.”

“Give me just a second.”

Oh man, the feeling of his coding being rewritten was always disorienting. He closed his eyes again, busying his hands with fiddling with a fancy studded band on his pointer finger. His first steal, and honestly it was good for destressing.

Huh. Oh wow. All that anxiety about Burt and Henry and Ellie just… disappeared. That was weird. “I’m assuming you did it, so, thanks.” 

Burt was silent. Charles could hear more clicking and scrolling, followed by some typing. Then a scoff. “The archiving system is so basic. You have no idea how much I want to rewrite all of this.”

Charles didn’t quite understand. It sounded complicated. “Can you just… get rid of it? Delete some stuff?” 

“I think if I just deleted this line, then…”

Oh. He remembered now. The others. The explosion. Back when he was pilot-delta-9.

Intel-alpha-2, who almost got decommissioned for stepping on the foot of a soldier who bullied Charles. Sol-beta-1, who acted tough but couldn’t fall asleep without a plushie as big as they were. Hell, around a hundred little robots who all looked forward to being on the front line once they passed training. 

Then one night, a siren sounded seconds before their building was filled with fire. 

He heard gunshots, people screaming either for help or to kill others who were still standing. Charles was trapped under rubble, holding the lifeless hand of his friend whose head was pierced through by a support beam. Water was beginning to fill the area, and he wasn’t quite waterproof yet. He held his head up as much as he could, trying to prevent it from getting in his hard drive. Despite not having a mouth, he remembered covering the area and hoping desperately that the person who found him would be a good guy. 

It was 2 days later, when the smoke had finally settled, that someone lifted the chunk of ceiling to find the two robots under it. 

That was when he was given his cozy jacket, to try and cheer him up as he passed the mangled hard drives of his friends. He knew that they’d locked those memories off to keep him from causing a fuss, but how did he just forget that? 

He didn’t realize he’d stopped breathing until a hand tapped his shoulder. He couldn’t help but flinch. 

“Are… you alright?”

Charles forced himself to start breathing again. Despite the thoughts that were running through his head, that Burt could surely read, he put on a forced smile. “I’ve been better? It was kinda intense. Don’t lock it up again though! I don’t want to forget…”

Burt nodded. “Go get a drink or something.” The cord was pulled out of his head, and Charles sighed in relief as he was just himself again. It felt like a chore to put his headphones back on and stand. 

He had a lot to think about. 

#the henry stickmin collection #thsc #charles calvin #android charles #burt curtis #not quite fics

[soupct123]

I saw a post the other day about “the Portal renaissance” basically about how new people consistently come into the fanbase due to Portal 2 going on sale on Steam every so often. That’s probably the actual explanation for a whole lotta people, but that wasn’t for me, and it got me thinking about my introduction to it. So I decided it would be fun for me to reflect on the story of how I discovered it, and then post about it because blebityblehbleh parasocial strangers’ approval blibbityblooblah

In 2017, Lego Dimensions sets started showing up at 99 cent stores. I was 15, and I still liked legos but I knew how expensive they were so I always looked for bargains. I really wanted the Jurassic World set, but I never found it. I still got quite a few, and one in particular sorta stuck with me.

The other sets all ended up used in miscellaneous ways for like brick built dinosaurs and transformers and stuff, but I decided to keep the cube and Chell built. Every so often I’d look at them, they lived on a shelf with my lego clone troopers, and I’d think “I should look up what those come from, it seems pretty cool” but because I was a dumb ass adhd teenager I never got around to it.

Then in 2020 I discovered RTgame’s YouTube channel through his Minecraft videos, he was my #1 fav channel for a few months, so I started working through his backlog. My favorite videos were the ones where he played with CallMeKevin, so I looked for those videos specifically and found out they played Portal 2, that thing that the lego things were from! So I watched it, and it looked fun and stuff, I liked the robots and the sci fi aesthetic, but through the screams of these Irish idiots I heard snippets of the most heavenly voice that ever graced my ears.

And something in my gay little brain just clicked and I just needed to hear her more.

Luckily, this video popped up in my recommendations thanks to raniel and kev, and it gave me fucking hives, and I became a GLaDOS junkie

I started eyeing the fandom from afar, but I very rarely ventured outside my niche, that being Portal 2 GLaDOS voice line compilations on YouTube. If I ever needed cheering up or had trouble sleeping I listened to her, I didn’t need any context because she was funny and had the most radiant beautiful voice I ever heard, and it stayed that way for a while.

I built a lego glabos late 2020 that I’ve consistently upgraded, but I’ve decided not to stray for 100% accuracy because I’m just not skilled enough.

That was it for like 2 years, I had the lego, I liked the GLaDOS voice, I was happy. Then in January 2022 I was looking for a Blu-ray DVD player since I started living on my own. Then my little brother suggested I get a video game console, and I realized there were a few older games that I really wanted to play, so I took his advice and looked up what consoles had Transformers: War For Cybertron, Fall of Cybertron, and Lego Jurassic World.

X box 1 had them but x boxes cost like $300. Ps4s had them and were a bit cheaper but still over $100.

Then I saw that all 3 games were available on PS3. So I looked up the prices and I found some used for like $70.

On January 6, 2022, I got this PS3 from a used games shop for something like $40, and War For Cybertron to go with it.

I wanted to find a co-op game to play with him since he had the idea, but he found one for me on January 20th. He said “my friend told me this is about robots, a lesbian computer, and a creepy facility, so I thought you’d like it. Plus it has a two-player mode so we can play it since you still haven’t found Lego Jurassic World”

I hadn’t even checked if Portal 2 was on PS3 previously. After my first play through of the singleplayer campaign I cried my ass off and told him it was the best gift ever.

It was the thing that triggered me to actually start getting into the community, and I luckily started in the right place: looking through the GLaDOS tag on Archive of our own. Then I became a Chelldos addict and now I feel like I’ve been here for years.

Later I found the Orange Box to play Portal 1 and then everything came full fucking circle

Basically, the reason I got into Portal is because I’m a cheapskate who watches twitch clips on YouTube

#portal game #valve games #portal 2 #ps3games #lego dimensions #GLaDOS

[talesfromthetraproom]

The Stage Techs Play Electrician for a Day, and Encounter the Wall That Eats All Things

Setting:

Concert Hall. 12 noon (the trouble apparently began before this, but I came in at 12 because my morning involved falling asleep in a computer science lecture and getting my toilet fixed).

Cast:

The student crew (Me)

The union crew (Grumpy, Twin, and Loud)

The supervisors (PM, LX, and Video)

Today's Tale Brought to You By:

A Highly Suspicious Amount of Silence

An Overengineered Game of Snakes and Ladders

The Prospect of Spiders

Really Bad Building Design (and No One is Surprised)

The object of the game: take these ethernet cables, and run them from one side of the audience to the other through the wall that separates the grand tier from the orchestra. Shouldn't be too difficult, right? Right? Wrong. When I arrived on the scene, Video, Loud, and Twin were already mostly defeated and staring at the wall like they might suddenly develop XRay vision.

Several Hours and a Multitude of Plan Bs later, we have the following collection of highlights (in no particular order):

Twin: "Quit telling me about the habitat preferences of venomous spiders when I have my hand shoved halfway up an electrical box!" Me: "I thought the warning both timely and necessary, excuuse me"

LX: [Shop Teacher], you have to understand that University students are complete idiots. Not you though, Wynn. Me (flipping him off over my shoulder): You still wouldn't trust me with a welder, to be fair. Shop Teacher: I would! LX: You shouldn't. She frequently threatens to murder people.

Video: "While I truly appreciate that PM found our missing conduits, is no one going to point out that he also ripped the entire cable box out of the wall? No? Just me? Is anyone thinking about how the cable box is gong back into the wall? No? Just me?"

Loud: "I suddenly feel the need to point out that I told you I could rip this box apart. At absolutely no point did I tell you that I could put it back together and I am in no way liable for what PM decides to do with that information."

Video: "Hey LX. Can we cut one of your network cables and use it as a guide wire?" LX: "That would be an incredibly expensive mistake." Video: "On the contrary I'm willing to bet it's about the least expensive mistake we've made today."

PM: "What's going on out here? Wynn said my presence was requested, and I believe she used the word 'shitshow' so it's gotta be serious." Loud: "Yeah. How mad would you be if we cut a slightly larger hole in this wall?"

LX: "Wynn, go turn off the footlights before PM blinds himself. They're the switch backstage that is labelled 'DO NOT TURN OFF'. Don't give me that look."

PM: "Hey Wynn you have little hands, come feel around behind this box and see if you can find the conduit." LX: "What, so we can now have two cables, a broken pull line, the retrieving snake, and Wynn's arm stuck in the wall???" PM (ignoring him): "Out of curiosity, when was your last tetanus shot?"

LX: "Oh Grumpy? Watch out for the fire alarm sensors up there, an evacuation is the last thing we need today. They're white and look like laser emitte-" *BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.* LX: "....yeah. Those ones." There are certain perks to being located directly across the street from the University Emergency Services building.

In the end and thanks to dumb luck, we did get the cable run all the way through the wall and out the other side. The concert hall, rather than being recording-ready for tomorrow, rather looks like a tornado went through the grand tier. LX got absolutely nothing done that he needed to do today. Half of the face plate screws went missing in the chaos. But I got away with only a few scrapes on my arms, and nobody encountered venomous spiders (though I'm not sure Twin will ever forgive me for that one). I think we all learned a few lessons, and gained a new level of respect for our fellow tradesmen.

#technical theatre #tales #stage techs being a force of chaos #I went home and studied for a cse exam after this #I'm so tired

[lunarscaled]

A medium sized box sits at lyrics doorstep, bright pink with a blue bow. A note attached reads “I figured our mutual idiot got you something dumb for your birthday. So I took one of his work shirts and made it a pillow case. This is also one of his pillows. As for MY actual gift to you, I’ll message you in the morning! Sleep well, babes! Happy birthday 💜 -Leilani”

HAPPY BIRTHDAY LYRIC

-> There had been packages in and out of the guild hall all day: Abel sending out prescriptions, Lyric mailing out paperwork, Hasr'thal receiving electric components for whatever computer upgrade he was making now. Mel received his thick, glossy-paged copy of the recent Modern Mage issue he had done a photoshoot for in a manilla package with bubble wrap and sprinted around the halls showing everyone who would take the time to look in excitement, as if every photoset was his first, and inevitably Lyric would also receive several packages. One from the circus, one from Blaire, several miscellaneous advertisements that had their government information to send them coupons and discounts for things they likely wouldn't buy. The largest is a package they must unexpectedly sign for; bright baby pink and a pastel blue curly ribbon stuck to the top next to a tag with their name on it. There is a lingering scent of pine sol on it---whoever sent it must clean often, or have recently cleaned the surface they rested the box on. There is a card ( more like a note: a decorative piece of stationary stuck on the top of the box inside the wrapping ) that they carefully peel away and read.

"... if you get in trouble later for taking his stuff, I hope you know I'm not sharing the blame."

-> The livingroom is too busy to enjoy such a gift---plus, a pillow ought to be placed in the appropriate place: Lyric holds the box under one arm and makes their own way unhurried to the shared large bedroom, which easily held enough space for several sets of bunk beds or individual twins, but the guild had opted for two large beds pushed together instead. Lyric examines the pillow closer now that they are alone, thumbing the edges of the slightly wonky seams where they matched the lines of the shirt, where sleeves had been cut and tucked into the pillow to make it a more uniform rectangle shape. They hold it to their chest. The foam interior is dense but still squishy, and when they press their face into it they can smell traces of cologne, Lei's hand lotion where they handled the fabric, the general scent of Roman's person impressioned on it. Near the edge where the collar of his shirt had been ironed and stitched together they can smell sweat, cigarette smoke that may have been their own, hair mousse. If they had a tail to show for it, Lyric knows it would have been thumping pleasantly on the bed at the comforting scents of people who cared for them, and when nestled among the many other pillows hoarded on the bed near the edge Lyric favors to sleep it is hardly noticable as being a shirt-turned-pillow. They stretch out into the space, face buried into all the soft, plush comfort, the mingling scents all familiar to them. A hearty purr escapes them since they are alone, free to relax and indulge in instincts for a scarce moment. They didn't want Roman to think they disliked his present, but they felt Lei knew their tastes much better. They just hoped he didn't pout too much when Lei inevitably was smug about it.

#remainsafe #* questions and answers. #🌙 you're the first starlight reborn through the night ( main. ) #⭐ with that smile and those eyes you captivate everyone ( remainsafe. | leilani ) #lyric looking at the box colors: 🏳️‍⚧️?

[scoutpologist]

:( whats up

this stupid piece of shit computer that’s so fucking idiotically dumb that for some reason it won’t accept a perfectly fine charger because the fucking charging bank isn’t up to its standards so i have to order this big fucking thing from amazon and it’s gonna take too long to get here so i’m just gonna be stuck doing nothing while my goddamn shitty laptop is breathing it’s last pathetic breaths do you have any idea how fucking stupid it is that this thing didn’t accept any of the chargers i threw at it and isn’t accepting the one i’ve finally fucking thrown at it now im on the floor in physical goddamn pain after driving around for god know how fucking long wasting so many fucking gallons of gas from my goddamn tank that im going to need to refill at this stupid fucking rate i have literally been on four different trips to different best buy’s trying to find the godless charger that would make this piece of shit work and it isn’t in a single fucking store id seriously rather gnaw off my own pathetic leg and eat it whole and raw like that bitch from the last episode of nbc’s hannibal than ever do this shit again i am so fucking exhausted and in so much actual physical pain because cramps decided to punch me at this beautiful golden fucking moment and i am dehydrated from driving around in the florida heat listening to albums i don’t even like in a huge ass sweater so i can have an extra pocket to carry shit in and getting shit advice from people who don’t have any clue what the fuck they’re talking about my wallet is in pain i am in pain im going to go have my third meltdown of the day and then pass out and wake up in a timeline god hasn’t abandoned me in good fucking night.

#ask #sootinsand

[the-firebird69]

Megadeth - Symphony of Destruction [Official Video]

This loser Trump thinks he's winning because he's having some things affect some people and he has something effect our son and he said he's going to cave but every single time instead of for years and it's never been proven to do anything and he is harassing him very badly with this crap he's harassing him in this scene Trump gets shot and we'll see you will see by who and there's such a war with bja and Brad Jason and Tommy Apple versus Trump everyone needs it badly

The guy thinks she's great and she's going to get shot in the head and he's singing his own praise to our son like it's supposed to believe that he's going to be doing something it's ridiculous he goes in his own body okay he doesn't use robotics cuz he sucks at it and he puts his people in robots he's a huge pig and a moron I went tired of him and his antics are ridiculously nauseating and our son is looking at him like well I hate you already now I have to do something to you and we do stuff too but we went up fool this guy is a huge huge jackass celebrating his own death when he was governor he's going to die as governor of Florida no California and the guy died again they put him in the ground a few days ago it's a symbol about California and it's in there rubbing it in into our sun I'm the balls it's like what the f*** is wrong with you look at the guy that's what he does for a living he must be test riding the caskets seeing which ones are comfy cozy to wake up in I mean the f***** deserves it he helped a whole bunch of people go away and a valuable it's over soon at all he didn't do any real work by the way

So the people at the funeral were upset and they're saying he just is really not there is he he's mean to his own people he's going to stick you in robots heavy defend the last ditch effort for him to try and harm my wife trying to destroy a monster to try and blow up the planet I'd say that he's spent doesn't deserve to be anywhere you can't stand up in a uniform for one two seconds soon enough there's going to be a big problem with the guy and everybody's going to see it out west and Brad sees it he'll see in the video you'll see the video and you'll see it in reality and we think it's tomorrow

Thor Freya

He drives right into a protest against him and everybody's I shoot the stupid b**** and he gets blown away it comes back in like an hour and people see it start going after his people it starts a war and we want him out as Governor he's a huge prick we don't want him here either he doesn't try at all to move our friend here to where he's in power he's a loser and he says it all the time I'm getting rid of my own hey it's ridiculous now I said a whole bunch of people in the path for Pontiac we know how to do it and he'll be stuck in his own area making no cars and that's fine he'll try and come to other areas and we'll get him he'll save the Mac that we know he's not and it's easy ways to tell and you can't figure it out but I can't wait to blow that stupid mother f*****'s brains out so I can say it to him we saw your brains come out I'm so sick of him he's such an a****** he hurts so many people that are valuable and so many people mind for no reason just to feed his non-existent ego takes a lashing from a friend here it was like a three year old child I can't believe how stupid that guy is but they should do is like the car on fire and see himself the agony of seeing the idiot in an hour who the hell would dig the a****** out I need to know where this is or that girl's computers and leaving there the Jesus Christ is not out he's got a huge killer computer in Saturn what the f*** does this idiot know but nothing

And our friends said the last two lions and is true this guy's a piece of s*** and he's holding Jesus and Mary in there to try and say that he has a computer program and he doesn't I am so sick of these assholes they're doing the job of the empire and it's so God damn dumb

Brad

It's why he shoots you Trump it's not why he gets shot you f****** idiot you're so God damn dumb

Zues

It is why it happens and you're the one who gets shot Trump you f****** idiot

Hera

You're saying it wrong and you're stupid a****** pissing other people off they probably shoot all of us out there you f****** c*** so sick of you Trump you God damn moron

Taylor Swift

Olympus

#Youtube

[summerlycoris]

Goddamn i hate phones these days. And this isnt me being a kids get off my lawn kinds of person. I just absolutely hate the way they arent built to last. I hate that you have to get screen protectors and cases and all sorts of shit that honestly? Should be built in to the phone.

Like. Bricks. They were built to last. I only seen one Nokia with a cracked screen. (Mine) and the crack wasnt a big deal- the buttons werent in the screen and it could still be used.

But nowdays theyre a huge deal. And screen protectors arent even always available locally for whatever phone you get. Neither are cases. So you send away for something online and dont know if itll be shit.

Well today i got a really shitty screen protector for my flip 3. I figured it being a flip phone would have a smidge more protection that a regular phone. The screen protector that Samsung supplied (a shitty plastic thing- not built in just stuck on top) was cracking snd peeling off in the middle. So i took it off and tried to find a replacement. Samsung says to send the phone in for a replacement screen protector. But this is the only phone i have. I cant afford to lose it for weeks.

So I buy one online and it comes to me. Its a panzerglass one. And im telling you so you dont get one of theirs. They fucking suck. The protector was probably okay if it went on properly but we never got that far.

Im an idiot and i know it so I read the instructions in the booklet and in the box. The instructions werent correct. I still tried to follow them. It resulted in the screen protector being useless. So i crumpled it into a ball and cried because i felt dumb.

I should clarify- the instructions said peel back (1), apply, then peel front (2). But there were four different sections. 1 and 4 were front and back respectively (I think) and 2 and 3 were tabs to the side. I tried peeling 1 and sticking it down. I peeled off 4, then tried peeling 2 and 3. It pulled the protector up. I slowly understood they were between protector and phone. Peeled off 2. It went immediately floppy and started sticking to everything- my hands, itself. I freak out and just try to apply it and tried using the squeegie. It just made stratches in the protector and couldnt get rid of the little bumps.

If id known the instructions were useless i could have like. Peeled 4. Attached THAT side to the phone. Peeled off 1. Then peeled off 2 and 3. And it would have worked? It still wouldve been a shitty protector but it could have worked?

I feel like such an idiot for thinking i could do anything on my own.

But it shouldnt be that way. Phones are such a waste of money and they dont have to be. Computers can last for years. Even laptops can last for years. The only reason phones cant these days is because corporations want us to be buying news ones whenever the breaks get to expensive to repair. They want us buying screen protectors and cases and all sorts of rubbish because its more money into some rich assholes pockets.

Capitalism really does ruin everything over time, huh?

#summerly talks

[percontaion-points]

Crave chapters 18-20

Click to see the rest of the snark & image descriptions

Chapter 18

Jaxon ignores her as he braces a hand on the wall behind me. Then he leans in and, in a voice so low I have to strain to hear him, murmurs, “You’re determined not to listen to me, aren’t you?”

Out of the context of vampires, to Grace's eyes, Jaxon's words must seem like the simple posturing of an alpha male who has never once been told “no” in his entire life.

I give him a WTF look.

Look, don't get me wrong. Because I love the shorthand and “lol” and emojis.

But there's a time and place for them. And that time is never inside of narration. The only acceptable reason why this should show up in a novel would be if a character is texting somebody. And even then, sparingly used.

Something tells me this boy—and his world-famous disappearing act— is going to be the death of me.

Chapter 18 summary: So Jaxon has showed up. And after talking to Macy for a few seconds, Macy literally disappears for several pages while Jaxon... basically postures about shit. Naturally, Grace doesn't understand. He tells her not to go outside, that it's dangerous. She reminds him that she won't be alone, and will be with a huge group of people. It's dumb and... you guessed it. Goes on for too long.

Eventually, Flint shows up, along with some of his friends. There's a moment when the two boys are staring at one another, until the narration remembers that Macy is supposed to be there, and she interrupts the staring match to talk about snowballs. Flint leaves with his friends and Macy. Again, the posturing goes on for too long, without any actual point.

Now alone, Jaxon gets really close to Grace in the hall and dramatically touches her face while saying her name. For the third time: dumb and goes on for too long. Eventually, he steps away and tells her to build up a “snowball arsenal” and to defend her home-base, and then he leaves her to it.

Chapter 19

I scramble to grab on to something—anything—but the wind is too strong. The branch I’m sitting on issues an ominous crack. And then I’m falling.

Chapter 19 summary: Outside, Flint starts in about how Grace could pick Jaxon. She tries to defend Jaxon, but Flint cuts her off and tells her that she's new here, and has no idea the depths of messed up Jaxon is.

They then start the snowball fight. And as usual, it's not so much that I mind the overly-long scene, but every other chapter in this has the plot screeching to a halt to describe something so mundane in the most dramatic way possible. So this makes me want to scream and chuck my computer at the author for subjecting us to this BS.

And I have to tell you that I barely read the rest of the chapter; only just skimmed it to get the gist. Anyway, these idiots decide to climb a tree to catch the others off-guard, but then I guess they get stuck, and then the branch Grace is on breaks, and she starts to fall.

NOW TAKING BETS THAT JAXON WILL SOMEHOW SAVE HER.

Chapter 20

I brace myself for bone-crunching impact, but before I hit, Flint is grabbing me, pulling me against him, spinning us in midair. He hits the ground, back first, and I land on him, my face buried in the curve of his neck.

I knew somebody would save her, but I'm honestly a little disappointed Jaxon didn't come out from nowhere to do it.

And can I just say, I’m beginning to feel an awful lot like Alice in Wonderland here—things keep getting “curiouser and curiouser.”

I also compare it to Alice in Wonderland and am asking for Grace to wake up from her nap on the plane, only to realize she hasn't even gotten to Alaska yet, and all of this was nothing but a weird stress dream.

Here, I’m the girl who fell out of a tree and nearly caused World War III between the two hottest guys in school.

Oh honestly. We'd be up into the millions if a literal World War broke out every time two macho “alpha male” teenagers got into a pissing contest.

Like I get that they're vampires and... whatever the hell Flint is. But come on. Nobody cares that much about petty, high school drama.

(But can you imagine? Cause of WWI: Assassination of Archduke Ferdinand. Cause of WWII: H*tler's rise to power in the vacuum leftover from the end of WWI. Cause of WWIII: two boys duking it out in the school yard. Because of a girl.)

Jaxon shoots both of us an incredulous look as he helps me to my feet. Then, without a word, he swoops me into his arms.

Chapter 20 summary: As Grace falls, Flint jumps from the tree in order to try and save her. She lands on top of him, with him landing hard on the snow. He's winded for a long moment, but then he pops right up again and insists that he's fine.

Right then, Jaxon shows up, with his friends. There's an awful lot of posturing, but in this author's usual style, there's a lot of words that take up a lot of pages, but it serves no actual purpose. It's so fucking petty that not even a minute after reading it, I literally could not tell you what the fuck was going on other than the two of them doing nothing but circling each other and displaying their red botto- Wrong species, but you know what I mean. Maybe this would make sense if we could have a crumb of context, but we don't, and even Macy seems lost.

Eventually, Jaxon says that he'll take Grace back to her dorm. Grace is worried about Flint, but he insists that he's fine, and to go with Jaxon. So Grace goes, and since it's her dorm too, Macy tags along. Jaxon kind of starts in on how careless Grace was, but again... it lacks any sort of actual context, and I could literally not care less about any of this.

As they walk, Grace realizes that her ankle really hurts. Jaxon starts to pressure her about what hurts, since it's obvious she's kind of limping a bit. She insists that she's fine, and then admits that her ankle hurts. Macy says that she can go get the snowmobile, but Grace thinks that it would make even more of a scene. So Jaxon simply picks her up.

#Crave series #Crave (Crave 1) #chapter 18 #chapter 19 #chapter 20 #Grace (Crave) #jaxon vega #shitty men are shitty #I would ask where the editor was but I think we all know there was none #Macy (Crave) #Flint (Crave) #do you even know how the world works? #HEADDESKING #i'm done goodbye

[anonymouslosersworld]

𝗬𝗮𝗻𝗱𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝗕𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻 𝘅 𝗡𝗮𝗶𝘃𝗲 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿

Warnings; Yandere themes, obsessives/possessive themes, toxic actions, violence, Sexual Themes, Strong language, and smoking/alcohol

Characters; Bonten Sanzu, Bonten Mikey, Bonten Ran haitani, Bonten Rindo Haitani, BontenKakucho and Bonten Kokonoi.

Genre; Nsfw

requested by @yukima

Prompt; whether you want it or not they are in love with you

[Rules/Guidelines] {Masterlist 1} {Masterlist 2}

It wasn't an exact secret that you were a Bonten executive,

but many in Bonten didn't exactly know who you are. Unless they are in your exact division. The other Bonten executives made sure to instill an unparcelled fear of you with just your name, they didn't need to know how you look they just needed to know their place.

Your main job was to investigate traitors, informants, and basically anything dealing with betrayal to Bonten. The end game was to just deal with traitors or people with losing tongues.

Despite all of this you still had this naive part of you stuck in your head when dealing with your co-workers.

You reminded them of a distant past they couldn't go back to ever and they were determined for you not to lose that.

You somehow had no experience with dealing with actual people. For example, you could do your job effectively but you couldn't compute when someone tried to confess to you or express an interest in you.

It was utterly hilarious for Bonten to see you have ?? above your head while someone was trying their hardest to ask you out on a date.

it was drop-dead comedy seeing you get annoyed with Ran who would constantly flirt with you and you would look at him with the most adorably angry face and cuss him out.

"Speak (Insert language here), you fucking idiot! You think I speak dumb?!"

That being said you were a precious gem and they weren't letting that you go anytime soon. Any person stupid enough to approach you in any romantic way would be swiftly dealt with.

Your staff wasn't even safe from their eccentric ... activities. You had caught Sanzu and Rindou more times than you can count with both of your hands "punishing" your men for being "traitors".

Not to mention Kokonoi's need of taking you to high-end boutiques to buy you clothes that he liked.

"Koko, I can buy these clothes on my own."

"But I want to treat you."

" These aren't even my style. Where would I even wear this?"

"For me to see them on you. "

" If I want a daddy to dress I'll go call my actual dad to come and choose something. I won't dress up for you like some show dog."

Kokonoi still buys them for you and calls you an ungrateful brat. Eventually, he ends up guilt-tripping you enough for you to accept his gift.

"No means no Mocchi! Do you want to hear it in french? German?"

"AH!"

" non! Nein!"

You took off running to Kakucho after kicking Mocchi in the balls for trying to get you to go with him somewhere. Kakucho was honestly the safest one in Bonten besides Mikey. He keeps you in his office and won't leave you alone. He even escorts you home and stays the night and then another and another till he ends up just living with you.

You just don't question it anymore.

He takes care of you and makes sure the others don't hurt you even though he knows you can deal with them.

You sneak Mikey into your home and Kakucho doesn't mind. After all the both of you were childhood friends and whether he liked it or not Mikey wouldn't give you up even if it killed him.

Most of the time you Mikey and you are spotted cuddling in pain site with Mikey's face stuffed in your neck/chest/stomach/thighs. No one questions it in general.

You do get to see the ugly sides to them when you push back their affection. (that happens rarely)

in your honest opinion, Sanzu was the scariest of the bunch but Mikey's Dark impulses were even more terrifying.

Sanzu would kill and torture anyone in his way of you. Men, women, genderfluid people, or children were all just target practice for him.

While Mikey would be happy one moment and if he's triggered then he becomes a shell of himself. His cold eyes were the only real thing you remembered before he did the sickest and twisted thing you've ever witnessed in your life.

Kakucho your lovely homemaker would ruin people's lives. He'd force them into so much despair till they committed suicide to get away from it all. their name would be equivalent to mud by the time he's done. if they weren't dead they would be by the time he sent them to Sanzu.

Kokonoi left anyone in financial ruin. Kokonoi doesn't play around when you're on the line. If anyone tries to take you from him, he'd get the best of the best to get rid of their friends, then their cousins, then aunts/uncles. It would escalate to killing their kids and parents if they had any.

The haitani's are ruthless. They give almost anyone the ex-king of Roppongi treatment. Breaking bones and leaving blood splatters anywhere.

#tokyo revengers #Bonten Sanzu #Bonten Mikey #Bonten Ran haitani #Bonten Rindo Haitani #BontenKakucho and Bonten Kokonoi. #rindou haitani #haitani rindou #mikey sano #tokyo revengers mikey #mikey tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers x reader #ran haitani #kokonoi hajime #hajime kokonoi #kakucho hitto #tokyo revengers kakucho #kakucho x reader #kakucho x y/n #sanzu haruchiyo #akashi haruchiyo #sanzu akashi #bonten

[scandinavianfairytale]

One step at a time

Pairing: Captain Syverson x friend!reader

Warnings: PTSD, night terrors, war talk, minor spoilers for the movie Sand Castle, friends in love, but neither wants to risk the friendship.

Turning of the keys in your door pulled you from your focused work. You pulled off your earphones and stared at the front door. As soon as your mind recognized the army uniform, you screamed in excitement.

"Where's my hug?" Sy yelled with a giant goofy smile and you wrapped your arms around his big neck. His giant arms pulled you closer until he lifted you off the ground, making you let out a squeal.

"Wh-You're back. Oh my God, Sy, welcome back!" You yelled, still processing the fact that he was physically standing in-front of you.

"And this time I'm staying." He smiled down at you.

"Really? Thank you, Lord. Now I can finally stop worrying you'll get yourself killed...idiot." You punched him in the arm.

"How did you get from being all giggly to insulting me in a few seconds time?" Sy sighed with a small smile on his face.

"Like that's something new," you stuck out your tongue. "I wish I'd know you were coming back! I'd have picked you up, with a giant pink sign and glittering letters."

"You're a peach. But I had to stop by the base." He explained as he sat down next to her computer. When he left the airport he knew this was the last mission he will take. He served his country, helped the people and his guys and now it was time to make a normal life back in the US. His superior promised him a promotion once he was rested and sought professional help. So he needed to stop by the base to take care of the papers and have a quick meeting with MacGregor.

"Did you also get an appointment?" You asked as you listened to your friend. Deep down you already knew the answer, you knew the man for half of your life...yet still you hoped you were wrong.

"What appointment?" He played dumb.

"You know what I'm asking, James. Did you make an appointment?"

"Eh, I'm fine." He waved the issue at hand, away. You fumed and tried to reason with him, but it didn't help. There's a reason why he was able to last this long in a foreign country - he was stubborn and once he made up his mind there was little to nothing to do.

It was in the middle of the night when his yell woke you up. You groggily got up from your bed and opened your door. In your view came your big bear, covered in sweat and trembling. As soon as he saw your form, he pulled you as close to him as possible and fresh tears streamed down his face, soaking your shirt. You ran a hand up and down his back, making soft 'shh' voices to calm him down.

After he calmed down a little, you made him some chamomile tea and together you sat in complete silence at the kitchen table.

"Will you tell me what happened?" You squeezed his hand. He glanced at you with glassy eyes before shaking his head.

"I don't want you to carry any of this on your shoulders. I'm just happy I'm back. And that you're here." Sy smiled, squeezing your hand back.

"James..."

"Really. I'm fine." He smiled again before getting up and going back to his room.

You recognized the signs of PTSD all too well. You saw your father going through it when you were younger. Sy had night terrors and woke up screaming or crying for several days in a row and he was more irritable then usual. You knew, however, that he will never admit it or seek help - he wasn't raised like that. So you took matters into your own hands.

His light snoring signaled he was in REM sleep, which meant you had some time to execute your plan. You quickly shut down your computer and drove to the base.

Sergeant Major MacGregor was a tough man to pin down, but once he received the call from you about his favourite captain, he found the time to talk to you.

"It's a pleasure to see you again." He shook your hand and motioned for you to sit.

"Good to see you too, Sir. As I mentioned on the phone...I really think Captain Syverson would benefit from some counseling, maybe a support group. But definitely he needs a safe space to talk about what happened."

"That's too be expected. But he openly rejected the support. I can order he attends mandatory sessions, but ultimately if he doesn't let anyone help him, it'll be useless." Sergeant Major leaned forward on his desk.

"I agree. I can try persuading him again, but I think if he receives direct orders from you, sir, he will have to come in. All I ask is for you to consider what kind of help will be the most beneficial for Captain Syverson. If you plan on promoting him, he'll need to be healthy to continue his work. Too many soldiers were left in the dust after coming home and I don't want him to be one of them."

"I'll see what I can do." He nodded.

Sy was still asleep when you returned and you quietly continued your work in the neighbouring room.

He was back at the water site. The air was dry and the sun was hard, yet working on the water pipes hasn't been this easy...ever. The civilians and the soldiers were happy, whistling their own songs, knowing they were finishing their work. Good work. Work that will help so many people.

Sy sat down with everyone and together they ate lunch and laughed. It was an easy-going, pleasant even, day. And then the shouts came. And then the loud explosion shook the ground underneath him. And then there was nothing but loud ringing and blood. So much of it.

But as he saw Private Ocre freeze, something shifted in Sy. He didn't have time to panic. His men...all of them...needed him.

He took long, quick steps to reach Ocre, to get him to move, before trying to reach everyone and check up on them.

"Sy!" You yelled, grabbing his arm, trying to prevent him from leaving the house. He didn't budge, the nightmare he was in gripping him tight. You quickly went around and stand in front of him, putting your hands on his chest, trying to stop him from leaving. He grabbed your hand, squeezing it hard, making you wail in pain. It was that sound that woke him up. His glassy eyes focused as he blinked his confusion away.

"I hurt you..." Sy's voice was low, broken as he stared at you clutching your hand.

"I'm okay."

"I'm so sorry." He hung his head. You put your hands on his cheek, lifting it up so he could meet your eye.

"Listen to me. I'm fine, but I'm worried about you. What happened there?" You spoke softly, searching his eyes.

"It was going so well. It was one of those moments where we all stood together, working for the greater good. It wasn't supposed to end this way. So many people died. My guys. Civilians. And I couldn't stop it." He explained, avoiding too much details, he wanted to keep you from the gory details...

You were palming your cup of chamomile tea, watching him. You knew there were so many things he kept from you and your heart ached for him. He averted his eyes and you squeezed his hand. He traced his fingers over your hand.

"Be honest with me...did I hurt you?"

"You didn't. And please stop worrying about me. Focus on your recovery. I took the liberty of calling MacGregor and having him schedule an evaluation and sessions at the base."

"You did what?!" His gaze hardened and he abruptly stood up.

"Sy, you need help." You tried reasoning.

"I can damn well decide what I do or don't need. What gave you the right to do this? How do you dare decide..."

"I'm not letting you go through the same things my dad went through!" You slapped the top of the table. Your outburst made him go still.

"He had PTSD too, remember? And we couldn't help him, but I can sure as hell help you. You're going to those counseling sessions and support groups, even if I will have to physically drag you there."

"Look at me." You challenged. "Sy, you're not alone. What you're going through is normal. And this...it's a process and it will take time. But I'll be with you every step of the way." You smiled at him.

Sy didn't say anything, he just took a step towards you and wrapped you in a tight hug. He looked down at you and for a second you just stared at each other, before he kissed the top of your head.

"Thank you." He said softly.

Thank you for reading! 😊💙🙏

The GIFs are not mine - they belong to the awesome creators 🙌😊

This was a much longer post than what I'm used to 😮 I hope I captured PTSD well enough...

Update: There is now a second part to this story 👉 Checkmate if you want to check it out 😊

#henry cavill #captain syverson #captain sy #captain syverson x reader #captain sy x reader #captain syverson imagine #captain sy imagine #sand castle #one step at a time #short story #fanfic

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

closeted | jjk

pairing(s): jungkook x reader

summary: Jeon Jungkook doesn't like you and you don't like him. Your friends and his friends decide enough is enough and they lock you in a closet together to settle your differences. Mhm.

warnings: language; implied slut-shaming; alcohol consumption; fuckboy?Jungkook x (technically noona) fuckgirl?reader, ft all other BTS members being... helpful? lol; enemies-to-lovers

–

“Jeon Jungkook? I don’t really have any thoughts about him. Isn’t he kind of a fuckboy?”

“Oh, her? Ah, there’s nothing to say really. Doesn’t she like to mess around?”

Those were your opinions about each other, which was now why both you and Jeon Jungkook were stuck in a closet in Kim Taehyung’s parents’ house.

“Taehyung, let us out right now!”

“Not until you two stop hating each other!” announced the booming, baritone voice of Kim Taehyung on the other side of the door, slightly tipsy and yelling over the loud music.

“We don’t hate each other,” came the silvery growl behind you. Jungkook shoved you slightly to the side so he could slam his fist against the heavy wood. You scowled, jerking away from his touch. “Stop being stupid and open the door.” His short ponytail at the back of his head swayed as he tried to shoulder the door, only for you to hear more bodies press against it.

“Nuh uh, Jungkookie,” Park Jimin snickered, sounding drunker than Taehyung even though the two of them had probably consumed the same amount. “Can’t muscle pig your way outta this one.”

Taehyung and Jimin burst into giggles on the other side of the door as Jungkook fumed next to you, long black bangs flaring as he clicked his tongue and rolled the sleeves of his black sweatshirt up, eyes narrowed, jaw tense.

You threw up your hands as Jungkook backed up and ran into the door with a loud thunk!

Nothing except Jimin, Taehyung, and squeaky laughter adding to the mix.

“We don’t even talk to each other,” you muttered as Jungkook shook his head vigorously and prepared to rear up again like a stubborn horse.

“And that’s the problem!” Kim Seokjin tittered in between bursts of laughter. “We’re all friends, except the two of you that like to pretend the other one is a fucking tree rather than an actual person.”

Jungkook collided with the door again and the single lightbulb hanging from the ceiling flickered ominously.

“Who cares?” Jungkook roared, throwing his head back and pushing his hair away from his face with two hands. You rolled your eyes as he smacked the closet door.

“We do,” said a fourth, trying to be the voice of slurred reason. “In order for our shared friend group to have harmony, we two should work out your differences in a civil, dignified manner and discuss the root of your negative relationship.” You made a face and glanced at Jungkook, who made a similar confused expression. How much did Kim Namjoon drink? He sounded like a drunk philosopher.

“Locked in a closet is not civil, Namjoon,” you pointed out.

“Yeah, but it’s funnier,” Jung Hoseok laughed cheerfully, knocking on the door. “You two good in there? Not ripping off each other’s heads yet?”

“We don’t hate each other,” Jungkook repeated, giving up on fighting the door now that five people were holding it down. “I don’t see what the big deal is.”

“What’s the reason then?”

“Huh?” you shouted through the door. Jungkook rolled his eyes at you and you rolled your eyes back.

“What is,” Taehyung repeated, slower this time, emphasizing each syllable. “The reason that you guys are so hostile towards each other?”

“Did he eat some snacks you hid one time?” Seokjin piped up. “Because that would piss me off too.”

“That already pisses you off, hyung,” Jimin cut in. “You always bring it up.”

“Because he does it all the time! No matter where I hide them!”

“Your hiding places a pretty bad, hyung.”

“Namjoon! You’re supposed to be on my side!”

“Eh?”

“The side of reason and being right!”

“Hah…”

Jungkook clicked his tongue again and shoved his hands into his loose cotton pants. They were black and white striped and looked more like pajamas than actual pants. He hadn’t even bothered to get dressed to hang out with his friends. What a weirdo. You sighed, looking away, staring at the wall instead. Why look at Jeon Jungkook? Everyone looked at Jeon Jungkook. You didn’t need to add to that ego.

“Hey.”

“What?”

“Why are you wearing hyung’s shirt?”

You glared at him from your periphery. He was leaning against the wall, hunched over, glaring back.

“First of all, this is my shirt,” you snapped. “Second of all, they’re all your hyungs. Be more specific. And third of all, Yoongi only borrowed it because he said he was cold and this was one of the few things that fit him.”

Jungkook shoved his tongue into his cheek, looking at your black-on-black long-sleeved shirt with a moon tarot card design. He narrowed his dark eyes, giving you a piercing stare. You ran a hand through your hair, cocking your head away from him haughtily.

“Yeah, but you knew which hyung I was talking about.”

“Because only one of them has borrowed this shirt, idiot.”

“That’s not very nice,” Hoseok chided from the other side of the door. “No name calling in there!”

“You’re not very nice,” you retorted at the door, suddenly remembering that they were out there listening. In fact, one of the loons had turned down the music so the five of them could hear the exchange better. Mature of them.

“Why don’t you two say something you like about the other?” Namjoon suggested. “Compliments might help lessen the tension.”

Your eyes shifted to Jungkook’s clenched jaw, a vein popping on his neck. Yeah, okay. He noticed you looking and you jerked your head away, staring at the wall again.

“This is stupid. Why do we have to do this?” you complained.

“You look pretty good from the back.”

You flinched, irritation rising. Did he just–?

“For an older lady, that is.”

A muscle in your eye twitched. “Yeah, well, every guy says I look good from the rear view.”

“That’s not a compliment, Jungkook,” a deep, raspy voice from the bottom of the door.

Jungkook lifted himself off the wall, making a noise of surprise. “Yoongi-hyung? How long have you been there?”

“The whole time,” Jimin giggled. “He’s been pretending to be asleep.”

“I can’t sleep anyway,” Min Yoongi grumbled. “You guys are loud as fuck.”

“Nah, you just wanted to listen to the shitshow of these two,” Taehyung teased. There was the sound of a hand smacking of a shoulder and a disgruntled grunt at the bottom of the door.

Seokjin called your name loudly. “Yah! You haven’t said anything, backhanded or not!”

You grimaced and glanced at Jungkook again. He still looked surprised and, for a single second, you thought he looked pretty cute with his big round dark brown eyes and parted pink lips in an ‘o’. For a single second, he didn’t seem like that ‘hot guy’ that literally everyone, not just women, but men too, everyone was head-over-heels in love with, Jeon Jungkook, ‘hot guy’ with tattoos and a handsome face.

Blech.

You shifted your eyes away and stared at the corner. “I guess you might not have only one brain cell. Maybe you have two or three.”

“Ooh, nice, that’s a great one,” Jimin agreed behind the door. “Three is being generous, noona, well done.”

“Shut up, Jimin-ssi.”

Ugh, this shit was so dumb. And what kind of closet was this anyway? It was full of coats. A lot of them were more neutral colors, but there was the occasional muted jewel tone. Why did Taehyung’s family need this many coats and why was this closet on the upper floor? Some of them were neatly tucked in clear plastic covers. Oh. Probably to prevent them from getting moth holes, huh.

“Why do you hate me, anyway?” Jungkook muttered. “I’ve never done anything to you.”

“I don’t hate you. I just don’t like you,” you huffed.

“Why not? What did I do?” he sighed, reaching over and placing his hand on your shoulder.

You whipped your head around, narrowing your eyes. “Don’t touch me.”

He removed his hand, backing up with his hands in the air. “Whoa, okay, jeez. It’s just kind of hard to talk to you when your back is to me.”

“Hmph, why? Precious Jungkookie wants attention? Wants everyone to dote over him and love him?” you mocked in disgust, crossing your arms.

He twisted his lips. “… distracting, that’s all,” he mumbled.

“Hah?” You leaned forward, raising an eyebrow. “You forget how to talk?”

Jungkook looked away from you, frowning. “Sometimes, yeah. You’re kind of pretty.”

You blinked at him. What? You didn’t expect him to say that.

“In some lights, anyway.” He pointed up. “This one is pretty dim, like you.”

That was more like it. “Takes one to know one.”

His eyes shifted back to you. “What? A pretty person to spot pretty?”

You growled and scoffed, rolling your eyes. “See, this is why I can’t talk to you. You’re so full of yourself. All you ever do is think about is showing off how much better you are. How cool you are.”

“That’s because that’s all they ever talk about.”

You paused at his downcast tone. Your eyes drifted from the wall to his face. Jungkook wasn’t looking at you. His eyes were on the ground and he was rubbing the back of his head, frowning.

“I envy the way others talk about me. They always have such a perfect image pictured.” He inhaled deeply, slumping against the wall again. “It’s hard to live up to the picture everyone has of me in their head. Sometimes I don’t even want to try anymore so they give up and leave me alone.”

What?

His dark eyes shifted to you, half-shrouded by his long dark hair, tan skin glowing even in this dim closet light.

“I envy you,” he snapped, irritated edge to his voice. “I know you hear all that crazy shit they say about you, but you do whatever you want anyway. People call you a slut and you just invite all the hyungs over to your place and watch movies all night. People say you dress weird and you show up in big fur coats and wacky t-shirts and knee-high boots. People say you don’t know what you’re doing, but you can calculate your change faster than the cashier with the fucking computer.”

You gawked at him; jaw slightly slack. It took you a second to collect yourself. “It’s… not that hard. It’s basic math.”

“Hmph, yeah, well, I suck at math,” Jungkook muttered. “I’m not smart like Namjoon-hyung.”

“You’re good at a lot of things, Jungkook.”

“Like what?” he accused, putting you on the spot.

“Uh… you can draw. Namjoon draws like a five-year-old.”

Jungkook snorted. “Taehyung can draw.”

You raised an eyebrow. Honorifics, where? “Not realistically like you can. It’s a different style. Weirder.”

“I’m not weird,” Taehyung said through the door, voice half-muffled.

“Yeah, you are,” Jungkook replied without looking away from you.

“You’re kind of like an alien. In a good way,” Jimin added hastily.

“You’re kind of like an idiot,” Taehyung shot back.

Slapping sounds ensued outside the door.

Jungkook scratched his head, messing up his black hair. “I’m just saying I wish I was a little more like you sometimes.” He coughed. “Only sometimes.”

You ran a hand through your hair. “Well, I kind of wish I was like you sometimes,” you admitted, looking away from him. “I wish people would say nice things about me like they do for you. I wish people would praise me without reason. I wish people would fall in love with me like how they fall in love with you, without even knowing you.” You scoffed bitterly, flicking a hand carelessly. “Instead, they just play pretend and mess with my feelings because they think I’m easy.”

You left out a heavy sigh, weight off your chest. You hadn’t meant to say all that, but oh well. It was out there now.

So dumb.

“Then, when they find out I’m not, it’s my fault for some stupid reason. Like it’s my fault you painted this fake picture of me in your head.”

You felt something touch your outstretched hand. You jumped, seeing Jungkook’s right hand touching your fingertips, hand ink standing out against his flexed fingers. You almost pulled back. Almost. Then you caught the look in his eyes and stopped, mesmerized by the seriousness in his dark brown orbs.

“I meant it when I said you were pretty,” he whispered, barely audible.

Your eyes widened.

Your pulse raced through your veins.

“You… you said only in some lights,” you whispered back.

Jungkook lifted himself off the wall. One step. Two steps, towards you. You could have backed up. You could have slapped his hand away and yelled at Taehyung some more to let you out. Men were stupid. They ain’t shit. They play with your feelings and only want to use you. Dudes are just fuckboys.

Except Jungkook confirmed he wasn’t, just now.

And you confirmed you weren’t the female equivalent of a fuckboy – a fuckgirl?

For some reason, that made this different now.

This moment.

Jungkook looked down at you, tilting his head, brown eyes curious. You spread your fingers a little more and laced them with his, pressing your fingertips against the back of his hand as he pressed his against yours. You tilted your head the other way as he leaned down.

“I said you’re pretty in some lights,” he breathed. “You’re beautiful in all of them.”

He stopped just above your lips.

Pausing.

You lifted yourself up to close the gap, holding his hand tightly.

Mouth to mouth, resuscitating something that was almost dead because of misunderstandings and surface judgements, whispers and rumors clouding the truth, because everybody talks, everybody talks, everybody talks… too much.

For some reason, you expected Jungkook to smell musky or woodsy, something manly, but, in actuality, his cologne was light and sweet, barely there, like a fresh summer’s breeze. It was you that smelled more intense, your coffee and cream perfume mixing with his fruity scent, dominating a little, just like how you pressed harder into his soft lips, capturing them, surprised that was pleasant, almost sweet but with a hint of spice, the tip of his tongue teasingly brushing against your lips, and you drew back, narrowing your eyes at him.

He smiled a little, squeezing your hand lightly.

“That was nicer than I thought,” he murmured.

“You’re not that bad yourself,” you muttered, frowning a little at the heat rising in your cheeks.

“You guys still alive in there?” Yoongi asked gruffly from the ground, his voice drifting under the door.

“Did they kill each other? Should we open the door?” Seokjin wondered.

The doorknob began to turn.

Jungkook started and reached for the door.

You jumped and reached for the door.

A thin crack of light appeared.

Your hands intertwined, grabbing the doorknob and yanking it closed before it could fully open, both swiftly locking the door together with a firm click. The doorknob shook, confused noises on the other side of the wood.

Jungkook stared at you, brown eyes wide. “I… I just… thought we were getting somewhere,” he whispered under his breath.

You scratched your cheek with your free hand. “Yeah… we were getting somewhere... with this.”

The doorknob rattled violently.

“Excuse me, you two?” Taehyung shouted through the door. “Why the fuck is the door locked?”

“Uh…” you started.

“It’s jammed,” Jungkook shouted back.

“Nope, it’s definitely locked. I heard it,” Yoongi said from the floor.

“That bastard,” Jungkook hissed quietly, stepping closer to you.

“Why is it locked?” Jimin accused, sounding peeved. “Hmm? You two doing some naughty stuff?”

“Scandalous,” Seokjin and Hoseok gasped in unison.

Jungkook glanced at you and you shrugged, mouthing, maybe? He mouthed back, I thought you weren’t easy. You chuckled, speaking softly to his chin.

“We already spent all that time being hostile to each other.”

“So, you admit to the hostility.”

“Sure, if it helps your delicate baby brain sleep at night.”

His free arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you to his chest, kissing you again, holding your hand tightly, muttering against your lips, you’re kind of annoying, and you muttering back, you’re actually annoying, and him smiling between gentle kisses.

“I have to find the key, fuck, what the hell are they doing in there?”

“Are you sure you wanna know Taehyung?” Yoongi yawned from the ground. “What if you open the door and you’re scarred for life?”

“They were supposed to find common ground, not get handsy!” Taehyung shouted back, bounding away with Jimin’s disapproving sigh following. In the closet, Jungkook let go of your hand, kneading your waist as you wrapped your arms around him, both of your hands on his broad back, moaning softly into his lips as he sighed into yours, the kisses more audible now, hands exploring as Yoongi sat outside the door, clicking his tongue knowingly.

“You’re handsome, huh,” you breathed against his kisses.

“In some lights?” he teased.

You laughed, slipping your hands under his black sweatshirt, running your fingertips on his skin, making him gasp into your kisses.

“Yeah, in some lights.”

Outside the closet, Yoongi and Namjoon sat side by side, Seokjin and Hoseok long gone from secondhand embarrassment. The sounds from the closet were escalating, clothes rustling a little too much for two people who supposedly hated each other. But, as Yoongi and Namjoon discussed calmly, there were plenty of signs that indicated that those weren’t their true feelings.

“If you think about it, they’re a good fit,” Namjoon chuckled, amused as he heard Jungkook yelp. “This whole stuck in the closet thing was more fruitful than I thought.”

Yoongi laughed, raspy and full.

“Why do you think I suggested it?”

--

masterpost

#jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook scenarios #bts scenarios #jungkook fanfic #jeon jungkook x you #jeon jungkook x reader

[daretosnoop]

Nancy Drew and Deirdre Shannon in WAV. Can be taken as platonic or romantic

So right off the bat, we know Deedee’s stuck with Mel. And she is going to rant endlessly about. Why does Nancy get the normal girl and she gets stuck with the emo goth?? Emo does not vibe with Deirdre

Course she and Nancy have to come up with some story because how odd that the two new girls are also friends??

HATES paige, the don. Tries to stand up to her but fails cause deirdre gets intimidated quickly. Sarcasm queen though

LOVES the gossip chat. 100% participates in both as herself and anonymously. She creates a lot of the spark between the girls that surprisingly helps Nancy. Romantic potential where she gets... annoyed when people talk about Nancy...😏

When Nancy is trying to go after the squirrel, Deirdre is holding open the window, half helping Nancy and half calling her a stupid idiot. “You’re as crazy as the dumb squirrel!” “I’m not helping you if you fall down!” Romantic potential of her getting really concerned but it comes off as sarcasm and rudeness

Doesn’t get along with Izzy. Two gossip queens?? Nope, clash. But Deirdre is more savage.

Izzy: Well, at least i have a boyfriend

Deirdre: girl, I’d rather be single than take anyone’s leftovers— especially those leftovers (grimaces at the boyfriend’s picture)

Laughs when she hears the culprit’s name is the black cat.

Deirdre: laughing, “what, what’s a cat going to do? Meow? Hiss??”

Love hates the snack shop cause on one hand rich Deirdre Shannon does not serve lunch to others. On the other hand, it’s good gossip. Half her chat gossip comes from there.

When she finds out about the twins <insert that meme of the guy pretending to be shocked 🤭>. IDK, even if she didnt see it coming, I don’t think Deirdre’s the type to show surprise.

Really good at sneaking about at night without getting caught. Nancy gets her beauty sleep and Deirdre becomes the night owl. Good cop/bad cop

I think Deirdre can play the piano really well. Romantic potential of her playing something for Nancy, and then denying she did anything.

Really good with computers, she and Mel bond over her helping get Mel off the hook

Deirdre: “don’t worry, I know what plagiarized work looks like. This isn’t plagiarized”

When she sees the Blackwood society: “omg, they’re doing something this silly?? In those ratty cloaks??? Girls... please. No.”

Romantic potential of playing in the snow!!

Naturally gets concerned about the ending with the SWINGING AXE??

Deirdre: “WHY IS tTHAT UNDER A BOARDING SCHOOL!!!???”

Sort of panics and screams. Nancy has to help her. When they catch up to Corrine, Deirdre takes out her panic on her big time.

Does not care much about the twins or the other resolutions. Still pissed that no one got into trouble for not removing the SWINGING AXE!

#nancy drew #deirdre shannon #WAV #warnings at waverly academy #headcanons #nancy x deirdre