#interacting with yourself (or other ocs) from the pov of the oc is also really fun.

[skunkes]

sorry if this is a silly question but do you like. sit down and talk with your ocs in your head? and they tell you about themselves? how do you get them to reveal information....i am begging mine to let me know them orz

I do! In several different ways ^_^ the trick is to think of yourself as a character in your brain theater... ill mostly be explaining thru examples and using silly language ^_^ and its more How I Do It vs a how to....

"Sitting down and talking to em" interrogation style only happens before they're fully formed. when talon still didnt have very many traits it was like we were in a white room with 2 chairs... although you COULD make a scenario out of this its usually the Before for me. final tweaks in the form of basic traits and info before sending em out for further development

the way i get ocs to tell me about themselves is more thru actions! with talon I "locked him in a room" with al in the form of imagining how they'd meet. because I set it in talon's decrepit home with no running water or electricity, there come questions like. would he be accommodating? would he explain the vampirism or just rely on flashing his fangs or hiding them until its time to bite? these arent questions i actually went into the scenario having, but as you Play Dolls its questions that get answered anyway, ykwim? (although you could also go into the simulation (lol) with questions you want answered!) And its your brain so you can do as many takes and tweaks as you want, and things develop as you imagine the same thing, or different things, which all inform a character.

Scenarios could be anything. Im a serial daydreamer so anything goes depending on how bored I am or what im doing... and just like with real people, every scenario is a way to learn more about somebody...! It's like improv in your brain as you think up how they'd react and respond to things, and what they'd say. But also, going with your oc to the grocery store or a restaurant or to slay a dragon could give you insight into their behavior but likely not any info about their trauma or whatever, just like real people (but it also depends on the person) (and the oc!)

I DO have "sit down and talk" scenarios once i feel ive learned enough standard, early level friendship stuff about em though. It's much fun if you set the scene in your mind to mimic a real life Deep Conversation session. Sitting in the backyard on those plastic chairs, or aimless car ride at night. right now the one I keep going back to is just. Loafed in bed when you're really sleepy and just starting to say anything about anything and maybe get a little sentimental. sometimes its just me talking but I obvs have the ability to imagine how he'd be interpreting that in his brain, ykwim?? You play several roles at once I guess. It's like the sims, switching back and forth between povs, but the level of immersion i get into never feels like I'm Making Them Say It, it just feels natural at that point because I've learned enough.

There's also information that's shared by you figuring out what they'd Think (as above) vs what they say which is also fun characterwise... AND ALSO while im daydreaming scenarios I do multiple takes to find their voice. Like, I'm an overexplainer, a detailed therapy-speak-er. Sometimes I catch myself giving ocs that Voice and I have to do a retake. Like hold on, Talon would NOT be introspective. He wouldn't share all that shit I just "made" him say even if it is true and now I know about it. He'd say something insanely vague and confusing if anything at all. Let's take it from the top. etc

It rlly is about immersion! You have to have fun with it! Sometimes it's so Real to me that I genuinely can't develop an oc further because I cant make something up for them and they wont "tell me", which means I just have to spend more time with em I guess! or maybe need to leave em alone for a bit. or maybe ill never know (<- which also tells me about em!) just like real people. treat the fake people like real people in your fake dollhouse brain theater sims lot puppet show simulation.... also i added more in the tags bc i didnt know where to put it in the main txt 😭

[sofmoth]

i don’t need you to save me

hello goobies♡ new joel series from me??? and you never thought you’d see it smh

thank you so so much @magpiepills and @strang3lov3 for beta reading, your feedback, and your encouragement♡

also posted to AO3 by me (@sofmoth), link here.

MINORS: DO NOT INTERACT.

don’t make fun of the cover picture. i don’t be making them like that anymore and i’m out of practice.

divider created by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more

joel miller (TLOU) x f!OC. WC: 5,051

series and chapter title from ‘Ritual’ by The Devil Wears Prada, parts of the story are inspired by the lyrics of the song. please note: this is the first chapter of an ongoing series. each chapter will be tagged accordingly. speaking of

TAGS: late 60s/early 70s AU, the vietnam war is happening, characters smoking throughout, dark!joel, therapist!joel, POV character is very mentally ill, psychiatric hospital setting, discussions of dissociation, non-explicit descriptions of self mutilation, descriptions of harming others, hypersexuality and homewrecking behavior, disordered eating mention, descriptions of OCD behaviors, descriptions of religious compulsions, medication sedation to quell compulsions, voluntary patient isolation, brief discussion of the aftermath of a failed lobotomy, fear and depression regarding loved ones in the vietnam war, discussion and descriptions of suicide and suicide attempts, DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT.

this is not a jovial or fun fic. it is VERY dark and VERY heavy. this story is based in part on lyrics from ‘Ritual’ by The Devil Wears Prada, the memoir ‘Girl, Interrupted’ by Susanna Kaysen, and my own experiences with my mental illnesses and the behaviors/harm they’ve caused, not only to me but to those i love. please do not force yourself to read anything that may be potentially triggering.

It’s cold in Dolores’s office. The whole hospital is cold, but at least the chair in front of her desk is stuffed and covered in fabric. I finally got unsupervised smoking privileges, so now I sit and smoke and wait.

I’ve been waiting for fifteen minutes already, and I’m getting impatient. I consider burning a spot on the lacquer just to see what would happen, but that would be a surefire way to lose my privileges. I’ve been here four months now and smoking with an orderly breathing down my neck has been the second greatest annoyance I’ve encountered thus far. The first being my therapist’s bad habit of showing up late to every one of my mandatory sessions with her. Apparently they want me out so bad they can’t be bothered to help me get out.

I’m trying not to take it personally. Really, I am. Delores is the only therapist on my ward and she sees all of us. And there are a lot of us. So now I sit and smoke and wait, tapping my ash onto the desk in a minute act of rebellion that won’t get my smoking privileges revoked. Delores will be annoyed with me, but I am annoyed with her. I don’t see how she can be late after seeing the previous patient, everyone’s sessions take place in her office. I’m sure my 1:2 partner isn’t exactly pleased to be sitting outside of the office with our companion nurse while she waits for me to have my brain picked again. I don’t like waiting for her either, so we’re even.

There’s a knock on the door, which confuses me. Why would Delores knock on her own door? She’s never given any of us that dignity before. Regardless of this strange new occurrence I don’t bother turning as I hear the bolt click, simply crossing my legs in the chair and tapping more ash onto the desk. Out of the corner of my eye I see a man pass, and then he sits at Delores’s desk.

“Who the fuck are you?” It comes out before I can stop it.

“Joel Miller, MD of psychiatry. Who the fuck are you?”

I am taken aback. Delores would never speak to any of us like this.

“You’re the shrink, you can read my file. Where’s Delores?”

“Dr. Brannock is taking an… extended leave of absence.” I roll my eyes.

“Great. Been here four fuckin’ months, and just when I was starting to get used to her. I hope you’re not expecting me to just bend over and take whatever you think you’re gonna give me.”

He laughs at that. Delores would have shit herself if I said something like that. The first time I told her about some of my sexual odysseys– after she insisted– she turned white as a sheet and typed so loud I don’t think she actually heard a word I said.

“Since you didn’t answer my question, got a nickname I can call you?”

“Only if you don’t make me call you “doctor.””

“That’s fine. You can call me Joel.”

“Good. You can make something up, I don’t care what you call me.”

“Suit yourself, Shakes.”

Ouch. He took a cheap shot at my medication-induced tremoring, but I shouldn’t have given him the opening. Joel watches me tap the last of my ash onto the desk before dropping the butt into the crystal ashtray.

“Next time you light up, I’d appreciate if you used the ashtray the whole time.”

“Or what?”

“I did read your file. I know you just got unsupervised smoking privileges. How’d you like to go back to no smoking privileges?”

“What fuckin’ for?”

“Intentional improper disposal, cannot be trusted due to the possibility of intentional or unintentional fire-starting.”

Now I’m fuming. I didn’t hate him right out the gate but now he’s really pissed me off. I turn in the chair and swing my legs over the side of it, crossing my arms over my chest. I do hear his voice but I don’t bother to listen, if he wants to play that game he can start at square one with me. File be god damned. I close my eyes and let him talk at me; I have nothing to say.

I allow myself to dissociate for the remainder of the hour until a knock on the door startles me. Joel laughs across the desk.

“Good nap?” I don’t look at him.

“Wasn’t napping. I was just tuning you out.”

“Either way, that’s the hour. Same time next week?”

“If you mean you’ll be 15 minutes late, don’t bother. You fuckin’ people are constantly telling me you want me to get better but all you’re doing is making me talk at you and that’s not fuckin’ helping me. So either you’re here on time or don’t bother with me at all.”

I see Joel look me up and down through the corner of my eye. He crosses his arms and leans back.

“Alright. I’ll be on time next week and we’ll have a productive conversation. No more of that mopey tantrum shit you did today. We’re gonna get you better and you’re gonna get outta here. Deal?”

I stand and push the chair closer to the desk.

“Fine.” I walk to the door and rest my hand on the knob. “Joel?”

“Yeah, Shakes?”

“I don’t like you.”

“Don’t need you to like me. Just need you to cooperate with me.”

I roll my eyes and walk out, my 1:2 partner and our nurse rising at the sight of me. A girl we call Train Tracks raises her hand a little at me as she enters the office. She’s a sweet kid with a severe snaggletooth and a mouthful of metal, she can’t even be 16. She asked us to call her Train Tracks, but I only call her Titi. None of us know exactly what’s wrong with her. Clearly nothing major, or she’d be in maximum security. Our ward is Elysian compared to max.

My 1:2 partner isn’t that bad. I may have misrepresented her. Most of the girls in the ward took to calling her Toto, but her real name is Dorothy. I call her Dory. She’s a lot taller than me, five or six inches, and she keeps her hair cut in a smart French bob. She would be beautiful too if not for the horrific mass of scar tissue where her left eye used to be.

Our first night together I asked her about it, to her surprise. Dory told me most people tend to pussyfoot about it, then told me she has something her doctors call “scrupulosity.” I asked her what that meant, and she told me when she was 17 she had caused an accident in which a boy from her neighborhood lost his left eye. It didn’t matter that it was completely unintentional, she had to be punished, and her bible told her– very literally– exactly what needed to be done. She didn’t want to go to Hell, so she made it even. She’s been here for four years so far.

I tuck my hands into the pockets of my jeans and Dory hooks her right arm through my left as we walk down the halls to the living room. She leans a bit closer to my ear.

“You need to spill about that new shrink we got. He’s cute.”

“There’s nothing to spill, Dory. I looked at him for about two minutes and I didn’t talk to him for the entire session.”

“Bullshit.”

“I’m not lying. He told me he’d take away my smoking privileges entirely and that pissed me off, so I ignored him the whole time.” Dory sucks her teeth and leans away.

Joel isn’t bad-looking, I do have to concede that. Probably middle-aged, hair and beard going salt-and-pepper. He’s certainly much older than almost every girl in the ward except for a few of the catatonics. If he really read my file like he says he did, he’ll know he’s the type I’ve been known to chase. He’ll know I have no concept of respecting authority, and I’ll treat him like any other older man whose marriage and life I’ve made the decision to smash apart. I wonder if he’s married, and does he have children? I wonder, I wonder, I wonder.

“I will tell you one thing.” Dory takes a seat in the hard plastic chair next to me and raises an eyebrow.

“Please do.”

“Joel gave me a nickname. He’s fuckin’ calling me “Shakes.”” Dory laughs and then clears her throat, furrowing her eyebrows.

“Well shame on him, that’s not very nice. But his name is Joel?”

“Mhm.” I pull my cigarettes and matchbook out of my sweater pocket, lighting one before I speak again. “Dr. Joel Miller. He told me I could call him Joel if he could call me by a nickname, so I told him to make one up. Bastard just had to go for the low blow.”

Dory squeezes my hand sympathetically. In about an hour it’ll be time for dinner and I’ll have the opportunity to gather some information in the cafeteria. Surely someone from the men’s ward, patient or staff, will have some information about Joel. The best part about our facilities is that they’ve yet to catch up with most of the country, and we have no surveillance cameras anywhere except the front doors. Really, all that does is force the crazies to get creative. And we are good at it.

An extra serving of Jell-O and one blowjob for a less-than-ethical orderly later, I learn that apparently Delores had some kind of nervous breakdown. I actually feel a bit offended. She won’t be stuck in a hospital like this one. She’ll have a private psychiatrist to come to her house where her stuffy husband will sit with his ear to the door, trying to glean an ounce of information on what about us rubbed off on his wife to make her go fucking batty.

The orderly tells me that Joel is permanently on the women’s ward now, but he was originally on the men’s ward. The hospital’s board is just going to be looking for another shrink so the same doesn’t happen to Joel. My sickest part tells me to break him, make it happen. I know I don’t have that power, but I can annoy the hell out of him. I don’t know why I want to, what it is about him that teases this pettiness out.

Maybe it’s the fact that he’s made it as far as he has, and we’re all so young. Maybe it’s the subtle frown under his mustache, the furrow of his brows. I don’t believe he’s a miserable man, but he’s certainly not very happy with something. I never got a word of personal information out of Delores, but if I play my cards right I might be able to learn a little something about Joel.

I retake my seat between Dory and one of the binge-eaters, tapping with my nail on Dory’s wrist to let her know I have news. For a girl who’s so afraid to sin she carved out her own eye, she does love to gossip. But this isn’t gossip, not really. This is our life. Nobody told us anything was changing, and if we’re going to have every moment of our lives scheduled and dictated for us, we have the right to know when something as big as our therapist leaving happens. The orderly told me they were hoping to do it quietly, spring it on everyone. What a bunch of fucking idiots.

I’m sure Joel will be answering the question of “Where’s Delores?” more than he’ll actually be treating anyone for the next week or so. But I get to see him again on Wednesday, and he told me we would have a productive conversation. I don’t know how productive it’ll be; I’m already imagining what I’ll have to do to make him give it up. He’s nowhere near as uptight as Delores and that’s throwing me for a loop.

He laughed at me. He swore in our session. I’m used to straight-laced teachers and managers and businessmen, men who I make swear to me up and down that they’ll leave their wives even though I know they won’t and I don’t actually want them to. I just like knowing I can do that to a man. I don’t even know if Joel has a life I could ruin, or at the very least a marriage I could dissolve.

I don’t do it out of wickedness. I just get so bored sometimes.

TV time after dinner. There’s never any good programming on. Linda suggests we play Old Maid. I hate that fucking game. But it’s between that and the 7 o’clock news, and I can’t bear to hear about the lottery again. I don’t want to know if my brother is going to Vietnam, so I join Linda and Dory and one of the nurses and I play Old Maid.

At least Joel didn’t have to go to Vietnam. I wonder if he has a brother in Vietnam, if he has any family at all. I don’t want to keep thinking about it, so I suggest Euchre to the girls. The nurse, Randi, sighs in what I assume is relief. She grabs a normal deck of cards off the all-plastic activity cart and returns, shuffling them in her hands. Linda puts away the Old Maid deck, Dory shuffles the cards again, I cut them. I’ve never been good at Euchre, but I’ve gotten much better since I got here.

Lights out at 9 PM, and fifteen minute checks all night until 7 AM. Dory is technically on 30 minute checks, but I’m still new and she’s my roommate, so she is also on fifteen minute checks by default. I’ve been here long enough now that I am used to it though, and I don’t find myself waking up when the nurse pops her head in and softly announces her presence. Of course tonight is the night Dory decides to have a fucking episode.

She must have been holding it in, because in between one check and another she started furiously praying. I hear her mumbling and that is out of the ordinary, so of course it does wake me. As I roll over I see her furiously rocking on her knees, hands clasped on the edge of her bed. I rise, making sure to approach from the right on the off chance her eye is open. I don’t want to startle her. I rest my hand gently on her shoulder, softly petting the back of her head.

“Dory? Honey, I’m gonna go get the nurse. Do you need anything?” She shakes her head, eye squeezing shut even harder than I ever thought possible.

I sigh, lighting a cigarette as I pad barefoot into the hall. I look up and down and don’t see a nurse, so that means I’ll have to go to the nurse’s station.The hospital is almost too quiet at night. Like I said, our ward is Elysian compared to max. It’s never quiet over there, especially not at night. I hear a man’s voice as I approach and I’m confused. Maintenance only comes during the day and the only man who works in this ward is Joel, but he should have gone home hours ago.

“Cynthia?” I say it tentatively, and the man’s voice quiets.

“That you, Shakes?” Fuck.

It is Joel. What he’s doing here at this hour, I don’t want to know. All I know is that he’s effectively broken into my home in the middle of the night.

“Yes, Joel. Is Cynthia there too, or are you allowed to dispense Quaaludes?” I lean against the counter and Cynthia rolls out on her chair from behind a shelf.

“Why do you need Quaaludes?” She looks, very rightfully, confused.

“Dorothy is having an episode. Do you just want to bring them when you do checks? I thought you were the only one here, so I didn’t want you to have to fuck with the paperwork and worry about making your rounds on time.”

“I can dispense and distribute. You worry about your checks, Cynthia. I’ll go take care of Dorothy.” Fuck you, Joel.

“Oh, I don’t want to keep you. You’ve already been here all evening.”

“Nonsense. Besides,” he lowers his voice but I can still hear him, “I haven’t had a session with her yet. This’ll help me gauge what I’m workin’ with.”

I still lean on the counter, tapping my ash into the ceramic tray to my left.

“Am I gonna get an answer or should I just tell Dory help isn’t coming?”

“Fine, Shakes. I’ll get her dose, just hold your horses.”

I do whinny, perhaps a bit too loud because Cynthia’s eyebrows knit together and her lips purse. Joel coughs to cover a laugh. I watch him unlock a door and enter, returning a moment later with two small paper cups. One for pills, one for water. Cynthia opens the gate for him and he steps up next to me.

“Lead the way, Shakes. I’ve got paperwork to fill out.”

“Fine.”

I stub out my cigarette and turn, walking back down the hall to my room. I can hear the small heels of Joel’s dress shoes hitting the linoleum and it’s driving me even crazier. I stop short, pressing my knuckles to my temples.

“Can you please walk a little quieter? Jesus, it sounds like I’m being followed by a fucking herd of elephants.”

“Well I apologize, I can’t exactly control the volume of my goddamn shoes on the floor.”

“Whatever. Some of these girls can’t even get rest at night, have a little courtesy for your patients.” I spit the word at him.

I can see his jaw tense in the moonlight filtering through the chicken-wired windows, and then he drops about a third of an inch as he removes his shoes. He raises his eyebrows and gestures me onward. I sigh through my nose and continue. Dory is still praying fervently when we return, but she’s at least stopped rocking. I kneel next to her.

“Dory? Dr. Miller is here, he’s gonna give you something. Here, let’s get back in bed.”

I take her hand gently, lifting slowly, and thank fucking God she rises. I tuck her in, leaving her arms free as Joel hands her the pills first and then the water. She only stops praying to swallow, and she never opens her eye. Her volume has lowered to near-indecipherable, and I hope she won’t be put in isolation tomorrow. Maybe she’ll ask for it, if only to get everything out. Joel sighs as she finally stops mumbling, and I move to climb back into my own bed. He grabs my bare ankle before I can hide it under my thin blanket and my head snaps up at him. He shuts our door softly, sitting at the foot of my bed.

“You’re breaking a lot of rules right now, Joel.” Dory is asleep, but I whisper anyway.

“Yeah.”

He looks me over before shaking his head slightly, patting my leg and rising. 

“Night, Shakes. I’ll see you Wednesday.”

He leaves quietly, and I am left wondering. He looked like he wanted to say something, but he chickened out. Maybe he didn’t have anything to say at all and I’m just reading too much into the way he looks in the night. How I would enjoy seeing him in the night again. Whatever it was he wanted to say and didn’t, I’m going to make him say it. One way or another.

————

Dory does ask to go into isolation Thursday morning, after breakfast. I don’t blame her. She can’t do any harm to anyone or anything in there, and if she needs to be alone with her thoughts to somehow get rid of them, who am I to judge? She comes out a few hours later, looking more serene. When I ask her what happened she just smiles and shakes her head.

Our days are structured a bit painfully. Wake up at 7 AM, line up for meds, breakfast at 8. After breakfast there’s an occasional outing, or we can rest in our rooms, and sometimes those of us with grounds privileges will take a walk with our nurses. Some girls go to individual therapy until noon, then lunch. After lunch, group therapy until 2. We’ll have exercise and art and music classes while more girls have individual therapy until dinner at 6, then TV time at 7 PM. Night meds are dispensed starting at 8, and then it’s lights out again at 9. Dory has therapy on Fridays, so I hope she can hold on to her episode until then. I’m sure Joel will want to ask about it.

I doodle with a waxy crayon absentmindedly. I wish they’d give us real colored pencils, but they can’t risk someone going ballistic from the monotony and stabbing another patient. Apparently it’s happened, but I think they just don’t want to deal with the pencil shavings. It’s not like I can ask anyone about it anyway, the only people who would remember it would be the catatonics. I’ve been here the shortest at four months, the longest anyone has been here is thirty years. Julia. She’s 60, had a botched lobotomy. Only her daughter visits, and I’ve heard her say to a nurse that the only reason Julia is even still here is because her scumbag husband keeps paying the exorbitant bill. I worry about what’ll happen to her when he finally eats it.

“You feel okay?” I blink hard.

“Yeah. Just thinking.”

“What about?”

“I’ll save it for Wednesday. Thanks, Titi.”

I don’t need to burden a child with my fears.

————

Friday and the weekend pass without any major incidents. Monday morning we even got to take a field trip into town to visit the library, and thank God we did. I’m fucking sick of reading ‘Wuthering Heights.’ I was allowed to check out one book, so I chose ‘The Outsiders.’ It seemed fitting, but so far it isn’t anything like I’d imagined.

On Tuesday I got a letter from my parents.

Hello Peanut. We’re sorry we didn’t call, it’s just been too hectic here at home. We wish we could all come and see you, especially Ace. Peanut, he’s going

I stopped reading there. I knew what the rest said. I didn’t want to know whether or not he was going to Vietnam, but now, with the rest of the world and the flow of information totally out of my hands, I have found out regardless. I am angry. I am a lot of things. I suppose I will have a productive conversation with Joel.

I take my book with me to therapy, hoping that he won’t be late but making sure I won’t be bored stiff if he breaks his promise and is. Janice nods at me as she leaves his office and I enter, preparing for the worst. Maybe he dipped out on her early and isn’t even in the office. To my surprise, as I shut the door and turn around, I see him sitting at the desk locking up Janice’s file. I sit quietly in the chair, tucking my book to the side. I don’t have the energy to argue with him, cause any fuss. My heart is breaking and I don’t know how to express it to him.

“What’s goin’ on, Shakes?” I keep my eyes down.

“My brother is a dead man. He’s going to Vietnam.” My voice shakes almost as hard as my hands.

“God damn,” Joel whispers. “I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault.” I have to whisper too, or I feel like I may start crying.

Joel rolls up his sleeves before fishing around in his pocket for a moment. He pulls out his wallet, sliding a small photo card free. He holds it delicately between two fingers, facing me. The man I see bears enough resemblance that I know what he’s telling me without a word spoken.

“Shit. I’m sorry, Joel.”

“Like you said, not your fault. Tommy’s infantry. Your brother gets lucky, he won’t see a day of combat. This thing’s ending soon, I can feel it.”

“I hope you’re right. Does he write you?” Joel nods.

“Every week. That’s what I look forward to every week, Tommy’s letter. Just to tell me he’s okay. Best case scenario, he’ll tell me he’s got himself hurt just bad enough that he has to come home and can’t go back.”

“Fucked up thing to hope for.”

“Yes, it is.”

Joel allows us to sit in silence for a few minutes, and I’m grateful. I can regather my bearings, get my head back on as straight as the circumstances allow.

“I heard y’all went to town Monday, got to visit the library? I see you picked something out.”

“Yeah, it’s called The Outsiders. I’m not sure how I feel about it yet.”

“Tell me about that.” I don’t really want to.

“Have you ever been on the other side of the table, Joel?”

“Whad’ya mean?”

“In the book, there are Greasers and Socs. I know I’m from the wrong side of the tracks, but you look pretty Soc-y to me. So, have you ever been on my side of the desk?” Joel sighs, crosses his arms and rubs a hand over his beard.

“You probably won’t believe me, but yes I have.”

“When?”

“1955. I got sent to Korea and when I finally came home I was just… ate up with everything that happened. Everything I saw over there, it was just too much to bear. So…”

He manipulates the hair near his temple until I can see part of a very round, slightly indented scar. The bastard had tried to blow his own brains out.

“I tried to take care of things, but I didn’t get the job done right. Spent a few months in a place a lot worse than this, and when I got out I decided I had to do better by everyone who went after me. Sittin’ on your side led to sittin’ on mine.”

“So what are you saying?” My voice is very soft.

“This ain’t the end.”

I know Joel read my file. Surely he knows I tried to kill myself too, and that’s why I’m here. How foolish I feel about my own attempt knowing now what happened to Joel.

“Hey.” I look up at him. “I know what you’re thinkin’. Suicide ain’t the most rational thing in the world. I know why you tried it, and in the moment it felt like the only thing you could do. Hardly anyone ever has a good reason for trying.”

“You did.”

“Maybe so. But I coulda talked to someone before I got there. And I know you tried to talk about it, so you’re one step ahead of me.”

He stands and walks around to the front of the desk, leaning against it and crossing his arms.

“Only reason you’re here now is because no one would listen. Shakes, I’m listening.”

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

I finally collapse, sobbing pathetically into my sleeve cuffs. I feel the air shift as Joel moves closer and suddenly my forehead is against his stomach. This is highly abnormal and absolutely in violation of some dozen rules but I truly don’t care. Clearly he doesn’t either. I don’t know what game he’s playing, and as much as that bothers me, for now I just want to cry.

His hand on the back of my head feels large enough to crush half of my skull, the other on my spine rubs a gentle circle. Eventually I manage to calm myself down and he hands me a few tissues. I wipe my face and blow my nose, tossing the spent tissues into the wastebasket. Joel leans back against the desk again, I see his cheek move as he bites the skin inside.

“We’re gonna get to the bottom of everything, Shakes. Don’t you worry about that.”

I can only nod. I have nothing to say. I keep my eyes down and pluck the ashtray off the desk before picking up my book, lighting a cigarette and tucking my legs under myself as I lean as far into the chair as I can. Joel sighs through his nose and walks around the desk, back to his chair. He picks up a pencil and begins writing, most likely notes from today’s session. The clock indicates we have about 20 minutes left. I’m content to sit quietly, to smoke and read. I just hope Joel felt the conversation was productive.

I’m lost in my book when Joel clears his throat. I look up, blinking slowly.

“Got about three minutes left. Any last-minute thoughts, questions?” I shouldn’t, but I’ll ask anyway.

“You have a brother. Do you have any other family? Kids? A wife?” I can see a small smile trying to break through.

“I’ve got a daughter, she’s probably about your age.” This information stirs something up inside me.

“But you’re not married?”

“Not married.”

I nod, marking my place in my book and standing to replace the ashtray on the desk. I sincerely feel he knows what he’s doing. I must now ask myself the question of whether or not to attempt to pursue. I’ve fucked around with plenty of men with daughters my age, but none who were unmarried with daughters my age. That’s half the thrill. A knock on the door tells us our hour is over.

“Same time next week?”

“Sure. Have a good day, Joel.”

I stop with my hand resting on the doorknob, just as I did last week.

“Joel?”

“Yeah, Shakes?”

“I changed my mind about you.”

“That’s good to hear. I’ll be seeing you.”

Dory and our nurse rise to greet me as Titi waves, entering Joel’s office. I can’t help the slight grin that dances over my face. Dory raises an eyebrow and I wave my hand. Of course I’ll tell her all about it later.

[muniimyg]

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹ bbydaddy!jk (16) ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹ debrief ! + kimi's note

hi !

i've gotten a few asks in my inbox regarding part 16 that (i feel) lean towards negativity @ babydaddy!oc.

as much as i appreciate interactions,, it surprised me with how it (my work) was received. i understand that everyone has their own opinions, but some of the asks come off more as a vent/hateful pov,,

and listen,,, i get that this is a fanfic LOL

but the reason i'm making this a post is that, truthfully, i don't want to (individually) answer these asks. i've spent the past few days reflecting on the feedback i was given and the chapter itself... i've concluded that i’m all abt conversation (!!!) but don’t think these asks lead the ones i want to have on my blog. i also don't want to share them because i feel that these opinions undermine the experience of other readers who enjoyed and resonate with the chapter.

at the same time, i also don’t want them to go unaddressed because these are real ppl who spent time and sent thoughts in. one way or another, i believe my work resonated with u and the most i could ever really ask for as a writer is to write something that makes people feel.

so to those anons that sent in these asks, i want u to know i that i’ve let your thoughts sit with me and i think you made good points. in that same sense, i want to defend my work and explain a few things..

context:

full bbydaddy timeline (as of 16)

bbydaddy was originally meant to be a one time scenario

upon request, i extended the series multiple times

since the series extended,, in terms of plot,, i took as an opportunity to dig deeper into their dynamic (as a family, as lovers, and as individuals)

one: bbydaddy!jk and bbydaddy!oc's lore

first and foremost,,, there are no sides.

there are layers to their relationship. both characters go through and process differently. oc's experiences should not be invalidated just because her emotions are voiced 'wrong.' the career and the depth of it can and should be looked from different point of views. though i didn't write it in, i personally pictured oc to be the eldest daughter in her household. the constant need to be the best is a natural feeling for her and isn't necessarily seen as a flaw through jk's eyes. if anything, she believes in him more than he believes in himself. in her pov,, that's how she loves him. she wants more for him because she believes he deserves more and that he's worth more. it wasn't meant to be a 'greedy' attribute but i understand where it initially comes off as that.

all in all, i think this is one of my very few fics where i picked her flaws on purpose and wrote some in by accident. as a writer, i thought this brought more authenticity in her character as well as sparked the ongoing questions of; what does it really mean to love someone and how much of yourself can you give until there's nothing left? and when there's nothing left; what then? do you pick the pieces together? do you learn and move forward or do you stay where you are and feel it. feel everything and drown in it so you don't miss a thing?

i think oc's character dives into those concepts really well. initially, as i read the asks and 'reviews' on oc,, i felt bad for her (LOL) because truly... she's so misunderstood.

as for jk... i think that man is delusional to the core. but !!! that's my error. i think in the beginning,, bbydaddy jk has this... douche-ness in him that really captures and captivates their dynamic. over time, as the story goes on, you see how fragile he actually is and how pathetic he can get. him proposing to oc was 1) bad timing 2) inconsiderate since he was definitely in his own headspace for thinking and putting his feelings first 3) jus for the drama. LOL !

all in all, i don't think jk did anything wrong (neither did oc) i jus think their relationship is the sole definition of timeless but untimely.

two: asks and anons

please don’t send in asks that bring negative vibes. if u don’t like a character (it’s ok to feel frustrated and all) u can jus move on. no need to send in 'fuck her' if its not in an ironic way 😭 be mindful and remember ur manners. jus cos u’re on anon doesn’t mean u’re held any less accountable !

if u have nothing nice to say,, don’t say it at all. i may not be ur fave writer and this may not be ur fave character or fic ….

and that’s ok.

u are probably not my fave reader anyway 😝

i am not the only smau writer on this app or fic writer at that. i'd encourage u to branch out and find new writers if my characters frusterate u so much (ToT)"

i love receiving silly asks and heartfelt ones even more so when they’re abt my plot and are positive notes regarding my writing! i look forward to those because they remind me of my growth and make me feel appreciated. these fics and smau i make take time btw. like... lots! unfortunately, i'm not talented enough to wake up and write a fic all the way through the end in 1-3 sittings. i need like 5 business days to figure out which jk pic i'm using bro

anon will be turned off for my peace of mind (for now). ikkk it's annoying bc most of u guys are so kind and sweet ,, but it feels like every time i turn it back on,, ppl get ballsy and like srsly???

i am scared of balls

three: kimi's note

at the end of the day, i’m jus a girl writing a silly little story in her free time!

did u catch that? in my free time. the time i put into sitting down, writing, fixing and pacing plots, etc; are all unpaid. i do this because i want to share my creativity and delusions. with that, as a fic writer, i understand and have accepted that there are times when i should feed into the audience/readers' expectations and needs...

and that’s exactly it.

i get to pick and choose what to feed into, what i give out, and what i keep.

with being on tumblr for 4yrs, i've seen so many fic writers leave bitter notes because of how nasty their asks inbox gets. (thankfully, mine is nothing like that) i will not let my inbox become that. i refuse to let my blog and fics burn me out.

i’ve grown so much as a writer over the years. i'm so proud of myself too. yet, i am aware and understand that i am still continuing to learn abt what boundaries i need/have when it comes to my work. i am learning what that means with my social media presence. i am learning how to not let passive/negative asks bother me. i am learning.

if u've been following me long enough, u know how often i take breaks to take care of my mental health, school/work schedule, and maintain/improve my quality of fics.

to be honest, i was really hurt and discouraged when anons gave their 2 cents with my break idea. i posted that to communicate where my headspace was and to have received entitled and inconsiderate responses really threw me off. although, i understand it may not be that serious to the ones that sent it in and i (probably am) overreacting,, i would still like to put it out in the universe that i am not okay with receiving responses like those. please think before you send in. some things are better left unsaid and often unnecessary as it makes me feel like i'm jus a content machine or smt.

and in case u forgot— 

i am a real human with feelings (sometimes with too many).

i'm thankful to have realized and accepted my (known) boundaries. i'm grateful for the confidence and security i have with my wonderful readers and work, knowing that i'm worth the wait.

i know i can and will be taking all the breaks i want. i will binge/content dump all i want. i will take 2 weeks if i want.

through all of this,, i promise to do my best and be better in the future !

if u read everything,, thank u. i wanted to say everything from a place of love and reflection,, so i appreciate u taking the time to understand me. i hope i continue to be a writer u look forward to.

promise ! i'll make u proud ૮₍ ˃ ⤙ ˂ ₎ა

all the love,

kimi ♡

[pparadiselost]

the death of a wallflower.

university professor hinata shoyo x university student fem reader your crush on the hot new professor gets out of hand. warning(s): nsfw, unhealthy relationship dynamic (teacher x student), named best friend oc, reader has an unnamed ex, pov change for one of the scenes, non-virgin reader, use of american university setting minors do not interact.

XX UNIVERSITY

XX SEMESTER

WEEK 2

“no, like, our new professor is seriously so hot. like, forget-your-shitty-ex kinda hot. ugh, just wait till you’re in class! you have to believe me!”

minnie’s words echo like the foreshadowing of some porno as you gather yourself outside of the classroom. leave it to your roommate and self-proclaimed best friend to describe the newest professor at your university as “hot,” when most of the faculty are pushing 70 and have the self-awareness of a brick. you honestly have no reason to be this nervous before lecture, but while it might be the start of a boring week two of the semester for your scholarly peers, it’s your first day.

it’s also just your luck to end up with the world’s most horrendous stomach bug right before the semester started. after a few heated email exchanges and a lot of heavy-lifting from minnie, your advisor and dean begrudgingly excused you from classes until you were feeling better.

and now here you are. you took the liberty of showing up to class just a few minutes early to try and talk to your professor to see what exactly you missed, and maybe find a seat. you assumed at this point everyone had their unofficial “official” seats, and you were praying that you could score one somewhere close to minnie.

whatever.

you shake your head like a dog to clear whatever doubts tumbling around in your skull. you’ve dealt with your share of mean professors before, and between forcing yourself to go to class and puking on the floor and dealing with whatever screaming gripe they’ll give you now, you had sagely decided the latter was the better option.

you brace yourself, and you tiptoe into the classroom.

the door squeaks open, and you shuffle inside, almost scared to see what’s on the other side of the door. the classroom is empty, unsurprisingly, and the fairly sized classroom zooms in on a central point: at the professor’s desk. a bag is slumped next to it, and some papers are placed into somewhat neat piles on the desk. a projector illuminates the blackboard behind with its default display.

“ah, welcome in! you’re early!”

you nearly jump out of your own skin at the energetic voice that greets you. standing a few paces from the desk is a young man, dressed crisply in a white button down and formal pants. your eyes crawl up his physique, trailing over the undone button at his throat and the sleeves tastefully rolled up to reveal his toned arms. they’re all classically handsome features, but nothing to write home about—nothing a quick swipe on tinder won’t satiate. 

you step a bit closer. “uh- good morning… i’m a student in your class. i think i emailed you about this a while back, but i was the one that got really sick last week and couldn’t come in.”

you braced yourself for the tirade that you were so used to, the mountain of homework and make up lectures that were bound to be awaiting you. god, you weren’t some kind of study freak, but no one ever likes starting the semester on the wrong foot, especially when that wrong foot means making up a week’s worth of classes all across the board. 

except the tirade never really comes. the man laughs, “so that’s who you are! gotcha, gotcha. well, i can say for sure that it’s much better to see you in person rather than the little yearbook picture i have on my class roster. um… minerva, was it? she said she’d fill you in on the notes that you’ve missed.”

you perk up. “yeah, minnie’s my roommate. and she’s helped me catch up the best she can.”

“awesome! it’s good to hear students helping each other. i mean, that’s what having classmates and roommates is all about anyway,” he continues. you can’t help but notice the charm in his voice, the light rhythm that makes it feel like he’s dancing with his words rather than rambling. “reminds me of my own roommate. tall guy. super awkward. only cared about volleyball. he had this god awful middle part that chased away any girl that remotely found him attractive.”

you fight back a small giggle. he was funny. “i’m glad to say that minnie isn’t anything like that. if anything, i’d say she’s the opposite…”

“oh?” your professor quickly quips. “bit of a boy magnet, is she? i’m just messing with you. but yeah, like i said, it’s lovely to finally meet you. if you have any troubles, don’t ever feel scared to reach out to me. i’d rather that i know what’s going on than to be left guessing, and i promise you whatever ‘stupid’ thing you’re worrying about, i’ve definitely done dumber in my own undergrad years. sound cool?”

your eyes trail upwards again, from the outline of his small waist and broad chest. your mind wanders momentarily, wondering what his workout routine must be. you gloss over his smooth face, marveling at the smooth skin and the sunshine-like smile that tickles his mouth. he really couldn’t be that much older than you, despite being a professor, and if you saw him on the streets, outside of this academic setting, you would have never guessed him to hold such a position of authority with a face this young. his eyes are just like yours, lively but with a tinge of timidness that invites you to probe a bit deeper, a bit closer. and his hair: it’s the most beautiful, sensual shade of sunset orange.

it isn’t like your breath is being taken away in one fell swoop. rather, it feels like he’s coaxing it from you, stealing it away subtly so that you’re left to lean in, fiending for it like a fish caught out of water. 

your gaze meets his, and you’re shoved back down to the correct plane of reality. fuck—you were not about to be caught staring like a creep at your professor on day one on all days…!

you nod shakily. “it’s nice to meet you too, professor-”

“-hinata,” he finishes, beaming even wider at you. “although, i told the class they can call me shoyo if they want to. i’m still pretty new to the whole teaching thing, so being called ‘professor’ feels a bit weird.”

“ah,” your voice drops in volume a tad, “i’m personally more comfortable with ‘professor’, so i’ll stick to that, i think. if it’s okay.”

he holds his hand up in mock surrender. “totally chill. whatever rocks your boat. if you don’t have any more questions, then make yourself comfortable. i think minnie tends to sit… over there, if you wanna get settled down. i know you already got the notes from her, but i promise you didn’t miss much in the first week, so don’t sweat anything.”

“thank you!” you breathe, getting ready to turn on your heel and march to the area professor hinata pointed out. something inside your rib cage trembles as if shocked with electricity, an anticipation for a breath of fresh air that only the beginning of a new semester could bring. you don’t know what to call it exactly. it isn’t quite excitement nor is it giddiness, but a liminal middle ground in between all of it where dread, the need for poise, and opportunity intermingle.

“hey.” 

you glance over your shoulder at the sound of your professor’s voice. your professor grins at you, and in that split second, at you alone. his eyes twinkle fondly.

your breath catches in the back of your throat. 

“let’s have a good semester together, you and i.” 

the brown of his irises feel as if they’re going to swallow you whole. 

you tear your eyes away. 

…

…

…

“sooooooooo,” minnie practically slams your dorm room’s door shut and corners you in the small excuse of a room that you call home while at school. her eyes are brimming with the mischievous glimmer that you know all too well, and she stares you down with the most expectant look on her face. “isn’t the new professor hot? exactly like i told you?”

you dump your bag on the ground, crawling into your bed and immediately finding your place under the sheets. it’s been a long first day for you, and despite feverishly praying to whatever divinity was up above that the rest of your professors would be as kind as professor hinata was, it looks like your calls went wholly unanswered.

you massage the slight ache in your shoulders. “i mean, yeah, he’s an attractive man, and i guess he’s pretty nice. but nothing super out of the ordinary.”

minnie sticks her tongue out, and she pretends to boo you. she huffs her chest out and plants her hands squarely on her hips, clearly not impressed by your review of the new eye candy she’s scoped out. “you’re no fun! i bet you’re only saying this because you’re still hung up about that pathetic scum of a human being you call an ex. c’mon! the best way to get over a shitty boy is to simply find another one!”

something inside your chest twinges with a dull ache, and you flop back onto your bed. “as much as i would love to share your optimism, i don’t think hopping from one boy to another will make me feel any less shitty about this breakup.”

“well, you gotta give me something to work with! and besides,” she sidles up to the side of your bed, and she leans in close to your face, as if she’s whispering a secret to you. “professor hinata isn’t a boy. he’s a man.”

you hold back the urge to throw a pillow at your roommate. you’re grateful that you have minnie to get you out of your own mind sometimes, but at the same time, she better be grateful that she has you to ground her to reality. 

“he’s our professor, minnie!” you pretend to scold her, but you fail at holding back an exasperated smile. “i’m all for you homie hopping through whatever ligma sigma dickma frat you’ve got your eyes on, but faculty are strictly off limits!”

“hey, be nice to me!” she laughs back, reaching over to poke at your cheeks. “doesn’t professor hinata look super young though? like he can’t be that far off from our age. that doesn’t make it that bad, does it?”

you shake your head. “i don’t care how old he is! pursuing your professor is a huge no-no!”

“ughhhhh! i’m trying to find the silver lining for you here! i’d much rather you drool over your hot professor than mope around in bed over your ex all day, okay? besides, it’s not every semester that we get to have a class together AND have a professor that doesn’t dress like fucking paddington,” she groans dramatically. she’s basically swooning at this point, acting as if the notion of a new, handsome romantic prospect for her to chase after and you being disinterested is the end of the world for her. you’re used to this song and dance by now, and you know she’s being theatrical just to get on your nerves. 

it’s funny to you. minnie has a talent for making you laugh over the stupidest things. you barely stifle back a giggle. “leave paddington out of this! the poor guy has done nothing wrong.”

“you get my point!”

you settle back into your cozy spot on your bed, snuggling into your sheets. you don’t want to open up the can of worms that catching up on homework would be just yet, and as fantastical as minnie’s romantic endeavors could be, they make for a good distraction from all the responsibilities you don’t want to face yet. she glances at you lovingly, her fingers drumming against your rackety bed frame.

“but you do think he’s hot, yeah?” she starts. you snort.

“i said i found him to be an attractive man but nothing special, minnie.” you chew over your words, and your eyes flicker up to the white expanse of your ceiling. your mind conjures up images of your new professor, and the relief you had felt when he had treated you so warmly.

he was such a sunny young man, and true to minnie’s guess, probably not that much older than you were. most definitely fresh out of school and figuring things out for himself, your quick interaction with him before class felt more like talking to a classmate or a teacher’s assistant at best, rather than a well-educated professor trying to test his craft and wrangle throngs of antsy college students. you liked talking to him. 

“i’d say he’s more charismatic than hot,” you offer up. minnie guffaws at your answer, and it’s her turn to roll her eyes.

“fine, fine, i get it! you’re not going to bite at whatever temptation i throw at you. that’s my roommate for you, always the toughest nut to crack,” she sighs and shakes her head at you as if you’re hopeless, but you know she means well. there’s nobody else in the world who would care for you like this, go this much out of her way to make sure you don’t feel alone. 

it’s almost enough to dispel the thoughts of your new professor from your mind. 

almost.

your heart softens around the edges when your mind pushes the image of him alone with you into your mind. just that one cadence, no longer than thirty seconds at most, when it was only the two of you in that empty classroom, with no other soul in the room to shield you from the incoming stranger wedging his way into your life—just you and him, caught in that suspended moment.

he’s still so beautiful in your memory. 

“-anyways,” minnie’s loud voice jostles you from your thoughts. heat rushes to your face in embarrassment, as if you had been caught doing something bad red-handed. she doesn’t seem to notice, and you choke back your guilt on losing track of yourself over your new professor in favor of whatever minnie’s spouting next. she purses her lips in thought. “i’m feeling kinda peckish, so what do you say about getting takeout for dinner?”

“we have food in our fridge,” you curtly remind her.

she groans in utter defeat, flopping onto you over the side of your bed. “you’re such a goody two shoes! what in the world will ever get you to break?”

…

…

…

WEEK 4

what in the world, indeed. 

you fidget listlessly inside professor hinata’s office. you’ve never seen him with glasses before, but a pair is perched slightly crooked on his nose as he clicks at the big monitors on his desk, probably pulling up whatever answer you scrawled out on the google form he had sent out a few days prior. you’ve always been a little antsy whenever meeting with a professor in general, but make it a mandatory one-on-one meeting with a certain professor that seems to make your heart act up and you’re vibrating so hard that you might as well cause an earthquake.

“so…,” he starts, skimming your response, “i really like what you wrote here. think you can tell me more about what you have planned for your final project?”

you lick your lips and swallow, and you’re suddenly aware of how dry your mouth is. “uh, yeah. i’m sure minnie’s already told you most of it-”

you stop dead in your tracks when professor hinata raises a hand, cutting you off. you pause, a prickle of dread swirling in your stomach.

he smiles apologetically. “sorry, i really don’t like interrupting students. but this is your final project, and i want to hear your ideas. not minnie’s. i know you wrote that you two want to do it as a pair, and that’s fine. but your ideas are just as valuable as yours are, and this time is reserved so i can pick at your brain, not hers.”

“r-right…,” you murmur. your heart flutters the slightest bit when you realize he’s paying special attention to you, but you shut any excitement down immediately. you were a goddamn adult and a college student. what kind of person would you be if you couldn’t hold it together around your professor, who 100% without a doubt saw you as a pupil? you mentally scold yourself for finding your instructor’s undivided attention appealing.

“like you said,” you start up, your voice still quiet, “i thought it’d be nice to do a joint research thing with minnie, and we wanted to focus on our campus’ experience with single versus shared dorm life. we figured something like that would be easy to find professional data for on a much larger scale, so we can compare and contrast with our own findings.”

he hums to himself. you keep your eyes fixed on a point on the wall behind him, not wanting your eyes to wander. it isn’t like professor hinata always comes to class impeccably dressed in a suit and tie or anything, but he also has a horrendously good sense of fashion that makes you instinctively shy away a bit. he’s dressed nicely today too: in a sweater with a white button down underneath that peeks over the collar of the sweater and what should be loose black pants that fit tightly around his thighs. you hate yourself for noticing these details. 

“that sounds like a pretty solid plan to me. i like how far you’re thinking ahead. research like this usually takes a lot of time and energy, so it’s good to have a vision for what you plan to do at the end. do you have any thoughts as to how you’re going to collect data? i suppose reaching out to housing would help with pure numbers, but for tackling the more social and emotional parts, you’ll need to do that yourself.” 

you’re keenly aware of when he glances towards you, his gaze burning into you like a magnifying glass held up to the sun. god, you shouldn’t be so on edge around him, and yet something about how casual he is with you and just how sweet he is with you makes you that much more stiff. you don’t dare meet his eyes.

maybe it’s that vulnerable intimate one-on-one that’s making you so much more aware of his presence, or maybe it’s the close confines of his office, but you know you’re going to waver if you make eye contact with him. 

“minnie and i wanted to conduct physical surveys. we were planning on contacting the different r.a.s of each housing building and asking the school for the information to off campus housing managers. that way we can distribute questions as far as we can,” you recited stately. “we even considered maybe putting in a raffle reward for responses, which would incentivize people to actually respond instead of ignoring it.”

professor hinata whistles. “i’m impressed. you two have really thoroughly thought all of this through! you never fail to impress me with how much attention to detail you put with your schoolwork. i wish all of my students were as diligent as you were sometimes.”

you bite down on your tongue, and it takes all of your willpower to not let some kind of fucked up glee swell inside your chest. “thank you, professor. the idea was originally minnie’s idea, but i was the one that really did most of the work ironing out the kinks.”

he laughs heartily. “i can imagine. between the two of you, i can tell that you’re the more responsible one by a long shot. don’t get me wrong: minnie’s a wonderful student. but at the end of the day, it’s still you cleaning up her messes, isn’t it?”

“yeah,” you bashfully admit. you can’t even count the number of times you’ve been the one to pick her up from her drunken escapades or be the one to force her into bed after holding her hair while she pukes. as much emotional stability as she gives you, she does need a tad bit of mothering. “but she’s still a great friend. i couldn’t ask for a better roommate. we might have opposite personalities, but we balance each other out perfectly, i think.”

“that’s good to hear! it’s always nice to know my students are getting along. especially quieter ones like you.” he leans forward in his seat, almost as if he’s whispering a secret to you. “us professors aren’t allowed to have favorites, but it’s human nature to always root a little for the well-behaved underdogs.”

you swallow a bit more harshly. there’s a lump in your throat. you really, really need to do something about whatever you feel towards your professor, because you know deep down that it’s wrong to keep wanting his attention like this. he’s being friendly and watching out for you, because he knows you’re the plain mouse-like student amongst a sea of wild young adults carving their way in the world. he’s only helping you, only complimenting you because he’s genuine and wants to see you do well, and you’re hoarding that attention and craving it like a man starved.

“she’s done a lot to get me where i am right now,” you admit, wanting to deflect. “i broke up with my now ex-boyfriend over the summer, and she did so much to make sure i was doing okay. i know you probably don’t care that much about messy college student drama, but… she has my back until the end.”

he raises an eyebrow. “i don’t mind. trust me, professors love hearing about student drama as much as the students do. also if it helps me get to know you better, then it doesn’t hurt, does it? having more information, no matter how silly, is better than knowing nothing about you at all.”

“i mean, it really is silly.” you’re trying very hard not to look him in the face. your eyes flit everywhere but, looking at your hands, the neckline of his sweater, the peeling wallpaper, anything. “i really liked that guy, and he ran off and cheated on me. i caught him red handed and did the right thing by confronting him and immediately breaking things off, but it’s not like you can wake up and decide that you don’t like someone anymore, no matter how awful he was to me.”

“i’m sorry that happened to you. it’s never fun to feel betrayed by someone you trusted, especially romantically.” he taps his fingers together.

you wave him off, shrugging. “i’m a lot better about it now! it hurts every now and then, but i’m choosing to focus on myself. i did nothing wrong, and it’s better for me to have cut him off than to turn a blind eye. and minnie’s always inviting me out to all sorts of things to take my mind off of it too.”

“that’s good. i wish i could say relationships get easier once you become an adult, but… there’s no cheat key to things like love. you gotta roll up your sleeves and do the nitty gritty work.” he feigns rolling his sleeves up, and he shakes his head. a blur of orange flickers like candle light in the corner of your eye. “even full grown adults do terrible things to each other. but just like you said, it makes you appreciate the bonds that stay true to you even through your hardships.”

“clearly,” you breathe. your voice is airy, almost strained. god, he was just so easy to spill your heart to. why couldn’t your ex be like this? professor hinata is thoughtful, intelligent, and emotionally mature. you need to step away, need to keep your distance, but even your attempts to deflect yourself away from the growing attachment you have to your instructor only ends with him expertly spinning things into his favor.

he chuckles to himself and leans back into his seat. “my mom would always say that it’s better to be single and free than to be miserable and tied down. besides, you’re only in college! the big wide world is waiting for you! i promise you, there are far better guys out there that can treat you the way you deserve to be treated. one failed college relationship isn’t going to doom you for the rest of your life, okay? take this one from your prof.”

“i’m sure.” 

you don’t doubt his words. the little resolve, the sliver of morality lingering inside your turmoiled brain, is crackling. it’s wrong to lean this forward towards your professor, to grasp and grip at the stray straws you can see, and yet, it feels so good. the heady silence that settles over the two of you is reminiscent of your first meeting with him, back to the moment when it was only you and him in the same way it is now. 

but things are different today. he knows more about you. you’ve learned to trust him. he’s always respected you, but it’s clear that he treats you like an adult on equal footing with him rather than your other professors who act as if you were born yesterday. he genuinely cares for you.

you subconsciously steel your stomach, and you sneak your eyes upwards from the hemline of his sweater. your gaze trickles cautiously over his broad chest and his neck, over the detail of his lips and nose, apple-like cheeks, before eventually meeting his inquisitive one. you unintentionally let out a choked sigh, like the wind is being squeezed out from your lungs.

his eyes light up and smile at you, as if to say “finally.” 

you can’t breathe.

you want to lean in; you want to close that impossible gap that tenses and pulses between the two of you. what kind of tension is this? something so forbidden, so magnetic, so undeniable yet unavailable for the taking… it feels like torture, to see your meek reflection staring back at you in the wide sclera and captivating brown irises of professor hinata’s eyes, and to be able to do nothing about it. this was the devastating nature of attraction, knowing that your personal insanity might amount to nothing the very instant you handed your fate over to another.

knock knock knock. 

you nearly splutter over your own inhale before jerking away back into your seat. a loud knocking noise repeats itself around the small confines of his office, and you’re left stunned, your heart hammering like a death toll inside your tense ribcage. you drop your face down to the floor, not daring to tear your eyes away from anywhere other than the anchoring, humiliating safety of the ground.

“ah, looks like our time is up. it seems like the next student is here,” professor hinata explains, much to your simultaneous dismay and relief. this isn’t a line you can cross, and yet you crossed some kind of personal boundary you set up for yourself right there when you snuck a glimpse into your professor’s eyes. 

“i-i’ll get going. thank you for the meeting,” you stammer, hurriedly grabbing your things and almost stumbling over your feet to get to the door. “i’ll keep working on my project- and uh- i’ll reach out to you if i have any questions…!”

you don’t know what kind of face he must be making, not when you don’t have the courage to look at him again. you sprint out of the door, away from the tense sparks that lay dying out into fumes between the two of you, surely a machination of your deprived brain. the hallway echoes with the sound of your footsteps as you half-run-half-speed-walk away from the office, wanting to go anywhere else as quickly as your clumsy feet would take you.

how could you be so stupid? not only do you end up blabbing about a bad breakup to him, revealing that you’re single, but you’re idiotic enough to think that his goodwill is something you can entertain into something further.

you hate to admit it.

you’re falling in love with your professor. 

…

…

…

WEEK 7

“you should go out with me this weekend.”

“i’ll think about it.”

“pleaseeeeeeee? i basically have my outfit picked out, and i’m dying to get a matching one for you! it’s been so long since you let me dress you up, and i’m itching to do something fun with you for the weekend! please? pretty please? with sprinkles and oreos and whipped cream and cherries on top?”

you groan, tempted to slam your head into your desk. “minnie, i said i’ll think about it. i’ve already seen the five million instagram dms you’ve sent me begging to go to whatever frat party is being thrown.”

“it’s sig-chi,” she reminds you, as if that’s the important part. some of the students next to you shoot the two of you odd glances, and you flash a weak smile, inwardly apologizing for minnie’s obliviousness when it came to blurting your business. it wasn’t like the entire class heard, thank god, but the noise levels weren’t high enough where you could act a bit more stealthily. you wish it was, even if it was only to spare you from whatever social embarrassment your mostly well-meaning roommate was bound to put you through.

you turn your attention back to the work you’re trying to get done. you’re grateful professor hinata gives you time in class to work on your final projects. after that fateful instance in office hours with him where you came face-to-face with your feelings, you haven’t been able to really act normally around your instructor. fearing for your own sanity, you’ve done everything you possibly can to avoid interacting with him one-on-one. it’s not like something like that is particularly difficult to do, but your heart still skips a beat and lodges itself in the back of your throat when he catches you in the hallway, greeting you with a light “good to see you!” before squeezing past you.  

your cheeks sting with heat when you think about him. you bite down only your tongue, willing for the dull pain to ground you. minnie hums absentmindedly next to you, completely unaware of the hell that she’s partially responsible for, and she taps away at her phone. 

“hey, hey, look at this! isn’t this outfit sooooo cute? it would look perfect on you! and if i order it today, it should get here in time for the sig-chi function!” she sticks her phone screen in your face, and you instinctively recoil away. 

your blood runs cold when you see the outfit she’s showing you. it’s a cute sparkly little number, except for the fact that it would cover barely anything if you were to put it on. one wrong move in it, and your whole chest and ass would be out for the world to see. and that’s not including the already exposed midriff it would entail. “it’s cute, but- i don’t know if i could wear something like that…”

“nonsense! i can see you perfectly in it! it’ll be awesome!” she quickly cuts you off. “a cute but still slutty outfit is key to every good party! i bet you’ll have all of the guys in there chasing after you in this. oh, the color will sooooo make your eyes pop, and i think i can really make your features shine with a bit of my make up too…”

you wish the ground would open up and swallow you whole. embarrassment prickles like red-hot thorns underneath your face, and you try to grab at minnie’s phone. “minnie! you know i don’t wear things like that!”

“exactly! it’s all the more reason why! i’m trying to help you make your debut on the university dating scene,” the girl responds as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “you’ll be thanking me once you have a drop dead gorgeous six foot something basketball player wrapped around your little finger. trust me, i’m the expert in these kinds of things.”

“that’s not the point!” you hiss. ugh, you should really know better than to talk reason into her during one of her frenzied rants. you have absolutely zero intention of actually going out to one of these sleazy frat parties, let alone wear a skimpy outfit in order to bait a boy! you need time and patience to heal your broken heart, not… her wild schemes. you would rather bite off your tongue than go through whatever public humiliation ritual is involved with flirting at a frat party.

“ladies,” a deep yet sunny voice cuts through your annoyed inner monologue like a hot knife through butter, “i hope we’re actually getting work done. you wouldn’t be goofing off in my class, would you?”

your blood turns into ice for the second time within minutes, and when you peel your eyes up from your desk, your fear comes true when you see professor hinata standing there. his hands are on his hips, and despite his teasingly scolding tone, he’s sporting a bright smile.

you curse yourself inwardly, and you’re mentally scrambling to make an excuse.

“professor! look at this! wouldn’t this look so good on (y/n)?” minnie’s a step ahead of you. you audibly splutter over your breath, and you shove your head into your hands. she giggles as she sticks her phone in your professor’s face, and you’ve never been more mortified in your life.

professor hinata’s eyes widen at the more-lingerie-than-actual-clothing that’s being bombarded into his eyes, and he coughs, waving his hand. “woah, i’m not sure if i’m the right person to be asking that, minnie! why don’t we save the party talk for after class?”

she pretends to be exasperated, and she jokingly rolls her eyes. “ugh, you two are hopeless! you have to help me out here, professor. i’m trying to get (y/n) to loosen up a bit and have some fun with me! isn’t it true that you feel loads better when you do a bit of dolling up?”

“well, yes, but it looks like (y/n) here isn’t too keen on that idea. take it easy on the party going, and let’s focus more on your final project. trust me when i say your deadlines will be creeping up on you fast,” he easily brushes minnie off. she smiles brightly and nods, and only then does she finally turn to her computer and start compiling her research.

you want lightning to strike you down and burn you to a crisp. you peel your head out of your hands, and your weary eyes meet your professor’s. he grins understandingly at you, and he reaches forward to squeeze your shoulder empathetically.

“...!”

you grit your teeth, your eyes widening like a deer caught in headlights as electricity courses through your body. the skin where his hand just was feels like it had been burned, thrown completely off guard by the sudden contact.

“are you doing okay?” he whispers. his voice is soft and quiet, coaxing you out of your panicked state. it’s a voice reserved solely for you, one that only you can hear, and your blood is being weighed down by figurative iron when your heart flutters. “take it easy now. don’t let her goad you into doing something you don’t want to do.”

your lips feel clumsy. “she means well. i’m fine. she talks big, but she won’t actually do anything without my express permission.”

he’s more of a danger to you than minnie will ever be. you wish you had the courage or brainlessness to blurt something like that, but the bitter revelation stays curled up into the flesh of your still tongue, burning and scalding you like the unspoken confession it is.

“that’s good to hear. take care of yourself though. if she keeps fretting over you, you’ll make me worry too, you hear?” his nose crinkles a little when he squeezes your shoulder again. did he always have freckles? or are you only noticing them now that he’s up close and you have nowhere else to focus except for his face? you hate it, hate this tension, hate the way you can’t control yourself despite knowing better.

you hang your head, forcibly tearing your eyes away from your handsome professor. you lie through your teeth. “i’ll be okay, professor.”

…

…

…

“ohhhhh, fuck…!”

shoyo double, triple, quadruple-checked to make sure that his office door was firmly locked around him. it would be the literal death of his academic career if someone were to catch him doing what he was about to do, and he wasn’t that keen on throwing aside his future just yet. 

he had made a beeline for his office the moment class let out. it took every bone in his body, every last bit of willpower he has ever known in his entire life to keep his sunny facade up and to make sure no one would see his mask slip. he can’t afford it, and yet he’s still gambling too riskily. he’s cutting it too close to safety to relax fully, but he can’t stop.

his cock twitches and strains in his pants, begging for his attention. he leans his back against the firm wooden door, his breathing shallowing as lewd images flash behind his eyes. fuck—he really should know how to control himself better than this, actually listen to the angel in his brain telling him that he should really quit being so attracted to his students.

correction: student. 

correction again: you.

his fingers unconsciously unbuckle his belt, and his pants drop down to his ankles. he grits his teeth, a strangled breath escaping his clenched teeth as he palms the prominent bulge in his boxers. it was one thing to ride out his delusions on his own, savoring the forbidden dregs of toeing the line between professionalism and a taboo romance. 

you played the part so well too. like a frightened doe that would run away if he moved too quickly, you were good at keeping your walls up and fending off his quiet advances enough. the push and pull had him reeling: part of him wanting him to do better and to act properly as a new professor should, and another wondering how much cuter you’d be bent over his desk and your pretty cunt stuffed full of his cock.

“...shit-,” he hisses as his hands slip underneath his boxers. it only takes a few strokes for his cock to fully get hard, and the cool air of the office hits his sensitive skin like a flurry of ice. heat courses through his body, and he feels awful.

he shouldn’t be doing this. he shouldn’t be getting aroused by his student and jerking off in his office, but here he was. the last straw was seeing your roommate pitch that damn slutty outfit. you looked so innocent and so sweet, clearly not a party animal, but how often did your roommate swing you around? did you get down and wild if pushed far enough? shit, was your good girl thing just a ruse to get brownie points with him?

“fuck- fuuuuck…!” he starts stroking himself, palm swiping from base to tip, squeezing his cockhead a hair. dull pleasure swirls deep inside of his stomach, and he moves his hips into his palm, the friction downright addictive.

he imagines you in that outfit, your tits and ass basically out for the world to see. maybe you’d let your friend drag you out to her silly party. maybe you’d act shy there too, skirting around the sidelines of the dance room, sipping nervously on your drink. maybe the alcohol would make your head buzz a bit and you’d get a bit bolder. maybe you’d let some douchey frat bro feel you up, that dumb bastard not knowing how good he has it by getting your attention.

shoyo groans under his breath. god, you shouldn’t be wasting your energy and time on stupid college boys. all they would do is exploit you and leave you for dead, even though you were clearly the best thing to walk into their lives. 

he thumbs over his weeping tip, moaning throatily as he presses into his slit. his chest rises and falls, the electric feeling making his knees go weak. touching himself never felt this good. nothing came close to that buzzing high of being deprived of you.

his mind doesn’t stop wandering. raunchy thoughts of you dancing floods his brain. he imagines you grinding up against him, your soft ass pressing up against his crotch. he’d buck his hips against yours, let the heat mount as his hands wander over your body, that skimpy outfit of you doing nothing to protect you from him. you’d glance back at him, feeling his strong chest up on your back, the muscles of his arms tensing when you pull him flush against you. your eyes would have that drunken haze to them, intoxicated off of whatever was in your cup and getting down and dirty with your professor. 

it reminds him of his own idiotic undergraduate days, ones he thought he matured past when he became a proper working adult. clearly not, if the thought of dancing with you and feeling you up has him furiously fisting his hard cock. 

he needs to be inside you. he doesn’t want to feel his hand on his cock anymore. he wants to ruin that pristine image you have. he wants to see you crying and moaning, going from his stellar unassuming pupil to some cock crazed slut, begging for him to fuck you harder, to fuck you deeper, completely at his mercy. he wants to see your clothes in tatters with nothing to shield you from his almost animalistic lust, for you to see him as a proper grown man who wants to pamper you as much as he wants to ruin you rather than some stuffy professor.

it’s downright problematic how much he needs you. it’s more than just wanting to fuck you. no, he’s a gentleman. he wants you to want him, even if it’s only to ease the guilt nagging at his heart. you’re too smart for your own good, and yet when you’re surrounded by all these bad apples nipping at your heels and waiting for you to stumble, it’s no wonder that you’ve become so holed in.

you simply need someone who’ll treat you right. who’ll make you shine. who’ll be a proper lover, someone that can actually step up to that mantle.

“hah- god fucking dammit…! fuck- fuck, fuck, fuckfuckfuck- shit…! fucking hell, god- fuck!” his grip on his cock tightens, and he thinks his body is going to break. the dopamine buzz in his mind is almost explosive, and he knows he can’t control himself for much longer. he's close, so close, egged onto the edge by fantasizing about the thought of his student in a revealing party outfit. 

what kind of scum did that make him? if his mind was any clearer, he might know, but it isn’t. all that his sex-riddled brain can make out is how badly he wants your body. he craves the weird sick satisfaction of being the one to stretch out your sweet hole with his girthy length, to fill every little bit of your womb up with pumps of his hot cum, to pleasure you so thoroughly that he’ll ruin sex for the rest of your life—unless it’s with him, of course.

you flicker behind his eyes again. your body trembles against his as he pretends he’s thrusting into you rather than his pre-cum drenched hand. your cunt quivers and tightens around him, and your face is stained with your tears. mascara runs down your cheeks, and your lipstick is smeared messily all over your mouth. your legs shake around his hips as he fucks into you, tip easily squeezing and abusing that sweet spot deep inside your body.

“what a pretty girl.” he’d praise you, take his sweet time making sure you get all the loving you deserve. “how could someone as pretty as you stay out of my sight for so long?”

the image of you in his mind bucks your hips back against him, and the pleasure that explodes around his cock has him weak in the knees. he’s so close, so close to giving you his seed, to marking you as his. he’s humping into you desperately, wanting you to feel that impeccable stretch, pierced and plowed by him, driven to madness by his infatuation.

“i’m here! i’m yours!” you pant out. you’re starstruck. smitten. everything he’s wanted.

“-kgh…!” 

warmth overtakes his entire body, and strong ropes of cum escape from him. he grits his teeth, clenching his jaw and willing himself to keep his moans to himself. he’s dead meat if he gets caught masturbating to the thought of his student in his office. cum spills out all over his office floor and coats his hands, spilling and spilling like the pent up frustration bottled away in his heart. he furiously strokes himself through his orgasm, and sparks fly in his brain, pleasure coursing through his veins like one giant shockwave.

he throws his head back, gasping for air as his cock sputters, the last drops of virile cum leaking out and covering his fingers. his cock slowly softens in his hand, and he sucks in deep inhales, the cool air soothing the heat enveloping his entire body. 

shoyo’s mind feels fuzzy and distant, like he’s been shoved out of this plane of existence temporarily. his limbs are weak, and his abs tense and coil in on itself as he forces himself to steady his breathing. his vision is blurred slightly around the edges, but the world emerges back into focus with each passing inhale and exhale.

he hasn’t even fully come down from his high, but he knows that the lack of guilt he’s feeling is wrong. he should feel bad, he should feel dirty, he should feel like he’s done something criminal. what professor jerks off to his student and doesn’t feel any sort of post-nut clarity? he swallows heavily, but the knot in his throat that should be there is nowhere to be found.

he doesn’t want to give his growing interest in you any more attention than it needs. the last thing he should be doing is fanning the flames, and just now, he fed the monster when he should be depriving it, starving it.

his gaze crests downwards, towards the pristine streaks of pearly cum all over his hand and the floor. he knows he’s beyond saving when he bitterly wishes all of it could have gone inside of you and your sweet pussy instead of being wasted on nothing.

“...let’s clean up,” he whispers to no one in particular. he hates the apathy he feels, reaching almost robotically for the kleenex he kept on his desk, not a single prick of guilt or wrongdoing stirring in his body as he moves clumsily through the aftershocks of his orgasm to rid the proof that he had even touched himself to the thought of you to begin with. you don’t have to know that he ever jerked off to you or the fact that his desire for you grows and festers like a rotten wound inside of his heart. because that is what it is in the eyes of everything that is moral and good: rotten.

but what you don’t know can’t kill you.

…

…

…

WEEK 10

you had dreaded the next mandatory meeting with professor hinata for a while now. you had done such a good job of keeping a low profile for a while now, only ever addressing your instructor when it was absolutely necessary and whatever interactions you needed so that he wouldn’t pick up on the fact that you were purposefully avoiding him.

you had also done a good job at keeping minnie’s eagerness at bay. your final project for professor hinata’s class was a very handy excuse to avoid going out to parties with her, and crunching the data also did an exceptional job at keeping you busy instead of moping about in your room alone.

you’d think at this point in the semester you’d have quit being so hung up over your ex and your general failure of a love life, but seeing that your romantic prospect was a crush on your professor that you were actively trying to get over for your own sake, clearly things weren’t looking great for you.

but this was something you couldn’t escape. you sit on your hands to keep yourself from more or less bolting out of professor hinata’s office. his eyes are glued to the monitors on his desk in good professor-like fashion, scanning over the work you’ve handed in for him to check.

you’ve done this song and dance before. you’ve been stuck in his office before, too scared to make eye contact with your professor out of fear as to your heart betraying you. you have to keep a firm grip on yourself, and you look at your professor but make it a point not to look at his face.

“man, i know i say this every time i look over your progress, but you really do outdo yourself. you deserve a pat on the back,” he remarks, smiling proudly as he leans back in his seat. “you’re definitely in a good place for where we are in the semester, and as long as you keep at it, i’d say you’ll easily get an a for your final grade.”

“thank you,” you quietly state. he’s dressed simply today, in a black turtleneck and jeans. it makes his bright orange hair stand out that much more, and you try with all your might not to stare too hard at the obvious outlines of his toned pecs and waist straining against the fabric of the sweater.

he looks good today too. you want to eat your own fist and curl up into a ball to cry. it was like for every step forward your determination took to keep yourself in check, professor hinata threw a screwball at you to make you take two steps back.

you wish things would go as smoothly as it did the last time you were here, vulnerable to his scrutiny and left with your own flimsy defenses. the same thick tension hangs in the air again, and you pray that you won’t act out of place.

“so,” his voice cuts through your thoughts, like it always does. he knows how to catch you right off guard, wedging himself right into the split-second crack in your judgment. “all i’ve got to say is that i’m excited to see your actual final all put together. your findings are going to be really interesting, and i’m also looking forward to comparing what you find against whatever conclusions minnie draws from the same data. i don’t mean to get so personal again, but the two of you are so different that i wonder if your findings will be that stark too.”

you inhale, fixing your eyes on a spot behind him as if it was ritual to ground yourself that way. “i won’t spoil too much of her stuff, but she also has some pretty cool ideas. she’s told me some things that i wouldn’t have thought to consider in her part of the project, so… just something to get you more hyped!”

he chuckles, the low cadence of his voice making your heart flutter a beat. “i’ll take your word for it. i hope she’s treating you well. i know that you know your bond with her better than i ever will, but i really hope her energetic personality isn’t too overbearing for you. you come to me if you have any issues, okay?”

“i appreciate it. but i’m fine, really. she’s a lot, i know, but she means it out of love,” you reply methodically. this isn’t the first time someone has scrutinized your relationship with her, often misconstruing her enthusiasm and your more quiet personality to her mistreating you. sure, you two don’t see eye-to-eye about everything, but you wouldn’t hold her so close if she wasn’t someone who would see things through thick and thin for you. 

he nods. “alright, i trust you. but it never hurts to be vigilant. take it from someone with a bit more life experience than you do: people can still hurt you and claim that it’s from a place of love. this isn’t to say that minnie’s a bad person, but you and i have something special. i want you to stay safe.”

something lodges in the back of your throat. your mind swirls dangerously, and you can’t think. special? you and him have something special? you almost laugh unconsciously; it’s like despite all the work you did to keep your heart under lock and key, he’s determined to burrow his way in there. 

you hate how easily you crumble. all it took him was one well timed sentence with that stupidly charming voice of his, and it made weeks on weeks of self-imposed deprivation disappear like dust.

“don’t worry, i’ve been doing a lot of work to take care of myself. do you remember that ex i told you about? after him, i did a lot of work reevaluating the people closest to me and whether or not i trusted them blindly,” you hesitate, pursing your lips and sucking your cheeks in a little. you comb over your next thoughts carefully. talking with professor hinata is a mental game of its own, and you feel like you’re playing against an impossible opponent. “there’s… definitely a more eloquent way for me to have phrased all of that, but… you get the point.”

“i do. god, you poor thing. how could anyone hurt someone like you like he did? i know i’m biased as your professor, but even then… you’re so bright and kind. he really fumbled. that’s my two cents.” his shoulders shake a bit as he laughs, the sound coming from somewhere deep inside of his chest. your stomach feels queasy, and every part of your body wants to swoon. your attraction to him is trouble. it’s fatal. 

you dig your nails into the flesh of your palms. the stinging pain does little to bring you back to your good conscience, but it’s something to focus on other than the hazy lapses in judgment that dance inside your mind. “it’s all growing pains. this is what being an adult means, doesn’t it? you said so yourself last time we talked. there’s bound to be someone better out there in the world.”

you don’t need to look at him to know that he’s looking at you. the office feels constricting and so much smaller than you remember it to be, as if the walls are actively moving in closer and keeping you trapped in there with your deathly charismatic professor. 

“yes.” his voice drops a bit in volume, and it sounds almost intimate. “yes, i did say that.”

something possesses you. it creeps in quietly, like a drop of ink dispersed into a glass of clear water. no, you shouldn’t say that; whatever was plaguing you had taken root months ago. whatever you were trying to save was just a remnant of the ruin in your head. you swallow thickly, almost like you were trying to press your logic, your goodness, your moral conscience back down into nothingness.

you lift your face. his sweet eyes are there to greet you, and they light up when you meet his gaze. his eyes are warm and welcoming, and you’re instantly entranced. he’s beautiful, insanely beautiful, and the brown color has you floored. you want to reach out and cup his face, and you want to just stare into his eyes forever. it’s like he’s a siren that’s called out to you specifically, tempting you to inch closer and to let him take you away, entranced forever. your lips start quivering. you can’t breathe, can’t think, can’t reflect and let out one last pathetic struggle to cling to what you know to be right.

maybe things would have been different then. maybe if you tried harder, you’d have picked the morally correct thing. maybe you’d walk out of professor hinata’s office unscathed, your relationship tense but still at the boundary it should be at, and you’d graduate and put your crush behind you as nothing more than a silly infatuation. 

but you don’t. some repressed part of your mind slips. the words tumble from your mouth before you can stop yourself.

“i wish it could be you.”

you instantly throw your hands over your mouth, your eyes widening in shock. regret flashes through your entire being, and your face burns with shame. professor hinata gasps softly, but he doesn’t say anything.

“sorry-,” you fumble, your stomach twisting into horrid knots. panic shoots through your brain, and you’re screaming internally at yourself. you want to say something, anything, apologize profusely, but the gears in your head won’t turn. your entire mental processes are overrun with nothing but sheer panic, and you feel like your brain has turned into a piece of useless metal. “i-i’m sorry…! i didn’t mean it like that- i wasn’t thinking… i just- i don’t know what came over me.”

“hey, hey, calm down.” he reaches forward, leaning over his desk, and a firm hand plants itself on your knee. you almost jerk away from him, like his touch would hurt you, and your professor can see the wild, feral fear in your eyes.

it’s one thing to deal with your illicit feelings on your own, but to accidentally blurt them and make them known to him? to professor hinata? the very object of your forbidden affections?

“it’s okay. it’s okay. i’m being serious, it’s alright. there’s no need to freak out.” his words cut into the blinding flurry of thoughts in your head. “talk to me, here. you good?”

you nod frantically, forcing a deep breath in through your nose. “i’m fine. i’m okay, i promise. i… please ignore what i just said.”

he retracts his hand. he swallows, and you can see his adam’s apple bob underneath the neckline of his turtleneck sweater. you should know better than to look into his eyes again, not when every time looking into his face spelled trouble for you, but when you stare up at him helplessly, he looks nothing like the bubbly, carefree professor you knew.

his pupils are blown wide open, and there’s a kind of intensity settling inside of his eyes that you’ve never seen before. his lips are parted just slightly, like he’s about to say something but the words are caught on the tip of his tongue. a shiver tiptoes down your spine. he looks like a man haunted, the once cordial candlelight-esque brown of his irises running big and reckless like a wildfire. 

you don’t recognize this side of him, but you don’t dislike it either. you lick your lips quickly, suddenly aware of your extremely dry mouth.

he lets out a deep exhale through his nose. “...i need you to listen to me.”

“i am,” you squeak back. your mind flashes back to minnie, to your superstar queen bee of a roommate. how would she navigate something like this? knowing her, she would navigate this gracefully. she could probably play it off as a joke and laugh around with professor hinata. she could bat her eyelashes and charm him, maybe pass this off as a bit of awkward flirting and walk away scot free. you’ve never had the same social grace that she manages to pull off so effortlessly. 

“i… i apologize if i’m reading too much in between the lines.” he sounds strained, as if he’s holding a part of him back. his eyes are locked onto you, honed in as if you’ll skirt away out of his sight. “but i don’t think either of us can ignore whatever it is we have going on. i want to make myself clear here. i am your professor, and you are my student. the mature, responsible thing for me to do as your instructor is to ignore your remark and to move on. if that is what you want, then i will let you walk out of my office. we can pretend nothing happened. everything that happened here stays between us.”

you pause, and you wring your hands together. you know that that’s the choice you should take. that your relegated role in this song and dance is to be the good kid and to never stray away from your place as a nobody bookworm with good grades and nothing special. and yet your mouth moves, “...is there another option?”

he clenches his jaw. he has to be at his limit, just as much as you are. you see the edge in his eyes, flaring like sparks, waiting for you to touch and him to come away burned. you don’t care. you’re hurtling straight at the point of no return, and you’re burning up, beautiful and flaming and waiting to be consumed into nothingness.

“i… we take care of this whole thing. but i want to make sure you want this as much as i do. i hope you understand the gravity of what this means for both of us. it’s very, very wrong for a teacher and a student to be in love with each other.” professor hinata takes a big breath in, and he shoves his hand through the wild tufts of his orange hair. “but if you are insistent on pursuing this route with me, so long as you’re willing to accept your responsibility, then…” 

he stops, and he whispers the last part, barely and only loud enough for your ears, “...i can’t say that i can refuse you.”

your hands curl into decisive fists in your lap. so this is where you are. these are the conditions that life has mercilessly thrown at your feet. your heart and brain are at odds with each other. your mind screams at you to think of your future, that your life would certainly be ruined if anyone would find out that you had an illicit relationship with your professor. and what about him? it would spell a certain social death for him too if he were to be found out.

but your heart begs. you’ve ignored its cries for basically your entire life now, always picking the expected thing, pushing down your own wants in exchange for the security and the safety of a quiet life. this is one time in your life that you’ve truly wanted something, truly yearned for it with your entire existence. how is it fair to deny this from yourself? haven’t you given enough up? you gave up sociability when making friends with minnie, gave up a chance at normalcy when breaking up with your ex, and now love with professor hinata?

“i know there’s a right answer, professor hinata,” you hang your head. uneasiness claws at your ribcage, but the desire bubbling up inside of you hurts even more. “but i’m sorry. i don’t think i have it in me to be good anymore.”

he waits a beat, and the silence hangs above you like the weight of a million sins. the laugh he lets out is airy, relieved. “i was hoping you’d say that. well… come here. let me have you.”

you don’t know how you don’t trip over your own feet as you get up. you walk over to him as if in a trance, looking down at your professor with shaking eyes. he looks so confident as he grins up at you, legs spread slightly in that old office chair of his, every part of him just as inviting and tempting as the day you first laid eyes on him.

you’re practically crawling into his lap, and his strong arms are around you. his mouth is instantly on yours, and you gasp, the feeling of soft lips consuming you entirely. this wasn’t your first kiss by a long shot, but it was your first kiss with him. and god, it was everything those stupid romance movies made a kiss out to be: electric, addictive, leaving you dizzy and giddy and reeling in his embrace.

you’re glad he’s there to hold you. you place your hands shyly on his chest, warmth pooling in your stomach when you can feel the strong tension of his muscles. you never realized you were this downright touch starved, basically melting into putty in his hands as he kisses you over and over again, the hushed sounds of your lips locked together and breathless pants filling the room. 

your head spins. this must be the charm of an experienced lover. his touches mold into yours, adjusting to you and making you feel as if you can put your trust wholly into him. his tongue laps at your lips, and you let him in, let him swirl his tongue deep into your mouth. you feel so full on the inside, your chest swelling with everything you’re repressed coming out now in droves. his tongue moves around yours, and your ears drink up the lewd sounds of your french kissing. 

his hands grasp at you firmly, memorizing your touch and the way your body feels under his palms. his thick thighs make for the perfect seat, and you cling to him as he kisses you. making out with him feels like an eternity but also as if no time has passed at all, whisked away into the special place meant solely for lovers, sincerely lost in your own world with him. he feels so good around you and under your skin, even better than the fleeting fantasies you might allow yourself to have.

a strand of saliva connects the two of you when he pulls away from you finally. your chest heaves as you gulp down oxygen, your fingertips shaking as you curl them into the soft fabric of his sweater. 

“you…,” he gasps, unable to tear his eyes away from your clearly shaken form, “you have no idea how long i’ve wanted to do that to you.”

heat nestles deep inside your stomach. it’s wicked and possessive, but you want to be special to him. and now you know that you are, your desire to have more of him is insatiable. something throbs and pulses within your core, and it’s pitiful just how weak you are to him after a handful of well-executed kisses. fuck having any kind of stupid romance with some dumb college boy your age: none of them could even dream of leaving you this stunned and your body itching for literally anything more.

you grasp at him. “please- please, more- kiss me again… i need it- i need more-”

“-shhh, i’ve got you, pretty.” he moves in so close to your face, his lips only a breath away from yours. you’ve never had someone kiss you so carnally before, his desire emanating off of him in thick waves. you’re probably no better, begging for your hot professor to make out more with you as if his tongue wasn’t down your throat mere seconds ago and as if it isn’t his spit that’s coating your lips thickly. 

it feels right. there’s no other way for you to describe him kissing you again. his lips move so gently against yours and yet brims with a kind of brutish need. it’s like he doesn’t want to scare you away but can barely contain himself, not when he has you right where he wants you. you don’t mind. you want him to be greedy, and you want him to take you wholly. 

you’re so happy, and you love it when his tongue is in your mouth, guiding your clumsy movements. it’s lewd kissing you’ve only seen couples do through the drunken haze of some seedy frat basement during a crazy party or in a raunchy porn video, and you get it. it finally clicks inside your head why people go crazy for these kinds of things, why people lose their minds when they’re unable to fully get a grasp over their own sexual needs. it’s like an awakening for you, as if some monster that had been caged in your heart is now breaking free of its restraints.

you moan shamelessly into professor hinata’s mouth. you need more. just kissing isn’t enough, only having his tongue in your mouth isn’t enough. the pounding between your hips won’t go away, and if anything, it’s getting worse with each passing second. he’s turning you on, and your body refuses to listen to you. but why should you hold back? he’s right there for you, and you’re willing to give yourself to him without any room for regret.

“please-,” you sound so needy, so desperate, so unlike any part of the removed personality you kept around your professor. “touch me more… i need you, professor-”

“-don’t call me that,” he whispers against your mouth. “shoyo. call me shoyo. i’m not your professor right now.”

“shoyo,” the name tastes like sticky sweet honey against your mouth, “touch me, shoyo.”

his hands snake down to your waist, and he looks at you expectantly as his fingertips slip under your shirt. you shudder when his fingertips press firmly into your skin and flesh, like a reminder of what you’re getting yourself into. “good girl. do you want me to go all the way with you right now?”

“yes! god, please, yes- shoyo, take me.” you bury your head into the crook of his neck. his calming scent floods your nose, and you think you’re going into heat. “i’ve never needed someone more in my life.”

something hard presses up against your crotch. he grunts, “that’s a dangerous thing to say to me.”

you let him lift your shirt away from your body, coaxing it gently over your head before tossing it somewhere onto his office floor. your body heats up, blood pumping under your skin. you prickle slightly against the cold office air, and you bite down a bit on your tongue. his hands crawl up the expanse of your stomach and up to your chest, and he looks at you as if he’s been starved.

“god, you drive me crazy,” he breathes. your voice catches somewhere in the back of your throat. you can feel the warmth of his palms hovering over your breasts, the thin fabric of your bra doing nothing to protect you from him. “to think you’ve been hiding from me this entire time, right under my nose…”

you gasp when he gropes you through your bra, his hands molding against your breasts. you fill his palms out so easily, and you grind down against his lap, sparks flying inside of your mind. you grip onto him again, breathing needily against the crook of his neck as he plays with your chest, letting you adjust to the feeling of his heavy hands on your body. 

he touches you so sweetly and so beautifully. not like the clumsy horny ways boys your age would, but with confidence and reverence, like he purposefully wants to take his time with you. you whimper when his fingers hook into the cups of your bra, and you let him yank it down to fully free your chest. 

your pussy throbs when his hands are on your bare breasts. he massages the soft flesh, chuckling softly whenever he hears you keen and choke out a breath into his neck. his fingers find your nipples quickly, and heat flares under your cheeks and inside your gut when he pinches at them gently, your body reacting faster to his touch than your mind can.

you grind down onto his lap, feeling his hard bulge in between your thighs. you need more, need something inside you. 

he grits his teeth when he feels you trying to hump his clothed cock. “careful, sweetheart. i’m trying to take my time with you.”

his hands move to your back, fully undoing your bra and letting it drop forgotten to the floor. you don’t care. you want him all over your body. you want his calloused hands all over your tits, pinching and teasing your nipples, filling out his hands with your breasts, like your body was made to match his. 

“i know-,” you sound shaky. you are shaky, barely holding yourself together. you clench your eyes shut as he plays with your tits again. pleasure surges downwards every time he plays with your sensitive nipples, rubbing his fingertips into them or just letting the skin-to-skin contact get to your head. “i just- i can’t- i can’t control myself anymore, shoyo-”

“i got you, i got you,” he laughs. if only you could know his own madness, the insanity that runs rampant in his mind knowing that he can have you in any way he wants. “shit, and i thought i’d take it slow. be a good gentleman for you. clearly that isn’t making the cut.”

you let out a small shriek as he lifts you from his lap, and the next thing you know, you’re slumped over his desk. your bare chest is against the cold wood of his workspace, and he hovers above your back, your ass against his crotch. you whimper into his desk, and your breath fogs up against the polished wood.

your cunt clenches painfully around nothing as he grinds his hips into your ass, his erection rubbing all over your thighs and butt. your saliva pools inside your mouth when you hear him groan and buck his hips into you, mimicking the motions of penetrative sex as he drinks up the friction. his hands hold firmly at your hips and waist, anchoring himself to your body.

he doesn’t need to do much. if you can already feel him this prominently, just how big was his dick? 

“i-i can feel so much of you already.” you glance back at him. the thrums of arousal inside you are almost unbearable. you don’t feel like yourself, only like a husk of person fiending for release. 

“yeah?” his grip on you tightens slightly, and he peers down at you. “fuck- have you had sex before? is this your first time?”

“no, it isn’t- i’ve had sex before- with a few guys on campus and mostly with my ex…,” you trail off, not wanting to think about it any further. “it doesn’t matter. it doesn’t count.”

he chuckles, shaking his head at your small joke. “can you feel how hard i am? how big i am?”

“yes,” you exhale. you want him inside you. you want him to take your pants off already and stick his cock inside your cunt. you want him to make a mess out of your insides, to take the weeks of pent up lust and to let it loose. you want your pussy to be ravaged by him, for him to not stop until you’re a wreck underneath him. “so big… i want it so bad…”

“am i bigger than your ex?” it’s a question posed dangerously, a blade wrapped in cloth. you dip your face down so that your forehead touches the wood. you nod shakily, glad that you have his desk to hold onto for support so that your knees don’t give out. 

he smirks. the ends of his mouth curl upwards into a cruel smile. it’s the satisfaction of a predator right as it’s about to sink its teeth into its prey, relishing the sadistic thrill of knowing that his influence, that his power remains on top.

“forget everything about that boy,” he spits the last word, as if it’s something bitter. “you feel me? feel this cock? yeah, i know you do. this is how big a real man’s cock is.”

you might as well have had the wind knocked out of you. his hands make their way to your pants, and you move with him, letting them fall by your ankles. your panties follow suit, and you’re left shivering with anticipation against his desk, fully naked. nothing can protect you from his wandering eyes now, and while you can’t see him, you can feel his gaze boring into your exposed cunt. 

you can feel how wet you are, your imagination doing the most in making you feel like you were going to overheat while making out with him. your slick drips out of your hole, and your cunt weeps, begging for something to fill you up and get rid of that incessant ache in your belly.

“turn over,” he commands you. any sense of the warm professor you used to shirk around is gone, replaced by an intensity entirely foreign to you. you comply, and you gasp when shoyo sinks down to his knees. his hands are on your knees, and he pries your legs apart to slot himself. you’re fully laying on his desk at this point, and his face is mere inches away from your hole.

“i-...” you don’t know what to say. you feel like you’re going to choke on your own breath, embarrassment at having a man so close to your pussy threatening to consume you whole. 

shoyo, on the other hand, is utterly entranced. the sight of your bare cunt has him bewitched. his cock throbs painfully inside of his pants. the little tease he got from you trying to grind down on him and then rubbing himself against your ass has done nothing but wet his appetite, and he knows how much he’s been waiting painstakingly for this moment.

your voice dies out in the back of your throat when he grabs your thighs, and before you know it, his mouth is on your cunt. he kisses your pussy, and you nearly buck your hips into his mouth. his tongue laps in between your lower lips sensually, coating his mouth in as much of your juices as he can. his grip on you is firm, making sure that you can’t wiggle away from him. he wants you to feel every single second of him eating you out, make sure you feel his tongue against every part of your hole.

his tongue captures your clit, swirling slowly around the sensitive bud. you clench your eyes shut, and the first shockwaves of pleasure shoot straight to your brain. “ah- shoyo- fuck-!”

he keeps kissing and sucking at your clit, determined to shower you with so much attention. he takes his time. he flicks the tip of his tongue against the bud, leaving you recoiling against the cool material of his desk, and he presses the broad of his tongue against it, letting you grind down how you want into his mouth. he mimics your movements, and you’re left gasping and mewling when he moves down. teasing your clit turns into broad licks up your slit, and your thighs shake and threaten to close around his head if it weren’t for his firm grip on you.

his tongue circles your hole, and he smirks into you when he can feel you quiver and clench around him. he’s snaking himself all over your cunt, lavishing each part of your pussy with a good dosage of love and spit. every time he drags his tongue against your slit, threatening to slip into your hole but not quite, you’re left reeling in the aftermath. you need something inside you, anything. you’re so horrendously turned on, and as much as the clitoral stimulation has you seeing stars, you need more.

“shoyo…” god, he loves it when you moan out his name. he just can’t get enough of the way the syllables roll off of your tongue, and you choke out his name, elongated the sound and clinging to his name as if he’s the only thing you’ve ever known. 

your pussy continues to drool for him, and he’s smacking his lips, drinking up every drop of your juices as if he can’t get enough. it’s a perfect reminder of how much he wants you. he thinks you’re perfect, a gift sent down from whatever divinity might be out there, hand-crafted to take his love and to love him in return. you taste heavenly on his tongue, your slick coating his mouth thickly. with each swallow, it’s like you’re becoming a part of him, and it makes him dizzy.

you tremble under his touch. he keeps capturing your clit the way you like it best. he teases you, lets you feel pleasure. the pleasured hums of his voice vibrate against your clit, constantly stimulated by his tongue and lips. the throngs of arousal inside your gut keep mounting, growing, twisting and coiling it on itself, keeling to be freed, to be let loose so you can cum all over his mouth as if you’ve lost all control of your body.

“feels good-,” your breathing shakes as you reach down, grabbing a fistful of his bright orange hair. the man moans in such a depraved manner against you, and you clench painfully, your pussy feeling as if it’s contorting into a way physically impossible from how sheerly aroused you are. “make me cum, please! ‘m so close- wanna cum- wanna cum in your mouth, shoyo…! you’re making me feel so good!”

“yeah?” he detaches himself momentarily. he licks his lips and swallows, chest heaving at your sweet taste overwhelming all of his senses. his brain is screaming for him to fuck you, but he doesn’t want to. he wants to see you feel good from just his mouth first, to coax one orgasm out of you so that your nerves are properly awakened. that would make fucking your pussy out on his cock so much more worthwhile. “am i making you feel good, pretty girl? enough to beg for it?”

you nod feverishly, even though you should know that he can’t see you. your drenched pussy speaks enough for itself. he’s too good at this, the experience under his belt shining through. there’s no stupid boy your age that would even think of doing you a courtesy like eating you out until you’re shaking, and here’s shoyo, eagerly lapping at your cunt without you even needing to ask. 

“cumming- gonna cum- please, please, fuck…! your tongue feels so good- love it so much when you lick at me like that…,” you whimper. your back arches against the desk, and your body twitches, wanting to ride his tongue and make a mess all over his mouth. shoyo doesn’t stop his relentless movements, and he continues to suck at your clit. 

arousal curls and unfurls like a pulse deep inside your stomach. you’re teetering on the edge, and you feel like you’re going crazy. your mind is turning into jelly, your wildest fantasies about your professor coming true right before your eyes, and your pussy can’t take everything happening to you. you shut your eyes again, gritting your teeth and bracing yourself for the orgasm that you’re sure is going to slam into you like a brick wall.

his tongue slithers expertly against your drenched cunt, and he presses a sticky kiss to your clit. your stomach curls inward at the intimate touch, with him pleasuring you as if it's his given duty as your lover, and that’s all it takes.

“shoyo!” you cry out, your thighs nearly wrenching themselves out of his hands. “i’m cumming- fuck! fuck, fuck, fuckfuckfuck-...! fuck me, fuck me, please! ah- i’m cumming…!”

he keeps on pressing his mouth all over your pussy as you cum on his mouth. red hot pleasure floods your entire body, sweeping you away from head to toe, and your thighs quiver like mad. your body feels so hot, so overwhelmed by a pleasure you’ve never had before, and your vision spins. you can’t think, not when every inch of your body has been tossed into overdrive so effortlessly by him, and your inner walls twist achingly. 

you wish it was his cock you were cumming on. you’re breathless and succumbing to how good it feels to have your hole ravished by his mouth, and he eats you out through your orgasm. he’s determined to swallow up every drop of your slick, and it’s not until you’re whimpering again and pushing his forehead back weakly that he detaches himself from between your legs.

“shit, you taste so fucking sweet,” shoyo groans. he sounds almost disappointed that you pushed him off of you, your slit tingling and desperate for something bigger. the lower half of his face is shiny with your juices and spit mingling together, and he licks his lips, making sure not to let a single drop escape him. “fuck- i could eat you out all day if you’d let me. pretty girl’s got a pretty pussy too.”

your hole flutters in excitement at his praise. heat and embarrassment at the sudden intimacy flickers underneath your face, and your head is still buzzing, not fully done with your sexual high. your chest rises and falls as you rest on his desk, splayed out for him to admire as he gets up from his knees and undoes pants. you can hear the shuffling of fabric and metal as he takes off his belt and pants. your mouth goes dry as you think about his cock and how big it felt when the two of you were grinding and humping each other for a split second, and now you’re finally getting him to fuck you on it.

he lets out a low, throaty moan as he takes the last of his clothing off, and his cock is nice and hard, drops of pearly pre-cum dripping from his tip. he’s aroused that it hurts, but there’s something about seeing you still recoiling from your orgasm, the rush of pride he gets knowing that he got you off using just his mouth, makes the pain of waiting a bit longer to fuck you so much more worth it.

“how are you feeling? you doing okay?” he asks you. he grabs his cock, stroking himself a few times from base to tip, his thumb sliding over his sensitive slit to spread his pre-cum all over himself. you nod wordlessly, starting to come back down to your plane of reality as you let him slide himself in between your legs again.

you freeze when you feel his cock against your slit, and he rubs himself up and down in between your lower lips. the dull pangs of arousal are bubbling up in your gut once more, and your slick is mixing with his pre-cum to coat his cock in a makeshift kind of lube.

“d-do you have any condoms…?” you eke out. it’s his bare dick against your body right now, and as intoxicating as the thought of taking him raw and letting him stuff every inch of your womb with his cum is, you still have to think straight.

he grabs at your hips, bringing himself flush against your body. a moan catches in the back of your throat when his tip grazes against your sensitive clit, and he chuckles to himself when he sees you twitch. “not at the moment. i’ll take care of you. can you trust me?”

there’s a lump in your throat, and some deeply dead part of you sobs out that you should be responsible. but you don’t care, not when you’re this close to finally having him inside you, not when he promises to take responsibility for you. you move your head, unable to fully meet his eyes, and you nod your head yes.

“good girl,” he laughs sweetly. “you ready for me?”

“yes! please, i want you inside me… want you to fuck me…,” you whine, your head lolling onto the desk underneath you. your pussy clenches at the thought of his raw bare cock rubbing against your insides, your walls clinging to every inch of his thick cock, and you’re so, so ready to take him.

he grips the base of his cock, and he lines himself up. he watches, enraptured, as your hole pulses around his cockhead. you groan needily as he fucks his tip in and out of you, just to watch your pussy cling to him, wanting to pull him in fully. you’re just about to whine and complain when he finally pushes himself in, and your breathing dies out in your chest as your walls stretches out to adjust to him being inside you.

“...fuck-! ah- you’re so big-,” your voice immediately starts slurring as he pushes past the resistance. it burns yet it feels deathly euphoric to have something stretching you out like that, to feel every bit of your pussy being invaded and stuffed out onto shoyo’s girthy cock. you’re coaxing him in effortlessly, and his fingers curl into the flesh of your waist and hips as he tries to ground himself.

he sucks in a harsh inhale through his gritted teeth, his eyebrows furrowing. you’re so tight and wet and downright heavenly wrapped around his length. he can’t stop looking between your legs, right where the two of you are joined together for the first time, but you’re squeezing and fluttering around him just right even though all he did was put it in. it’s taking all of his concentration not to waver and lose himself in the feeling. 

jerking off desperately by himself doesn’t even come close to how good your pussy feels. he could stay like this forever, feeling your velvety walls pulse around him, wanting to pull his cock in even further until he swears his tip is kissing the entrance to your womb. he takes in a deep breath, and he does his best to clear his head so he can start fucking you properly. 

“you’re so fucking tight… shit, did you want my cock that badly?” he manages out shakily. “fuck, it’s like your pussy’s milking me already, sweetheart.”

“mhm… it’s so, so big…,” you murmur, dazed. “never- never had cock like this before- you’re filling me up… feels like you’re in my stomach.”

“yeah? does it feel good?” he’s waiting for you to give him the all clear. your face is scrunched up, and as desperate as he is to start fucking into you like an animal, he knows better than to be a ruffian. your pleasure always comes first. that’s what real men do.

you nod weakly for what feels like the millionth time. your nerves are on fire, your previous orgasm only accentuating how much you can feel him pressed against you. his cock rubs just right against your sensitive walls, and you can’t imagine what actually having him thrusting into you is going to do to your body. “yes- so good- i’m gonna lose my mind, shoyo…”

“good answer.” he reaches over to move a strand of your hair away from your face. “i’m gonna start moving, okay? if something hurts or doesn’t feel right, you tell me right away. i’m here to make you feel good, and nothing else.”

your heart skips a beat. in a sea of fuckboys and idiot college boys that couldn’t care less about your well-being, someone like him feels less like a real person and more like a character straight from a fairy tale. “okay- you can fuck me- i want you to fuck me.”

he draws his hips back and thrusts slowly into you. you gasp, acutely aware of the sensation deep inside of you. your pussy revels at how he rubs against you, gripping onto his cock for dear life as he fucks his length in and out of you. it’s such a painfully slow pace, but you savor the feeling, savor the new stimulus of having your professor’s cock buried deep inside you. you want to commit to memory, because it’s unlike anything you’ve ever had before.

heat flares back up inside your belly again, settling and slithering in repeated coils between your hips. your vision blurs once more, and arousal creeps back into your mind, threatening to overtake every single one of your conscious thoughts. “faster, shoyo- wanna feel more of you- you’re torturing me…!”

“sorry- i can’t help it,” he laughs bitterly, his voice hushed and under his breath. “can you blame me for being obsessed with you? fuck- you’re so tight, hugging me like this… it’s like you were made to take me.”

your stomach curls in on itself at the sweet praise. you hate how easily he toys with your heart, how easily he can make you swoon and fall for him all over again, leaving you dancing and squirming right underneath the palm of his hand. literally. you swallow deeply, and it feels like there’s no inch of your body that the unbearable heat hasn’t spread to. 

“faster, please- i need you so bad!” you sob, nearing your limit. cumming from his tongue was only an appetizer, and you’re hungry for more. you’ve starved yourself long enough, and his slow pace isn’t doing any favors for you. you roll your head left and right on his desk, unable to control yourself.

“you want it? prove it to me.” his voice drops a few notes, and your cunt unconsciously clenches at how dark his words sound. it’s yet another potent reminder of the man buried inside of you right now, a real man who’s determined to make you his, prince and criminal, craved and craving, dreamy and filthy all at once. “look me in the eye then. look me dead on as i fuck you.”

you let out a loud moan. his words are fucking dirty, and when he rolls his hips into you, drinking up the excruciatingly addictive way your pussy clings to his dick, you think your body is actually going to give out on you. it’s not like he’s asking for you to do anything obscene or impossible, but there’s something so disgustingly erotic and intimate about him asking you to look him straight in his face—in his eyes—as he makes love to you.

the desk is warm underneath your body, all warmed up thanks to your body heat. it’s become your subconscious refuge, taking all of your thrashing as he had his way with you, and you don’t want to think about the sure mess you’re bound to leave in your wake. your breathing trembles as you forcibly turn your face towards his, ripping your wavering gaze away from the safety of whatever else you were staring at.

your eyes meet his, and he smiles at you adoringly. there’s no more running away from him, nowhere to escape to, your eyes locked together and dancing in his pupils. you’re rendered breathless again at the vibrant color, like your own life is being squeezed from between your lips. you can’t move, and your chest feels like it’s about to cave in on itself, your ribs giving out and your heart melting into a puddle of useless muscle and putty. but this time, strangely enough, you welcome the helpless feeling. he’s got you wrapped around his pinky finger, and you finally realize that you never stood a chance. 

that very first day, in that fatefully empty classroom, when you first met eyes with him, you were a fucking goner. you always were. always had been. and it was all his fault, all professor hinata’s fault. 

all hinata shoyo’s fault. 

“good girl.” he looks at you in a way only a lover would. his eyes soften around the edges and crinkles up as he grins. “don’t ever look away from me.”

“i won’t,” you promise. it’s the last thing you could dream of doing. not when you want it so badly, and not when he’s asking you verbatim. how could you deny him of the very thing he’s asking you to do? especially when it’s something that you’ve always been mustering up the courage to do? this is your big leap forward, your chance to prove to yourself that you can change.

he leans forward, and he lets you wrap your arms around his neck. you refuse to drop your gaze from his face, admiring every small detail of his features and letting yourself drown fully in the wide expanses of his eyes. he presses one last romantic kiss to your mouth, and that’s the last warning you get, the last bit of sweetness and gentleness you get. 

he draws his hips back, and he slams himself back into you roughly. you choke out a small moan, pleasure flooding your head. he doesn’t give you any time to recover from the recoil before he’s thrusting wildly back into you again. your hole is already slick and dripping wet from his teasing and your previous climax, and it makes it all the more easy for him to slide his length in and out of you, pace picking up speed and leaving you crying out as your surprise quickly morphs into electric pleasure.

“shit- so fucking tight- god, you’re going to kill me,” he grunts. you mewl and moan incoherently, clinging to him for dear life as he fucks into you over and over again. his tip prods against your deepest parts, and surges of pleasure climb all over your nerves. his hips slam against yours, and his balls slap against the curve of your ass. lewd, wet lovemaking noises echo throughout the small office, and it echoes even louder against your ears. 

it feels good, it feels so good. you never knew pleasure like this was possible, that it even existed. you thought you knew everything there was to sex already, but clearly not, if shoyo has you practically melting in his arms, your limbs numb and surrendering wholly to how good he’s making you feel. your walls keep fluttering around him, and every thrust has you crying out. 

“fuck- you feel so good- shoyo- shoyo, i’m losing my mind…!” you gasp. your nails dig into his back, and you claw at him like a feral cat. your thighs quiver around his hips, but he doesn’t let up his brutal pace. with each roll of his hips, it feels like he’s knocking the wind out of you. he’s determined to fuck you stupid, and it’s working. your grip on reality is slipping fast, with the throbbing pleasure in your head taking precedence over everything.

“go crazy for me then. you feel me inside you, don’t you? good. then you can feel firsthand how fucking crazy you make me.” he grabs your hips, and he angles them ever-so-slightly before ramming into you. you grit your teeth as a tense cry escapes from you.

the new angle has you seeing stars. you’re scratching at his back, your insides lurching and reeling and being stirred up like wild. “you’re so deep… so deep inside me! nnmgh…! you’re gonna make me cum so fast- make me cum again-“

“shit, already? am i fucking you that good?” his stomach is doing flips. you’re a sight for sore eyes, refusing to look away from him as if your life depended on it. his abs strain against him as he enjoys the experience of having sex with you, sex with the student that’s been dancing around him forever. you’re splayed out like a piece of art underneath him: all sweaty, breasts bouncing, legs spread with your soft cunt eagerly taking every inch of him.

your foreheads are basically touching when you nod your head. “yes! no one’s ever made me feel this good before- never had cock like yours-“

he almost laughs. oh, he’s bet you’ve never had anyone like him. what would your ex, your past flings know about pleasing women? all he wanted was to make you go crazy like this. he wants to sink you deep into pleasure, and he wants to make it so that you don’t ever think about other men after he’s done with you. he wants you in your entirety. he can’t do halfway.

“i told you already,” he purrs. his words drip off of his tongue like sticky syrup. “it’s because you’re having sex with a man this time. not with a boy. a real, grown man. someone that can take care of you. someone that can treat you right.”

it’s hard to think. he speeds up, leaving you fighting to keep your eyes open. the intense look in shoyo’s eyes are nothing like your own fucked out look, but at the same time, you’re sure the intoxicated gleam in his is the same as yours. is it love or desire that connects you two?

“most importantly…” his fingers dig into your flesh, securing your hips in place and leaving you at his mercy. you can feel your juices leaking out, coating your ass and making wet sounds whenever his hips smash into yours. he cranes his head, and his lips are almost on top of yours, threatening to close the gap and brush his lips across yours. “someone that can actually fuck you.”

oh fuck. you don’t stand a fucking chance against him. all of the sensations are rapidly racking up in your body, and with how deep he’s thrusting into you, you can barely hold onto yourself. you’re gonna cum soon again, you just know it. you feel the tightness inside your belly, and with how effectively he’s seducing you, whispering all kinds of lewd things and making sure that you keep your eyes locked on him while fucking you, you have nowhere to run away.

“i can’t take it- so rough- can’t take much more-,” you whimper. your mind is going blank, and all that you can think of is him. his body feels heavy and good on top of you, and having you scratch his back out of pleasure only spurs him on. he can feel you slipping and losing control of yourself, and he rocks you close to himself. he wonders if you can feel his heartbeat hammering in his chest, huffing short breaths as he keeps up his steady yet brutal pace.

he looks at you, and a smirk dangles off of his face. “yes, you can. you can take it. i know you can. you’ll be good for me, won’t you? let me make you feel good.”

your breathing hitches. it’s taking all of your mental strength not to topple over the edge right now. everything’s rushing too fast to your head right now, and all of your nerves are standing on edge, enthusiastically lapping up the pure euphoria coursing through your veins. but you want to make shoyo happy, you want to cum together with him, and as much as he said this lovemaking session was about you, you want to be able to match the pace he set.

“for you- just for you-,” you struggle to get the words out, the final syllables slurring together into a slight babble. so much for your usually well-put together, prudent academic facade. any trace of the well-trained, well-behaved student is long gone, replaced by a dirty, senseless, corrupted, and lascivious soul that lives and dies for shoyo’s love. “wanna be good- wanna be good only for you…”

“good. you’re mine. all mine,” he murmurs. the pleasure is sharp and dull all at once, all consuming and delicate, sinking you down into the murky waves inside the recesses of your mind only to drag you back to the surface, leaving you shuddering and grasping as if you had been drowned for real. shoyo likes it. he adores the reactions he gets out of you.

this is a kind of pleasure only he can give you. you’ve never had this with anyone else before, and he’ll make it so that you can’t find it from anyone else, not unless it’s with him. these faces you’re making, twisting in ecstasy and crying out with a voice like a songbird, are for him to enjoy only. they’re exclusive to him, only meant for his eyes, and he consumes it, fiending for more.

“shoyo- can’t- ‘t’s too good- i’m going crazy…!” you strain to breathe, your chest feeling inhumanly tight. parts of your brain light up like wired lights, blooming and flickering. you’re terribly close, and you know this one is going to take you whole and blow out any sense of being in your body. “shoyo- shoyo…”

“fucking christ- if you moan my name like that… you’ll make me want to do horrible things to you. so much more fucking worse than what i’m doing to you right now, sweetheart. this is just the start right here.” something pricks at your hips, and he digs his nails into your hips. he never thought himself to be such a possessive man, but he can’t deny the insanity that’s taken root in his brain for weeks now. it does something to him, to have his dick inside of you but to also hear you calling for him. him, him specifically, his name, emerging from your mouth as if he’s someone you revere. maybe at one point you did, but his yearning to have you turned him into something monstrous and all too human.

but perhaps that same madness overtook you and that was what brought the two of you together. shoyo finds it funny: the idea of something as sacred as love growing from something so depraved. and yet he’s fascinated by it, fascinated by the possibility that you’re no better than him, that your respect for him may just as easily be swapped for a kind of convenience to quell your own heart.

he doesn’t know what it all means. now isn’t the time for him to get philosophical. he’s balls-deep inside the pretty student he’s been pining over, and he’s so close to getting you to cum. wouldn’t that be a better reward than anything else he’s carefully built up? years of self preservation and swallowing down his personal desires for what’s “best” for his future be damned, he wants you. he wants you, he wants, he wants you.

you wonder if this is the end of your rope. you’re so close, so near the edge, and you’re clenching so desperately around his cock. you’re eclipsed entirely by the sight of your frightened and frantic reflection in his wide eyes, and you barely recognize yourself. so this is what you look like when you’re being mercilessly railed by your hot professor. your mouth is agape as you moan out for the male on top of you, face flushed and sweat beading your forehead like some kind of crown. 

“gonna cum- gonna cum! shoyo- just a bit more-” your tongue feels heavy in your mouth. your body isn’t yours at this point, having given up in exchange for the fire that burns your core, the snakes inside your belly hissing and twisting and pulsing. “i’m cumming- gonna cum- i can’t hold back anymore-!!”

“go ahead,” he whispers. his mouth itches to kiss you, to swallow up your wounded gasps. he wants to feel your body go slack again like he had done once before, to push you into that wonderful place where nothing and everything was real at once. he’s sure your body’s overrun with complex sensations and pure euphoria, and he loves watching you turn into a shell of yourself. “cum on my cock, pretty girl. you’ll be mine, won’t you?”

you barely nod your head, and shoyo’s drawing his hips back and snapping them back into you at a particularly rough angle. you tense up underneath him, back arching and limbs going stiff. your eyes widen, gaze still connected with him, and your body fully gives out.

“sh- shoyo…!” your voice is shrill as you sob out one final moan, and your orgasm grips the entirety of your body. it feels good, it aches, it throbs, and it demands so much of you. your velvety walls clamp down on his thick cock like a vice, milking him and clinging to him, and your climax refuses to give shoyo a chance to breathe. he digs his ankles into the ground and keeps thrusting wildly into you, wanting to keep the flare swallowing you up going for a bit longer. he grits his teeth as you squirm underneath him, and you can barely keep your eyes open. you want to clench them shut and throw your head back so bad, but whatever little control you have remaining on your conscious keeps them open, just for him.

you’re fighting against the currents swirling and whirlpooling inside your brain. whatever heat was bottled up inside your body rushes out, and you’re cumming all over shoyo’s girth. he’s keeping you stretched out, and your stomach feels like it’s going to cave in on itself. it’s nothing but pure bliss, the kind that makes you feel as if you’re floating, and you’re rendered breathless, each inhale precious and fleeting and almost incognizant. your vision swims, and tears settle on your waterline, just threatening to topple over. your field of sight is blurry, and yet even amongst all of the chaos, you can make out the dapples of brown in shoyo’s eyes, forever in tandem with him as if he were a planet in orbit around your sun.

you’re gasping for air, finally having gotten the release you had been chasing for what felt like an eternity. shoyo breathes heavily and raggedly, as if he had run a marathon, and he’s barely holding on himself. your insides are fucking massaging him, stroking his cock all over, squeezing and hugging and rubbing all up against his sensitive length.

“shit- fuck-,” he chokes out. fuck- he didn’t expect that seeing you cum would take so much out of him. his mind is teetering, and his muscles strain against him, his abs prominent. you’re refusing to let go of him, and he doesn’t know how much longer he can genuinely hold on for. he should be responsible, at least try to pick up the pieces of the mess that you two made, and pull out, cum into a napkin or a trash can or his hand or literally anywhere inside of your sweet cunt, but whatever resolve inside his chest whimpers as if he’s killing it when the thought brushes against his mind.

he wants to cum inside you. he has to. he needs to go that extra step, cement himself physically into you, promise to take care of you again and again for whatever happens next. he’s a real lover, someone who’ll take all of your brokenness and insecurity and fear and make them dissolve and melt away as if it were sugar. he’s sure they’d be equally as sweet to, so long as it came from you.

“god- fuck- take me- i’ll take care of you- take care of anything that happens next- fuck- just… just stay with me-,” he breathes out, body shaking. a cry catches in the back of your throat when he fucks himself in as deep as he can go, his cockhead pressing right up against your cervix. he buries himself into you, and he leans forward, capturing your lips in one last deep kiss, tongue swirling in your mouth and filling up your senses entirely with him.

your moans are muffled by him when you feel him cum deep inside you. something hot and heavy floods your cunt, pumping into you in generous spurts. it’s warm, and his cock takes on a second pulse inside of you, like a heartbeat as semen trickles into your womb and all through your cunt. your body feels hot, every inch of your pussy drenched and coated with shoyo’s cum. a few stray drops escape from you, but with him pressing his body flush against you and his cock still stuffed inside your cunt, most of the cum remains plugged inside you as he gasps for air, his high overtaking him.

“fuck… fu-uck,” his voice is gruff and airy. “god- you keep fucking milking me- shit, i came inside too- oh god…”

he nearly collapses on top of you, and his chest is on yours. the two of you lay there, breathing deeply and just enjoying the post-sex warmth of each others’ bodies. you’re still buzzing slightly, your head heavy as if you had just woken up from a long nap, but regular feeling is starting to seep back into your limbs. your body is pulling itself out from the haze, and while exhausted and quite literally fucked out of your mind, you’re regaining control over yourself as the minutes pass.

you admire shoyo’s form, the beautiful curves of muscle all over his back and shoulders, the lines on his face that could come only with age. it’s too early for you to worry, too early to really know the true consequences of your actions, and yet, there’s something bittersweet at the tip of your tongue when you look down adoringly at shoyo. morally, you know that this can’t continue. the best course of action you could have taken was to not fuck him, but now that you’ve gone and crossed that bridge, the next best thing you can do is to nip this in the bud and to avoid making a habit of this.

but you already know that you’re not strong enough to do that. you can’t go back, not when you’ve had a taste of everything you’ve already wanted.

you wrap your arms around shoyo a bit tighter, and you hold him closer to your heart. he buries his head into the crook of your neck, the shaky eye contact that you had kept up with him now broken. he inhales deeply and takes in your scent, and you wordlessly both celebrate and mourn everything that had built up and broken in between you and the man you had pined after for so long.

“...i’ll go buy some plan b for you.” he’s the first to break the silence. “there are some napkins in my office that i can clean you up with. you stay put. i… i lost control of myself there, and i don’t want you to strain yourself. do you think you can eat and drink a bit?”

your mind is nowhere near as clear as you’d want it to be, but you rasp out quietly, “yeah. i’m okay.”

“do you have any classes after this? fuck- i lost track of time too. i can write you a note and email whatever professor you have after me. i’m sorry- i really shouldn’t have gotten that carried away.” shoyo peels himself off of your body, and a whimper of protest dies out in your mouth. 

“i don’t have any classes. i’m basically free for the rest of the day, so you don’t need to worry about it. i- uh- i appreciate it though…” your arms feel cold and empty without him, and he maneuvers himself to grab a wad of napkins to position underneath your ass to catch the cum dripping out of you as he drags his now soft cock out.

you simultaneously feel empty and full all at once. his cum still undoubtedly lingers inside you, but without him physically in you, you feel as if something big has been sucked out of your soul. your stream of consciousness meanders to the idea of soulmates, and if this is what it must feel like.

you don’t know how to breach any further though. he’s immediately flipped his professional switch back on, cleaning both of you up without any further words, and you don’t think it’s proper though to keep demanding more from him. in his eyes, this might be nothing more than a bad lapse in judgment and not something he wants to keep pursuing in the same way you want to. 

a lump forms in your throat at the thought, and your heart shakes. your heart physically hurts. it aches and throbs as if it were torn apart, the stringy sinews and muscles begging for at least a bone to be thrown your way.

you hang your head, swallowing your despair back down the best you can. it’s not your place. it’s not your place.

he hands you an unopened water bottle, and you mutter a solemn word of thanks before cracking the lid and gulping a few mouthfuls down. he’s bent over and collecting all of your clothes, mixed together with him, and despite still being naked in front of him, you don’t feel any shame at all. this whole charade shouldn’t have felt as good and guiltless as it does, and you don’t want this to leave on the melancholy note that it is.

but as shoyo slips his sweater back on over his head and adjusts his hair, it’s hard not to mistake his professionalism for distance. you’re aware that you aren’t proper lovers, no boyfriend-girlfriend relationship, but what kind of sane human doesn’t yearn for a sense of connection and reassurance after something so intimate? all you want is to cuddle with him for a few minutes longer, have him smile sheepishly up at you as he peppers kisses onto your face, his big calloused hands holding you firmly.

you set the water bottle down. reality is never as clear cut nor as easy as fantasy is, and at this point, that should be a revelation you’ve carved into your heart by now. you steel your resolve the best you can, the one thing you’ve learned better than any other lesson your painful years of adulthood have taught you, and you reach for your own clothes.

you look messy with your clothes haphazardly thrown on and trepidation clinging like a fog to your psyche, and you’re ready to basically skitter out of his office as you always do and keep your head down until the semester ends. then you’ll be out of his hair and hopefully this would be nothing more than another minor heartbreak for you to get past. 

“where are you going? if you don’t mind staying put for a little bit longer, i’ll go fetch the plan b.” a hand lands on your shoulder as you prepare to leave, and you stop dead in your tracks. you look over, and shoyo looks down at you as if he’s confused. 

you hold your breath. you know better than to hope, and yet the flash of emotion that flies across your chest is undeniable. “you… don’t want me to go?”

his face immediately morphs into a deep frown, and his brows furrow. he looks horrified, as if you had picked out the worst words for the situation and spat them at his feet. “no! of course not. who do you think i am? why would i kick you out right after having sex? after harping on for so long about treating you right? gosh, you think so lowly of me. i was only cleaning up! here, there should be some snacks i keep stashed away in the second drawer over there. i’ll be zippity quick with the plan b run, i promise. get something in your tummy in the meantime, and then we can chat.”

chat? the word dangles above you like a loaded bullet. not everything is some kind of fucked up mental game, but it stuns you how he constantly manages to stay a step ahead you in everything.

you want to ask about what. about the future state of your relationship? about how both of your lives are going to undoubtedly be marked in a different way now because of this? about how the rest of the semester is going to go? about how you might never be able to muster the courage to show your face to society again, depending on how the conversation proceeds? there’s a whole slew of questions waiting to be asked, but when he beams at you, his smile more boyish and endearing than anything else, it’s like he simply melts away all of your anxieties.

it’s downright unfair, the sheer effect he has on you. but you don’t want it to stop, ever. you want him to continue confusing you and amazing you, leaving you questioning yourself and all of your worldviews. you don’t understand him, not one bit, and yet it feels like you know too much, used too much of your wiles to force him into showing his hand and leave both of you at some kind of stalemate. 

“what comes after that then?” that’s all you manage to blurt out amidst all of your fluctuating emotions. you don’t want him to leave, don’t want the beautiful man to slip away from your fingers after you only just got to keep him, no matter how short or necessary it might be. you’re not thinking straight, but what part of any of this came from logical thinking anyway? good behavior only got you so far, and good behavior isn’t going to keep him.

he grins, a smile that could rival sunshine even through your internalized storm. “that’s easy. you said you were free, yeah? i drop you off at home for a little bit so you can properly get cleaned up and get a fresh change of clothes. then i pick you up again, surprise you with a big bouquet of roses, and i buy you a nice dinner. dessert and drinks included. then i drop you back off home, and if you’re down for it, we do that a few times. then, y’know… i ask you out properly on our third or fourth date.”

your heart flutters in your chest. your heart has always been a caged bird, the last part of yourself you could never fully tame. stuffing it in a constricted box and ignoring it has gotten you only so far, and shoyo presses the key to the cage into your hand and coaxes you into unlocking and opening up the impenetrable door. your eyes widen slightly. it’s too early to get your hopes up again, but at the same time, when he’s stating his interest and desire to make something serious out of this, to actually take you on as a proper girlfriend and not as a one time fling, to go the whole nine yards and make it the romantic experience you’ve always wanted deep deep down, you think it’s only fair that you let yourself have this.

after years and years of repression, you’re getting your first reprieve. the first sign of spring after what felt like an unending winter, the long awaited gulp of water after wallowing in the murky depths, the fabled light at the end of the tunnel, a reminder that everything truly isn’t as hopeless as your twisted mind likes to make it, that you’re just as deserving of goodness and love and rightfulness as much as those around you, no matter how vehemently you once denied it against the very wishes of your heart. you’re done stifling your own desires, and while it won’t be something you fix overnight, you’re sure it’s shoyo that drew out those first steps.

“i don’t like ruining the surprise like this, but… i’m sure you don’t mind. still, do me a favor and act surprised when i do bring you flowers and take you out on a dinner date, okay?” he winks at you, laughing to himself. he looks so happy with himself, truly giddy like a boy waiting to ask his crush out. you don’t know how he can go in between being the cool professor you fell for and the man that charmed you so effortlessly, but you aren’t complaining. you want to acquaint yourself with every side there is to shoyo and to fall deeply in love with each and every part of him you discover.

you smile back softly in return. you play the innocent card, and you tilt your head slightly in a show of fake confusion. “don’t worry. date? what date? aren’t you running out to get me just plan b?”

“atta girl. you always catch on quickly. it’s that smart mind of yours,” he laughs again, louder this time. his voice reminds you of bells ringing in the morning sun. each syllable feels like he’s thawing you out, and it’s something to be venerated with every part of your soul. he approaches you to steal a kiss from your lips, and the touch is so sweet and gone too quickly. you want another, but you know he’ll be back soon and you’ll have as many kisses as you’d like, as many as he’d let you have.

he cups your face with one hand, and his thumb rubs over the apple of your cheek. it’s such a gentle touch, and yet it makes you feel weak in the knees, like your body feels a sense of magnetic attraction to him that makes you want him to hold you and nothing else. he leans down ever so slightly, enough so that he can look at you directly in your eyes again.

you don’t think you’ll ever get used to the way he leaves you breathless when he gazes at you, the intense look always leaving you stunned and glued in your place, the same split second that proved to be the first taste of the forbidden fruit. something bristles and hangs in the air, like electricity, and this time, you recognize it to be the anticipation of getting something you’ve wanted, like an excitement gripping at your throat, and the happiness of your heart beating not just for you but for someone else, for the very first time.

shoyo grins at you, at you alone. his eyes twinkle fondly.

“i love you,” he whispers without any trace of doubt in his voice.

your lips move, “i love you too, shoyo.”

you don’t blink. you won’t blink so long as he’s looking at you.

and you swear to never look away from those beautiful, beautiful eyes.

author's note: i owe @thomae a million thank yous for letting me write her idea! thank you thank you thank you so much for letting me bounce all of my ideas off of you and bothering you incessantly about this fic!! it ended up getting a lot longer than i originally intended (×﹏×) but regardless, i hope everyone enjoyed reading it as much as i enjoyed writing it!! (´ ε ` )♡ please stay safe in the new year, and if you enjoyed my writing, you can show your appreciation by donating to the humanitarian cause in gaza!

[sillyromance]

Since I’m not a minor anymore, I guess I must renovate my introduction post. So, here we go!

Good day everyone! You can call me Triana, I’m 18 years old – and this is my non-sexual vore blog, although I can post non-vore content here as well.

I post different kinds of vore from safe to fatal, yet I write and draw only oral – no exceptions. Also, I hardly ever make cruel preds the main characters of my stories for personal reasons. If these criterias go along with your preferences, then you will be always welcomed here!

As for my DNI, I wouldn’t like to interact with:

- Weight gain/ food fetish community blogs.

- Exclusively gore blogs

- Exclusively sexual/kink blogs

Don’t get me wrong – I’m not against people who run such blogs. The only people I hate are those who commit crimes against love, kindness and humanity – any others are free to come!

Yet, if you're a NSFW/kink blog, remember: you can like, but please - don't reblog my works or follow me.

If my personal boundaries are not respected, only then I will block.

I’d like to state that I’m not against minors in the community and they can visit my blog. However, I will always write warnings in heads of my posts if they include adult topics (explicit descriptions of physical traumas, for instance), so children and teens can stay away from it.

Also, I don't roleplay (at least, for now), and, as a shy and cautious person, I'm really suspicious about receiving messages. If you wish to chat with me, please, leave a short description of who you are and what exactly you'd like to talk about - I'll hardly answer you otherwise. ❗Forbidden topics: politics, religion, sexual preferences (everything connected with sex really)❗(they produce conflicts which I would NOT like to participate in). If I feel in danger chatting with you, I'll stop the communication and block! Sorry, but, unfortunately, it's very easy to get in a trap on the Internet nowadays...

Thank you for reading this until the end! Have a nice day and take care!

Master list:

Animations:

Optimus Prime vore animation

Non-vore animation Nyx x Dooku

Original characters’ backstories:

Sara Branton (TFP)

Alexa Branton and Sacura (TFP)

Nyx de Serenno (SW)

Sara Branton:

Ratchet and Sara (pictures)

Late at night (a comic)

Healing fueltank (a picture)

Alexa Branton:

Happy Valentine’s day (a picture)

Comfort (a comic)

To end this (a story)

Sacura

Trust (a story)

Butterflies in a stomach (a picture)

Please, hide me (a picture)

Portrait/ Sacura and Drift (pictures)

Nyx:

The best (a story)

Les miserables (a story)

Non vore animation Nyx x Dooku

I have never seen my master that angry... (a story)

The ignition of love (a picture)

Solitude (a picture)

Funny doodles

The glasses (a comic)

Vore prompts:

TFP: Optimus, Ratchet, Ultra-Magnus; TFE: Megatron, Bumblebee

TFP: Wheeljack; TFE: Starscream; TF RID: Drift

TFE Megatron (additional)

TFE Arcee

TFP Knockout

Flamewar

Aggressive affection

Stories (mostly a character x human!reader):

TFP:

You’ll be ready (TFP Shockwave)

*** (TFP Optimus)

The way to sort out problems (TFP Breakdown)

Homesickness (TFP Starscream)

TFE:

Once in the morning… (TFE Bumblebee)

Rescue Bots:

A giant space monster (Rescue Bots Blades)

The deal (Rescue Bots Heatwave)

G1:

Not alone (G1 Sunstreaker)

G1 Soundwave x female human!partner

Bayverse:

War and peace (Bayverse Ironhide)

Star Wars:

Light in the dark (SW Darth Vader)

Alice: Through the looking glass:

A deeper meaning (Alice: through the looking glass Time x OC)

Thoughts, talks, sketches:

Prey wakes up in an unknown stomach

Sympathetic Victorian-era vampire (Halloween thoughts)

Two knights

A king and a princess

A sad ghost

A “stalked” prey

A pred swallows their prey’s arm

“If you want to die, then let me be your grave”

Digestion (prey pov)

Dying prey/doctor pred

Draw 6 Predcrushes challenge

The first time (switch pov)

A pred decides not to hurt a prey, though they intended to before

Personal reason why I like willing fatal vore

Abused prey

Offering yourself to a pred

Introducing my self-sona.

Merger

Digestion (sick prey)

Aristocratic preds

Ask game answer 5

Ask game answer 4

Aske game answer 3

Ask game answer 2

Ask game answer 1

My first ask game

Transformers shows I’m familiar with

A pred and a prey who care about each other more than about themselves

Vore: a metaphor for reality

Gentleman preds (Dr Watson)

Scars on a pred’s stomach walls

The very first vore story

[rjthirsty]

Fanfic Writer Wrapped - 2024 Version!

I guess we're supposed to post this and let people ask us, but I don't want to mess with that stuff. Mainly because I don't think I'll get much interaction, but also because I just kind of want to answer these myself. Is that really so bad? So anyways, it's based off this post, and the OG author gets all credit for thinking up a million questions for me to answer. Thank you @asirensrage

2024 Fanfic Writing Reflections

What fic did you work on the most this year? Probably Deceit and Decay. It's a dark fic set in the Ikemen Prince world, staring my OC, Dahlia, who was Belle and never met the Conqueror Beast, Gilbert von Obsidian. In other words, he's gone off the deep end. 50,000 words, so far, about 20 chapters. Still a wip.

Did you have any fic writing goals? Did you meet them? Just to write more, so yeah, I met them. I work best with ambiguous, not SMART goals. I tried a lot of different ideas, and I had a lot of fun with them all.

How many fics did you work on this year? 50 published. There's probably another dozen still in my WIP folder, so maybe 60-ish?

How many new fics did you post this year? 49, I think? My long fic was started last year, so that takes one out, but otherwise I don't really know when I started and finished most fics. Sorry.

Did you update any old/previously posted fics this year? What were they? Sure. The Royal Lion is my first long fic (100,000 words, 30 chapters), and most of those were written in 2023. I just finished it in February or something.

Do you have a favorite fic you wrote? Nope. I'm not sure how I'd rate most liked to least liked with my fics.

What’s your favorite passage that you wrote this year? I can't remember what I said to someone yesterday, I certainly don't remember what I wrote over the last 12 months. I often read my work and go, "Wow! I wrote that?!" But I clearly did at some point.

Favorite line of dialogue this year? Nope, can't name that either. Sorry. Maybe I should have read these questions more than just skimmed them.

Favorite POV? (or rather what POV did you use the most this year?) Probably third person omniscient. I also wrote a lot of second person with reader-inserts, so I'm not sure which is more used for me.

Did you find yourself repeating a word or phrase in your writing this year? If so, what was it? Ahaha. Uh... probably something about panting or moaning. 80% of what I write is smut.

Cut for length. Numbers are going to reset. :(

How did you help other writers this year? (i.e. leaving comments, reviews, beta reading, offering advice, etc) All of the above. I leave comments on most things on ao3. I reblog on tumblr. I beta read a few times. I cheerlead. I helped when people requested advice for things. I talk through a lot of ideas with others. I love supporting other writers.

Did you receive any advice that resonated to you this year? Oh, hmm. Yes. "There aren't any rules in fanfiction." It's such a simple idea that everyone knows, but when I was fretting how to end my long fic so it could work with the next in the series I was going to write that didn't need to be connected to the current one, a friend said, "Why is this a problem?" Then she said the rules part and I was like, "Oh. Yeah. That's right." Like, we don't have to do anything at all to make the fanfic consumable commercially. That's not the point of fanfic. It's to write whatever we want and enjoy creating. Who cares if there are plot holes? Who cares if it's crack taken seriously? Nothing has to work between fics. There are no rules.

What did you enjoy most about writing fic this year? Trying out new styles and genres. Finding out what I like to write, and how I like to write.

What did you enjoy the least? Having too many ideas and not enough time.

Who was your favorite character to write for? My OC Emmit from my Ikemen Prince gender change AU. He's a fucking adorable bean and I loved bringing to life my first original character.

Did you have a song on repeat while writing this year? Nope. I tend to listen to a playlist of instrumental stuff, so nothing on repeat except the playlist.

Did you make any playlists for your fics this year? What are they? Oh, no. I'm not that creative. I'm very bad connecting music with characters.

What’s your favorite thing you made for your fic or character this year? (such as pinterest, moodboards, gifs, etc) Huhn. I hadn't considered that. I guess the banners for my fics listed on my masterlist. I like designing things.

What was your most commonly used tag for your fics (on ao3, tumblr, etc)? Ikepri fanfic on tumblr, and Gilbert von Obsidian on ao3.

Did you participate in any fic writing challenges this year? I did! I did a few things for Kinktober. I always go small with my goals.

What was your favorite comment/review you received this year? Oh... There were really too many amazing people that said nice things about the things I wrote about. From just screaming and keyboard smashing, to thoughtful analysis, I really loved reading them all.

What was your top-rated/commented fic this year? Oh! It's the same! "I'm Pregnant" with Ikemen Prince.

Were there any ideas you wanted to work on this year but you didn’t? YES! I wanted to write an IkePri fic about Belle leaving the castle and the king being unable to live without her. I wanted to start my Yves fic for the gender change AU. I wanted to write yandere fics with multiple characters. I wanted to write ships that only exist in my head. Waaaaah.

Were there any new fandoms or genres you explored this year? Yeah! I tried out fluff for the first time. I'm attempting a dark fic. I struggle with crack.

Is there anything you want to write or try to explore in your writing next year? How to evoke more emotion from others in my writing. I want people to fall in love reading about the characters I love. I want people to cry when the story is depressing. I want people to be impacted from my writing, thinking about it for days or weeks later.

Do you have a goal for next year? If so, what is it? Finish at least one long fic. Two are currently WIPs.

What are your hopes and/or desires for yourself and for other fic writers in the next year? To create more. For me that means I hope I'm not sick as often as the previous years. For others that means I want them to care less about what other people think, and just create. It's all beautiful no matter how you see it.

2024 Ao3 Specific Stats

How many people subscribed to you this year? (User subscriptions) 14

What were your total kudos this year? 491

How many comment threads were created on your fics? 54

How many people subscribed to your fics? 24

What was your word count posted on Ao3 this year? 279,255

How many hits overall on your fics this year? 9,803

What are your top 5 fics (in terms of hits) this year? Bonus: If you post fics on tumblr, using Tumblr Top! what fic has the most notes? (in total and that you posted this year) 1. "I'm Pregnant" with Ikemen Prince - 1,048 hits (multi chapter) 2. Deceit and Decay - 752 hits (multi chapter) 3. Between His Teeth - 691 hits (one shot) 4. Banging Birthday - 663 hits (one shot) 5. Belle's Gentle Beasts - 559 (multi chapter) Tumblr Top!: "I'm Pregnant" with IkePri. lol. 330 notes.

Did you discover any new fics or fic authors this year? A ton! I started my tumblr account this year, so I found the entire Ikemen Series fandom that hangs out on here. It turns out I've read some of them on ao3 already, but I met so many more.

What was your favorite fic to read this year? Oh geez. Pass. I can't even begin to make a favorite. I bookmark fics I love, and I love a lot.

Who was your favorite fic author this year? Can I say myself? lol. I probably read more of @scummy-writes stuff than anything else because we're both obsessed with Gilbert, but I did read several other fandoms and characters. @aquagirl1978 got me into Villains. @xxsycamore is an old favorite who keeps creating more IkeSeries stuff. @wistfulwanderingone created a Secret Santa gift that made me tear up. Aaaaahhhh! Just thinking about it again has me wanting to reread it for a fifth time.

What fics or authors would you recommend for others to discover and read in the next year? See above. I'm partial to anything with Gilbert von Obsidian from Ikemen Prince, but I love a lot of Ikemen Prince. And I enjoy dipping into other IkeSeries fanfics every now and then.

What advice would you have for people who might want to try writing or sharing their writing next year? Just write. Write messily. Write badly. Write in bullet points or through dialogue only. Write however works for you. You can always improve if you wish to improve, but you can't improve when there's nothing written. Turn off notifications if they give you anxiety. Don't even look back at the fic and what numbers it's doing if it's going to affect your mood. Seriously. Just post into the void. Let others fall in love with the people you love.

Any regrets? For writing? No. I regret that my health sucks and it keeps me from creating. I regret that I started writing so late in life. But when it comes to what I did and what I'm planning on doing and what I've put out, I'm so fucking proud of myself.

[felixravinstills]

guess what character i’m going to make u answer abt- that’s right! 💞persephone price💕

Ask Game

Thanks, Lily! I definitely couldn't have expected this!

My first impression Cannibal 👀 Oh? Tell me more! (And then they told me barely anything else.)

My impression now That's Lily's girl! She's sweet! I'm genuinely so surprised that more people don't talk about her? She feels like she should be a fan favorite? Sorry, I am not being the change I want to see in the world (talking about Persephone more), but I am being held hostage by the Ravinstills. She's on the long list of people I want to make a gifset for...

Favorite thing about that character I love that she hasn't let the bad things in her life (the Dark Days and potentially even noticing a bit of Coriolanus' disdain) get her down (seemingly, again, a lot of assumption we have to do with these minor characters... it's the blessing and the curse of loving them!)

Least favorite thing Uh, we don't get that much of her which is sad, especially since all we get is from the POV of someone who really is trying not to be around her or think of her that deeply. It makes me sad!

Favorite line/scene

“People love a good love song, more like,” said Persephone, showing her dimples. (Ch. 12) <- i just remember thinking that this was cute, and also... foreshadowing for the OG trilogy?

The mention of her and Festus spending more time together was also cute! Idk if it's technically a scene and more of montage/fleeting mention?

Favorite interaction that character has with another

A character that I wish that character would interact with more I wish we saw more interactions with her and Mizzen. That would have gone a long way in giving us more canon insight into her character!

Another character from another fandom that reminds me of that character

Deep cut from a piece of fiction that I haven't read in like a decade but Ada Vessalius from Pandora Hearts. (I remember not exactly enjoying all aspects with the execution of Ada's character in that manga but she has certain similarities with Persephone in my mind). Ada's a kind woman who grows in confidence into macabre and dark things but hides that facet of herself from others. (just including a pic because it does hint at her vibe, and also I know one will know who I'm talking about)

A headcanon about that character

Lily, I'm genuinely trying to think of a Persephone headcanon that you haven't heard from me or potentially seen in one of my fics for your benefit... I am unforunately blanking so I shall pull from an Author's Note from an OC fic.

In worlds where she and Festus get married (which is like my most canon compliant world states), they go by the Price-Creeds because their kids stand to inherit from both the Prices and Creeds. Inheritance being very big in the Capitol. The Price name goes first because I think the Prices being railroad tycoons beats out the Creeds influence on the lumber industry.

Also and idk if this is just your blog color scheme getting to me Lily, but I associate her with red, magenta, and also jewel tones.

A song that reminds of that character

Ribs by the Crane Wives. I love it being about independence and kind of accepting parts of yourself that you don't really like, also...

" The dark doesn't frighten me / I chose to close my eyes / It is mine, it is mine / The night doesn't frighten me / I chose to let it thrive / It is mine, it is mine"

Speaks to maybe a certain myopia/blindness to certain things based on the closing your eyes that kind of rings true for my version of Persephone.

An unpopular opinion about that character

Not really an unpopular opinion, just different from some interpretations and the same as others. My interpretation of Persephone didn't really interact with Festus much pre-10th HG. Like they interacted obviously in the sense that they grew up together like with the other mentors, but they aren't like in the same close friend circles. (I do love close, childhood friends Festus and Persephone though!)

Favorite picture

She's judging me... I love that for me. (coloring modified by me. i went in to screenshot this pic, because i remember it vividly... also she's wearing a watch! wonder if it's the same one she wears later. hard to tell from this angle)

[catified-yttd]

blog master's guidelines

kanna theme cause she's a cutie :D

also the kanna icon is by @feralbreadx he made it for my bday he's super nice btw

GENERAL INFO — follows, likes, etc are from @lyricist-anon

@dogifiedyttd = my evil twin!! (support them or ill fight u)

1. ꒱ dni with this blog or me if you support ai 'art', are homophobic, transphobic, racist, etc. also people who hate on young/beginner artist/singers/etc let me tell you literally no one wanted your opinion and you should keep it to yourself because I think they're doing great anyway just dni if ur on this list please

2. ꒱ no hating on characters!!! also no arguing please let's be respectful

3. ꒱ please be respectful in asks/comments/etc!! i may take time to answer :'D but i really do my best <3

4. ꒱ all my art on this blog will still feature silly cats— may draw normally but will keep cat theme

5. ꒱ no logic route spoilers!! i only recently finished emotion & am new to the fandom

6. ꒱ do not use my dividers!!

READ MORE FOR ASKS RELATED

1. ꒱ thank u for making it this far!! also asks make me really happy <33

2. ꒱ no nsfw

3. ꒱ no drawings that do not include cats

4. ꒱ yes i will draw your fav yes i will draw ur otp yes i will draw your oc etc etc just drop the ask

5. ꒱ just don't claim as ur own :D but why would you claim these as ur own they're shitty cat drawings— also you may use these as pfp w/o asking as long as you don't claim as ur own :DD

6. ꒱ do not flood my asks. ask and then wait. i will do my best to answer them all!! (multiple asks w/ diff topic is ok!!)

7. ꒱ art asks r prioritized by who sent them first!! if you see me answering others but not you, it's probably that they were there first!! also non art related asks may be first because im a little lazy and can get to those first

8. ꒱ i am not comfortable with drawing any 18- char with any 18+ char!! 18- ships must have a 2 yr age gap max & 18+ ships 4 yr age gap max! characters with age ranges x eachother will be given the benefit of the doubt [ ex: early 20s x mid 20s will be counted as 24 x 25] i also am not good with ages so i may accidentally draw a ship im not ok with— please don't call me a hypocrite, i most likely genuinely did not know :((

8. ꒱ do not argue with me over these rules— if you don't like it, please respectfully ask & not attack me and i will explain why. if you still dont understand my pov, please just don't interact with my things for your sake.

9. ꒱ if i recieve annoying/troll/bullying/wtvr w/ anonymous, i will turn them off and people will have to ask to be put as anonymous (i will type the exact ask out). please don't ruin this for everyone

10. ꒱ PLEASE WHEN DOING ASKS— do not write smth like 'safamiley'. please write safalin x miley. i do not know your ship names and it confuses me. also specify your ocs with a link/pic of their appearance and personality. same goes for aus, genderbent names, etc. please treat me like a 3 year old i don't know these things

kitty joe (ITS SOO CUTE :D)

money (yipeee)

bday kanna kitty (CUTIE AAAAA)

[evilmenenjoyer]

Hiii

So I guess the exhaustion caught up to me, and I have been sick for the past couple of days 😫 (doesn't help that I am anemic), spent the last couple of days watching wlgyt

A fellow Whiplash lover!!!!!! I love that movie, like obsessively love the movie (no one around me understands 🫠) , like Andrew, so tortured, obsessed, ambitious, ready to burn himself trying to fly close to the sun, because nothing matters more than his goal of greatness.

Honestly I can't wait to know the oc more, although I know nothing about ballet but the tortured artist trope in whatever form just does it for me.

Also on the tortured artist part, one thing I have always wondered is that how much of it is driven by sunk cost fallacy, it's incredibly hard to give up somethings midway (even though you should) because you have already sacrificed too much for it. How can one suddenly stop their journey, when they have spent their childhoods, their social life, basically everything over it.

AHHHHH

Also pas de trois, I looked it up and it increased my anticipation for the fic lol.

Also very curious on how the dynamic between Chishiya and Niragi will work

Hope you have a easy time with the editing you are doing

Dara it is <3

omg I really hope you feel better soon, please get lots of rest and take care of yourself!!

I DO LOVE IT the ending just blew me away completely. I think I expected things to crash and burn at some point and Andrew would end up quitting, but then.... nope, he achieves his goal. He lost himself completely in the process, but he got what he wanted!! I love endings where you can't really tell if they're happy or sad, they just leave you feeling weird and thinking about it for days. I don't know if you've watched Black Swan, but it's got a similar vibe within the ballet world and it's also a major source of inspiration for me. They're very different movies but they deal with similar tropes and a lot of people have drawn parallels between them

Knowing when to stop is sooo difficult when you've already put so much effort into something. When really sometimes giving up is the best thing you could do for yourself. Angelica herself is someone who doesn't even consider that; she's been dancing since before she can even remember, and it's her whole life. It's kinda fun to toss her into the Borderland 'cause now she has to take a break and figure out who she is without it.

As for Chishiya and Niragi, the fic is told from Angelica's perspective in a 1st person POV (I admire people who can write 50k words in 2nd person but could never be me). For that reason we can't see how they interact when she's not around, we see them through her eyes. But we see hints of attraction beyond their antagonism (because of course all three people in this love triangle have to hate each other in some capacity), for instance in how both of them are overly interested in Angelica's relationship with the other. Jealousy? Could be, but there's definitely something deeper there

Thank you again for being interested in the fic, getting to babble about it keeps me interested and pumped to write too <3

[stormypip7]

Introduction to My Blog!

last updated: 18/06/25 !!!

Hey there, I'm Stormypip7! I'm an artist and I play games that I like! :]

I'm neutral-leaning in ship-related discourse, but I will block people if they make me uncomfortable! I don't really mind what you ship in fiction: as long as it doesn't affect real people and as long as you understand that reality isn't as forgiving in many cases.

art schedule for june whilst i combat art block:

these are art weeks that i plan on taking part in, but i will have more free time for art requests from the 25th June!

I DESPISE REBLOG BAIT. I TRY NOT TO REBLOG IT, WHEN I DO ITS TAGGED.

tagging system:

-sp7's too much to handle au (my life series superpowers au tag)

-sp7's non art reblogs (my reblog tag for this account)

-sp7's rambling tag (my talking tag)

-sp7 does art things (my art tag, older art found under 'my art' and 'art')

-sp7's nostalgia tag (what i tag stuff with that's about old games i like, at least, when i remember to use it)

-sp7's fe self insert (NEW! self explanatory, tag for my self insert for fire emblem)

-sp7's qna event (tag for my qna event for reaching over 100 followers, as voted on by 11/ 12 people; event is over but i'll always be accepting asks either way in case you missed it)

-sp7's fates!macbeth au (ultra self-explanatory)

-[the imposter games] (tag for my weird modded among us oc thing. idk but im working on redesigning the characters. there are literally 24 of them so yknow.)

Please check out my other blogs, which can be found under the misc section!

(Hyperfixation list and misc section below the cut!)

fandoms i'm in:

*keep in mind that I do lurk in some fandoms, mainly the ones I don't really draw for; and this list is NOT the same as the hyperfixation list.

UT/DR, Danganronpa, Pokémon, Fire Emblem, Gravity Falls, Phineas and Ferb, The Life Series, Amphibia, The Owl House, Tomodachi Life, Stardew Valley, Cookie Run Kingdom, etc. (I will add to this!)

My hyperfixations!

->Danganronpa: certain characters individually.

->Gen 6 Pokémon: I grew up with a copy of Y and a Latios my brother gave me, which has lead to a major love for these games and Latios in general.

->Pokémon Mystery Dungeon (Rescue Team, specifically): I'm pretty sure that the Gen 3 version was one of the first games I beat the main story for and it has a special place in my heart, along with RT!Gengar.

->Undertale (and the AUs): my 2020 fixation has sunk its teeth back into me. Yeah this is one of my on and off ones.

->The Life Series': yeah, this one is huuuuuuge. It's reached brainrot levels of fixation. I NEED more time to be able to catch up on everyone's povs. And Limited Life. Aw heck, I'd rewatch ALL of it if I had the time to.

->Phineas and Ferb: we started rewatching the show earlier in the year and how on earth had I never actually watched it before? Anyway new fixation.

->Tomodachi Life!!!!!

->Miitopia: I go in and out of wanting to replay this masterpiece of a game, and it usually turns into a huge fixation of mine. Guess what came back.

->Fire Emblem Fates (and Awakening): Hello the last years on my 3ds, I missed you... I CAN satiate it by replaying the games, because I FOUND OUT MY A BUTTON STILL WORKS!

->Cookie Run Kingdom: I recently got into this one, but I might not interact with the fandom that much outside of looking at art and drawing my faves. (I also feel a bit of a connection to one of the cookies, but I have a lot to do at the moment so that will have to wait.)

Misc!

-> I have an art reblogging account. This is where I'll reblog most of the cool art I find. I also have a sideblog where I may talk about my (potential) alterhuman identity, and I have a sideblog for my Undertale AU. ( @pipstormy8 ) ( @ut-reverie ) ( @stormypip7-reblogs )

-> I also have an ask blog dedicated to my aus! ( @sp7s-multiverse-mailbox ) which I. Can't tag.

WAIT!! Let me try something...

-> Don't feel scared about sending me asks! Ask me anything that pops into your head. Hell, even ask me about the weather if you can't think of anything else!

-> i contributed to the post of editing the basic sexymen onto images, i made a 20-minute edit of their faces on pikmin.

-> I also have a Bluesky account, but I haven't actually posted on it as I'm more active on here, it's under the same username though (for if I ever DO use it.)

My Art Requests Are Always Open! These are free as I do them as a way of honing my skills, my inbox is always open for these! I am currently experiencing a bit of art block and I am not doing these just yet, but I will do them again when I have more free time!

Edit Logs for this Pinned Post:

[omniblades-and-stars]

AO3 MEME

Tagged by @stormikins thanks!

Tagging: @sparatus, @thetrashbagswasteland, and @teamdilf

My AO3 is here, if you find yourself interested.

How many works do you have on AO3?

32

What's your total word count?

292,326 since like April 2023

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

1. The Way - Mass Effect Trilogy (Shakarian stuff, not my best work but people loved it)

2. Pass the Knife - Mass Effect Trilogy (OC centric adventure that everyone should go read please still in progress), I really shouldn't include this one because most of the kudos on this one were from a crazy bot attack and I got all but a handful of them in one night.

3. Tipping Point - Mass Effect Trilogy (Shakarian, part of a series of short little stories of Helen Shepard falling apart a little bit and leaning hard on Garrus)

4. Dyspnea - Mass Effect Trilogy (part of the same series as Tipping Point)

5. K.I.A. - Mass Effect Trilogy (oh man you guessed it! part of that same series featuring a Garrus POV)

Do you respond to comments? Why/Why not?

Yes, I do! I just love talking to people in general and I love interacting with people about my stories.

What's the fic you've written with the angstiest ending?

Oh that's going to be this one, hands down:

drowning

It's an installment in my Shrios assassin v. assassin AU which I still haven't decided if it's how things actually go. But goddamn, it is DARK.

What's the fic you've written with the happiest ending?

Wow, uuuhhhmmm that I've posted on AO3?

How about my story about a krogan OC who had a real bad time but then found her truth and the will to thrive?

Left to Ashes

Do you write crossovers?

I haven't yet! That doesn't mean I won't ever, but I haven't had any ideas that scratch the brain real good.

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Not really. One time someone did come in to correct my usage of an incorrect homophone (or homonym? I'm not fucking looking up what's what right now) and said literally nothing else, so that was cool. Didn't care for that.

Do you write smut?

Uuuuuuuhhh not really. I have in the past, but it's not one of my strengths. I get terribly embarrassed while I write it (hello religious trauma and shame I'm still unlearning). I do write things slightly to the left of smut pretty frequently.

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

I have not. I think that would be fun, but I am a very off and on writer, so that could make working with another person difficult.

What's your all time favorite ship?

Oh isn't this just the most difficult question for me.

Obviously, we have Zaeed/Shepard, Tali/Shepard, Thane/Shepard, Blackwall/Inquisitor. I'll stop there because I will list so many because I love characters.

What's a WIP that you want to finish don't think you ever will?

I really want to finish Devil Like Me but I started over thinking it and now I've lost the plot. I probably just need to start over.

What are your writing strengths?

Character voice, dialogue, and very strong emotional beats through the use of descriptive metaphor, paced punctuation, and repetition. It's one of my most favorite things to write.

What are your writing weaknesses?

Writing.action.

Ug, I fucking hate it. I'm also terrible at planning and editing. Far too much ADHD for either of those things.

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

I have done it but I am mostly monolingual so it's not something I make a habit of it.

I will use phrases and words from in universe languages. I play around with elven and qunlat a lot.

What's the first fandom you wrote for?

That I posted? Dragon Age. But when I was like 11 or 12 I wrote some Lord of the Rings fic in a notebook and then I threw it away because I was embarrassed by it.

What's a fandom/ship you haven't written for yet, but want to?

One day I will write a Tomb Raider adventure. No ships, I have opinions about Lara Croft ships.

What's your favorite fic you've ever written?

This is cheating, but I have three:

The Last Time (A Game of Cat and Mouse) - Shrios assassin v assassin AU.

Don't Forget the Rules (A Game of Charades) - part two of the above

blood & grenadine - a very fun Zaeed/Garrus fake dating romp. Please you have to read it, whether or not you're into that ship, it has the merits of being fucking hilarious.

[oddinary4bts]

omg, I need to collect my thoughts after this chapter so this will be messy.

I really thought that we’ll start from the next morning after the bar when oc returns home, but the fact that they actually just stopped communicating after that hurts even more. I was sooo disappointed that she went to the date with Sam. But I also think that she needed to see the worst of him to understand that he’s a dushbag? she really has a problem with self worth and people treating her right (relatable..?)

I won’t even start with jk cause he’s a mess.

For the drabbles suggestions I think the whole chapter will be interesting from jk pov, but if I’ll try to be more specific in interested to know what happened before oc arrived to the apartment, like did they asked him where oc was, how was the conversation with tae? did jimin questioned him about the last time he was there? why jk got so fucking drunk? also I’m desperate to know what Lisa told to jk and why he came to the kitchen when Lisa and oc talked? what is jk and Lisa relationship? I need to understand what was going in his drunken stupid mind.

Also I wanted to say that even if you won’t write any other drabble or do ask the character, what you already have is more than enough and amazing! Please don’t burn out and take care of yourself! I hope the questions and requests aren’t putting too much pressure on you and that you know we appreciate your work even without them ❤️

Yup she really needed to see the worst of him honestly. And she definitely has some issues with self-love and knowing her worth (daddy issues am I right😅)

Jk is indeed a chaotic mess but we love him

I will try to figure out what I’ll do for the drabble!! But tbh it’ll probably be the evening in his pov!! So it’ll cover most of what you want to see☺️

Oh thank you that is very nice!! But I love writing the drabbles and answering the character asks, I always love interacting with you guys✨✨✨

[onlyjaeyun]

Dude I fucking loved CH wth 🤭

I'm being so honest right now, you had me invested from the very beginning, there's something about the way you write your characters that make them feel like actual humans, and I loved every second of it

Starting with oc obviously, i was completely enamored by her, bc yeah she's an absolute baddie, she's good at her job, knows what she's doing, is loving, honest, smart, and so freaking pretty. But she also has some heavy ass baggage, is still learning how to navigate her way through life, puts her loved ones (found family) above anything else, which we know has its good and bad side, and is learning to love and honor herself in a more healthy way

The pain was real whenever the angst waves came around, seeing all the shit she had to put up with, and never prioritizing herself, but that only made me love even more those steps of growth, confidence, self respect, and accountability she kept on taking after every hardship. (I legit started tearing up at the part about owning her pleasure, and understanding that regardless of whoever her sexual partner was, the decisions, vulnerability and enjoyment are hers to own and live to the fullest).

Same thing with all the relationships in the story, from the Nishimuras bond, history, and fight to actually be left alone by that bitchass family, to each of the friendships, between the boys, with yn individually, and with tsuki 😭😭😭 I love them so much you have no idea, they're SO FUCKING ADORABLE, AND REAL, AND GOOD AND REASSURING TO EACH OTHER I CANNOTJDJDIW

Anyway yeah, those are the type of friends people need, their advice, company, humor, love, admiration, respect, protectiveness, and sincerity. I just thank for taking so much time into developing each of their dynamics, personalities and quirks

And how could I not, our main ship, my babies HoonYn and their entire fucking story, interactions, chemistry, and bond had me giggling, crying, punching the air, kicking my feet, and sobbing of frustration, pain, and pride all in the span of 5 hours (yes I read the entire series in one sitting, no I did not sleep at all, yes it was absolutely worth it)

Anyway, I feel like that's a whole lot of rambling and I'm barely making any sense -also I'm sleep deprived and English is not my first language, so I apologize for all the mistakes here-, but overall, I just wanted to congratulate and thank you for conveying so many struggles we have to get through in the daily, you didn't shy away from the mental health struggles, the flaws of the characters, the shittines of life itself, the absolute NEED for honest and understanding communication in ANY kind of relationship, and the inmense impact a friendship can have in our lives, as well as our own strength, determination.

I really don't know if this ended up making any sense, but yeah, thank you for your hard and amazing work, you're a great writer fr, please take care of yourself and have an awesome day <3 <3 <3 <3

🥺 asks like this with such detailed feedback is just..like an actual live letter you guys

thank you SO so so so much, i know i sound like a broke record at this point but there's just not enough words of gratitude could use to show you just how much i appreciate this and you. thank you for taking the time out of your day to send me this and for being so kind, sweet and enthusiastic about it.

asks like theye give me a glimpse of my work from your POV and it never fails to make me so excited and happy and just so so so excited, i hope you know this is everything to me. im so happy to know just how much you've enjoyed reading it and all the characters too so rhank yoj for all of this, i love you so much 🥺🥺🥺🥺🤍☁️💫

[lunastarhawk]

I am privileged to be your #6 and we have talked through several of these over the years! But I want to pick your brain on:

#7, #13, #18, and #24

I’m also tossing #56 at you. I have plenty of nice things to say about your writing, but I want you to something nice about your writing ❤️

Oooh questions! (To this ask game)

I'm gonna answer 6 first even though you didn't ask it because... Excuse me ma'am you're not just a beta, you're the VIP MVP and if the question is how important are you to the process, the answer is there would be no process. So. There. <3

7. How do you choose which pov to write from?

For the general pov I just... really don't like 1st person. I did it for my first Arcana fics because The Arcana itself is 1st person. 2nd person just feels... wrong. "Y/n" can get in the bin. I much prefer 3rd because I can narrate the character as well as see their perspective, and it's easier to change pov between characters. It seems mad to me now that I ever considered writing ToM as 1st person.

When it comes to the characters, I tend to alternate povs, and usually it just feels obvious from what part of the story I want to tell. Sometimes I don't want to know what a person's perceiving, I want someone else to perceive them. Aside from that, it's either "hmm I wonder what that one's thinking right now", or it's whoever shouts "MY TURN" at me the loudest.

13. What's a common writing tip you almost always follow?

Er. I'm not very good at taking advice or tips (see also my answer to 24 lol). I just make it up as I go along. If anyone ever gave "wing it" as a writing tip, I follow that one.

18. Do you title your fics before, during, or after the writing process? How do you come up with titles?

Titles are my nemesis. Occasionally I come up with a good one in advance, like the two I've got for ToM's endings. Most commonly, I get the whole thing tagged and saved as a draft on AO3 and still don't have a title. I tend to read through the story and see if a line or quote jumps out that can be used. If I get desperate I'll resort to song lyrics.

24. Worst writing advice anyone gave you?

'Write what you know.' I know nothing, my stories would be blank pages.

But in general I'm kinda bad at taking advice or tips or whatever. I'm just watching the little people running around in my head, and writing what they're doing. If I was to get bogged down by the dos and don'ts and rules and things I have to think about, I'd lose heart and then I'd lose my story. Whether fan fiction or original work, I write for me, for fun, from my heart, and if my heart wants to wing it with no outline, no structure, forget adjectives, use run-on sentences, too many semi-colons and start sentences with And or But, who's gonna stop me huh. Who.

56. What's something about your writing that you pride yourself on.

First of all, how dare you.

Okay let's see... I guess I can take pride in actually finishing things (yes yes I see you side-eyeing ToM after more than two years, but slow and steady wins the race innit). Maybe I can take pride in the fact that ToM is taking so long because it's frickin novel trilogy length at this point.

I do like how I write character interaction and relationships tbh. If I can read it like banter between two mates down the pub who also happen to be deeply in love and horny for each other, I'm happy.

But specific to fan fiction, what I'm most proud of is that I've written canon characters true to their character, and especially their voice. I've had enough people tell me they like how I write Julian that I can be proud of that. It's important to do him justice, ya know?

And I'm proud of Altheia and Favian tbh. And some of my other secret OCs. My home grown blorbos. I love them to bits and pieces so I should take pride in them too tbh.

Yeah. Character voice and sassy, teasing, loving banter. I can be proud of that.

And as a whole, I'm actually proud of Tides of Memories :)

[kaysfanficcorner]

Out of This World Chapter 1: Introductions and Space Travel

Pairing: Din Djarin x Female Earthling Reader/OC

Author’s note: 

Hello all! My name is Kay. Welcome to my Mandalorian story.

This is a reader insert but she's basically an unnamed OC. I started this out as an OC but I switched over to the reader insert format just to give it a shot and found that I have a lot of fun with this style. However, my brain truly needs a full fledged character to work with. Just think of it as you're stepping into the shoes of this woman I have created. Follow along with her for the adventure! There will be one part in chapter 4 where she gives herself a minor change in appearance as a form of character development. Other than that (which doesn't come up terribly often) I will not really describe her appearance too much, just vague descriptions of little things here or there like clothing or jewelry. Most things about her appearance will be ambiguous.

Given than I’ve always been more of a Star Trek fan than a Star Wars fan, I decided to take things in a bit of a different direction by creating a character who also doesn't know anything about Star Wars. This is an AU in which Star Wars does not exist as we know it. I wrote this as a bit of a love letter to my favorite guilty pleasure genre of fanfic; the "normal person ends up being in the thing" trope. It all started when I was 12 and I read a Pirates of the Caribbean fic in which the OC fell off the ride in Disney. She fell into the water and when she surfaced, she was in the world of the movie and soon falling for Captain Jack. This is NOT that sort of thing. More of an extreme version of a fish out of water tale.

Eventually this will meet up with the events of season two, but for now this will be set in-between seasons while the characters spend some time getting to know one another. I started this story a while back and it came out of a crazy time in my life. Definitely worked through a lot of real-life feelings. This story and this character in particular mean a lot to me. I wrote this purely for my own entertainment, but I sincerely hope you enjoy!

***** = A break in the scene or a switch between character pov.

Summary: Din Djarin and The Child touch down on Nevarro a few months after the events of season one. Greef Karga and Cara Dune introduce him to someone with a bizarre background from a strange planet, and they ask for Din’s help to find her way home.

Warnings: None really for this chapter, however this story is eventually going to have NSFW scenes so please no one under 18 interact. If you are under age, you are prohibited from this work of fiction. 

AO3

*****

“Go off,” Karga gestures towards the sky, smiling. “Enjoy yourself. And when you’re ready to return, you will have the pick of all quarries.”

Din gathers the child up in his arms, “I’m afraid I have more pressing matters at hand.” 

Din Djarin had said those exact words to Greef Karga and Cara Dune while standing in the lava fields of Nevarro a just a few months prior, and he’d meant them. The galaxy’s fiercest bounty hunter had been absolutely prepared to give up his place in the guild in order to fulfill his duty to the tiny green child who had been grasping at his booted calves. He’d vowed to care for and protect it as his own until the kid could be returned back to his own kind, or until he came of age. Until that day comes, they are to be a clan of two. Given that the kid is already somehow 50 years old, older than Din himself, Din isn’t sure what will come first. As a Mandalorian, and even a child of The Watch, the idea of loyalty to one’s clan had been instilled within his set of beliefs from day one with his people. All Mandalorians are required to fight for and care for their aliit until their dying breath. To protect their family. 

Loyalty is life. For without one’s clan, one has no purpose.

Being a foundling himself, the idea of finding and forming his own clan had always felt like an idea that was out of grasp. So Din had kept to himself for years on end, barely bothering to learn the names of those who came in and out of his life. Aside from the other Mandalorians of The Tribe, most other beings he dealt with were inevitably inconsequential.

But then he took that kriffing bounty, and the kid’s big brown eyes had looked up at him from inside the floating pram. In that moment, an indescribable sensation of paternal instincts ignited within the Mandalorian. A sense of purpose and accomplishment filled his chest as he protected the kid from harm. This little green thing with giant ears was Din’s aliit, he knew that in his bones. Even if it was to be temporary. This was only solidified when the Armorer had added the skull of the great mudhorn to his beskar and declared it to be so. Din’s signet revealed to him at last, his clan finally formed.

“You are a clan of two.”

So for several months, the two of them have been slowly but surely making their way through the galaxy in search of any sign or clue as to where the kid actually came from. A search which, in all truthfulness, is turning out to be a lot more painstaking than Din originally anticipated. It’s very likely going to take many more months, if not years, to figure out where the kid truly belongs. There is no other being like him in the galaxy as far as anyone has seemed to be concerned. Because of this the child sticks out like a sore thumb, and with the scattered remnants of the Empire still out looking for the kid, Din has been forced to keep a very low profile.

Which is why in a deep part of himself, Din is mentally preparing to care for the kid for the rest of his life if it really comes down to it. Perhaps this was where the kid would ultimately belong, regardless of his species and weird magic powers. But that is wishful thinking, and Din Djarin tries to avoid wishful thinking as much as he can help it. It's dangerous for him to allow his feelings to get too wrapped up in this.

There is only one true snafu in this plan to bounce from world to world one at a time, and that’s the fact that in order to keep a well fueled ship in running condition on top of keeping a kid with an abnormally large appetite well fed, Din needs credits. A lot of credits. In order to get those credits, he needs to hunt for bounties.

This truth eventually leads him back to the volcanic planet of Nevarro, now a steadily growing and respectable civilization thanks to the work of his friends. Din sets up a meeting with Greef Karga, and just like the old days he gets set up with a handful of bounties that should pay nicely enough for he and the kid to be well off for at least two or three months.

Din assumed that he could easily get away with going after a few low-level targets, pilot and maintain the ship while steering clear from imperial vessels, and take care of a rambunctious little baby with steadily increasing abilities without any issues whatsoever.

Din had been hopelessly, and hilariously, wrong.

For the three and a half weeks he’s been juggling all three of these things, Din's barely gotten an hour or two of sleep in a single day. Perhaps he could have handled this ten years ago, but now his middle aged body is running on hyperdrive fumes and his mood is beyond irritable. The edges of his patience are tested daily, leaving him to use every ounce of energy he has left within him not to snap at the kid for being too curious around the ship. By the time they are finally back in Nevarro’s orbit to drop off the quarries and pick up a new round, Din’s sure that he’s going to start hallucinating if he doesn’t get some real form of sleep soon. He’s gone long without sleep in the past, but this is beginning to push the boundaries of his own health. The kid also seems to be testing out the edges of his sanity, and Din finds himself questioning both his decision and his ability to be a foster parent as he’s pulling the Razor Crest in for a landing.

The Mandalorian and the child make their way out of the ship just in time to be greeted by Karga and Dune. Din isn’t bothering with the pram for the time being, knowing full well the attention that the kid is about to receive, and he couldn’t be more right.

They both barely get out a “Hey, Mando!”, before Cara is reaching expectantly for the kid. Din passes him over, the green baby cooing happily as he does so.

“We’ve missed this little guy.” Cara says, winking up at Mando with the smallest of smirks.

“That we have.” Karga says, reaching a gloved hand out to stroke at one of the kid’s giant ears. “Come, Mando. The carbonite is being unloaded from your ship as we speak and I’ve already deposited the credits into your account. We have a few things to show you before we conduct further business.”

Dune and Karga show Din and the child a few of the changes they’ve implemented in town, most notably that the seedy cantina where Karga used to conduct business has now been turned into a school for the local children. Even half delirious, Din can't help but be impressed. It’s getting to be well into the evening when they arrive, well past the hours for schoolchildren to be taking their lessons. Yet in spite of the setting sun, the school is still occupied. Inside the large classroom where Din used to have to watch his back from scoundrels of all types, a small group of five kids are all sitting cross legged at the feet of a beautiful young woman with a kind smile.

This is the moment when he sees you for the first time. He’s never noticed you on Nevarro before, which he finds odd given the amount of time he’s spent on this planet. Din can’t help but think that you seem completely out of place. Strange, even. Though your facial features are strikingly pretty in every sense of the word, your clothing and hairstyle is completely odd. Unsuitable looking laced shoes stop at your exposed ankles, while a dark blue fabric covers your legs. On your torso you wear some kind of short sleeved dark grey tunic, the image of a man with spiky red hair and a red and blue crack down the middle of his face is somehow adhered to the fabric itself. Beneath the image is a word he doesn’t recognize written in something that sort of looks like basic but the letters are all wrong. It’s unlike anything Din has ever seen and the material seems thin, flimsy, and impractical. Your hair, odd as stated before, is pulled back from your face in the front, but falls freely down past your shoulders. You have a healthy build, with just the right amount of meat on your bones but a lack of any visible muscle. You’re very obviously a human woman, around the age of thirty if he’d have to take a guess, and your eyes hold a sincere warmth as you address the children at your feet.

You glance up momentarily when the three adults enter the small classroom, those warm eyes flashing from Karga and Dune right over to Din himself as you offer a small smile to him. He’s not sure if the helmet throws you off or not, but if it did you make no indication as you address the children once more.

Din watches as a small, four legged creature appears out of nowhere to jump into your lap. It has a long tail, pointed ears, and striped orange fur all over its small body. The thing isn’t much bigger than the kid really. Din’s just as amazed by it as the group of children, who all give a rousing chorus of "oooos" and "aaaahs" at the sight of it. From his perch in Din’s satchel, the kid begins making his own noises of wonderment and reaches two little three fingered hands out in a grabbing motion. The Mandalorian looks to Cara Dune, who only nods her head forward in approval while smiling. 

The Mandalorian plucks the kid off of his side, squatting down to gingerly set him down on the floor so he may waddle on his little legs over to the other children. For once, none of them bombard the kid with attention. Everyone is too enthralled by the creature in your lap.

You gingerly run a slender hand over the thing’s back a few times, stopping to scratch behind the small, pointed ears. It’s golden eyes slip closed as if the thing is experiencing a moment of pleasure from your touch. Din finds it odd that your fingernails appear to be black. 

“This is Jupiter, named after the biggest planet in my solar system.” Din hears your voice’s soft and lovely tones as you begin to explain the creature to the children. He has no idea what you’re talking about, but he’s admittedly intrigued. “She’s what is called a cat where I come from, and she’s only a year old. On my planet, many humans decide to adopt a small animal as a companion. It’s very common practice. Some people call them pets back on Earth, but this chick right here? She’s more than that, she’s my family.” You explain simply, and the children all seem to understand despite how bizare you sound when you talk.

The way you speak doesn’t make sense to Din, sounding to him as if you’re using some different form of Galactic Basic he is somehow unaware of. Nor can he place your accent whatsoever. Perhaps you only just learned the language recently, but either way, your basic is simply off and you pronounce certain words in the strangest way.

One of the children, a boy of about six or seven, raises his hand and asks if they are permitted to touch the cat. 

“Of course you guys can,” you say with a grin, “but one at a time please.”

Din looks back to his friends and finds himself asking Cara what is going on as they watch the children take turns running gentle hands down the fluffy creature’s back.

“Some of the children still needed to be watched for a few hours after the school day ended, so we hired a sitter.” Cara explains simply, and Din’s eyes roll behind his helmet.

“I gathered as much. I mean her. She’s... strange.” Din uses the only word that he feels is appropriate. 

“You don’t know the half of it,” Karga interjects with a robust chuckle, “we all thought she was mad when Cara first found her wandering around the lava fields with that cat creature a few weeks ago.”

The helmet jerks up from watching the kid approach you to look at Greef. Had his face been exposed, they would have seen the look of incredulity hidden beneath the beskar.

“And you’re letting her care for children!?” Din’s paternal instincts are begging to take over, and he’s tempted to snatch the kid back into his arms before he can climb up to trace his own little clawed hand along the animal's silky orange fur. Din holds back while his friends just smile at him.

“Relax, Mando. She checks out. We’ll explain, but first let the parents come pick up their young ones,” Cara says coolly.

As if summoned by Dune’s words, men and women begin shuffling in and out at a steady pace and the cat jumps away as you stand to greet them. Each one of them thanks you for watching his or her child, before taking their respective kid by the hand to lead them out of the school. 

The goodbyes have been said to all of the kids, and suddenly the only child left looking up at you is the tiny little green one with gigantic ears. He coos up at you with wide, dark eyes and you make a noise of endearment at the sight of the child. Din had watched you acknowledge the child's presence when he first approached, but now you seem to actually appreciate the level of sheer cuteness that stands before your feet in a tiny brown robe. 

Din’s breath hitches slightly when the kid reaches his tiny hands up towards you, babbling baby-speak all the while. It’s likely inaudible to everyone in the room, but under the helmet he thinks it sounds quite loud. He watches through the visor of his helmet as you smile down at the tiny toddler’s inquiry. The kid may be babbling incoherent phrases, but he’s speaking a universal language that any maternal female of any species would likely know by heart. The way his big brown eyes plead up to you, the way his small fingers open and close in an upward grabby motion. He’s asking to be picked up, to be held by you. Your face softens with the adorableness of it, and you squat down to be more on the kid’s level with your hands on your knees. Din is so on edge that he's sure his brow is about to break out into a sweat.

“Oh my goodness,” you gush, “aren’t you just the cutest thing I’ve ever seen. You want me to pick you up, little dude?”

The Mandalorian’s right foot is a millisecond away from taking an aggressive step forward, protectiveness and the smallest twinge of jealousy motivating his actions. Din will not readily admit it, but he absolutely hates when strangers take it upon themselves to touch the kid or pick him up simply because they think he’s cute, and therefore feel they have some sort of right to do so. Usually this is also in blatant disregard for the child’s beskar clad guardian, despite Din’s intimidating presence. 

You don’t touch the kid, though. You don’t even reach out for him, so Din doesn’t actually move forward the way he wants to. Instead, your head turns to look up at him and it feels as if you're locked onto his eyes beneath the helmet, much to Din’s great surprise. You offer him a wide, kind smile. It shows off the very best of your features to him, before you turn those features back down to face the kid and jab your right thumb in Din's direction.

“Only if it’s okay with your dad over there, buddy,” you’re clearly addressing the Mandalorian, even though you’re speaking to the kid.

On pure instinct and reflex Din quickly begins to argue the usual, “He’s not my...” But then the kid’s head whips up to face him with those big brown eyes and Din is powerless against the fact that for the time being the kid is most certainly his. “Yeah, that’s fine with me if he wants you to hold him.” Din also quietly adds, “Thank you for asking first.”

“I always respect the wishes of the parental units,” you respond, confusing the Mandalorian slightly with your phrasing, though he gets the gist.

With that, you scoop the green child up into your arms and begin fawning endlessly over him. You tap a single index finger to the tip of his tiny nose and make little booping noises at him that cause him to smile and giggle.

“What a handsome little man you are,” you gush down to the baby as you rub his soft ear gently between your right thumb and index finger. Then you smirk over at the Mandalorian with a bit of mischief in your eyes. “Does he take after you?” You ask the armored man with a chuckle, adding, "If he does then I hope those big ears of yours are doing okay stuffed inside that helmet."

To the surprise of everyone in the room, including himself, a low chuckle eventually filters through the Mandalorian’s aforementioned beskar helmet and his shoulders move ever so slightly. He doesn’t respond to your joke further than that, but its enough to break any tension that may have been in the room. 

Din simply watches in silence as you cradle his foundling in your arms, bouncing the child back and forth as you say nonsensical things down to him in a higher pitched voice. A smile breaks out across Din’s face beneath the helmet, the sight of a beautiful woman holding his foster child causing the littlest of threads to pull from deep within his chest.

Unbeknownst to Din, Karga and Dune exchange their own, private smiles of satisfaction with one another before Karga speaks. “Come on Mando, let’s get the child something to eat and discuss your next round of quarries while your ship gets a tune up.”

The older man claps a hand on Din's armored shoulder, the Mandalorian nodding in agreement. “The kid does need to eat.”

Cara calls over to you by name, something odd Din has never heard before, gesturing for you to come forward with the kid in your arms before turning to face him. “We also have something important we’d like to discuss with you, Mando.”

*****

The group of six multi-worldly beings make their way to the nearby town restaurant, a newly opened food service establishment made to replace the seedy bar that the school currently occupies. It’s run entirely by droids, which is a concept you continue to find utterly fascinating despite having been living around droids for well over three weeks. You’re still carrying the kid on your right hip, so the child's armor-clad caregiver feels it necessary to keep a protective distance directly behind you during the short journey. This strange helmeted man, the one you friends had described to you earlier that day, is a complete mystery to you. All you know is that he's what they'd called a Mandalorian, he's a bounty hunter, he has an alien kid who travels around with him, and your first impression of him is that he's kind of sexy in a weird way. 

You’d joked about his resemblance to the little green child, but it had been nothing more. Frankly you're willing to bet that he’s human under all that metal, if not some sort of humanoid species at the very least. He’s got two legs, two arms, one head, eight fingers, two thumbs, and you’re also pretty sure that if he had ears even remotely like those of his kid, the bounty hunter would need a much bigger helmet. Most notably, he's got probably the sexiest baritone voice you think you’ve ever heard. Not that the latter would account much for him being human, its just that you can’t help but notice this above every other initial thing him. Even through a modulated filter, his voice catches your attention and holds it in place. 

Practically tangible, the fatherly presence of him is so close to you as you walk forward with his kid and try to ignore him. It’s masculine in the very best sense of the word, enough to give you goosebumps.

The group finds a table near the back and everyone settles into a seat aside from you. Without being prompted to do so, you plop the kid directly down in the Mandalorian’s lap before then sliding into the seat beside Cara and directly across from the bounty hunter. You look up to see the black visor of the beskar helmet staring directly at you while the kid squirms around in his loose hands, and you find yourself squirming for an entirely different reason. 

You’re nervous as he orders a bowl of food for the child and nothing for himself, reaching down by your foot to stoke at Jupiter’s head while wondering idly if this is a ridiculous idea after all. Why on Earth (or off of it, evidently) would a man like him ever agree to this proposition? Your mouth opens to tell Cara you’ve changed your mind about this, but then Greef starts talking and it’s too late to turn back now. 

“Our friend,” Greef Karga says your name, “finds herself in a very strange predicament indeed. Shortly after your last visit to Nevarro, we received readings that there had been a major atmospheric disturbance only a few clicks outside of town. Evidence of a small black hole. Our dutiful marshal Ms. Dune took it upon herself to investigate the area herself, where she then stumbled upon our new friend out by the lava fields, confused and frightened out of her mind.” Karga begins his winded explanation and everyone settles in, knowing the old man is only just beginning. “You see, Mando, she’s not from this planet if you couldn’t already tell. Hell, she’s not even from this galaxy.”

“I don’t even think I’m on the right end of the universe,” you interject with a nervous laugh. The Mandalorian has been looking at you through all of Karga’s story, and its beginning to make your hands sweat. The helmet is more intimidating than you’re ready to admit. Not knowing what’s going on beneath the metal surface is slightly maddening. 

“So how did you get to this end of the universe, then?” Mando asks you directly, voice sounding as if he's skeptical to believe any of this. 

���Accidentally, I can assure you,” you reply, choosing not to throw Jupiter under the bus as she jumps into your lap. The parts both of you had played in the events that led you here were probably about fifty-fifty, in all honesty. “I mistakenly switched on a device that triggered the black hole phenomenon, and now here I am.” 

“She’s been bunking with me and helping out with the local kids, as you saw earlier,” Cara throws out casually, sipping a blue drink.

“I took care of children for a living on my home world,” you add, in case he’s not getting the point.

*****

Din gets it alright, but he’s not going to play into it. “Why exactly are you telling me this?” He asks everyone slowly, guarded. Din knows full well when he’s about to be asked to do a favor he most certainly doesn’t want to do. The tone is always the same.

“Well, from what I hear around the guild you’ve been having a hard time of it lately,” Karga says with a smirk.

The helmet jerks quickly from where he’d been studying your face, still trying to get a feel for your personality, back to Karga’s direction as Din replies sharply, “Having a hard time of what?”

Karga shrugs, but the smirk stays plastered to his face. “I believe ‘a little slower than usual’ is what was specifically said.”

The Mandalorian’s gloved fingers curl slowly into a fist on the table, and Cara puts her own hands up with a roll of the eyes before reaching the right one across the table to wiggle a finger in front of the kid’s face. The kid is thrilled, ignoring the tension of the adults around him. 

“He means no offense, Mando. Only that it must not be easy caring for this little one all by yourself.”

“Perhaps an arrangement could be made which would benefit you both, that’s all we are suggesting,” Karga adds before Mando can argue with Cara.

And there it is. 

Din sighs heavily, wishing very much that he could press his bare fingers to his temples under the helmet as he feels the familiar pressure of a headache dare to prick at the front of his forehead. He gets these exhaustion headaches every few days now, some of which have been particularly debilitating. He knows damn well just how run down he really is, but that doesn’t mean he’s ready to admit it. Taking care of the kid and working so he can keep taking care of the kid has been harder than he’s willing to acknowledge. Maybe he’s been over doing it lately, but only a little.

“I don’t take charity cases,” he eventually says, “and the Razor Crest isn’t an air taxi.” Just as Din says this, a droid drops a bowl filled with indistinguishable mush in front of the kid, who greedily starts to slurp the food up. Din looks down at the child while shaking his head. “I also don’t need another mouth to feed.”

*****

You’re shocked that galactic basic has a word like “taxi”, but you keep this to yourself. Instead, you look from the Mandalorian to your sweaty hands fidgeting with each other on the table’s smooth surface. This whole thing is just making you feel helpless and anxious, which is how you’ve felt for most of the last month in this unfamiliar world that you’ve found yourself stuck in. Suddenly deciding that you’re quite tired of feeling this way, your gaze fixes squarely on the helmet, determined to get this meeting to end in your favor.

Karga goes on regardless of Mando’s obvious reluctance to even hear them out. “This wouldn’t been a charity case nor would it be a taxi, Mando. I’m willing to pay extra credits for the quarries in order to compensate for her needs, but this arrangement would be an exchange of services. She knows absolutely nothing about this galaxy, let alone where to even begin searching for a way back to her home world. She has a talent with children, so she can assist you with taking care of your child’s needs until either she finds a way to go home, or you find a home for him. Whichever comes first, but there is no destination for her to go that you wouldn’t already be going to yourself. If you happen to find the child’s kind before she can complete her task, you can drop her back off here. She knows there’s always a place for her here should she choose to stay. Same goes for you as well, Mando. You and the child are always welcome here. But you knew that already.”

You finally decide to speak up for yourself before the Mandalorian can have a chance to retort, feeling as if you’re on the job interview of a lifetime. “I only want to see if I can find evidence of a similar phenomenon happening on another planet. According to everyone here on Nevarro, what happened to me is the only event of it’s kind to occur on this planet. Ever. Although I’ve grown to feel welcome in this community over the last few weeks, I worry that if I do stay here I’ll never have a chance to find a way back home. I may not know the first thing about this galaxy but I do know one thing, and that’s children. It’s my passion to care for little ones whose own parents cannot be there for them in the moment. I attended schooling for childcare, but most importantly I have the experience. I’ve been watching kids my entire adult life.”

The table is silent for a long moment when you finish making a case for yourself to this stranger. Karga and Dune exchange quick glances of worry with each other, but your determined stare is still fixed on the black T shaped visor in the center of the dark silver helmet. You refuse to back down so easily, expressing as much in the way you square your shoulders and raise an eyebrow at him expectantly. You can’t read him whatsoever, but this doesn’t deter you.

*****

Din is also fixing you with an intent stare, though you would never know it. His dark brown eyes search yours for any indication of lies or malicious intent. They scan the features of your face. It’s distractingly pretty, but above all it’s genuine and kind and honest. Din can’t deny this. Then his eyes flick down to the odd tunic you’re wearing and he considers how perfectly plausible all of this does sound once he really considers it. Every single thing about you is just so... so out of place. But Cara and Greef both trust you enough to work in the school, so you must not be very dangerous. And admittedly, the part of Din that can’t help but lean so heavily on his past finds himself relating slightly to your plight. Feeling without a home in this galaxy is something Din knows very well. The only thing that even causes him to consider any of this ridiculous proposal in the first place, though, is that the kid really seems to like you. A lot.

Aside from all of these things, Din is oh so very tired. Din cares very deeply for the kid but he knows he also needs a break soon or he’s not going to be able to care for him at all. 

“A trial run,” Din finally says very slowly, causing your eyebrows to shoot up into your hairline comically. His lips twitch upwards for a moment at the sight of it.

“A trial run?” The shock is evident on your face.

“You can accompany us on my next round of quarries. If this works out, you can stay. If this doesn’t work out, you get dropped back off here in a few months along with the quarries and you can find yourself another ticket around the galaxy. It can be a dangerous way of life  up there so you need to be able to follow my orders, and do as I say under any circumstances. Deal?” Din says evenly, tilting his head slightly.

*****

You’re dumbfounded for the first moment after he finishes with his stipulations. Your speech worked? He said yes? He actually agreed? 

Cara’s strong elbow jabbing you in the rib cage is the what eventually reminds you to actually respond to him. 

“Sorry, yes! Deal! Thank you so much, I promise you won’t regret this.” You grin from ear to ear, stomach filling with tingling excitement at the prospect of finally getting your Earthling ass off of Nevarro. You’re also terrified. 

“I sincerely hope that I don’t.” The Mandalorian says, leaning back in his seat. One gloved hand is protectively holding on to the kid as the bugger slurps down the remains of his supper, while the other hand catches one of the big green ears between the thumb and forefinger.

*****

Din then feels something pressing against his booted calf, and looks down to see the furry thing from earlier sniff around his foot before rubbing it’s head into his leg and making a strange noise. Odd creature. He’d forgotten about it for a moment, but she’d referred to it as her family to the children earlier. “What about this thing?” He asks idly, looking back up to see a sharp glare pointed right in his direction. His eyes widen beneath the beskar at the sudden ferocious look in your eyes.

“Non-negotiable.” Your voice is just as sharp as your glare. Then your expression softens slightly when you look down at cat rubbing all over his boots below the table. “She seems to like you anyway.”

“Fine,” Din concedes after a moment. He actually reaches a gloved hand down and strokes an orange tipped finger behind one of her pointed ears. “Better than a blurrg, I suppose. You’re lucky that she’s not any smaller, otherwise the kid would probably try to eat her.” 

*****

He’s completely serious, you realize after a moment. When you look down at the adorable and seemingly harmless baby, your eyebrows raise again at the thought of him trying to nip at Jupiter with sharp little teeth. Then the sheer comedy of it occurs to you, and you laugh. Flashing a bright smile over towards the helmet, you shrug. “Well that’s only slightly horrifying. Kid’s still cute though, I’m looking forward to getting to know the little guy.”

In a moment of Earthly formality you offer up your hand across the table and give the bounty hunter your full name, to which he replies that you may refer to him as Mando as a large gloved hand closes around yours in what is apparently a universal gesture after all.

*****

Cara fills you in on what you need to know about the Mandalorian as she helps you gather what meager belongings you have back at her place, which luckily isn’t much. It seems like a given that there won’t be much room for personal knickknacks where you’re going. You assume that this Razor Crest you’re about to call a temporary living space for the next few months, if not longer, is by no means the U.S.S. Enterprise, NCC 1701. Not if its anything like the other small spacecrafts you’ve managed to catch a glimpse of during your time on Nevarro. It still doesn’t make sense to you how a galaxy that has managed to figure out things like space travel and intergalactic governments to wage war over can seem so grungy. Perhaps its just the seedy sector you've managed to end up in. Karga calls it 'The Outer Rim', whatever that means.

You’re fortunate enough to have ended up stranded in this galaxy with your purple pet carrier backpack, and luckily it had been packed with a few days worth of necessities. You have some of your own clothes, mostly leggings and T-shirts but with a decent amount of socks and underwear. There are also a few self grooming tools, a pair of headphones, and a bottle of black glittery nail polish. And, as merciful fate would have it, your iPad as well as your solar powered portable charger had been packed in the overstocked bag as well. Its a miracle that Jupiter had any room left at all. 

Obviously the internet as you know it isn’t a thing in this galaxy, which honestly you don’t miss very much. The only sad part of this for you is not being able to communicate with your friends anymore and not being able to read dirty fan-fictions. But, you’ve got a few thousand songs, hundreds of pictures, seven of your favorite movies, four audiobooks, and a few key episodes of a comfort show from your younger days all downloaded directly to the device. You’ve been able to use it freely on Nevarro by charging it in the sun each day, but you know that once you get up in space you’ll have to be very scarce with your use of it until you eventually stop on a sunny planet to charge it again. Beyond that, you have nothing else to your name aside from the cat’s makeshift litter box situation. You’ve been using ground up volcanic rock in a collapsible little box and it’s actually been working quite well. 

Cara offers what you would call a large duffle bag packed up with a pair of boots in your size, and a few of her old clothes that are better suited for life in space. The material of everything she gives you is strong and sturdy. She also allows you to keep the spare blanket and pillow that she’d lent you when you’d first arrived. Both are shockingly comfortable, and you’re extremely grateful for the gesture.  

Sharing an emotional goodbye with the first and only real friend you’ve made in this galaxy thus far, you thank her for both her friendship and hospitality before making your way to meet Mando and the kid. They’re waiting for you outside of the restaurant with Karga, who pecks you on the cheek before bidding you and the Mandalorian safe travels. He then leans down to pat the kid’s head where the little guy stands next to Mando’s feet.

“You keep these two safe and they’ll take good care of you, little one.”

Whatever that means. How’s the baby supposed to keep two adults safe? Puzzled by Karga’s phrasing, you chalk it up to the intergalactic language barrier as you watch him leave. 

You’re painfully aware of how awkward you feel now that it’s just down to the four of you, and two of the creatures in your party can’t even talk. Being cooped up in an actual spaceship with a strange man you’ve only just met who apparently never under any circumstances ever takes his helmet off in front of people and his tiny green foster son suddenly seems really fucking insane. You know absolutely nothing about this person, not even his real name, and you’re about to put your very life in his hands for the foreseeable future.

But when Mando kindly offers to carry the huge hand me down bag from Cara and the baby simultaneously reaches up for you to carry him, some of your resolve melts away. You make sure that Jupiter is still secure in the carrier on your back before scooping the babbling kid up in your arms to quickly trail behind your new bounty hunter travel companion.

He leads your way through the town and out to where the Razor Crest waits dutifully for it’s pilot to return. You assume it to be Mando’s ship, as its the only one around at the moment. It’s got character, looking like its been through its fair share of adventures and misadventures. Mando stops suddenly, so you come to stand directly beside him. 

“Last chance to turn back,” he says, setting your bag down to hold his left forearm out in front of himself and press at a few controls with his right index finger. His tone comes off as half joking, but you wonder if he’s honestly giving you a chance to change your mind. Unbeknownst to one another, both of you are contemplating whether this is a stupid idea.

You ignore him, watching in amazement as a large hatch opens up in the back of the ship, the long metal loading ramp coming to stop just a few feet in front of you. A small gust of air gets pushed around you, dust kicking up slightly. You can’t help but let out a soft, “Wow. That is so freaking cool.”

Mando silently picks your bag up off the ground, gesturing for you to follow him up the ramp. You do so, turning just before you reach the top so you can turn and glance back at the dark Nevarro evening. It feels bittersweet to leave, but it also feels like a relief to be moving on. What’s the point of being accidentally sent to another galaxy if you aren’t going to get out and explore it? You are fully aware of the fact that you’re about to get a chance to experience something that was only ever a pipe dream back home. Something you honestly never thought you’d get to see in your lifetime. You’re finally about to go up there.

“You okay?” The Mandalorian asks suddenly from behind you, and you realize that you must have gotten lost in your head looking up at the stars. Your bag is at his feet and you assume he’s got an expectant look hidden under the helmet. 

“Yeah, sorry.” You say, readjusting the child in your arms as you take one final look up at the moon before turning to face him. The left corner of your mouth tugs up and you cast your eyes down in a shy little smile. “Just appreciating Nevarro one last time. This planet has been good to me, considering that black hole could have dropped me off somewhere terrifying.”

“You’re lucky you didn’t end up on Hoth,” Mando says with a little bit of amusement in his tone, head tilted to the side.

“You do realize I have no idea what that means?” You ask with a laugh, making your way the rest of the way up the ramp and inside the ship’s hull. You set the kid down on the floor once inside as Mando clicks the control on his forearm to close the door behind you.

“It’s a cold planet. Covered from pole to pole in snow and ice. Wampas all over the place. I doubt you would have lasted very long if those are the clothes you came here in.” He responds simply, but not in a rude or dismissive sounding way. He’s just divulging facts.

You shiver at the mere thought of that. And you have absolutely no idea what a wampa is, but you assume it’s some sort of ferocious animal you’d rather not meet. “Yeah I wouldn’t have survived. Being cold is probably my least favorite thing in the world.”

Once you’re all sealed inside the airtight spacefaring vessel, you squat down while shrinking off your pet carrier backpack and unzip the compartment where Jupiter is patiently waiting to be released. She begins the hesitant dance of taking a few steps forward, stopping to sniff tentatively at the surrounding area, and repeating this choreography until she’s used to her new surroundings. 

These new surroundings are certainly no Enterprise, just as you’d expected. This isn’t a bad thing though. White walls and bright lights wouldn’t suit this world that you’ve found yourself in. The vessel is made of metal, and so metal is what you see all around you. Dark metals and dim lighting. There are random crates scattered about the metal floor, ropes and nets with supplies hung up on random walls, and the occasional loose wire or washer strewn about. No bright colors really besides the kid and your stuff, everything else on the ship holding dark tones of mostly grays and browns. 

You find that you like it because of how well it fits with the bounty hunter. Everything about it screams Mando, which you doubt was ever an intentional thing at all. It’s just one of those things that simply is the way it is. That seems to be the general theme with the Mandalorian; things being the way they are simply just because. Why is he the guardian of a tiny green alien? It is the way it is. While packing your things Cara had graciously explained to you (most likely to save you from the awkward embarrassment of asking him about it yourself) that because of his people’s creed, Mando can never reveal his face to another living thing. So he never takes the helmet off unless he’s in private. Why? It is the way it is. You’re naturally a very curious person, but not everything in the universe merits an elaborate explanation.

The helmet in question is watching you when you look up at him again, the rest of him unmoving. On the floor, the kid is waddling his way between the two of you to chase after Jupiter’s tail with a tiny squeal of delight. Both adults look down at the display with fondness before looking back to one another. You flash another shy smile to Mando, who clears his throat in response.

“Nice place you’ve got here,” you say after a moment of silence. 

Mando doesn’t retort with anything, instead he walks over to what is clearly a weapons storage and begins to strip off his rifle and blaster to put them in their rightful places. He then turns to face you again, gesturing with one hand to the wall of things that could very easily harm you. “I think ‘don’t touch any of that’ goes without saying?”

“Copy that, sir,” you give a fake salute, “I probably shouldn’t be trusted with one of those things anyway.”

The helmet fixes on you in a way that matches the seriousness of his tone, “You may need to learn to use a blaster eventually in case of an emergency. But until you do know how to use one, the weapons are off limits.”

Mando then proceeds to show you the meager little living quarters that take up the bottom half of the ship. He shows you what is obviously the bathroom, but he calls it a refresher. Cara had called it that too. So weird. The little room has a mirror over a sink, a toilet, and a small shower that could maybe fit two people if they really squeezed. It’s cramped, but it’ll get the job done. Then on to what is obviously the sleeping cot, but it doesn’t look big enough nor comfortable enough to actually sleep. It’s tucked inside a small little nook in the corner, and there’s a makeshift little hammock hanging above the cot. It’s a no brainer who sleeps in that.

“I only have the one cot. You and the kid can have it. I’ll make due up in the cockpit.” The Mandalorian offers you his personal bed and you can’t help but argue the ridiculousness of the notion. 

“Don’t be ridiculous, Mando. This is your ship. I’m a guest here, I could never impose on you like that. And what if the little dude wants to sleep with his dad and not the strange lady he just met today? I can find a place to sleep.” You’re not about to screw up their sleeping situation and risk causing a rift on your first night.

“Relax. The kid likes you, otherwise you wouldn’t be here. I wouldn’t have even considered this idea. He means... more to me than I can describe.” Mando says honestly. Again, he doesn’t come off sounding rude or abrasive the way you expect him to. For being such a revered and intimidating presence, the way he speaks to you is far different than the way a man from Earth would have said it. There's a general respectfulness to his tones. “I fall asleep in the cockpit most of the time anyway. Like I said, I’ll make due.”

You decide not to argue with him further, his mind is clearly made up and you’re not entirely sure if there’s another place in the ship that could pass for sleeping quarters.

“Thank you,” is all you manage to say, feeling heat rise to your cheeks at the thought of the cot likely smelling of him. You’re willing to bet the aroma is exquisitely masculine. “For the bed... and again for agreeing to help me. I truly am grateful.”

The Mandalorian gives a single nod.

He shows you the rest of the inner hull, which really consists of a small area that you would vaguely call a galley and another you would call the brig. Mando clarifies what it is by saying something about carbonite, whatever that means. You’ll have plenty of time to learn how all of this works during your travels, hopefully.

That’s it for the lower level, and he explains that the upper level is where the cockpit and interior engine access is. As he is telling you this the clay orange tips of his gloves come to wrap around the metal ladder which leads up to it. “I’m going to start flying us out of here," he says.

Nervousness floods your system, causing your palms to moisten as your stomach practically fills to the brim with jumping beans. “Could I, uh... could I come up and watch? I’ll stay out of the way. Promise. I just want to see.”

Mando looks you over for a long moment, then he nods again in the affirmative and begins ascending the ladder rungs without another word. You set your things down and look up to see that he’s already gone, but a pair of gloved hands are reaching expectantly down through the opening in the ceiling. You’re confused about what he’s doing for a moment until the kid tugs on the shoelace of your right sneaker. Oooh, you think to yourself.

Scooping the kid up, you hold him out like Rafiki holds up Simba at the beginning of the Lion King (its all you can do not to burst into song) and his dad’s large gloved fingers temporarily graze over yours as you pass the happy baby between you. Facing your head up, you get a perfect shot of the chrome helmet and little alien boy looking down at you together. It’s picturesque. In that moment, you get this strange sensation which creeps from your tailbone all the way up to the back of your head. You cannot help but feel as you begin to ascend the ladder, that you are also climbing up into a brand new chapter of your life and that these two, this unlikely pair, are about to become an integral part of it.

The words science fiction come to mind the second you’re in the cockpit. It’s small, which is all the Razor Crest really needs. There’s one pilot’s seat and two passenger seats, all three made of a dark red leather material with straps on either shoulder. Blinking lights of various colors take up the large control panels, and a pair of arcade worthy joysticks are situated in the direct center. You’re amazed by all of it as Mando hands you the child and takes the pilot seat. You and the kid take the seat behind and to the left of the Mandalorian, watching out of the big window as he begins to power up the ship.

It feels like a plane taking off at first, your ears popping as the Razor Crest climbs up Nevarro’s atmosphere. The stark reality that this ship is much more than a plane occurs to you only when the atmosphere is broken completely and you’re suddenly looking down at Nevarro from above it. You feel off slightly, but the brilliance of seeing the planet you had just been standing on not ten minutes ago from high above it fills your soul with a sense of contentment that you’d never thought possible. Your eyes dance from the planet to it’s moon hovering in orbit not too far from where you now sit adjacent from it. Then you look to the vast field of stars behind it all. It’s surreal and breathtaking all at once.

“Beautiful,” you breathe. 

*****

Din hears you say this from his seat, looking up to see what it is you’re calling beautiful. He’s puzzled at first. It’s just Nevarro and its one moon set amongst a stars field. It looks exactly the same as it always does, nothing special. Din’s head turns to look back at you, his eyebrows again raised high on his forehead beneath his helmet as he takes in the wonderous expression on your features. His eyebrows tend to do that a lot around you, apparently. You were so enthralled by the ship and now by the stars?  This sort of thing really should be somewhat annoying to the bounty hunter, but he finds it oddly... winsome. Then it occurs to him. You’ve never seen this before, or anything like it for that matter.

A moment of silence passes in the cockpit, before the helmet swivels back towards the serene scene of space outside of the Razor Crest. “You’ve never traveled through space, have you?”

You shake your head, bouncing the kid up and down on your left knee. “The little galaxy I come from is way behind this one’s technology. Which is funny, because my world is an arrogant one. Most of the people of on my planet think that, even though the universe is as vast as it is, we must have been the most technologically advanced society of all time. There are only a handful of people back home who believe that there’s life in the universe beyond Earth. Up until I accidentally landed my dumb ass here, there was no way of knowing which side was right. We’ve only been able to send a handful of actual people as far as our moon. They have to train their bodies for months in order to do it, and every mission has the chance of ending badly. Probes and robots have made it out further than that, but my people haven’t even left our solar system. Shit, I mean, most of my planet will never even get the chance to see something like this. We have computer generated pictures of what it’s really supposed to look like up here, but seeing the real thing like this? Breathtaking. Thank you for helping me have experience this, Mando.”

Din understands now how this is emotional for you without needing to turn and see the tears welling up in your eyes. It’s in your voice, clear as day.

You continue on, “I had a grandfather who got to come up here once. He was what we call back home an astronaut. He and I were very close, so getting to see space in the way that he did, the real way, means a lot to me. More than you can know. Regardless of how this deal between us ultimately goes, just know how much I appreciate this moment.”

Din’s helmet dips down in a nod. “You’re welcome,” he says quietly. Having lived his entire life with the luxury of space travel, this new revelation leaves Din slightly in wonder of you. You laugh suddenly then, bright and full of life, and now he’s just downright puzzled by you. Are you laughing at him? 

“What’s funny?” He asks, the slightest bit of shyness taking over.

“We have a saying back home that space is filled with little green men,” you say between giggles, holding the child with a hand on each side of his teeny tiny waist as you continue to bounce him. “But I never in a million years I thought I’d actually have one sitting on my knee.”

The melodic tones of your laugh fill the cockpit once again, and Din’s lips stretch across his cheeks beneath the beskar in a smile that only he will ever know about. Most people assume that the face beneath the beskar is as stoic and cold as the helmet itself, when in reality the face beneath is one that wears its owner’s emotions more freely than anyone who readily shows his or her face to the world. He has the freedom to smile, frown, grimace, cry, or anything he so chooses to feel without the fear of judgment from another person. The helmet can feel like the most confining thing in the world to Din sometimes, but more often than not it’s the freest form of life he can imagine. He gets to be completely and utterly himself, but there just isn’t a single person in the galaxy who would know it.

“I’m about to jump the ship into hyperdrive and then we will be traveling through hyperspace. Do you understand what that means?” He asks after a moment. 

*****

“You’re about to take her to warp nine, Mr. Sulu?” You retort back with another giggle, which again becomes a full on, barking laugh when Mando’s seat whips completely around and the helmet is looking directly at you. From his body language alone, you like to think there’s a shocked look of incredulity splattered across the face beneath. 

“Excuse me?” 

You laugher tapers off to an awkward fake cough as you shake your head. “Sorry, that’s-uh, from an Earth thing,” is the best explanation you’re able to come up with. “I do understand what you’re about to do, sort of.”

The Mandalorian’s chair slowly turns back to face forward. You can clearly hear him sigh as the helmet shakes back and forth, causing you to giggle again. “Well you may want to prepare yourself. Your body will get used to it, but its probably going to feel pretty strange at first.”

With that, he punches it.

The tears that had been threatening the edges of your eyelids moments ago begin to fall freely at the sight of it. All at once everything seems to grow impossibly bright as the stars begin an intricate dance around the ship. At first you can only compare it to what heavy snowfall looks like when driving on a dark night, and then the stars begin to pirouette all around you. The sound of it is a low whirling noise, more soothing than you’d expected. You’re absolutely enthralled.

And then your stomach suddenly lurches violently as the physical toll of traveling through hyperspace begins to crawl its fiery way up your throat. Your mouth begins to water in what you know is an unmistakable sign of impending vomit.

“Oh no. Oh, shit, Mando. I’m going to be sick,” you groan out, pressing a hand to your mouth.

“Fresher. Now. Do not throw up in my cockpit.”

*****

The kid is dumped into his lap and you’re descending down the ladder before Din can even blink. Within seconds of that, the sickening sounds of your upheaval can be heard. A concerned little noise erupts from his lap, causing Din to meet his foundling's worried expression. His dark eyes are wide and his ears are tilted downward slightly, small lips parted in an open frown. Din strokes him lightly under the chin with a single finger, “Don’t worry, buddy. She’ll be okay once she gets used to it. I just hope this wasn’t a mistake.”

To that, the kid actually shakes his head up at Din with a slew of nonsensical little baby words.

“No? You think this is a great idea? I’m glad one of us does then.”

*****

Next Chapter

Masterlist

[emelkae]

15 Questions, 15 Tags: Lug

My second round of this tag game! @lvl22wizard, this one's for you :p

Rules: Answer these 15 questions as yourself or as an OC, then tag 15 mutuals. I'll be tagging people who've interacted with this post.

This one'll be from Lug's POV :) And it's another reader!Interviewer insert one since I just think it's fun. It'll also take place before the War Machines met Briar.

---

The other War Machines were intimidating enough, but this one practically looms.

He can't seem to help it. He's taller than any human you've ever seen. His skin is the color of blood, and his eyes are as black as the armor jutting roughly from his massive frame. When he walks into the lab, his steps have enough force to resonate in the glass beakers lining the tables. You have no doubt one flick of his wrist could tear your head from your shoulders.

No wonder he's called the Tank Unit.

Your silence is only broken when he rumbles a giggle.

"I'm Lug!" he says in a voice as sonorous as you'd expected from such a barrel-like chest. "Nice to meetcha."

He thrusts a huge red hand toward you, clearly wanting you to shake it. You eye his fingers, knowing he could easily crush yours if you return it—but you don't want to upset him. You take a breath and slip your palm in his.

His handshake is shockingly gentle.

"You got questions?" he asks after he lets go. "Awesome! Nobody ever asks me questions!"

The glint in his eyes calms you, and you suddenly realize you're safe here with him. You begin.

Are you named after anyone? 

"I don't think so," he says with a ponderous squint. "People called me 'big lug' a lot when I was first built. I like it. I think it's funny!"

When was the last time you cried? 

You can't imagine someone like him ever shedding a tear. Still, his jolly demeanor flickers a bit before returning in full force.

"Oh, uh... let's not talk about that. Laughing's more fun than crying! Any other questions?"

Do you have kids? 

"Naw, I don't think War Machines can have kids. And I don't wanna ask the Engineer." He shudders, then looks wistful. "I think having another little brother would be nice."

Do you use sarcasm? 

He gives a loud belly-roar of a laugh that shakes the beakers around him. Then he looks down at his hands, his voice softening slightly. "Like Sharpe and Circuit? Nah, I don't like being mean. It'd probably scare people, right?"

What’s the first thing you notice about people?

"I see if they're scared of me, like your last question. Sometimes I don't want 'em to be." Your prior awe stirs in your belly at his wicked grin. "On the battlefield I do, though."

What’s your eye color?

"Black! The Repair Units get the cool glowy white eyes. I'm stuck with boring black."

Scary movies or happy endings?

After you explain to him what movies are, he giggles and asks, "People just sit and watch those? Can a scary movie have a happy ending?"

Any special talents?

"Oh! Yeah, I've got one!" He leans conspiratorially toward you and whispers, "I can wiggle my ears. Don't tell the Engineer. I don't think I'm supposed to be able to do that."

Where were you born?

"You mean built? Right here, I guess!" He sweeps his arm around the lab, then points to the compartments standing lined up against the wall. "In one of those."

What are your hobbies?

"When I'm not tearing stuff up, I like singin'. I memorize words pretty good. I can hit low notes too, and sing really loud. Maybe I can teach you a song if you want—the Repair Units aren't here to keep me from teachin' you the really fun songs."

Have you any pets?

"No... but I'd love a kitty! Or a hound, or a lizard, or a bug..."

He starts rattling off animals, and you let him ramble on until he seems to forget why he was listing them in the first place.

What sports do you play/have played?

"I don't think War Machines do that. But I do wrestle! I'm pretty good at that." He smiles wider when your eyes flick to the artificial musculature of his arms. "Sometimes the Engineer makes me toss stuff up and catch it again. Those are my favorite calibration tests."

How tall are you?

"I dunno. I'm sorry. I'm just... big."

He certainly is. You size him up and realize he's taller than Sharpe and Claw were in your last interview. You'd put him at around seven feet tall, over two meters.

Favorite subject in school?

He isn't sure what you mean. You list a few school subjects, and his eyes light up predictably when you mention "gym." Oddly enough, they also look interested in music and art classes.

"You mean... you get taught how to make songs?" he breathes. "And how to make things pretty? Wow. I wanna go to school!"

Dream job?

"If I could do anything? Do people sing for money? I wanna do that."

---

I love this precious boy 🥺

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