#and write so many things like we’re teaching a lecture | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hyukalyptus · 2 months ago

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office hours — professor!soobin x gradstudent!reader

cw. chubby!reader, reader is an adult grad student, minimal age gap, clear consent, petnames (babe, baby, honey, darling, good boy), mommy kink, face sitting, unprotected penetration, creampie, cunnilingus, handjobs, ending is cheesy, "epilogue" of sorts involves christmas vibes, kissing, please lmk if i'm missing anything. NSFW/MDNI notes. i would feel irresponsible if i didn't acknowledge this is a romanticized portrayal of a professor-student relationship. while the relationship in this story has clear consent multiple times, irl relationships like this can be inappropriate and exploitative bc of the authority imbalance. you deserve a healthy, consensual relationship. prioritize ur well-being and autonomy. relationships should be built on mutual respect, equality and clear consent. this is a work of fiction and should be read as such. shoutout to @silvergyus for sending the prof!soob pic <3 wc. 11.6k

“Which brings us to Le Chatelier's Principle in real-world chemical reactions,” Professor Choi says, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “This will be review for most of you, so I won’t go into too much detail.”

Chemistry is your favorite thing in the world. It’s real-life magic. And Professor Choi sees it that way too. His olive green chinos are wrinkled from walking from his office. The sleeves of his white button-down are pushed up so he can write freely on the whiteboard while his burgundy tie sways with his scurries.

Sparks of passion fill his eyes as he lectures. And he never disappoints with his cheesy jokes. Although you seem to be the only one that laughs at them—maybe you’re the only one that gets them. Not many students in his class are the experts in chemistry you are. You took it as a break from your intense course load and the elective credits are a nice bonus.

Most of your professors are so old they barely know how to turn on their laptop and are so deep into their tenure they’ve given up. If you bothered showing up to their office hours, you’d be lucky to find a professor, let alone a helpful one. So you’ve become a frequent visitor in Professor Choi’s office hours, talking about advanced chemistry he can’t wait to teach but it’ll be at least five years before he can. In the meantime, he’ll settle for nerding out with you in his office for a few hours every week.

“Great class today, everyone,” he says. “Have a great weekend and don’t hesitate to visit me during my office hours with any questions!” That sentence started out as a normal speaking voice but ended up a shout over the shuffling of the desk chairs and backpacks. You’re typically the last one out, but you save your questions for his office hours tomorrow.

“Hi,” you say, lightly tapping your knuckle against his office door.

Turning around in his chair, his lips form a pout in surprise at seeing you. “Were you waiting outside? Sorry that meeting ran a little long—” He shuffles to organize his desk.

“That’s okay.” Adjusting your bag on your shoulder, he rests his hands on his thighs and looks up at you. Did he just look you up and down? Don’t be ridiculous.

“What can I do ya for?”

“Right,” you start. “Can I…?” You ask, motioning toward the spare chair, waiting for his nod before sitting. “You know Professor Vaughn’s class?” You barely catch it, but his eyes roll. Professor Vaughn is the worst professor you’ve had. Boring, harsh, impatient. It doesn’t help he teaches one of the most complex forms of chemistry. “I’m not really getting this week’s content and was wondering if you could help me.”

“Of course.” He smiles. And it’s devastating. The sparkle in his eyes and those dimples. Craning his neck to look at your notes riddled with red question marks, he nods. As soon as he sees the title of your notes, he says, “Let’s think about this from a quantum mechanical perspective. If we assume that the π-complex is forming, we’re talking about a stabilization due to delocalization π-electrons, right?”

In what feels like no time at all, an hour has passed and the conversation has been the complete opposite of Professor Vaughn’s lectures. Questions led down rabbit holes, leading to other theorems and more questions. As he glances up at you through his glasses, there is an undeniable tingle in your stomach.

It’s not like you haven’t noticed how attractive Professor Choi is. He’s tall, lean but undeniably strong, he has the most perfect silky black hair and the prettiest brown eyes, and his pout—indescribably cute. And again—those goddamn dimples. He’s the perfect mixture of sexy, handsome, and pretty. You’d never think of doing anything with a professor, but you can’t help your mind wanders during the slower lectures.

How long have you been staring at each other in silence? Too long probably. He clears his throat. “Well,” he says, looking at his watch. “My office hours have been over for a few—”

“Oh gosh, I’m so sorry,” you say, stumbling as you stand, attempting to gather your things as quickly as possible. But he shakes his head, trying to shrug it off.

“That’s okay,” he says. “I, uh, I just have my emails waiting for me.”

You nod, shoving everything into your bag and heading out the door. What was that? You’re probably overreacting, you think to yourself. He’s charming because of his looks, there’s no way he’d— No. Don’t even finish that thought.

"How is it that someone who scored the highest in my theoretical chemistry exam is turning basic lab work into a spectacle of incompetence?" Professor Vaughn boasts over your right shoulder. No doubt his thick eyebrows are furrowed.

As your hands tighten around the test tube, you know exactly what to do—you always do—but everything slips through your fingers in his class.

"I’m trying to get the reaction to stabilize," you stammer, eyes darting between your hands, the chemical reagents lined up on the table, and your notebook.

Professor Vaugn’s expression hardens as he steps closer, looking down his nose at your station. "Trying is for high school sophomores. If you’re still trying, you’re behind."

Taking a deep breath, you carefully add three more drops to the mixture but the reaction goes wrong. Again. A plume of white smoke rises from the beaker, and the liquid turns an unexpected, muddy brown.

"Unbelievable," Vaughn mutters loud enough for everyone to hear. Everyone knows you’re the best student in your class. Well, everyone except Soren, who’s so jealous of your intelligence they can hardly stand it. They simply smirk. "I expected more from you."

Your heart sinks. You checked those calculations three times. Maybe it’s your shaky hands. Or the pressure of him looming over your shoulder. Or the other stuff on your mind.

"Are you going to sit there and guess again, or would you like to double down on failure with your next attempt?" Vaughn sneers, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"I’m not guessing, Professor. I—"

"Can’t manage a basic reaction?" Vaughn interrupts with his icy voice. "I’m beginning to wonder how you even made it into this program."

"I’m perfectly capable. The solution is just—"

"Wrong. Yes, we’ve established that." Vaughn’s lips curl into a patronizing sneer. "Maybe chemistry isn’t the field for you if this is the best you can manage." That got everyone’s attention—it would be an interesting sight to see you fail. It so rarely happens. Sure, you’ve been doubted before but have always proven yourself. Today would be no different.

You take a deep breath and count to yourself, One. Two. Three. Four. Five.

As you block out Vaughn’s piercing gaze and the weight of the other students’ eyes, you carefully remeasure the chemical, adjusting the proportions this time, methodically double-checking your work. You add the reagent once more, slowly, and watch as the solution begins to shift.

A moment passes. The reaction stabilizes and the solution turns a clear, pale blue.

"Finally," Vaughn mutters. You don’t even have to look at him to know he rolled his eyes. He turns to walk away but pauses. "Barely acceptable. Next time, you won’t be given the luxury of so many failures."

Bursting through the door upon dismissal, you can’t get to the restroom fast enough, barely making it to a stall before tears stream down your cheeks.

“One. Two. Three. Four. Five,” you whisper to yourself.

Sometimes, chemical reactions need to be dealt with instantly, but that’s an overwhelming amount of pressure. You give yourself five seconds before you absolutely have to deal with it. Same thing here. Cry. Count to five. Wipe your tears and move on.

But it’s difficult to move on this time. You’ve counted to five a few too many times today. But the only person you want to talk about it with is—

Professor Choi, Are you available to meet me in Lab 270 tomorrow afternoon? I’ve been struggling with some reactions and could use some help. I’ll be there from 2:00—4:00. If not, no worries!

Sniffling, you hit send on your email app, shove your phone in your bag and head home.

The next day drags on and on. Did he even get your message? Expecting an empty lab, you’re surprised to find Professor Choi waiting for you behind a laptop wearing a cute tweed jacket with suede elbow patches. His eyebrows are furrowed as his focused eyes study the computer, but they brighten at the sight of you.

Initially surprised by your confusion, he squeezes his eyes shut and says, “I didn’t respond to your email, did I?” He’s already got the lab station set up. How long has he been waiting on you? “So, how’s Professor Vaughn’s class?” Did someone tell him about yesterday? God, you hope not.

“Fine,” you deadpan. Shaking your head, you say, “I’m sorry…I’m just kinda stressed.”

“I can go if you need some time by—”

“No,” you say, softening your tone. “I’d really appreciate your help.”

And he’s more than willing, letting you ask whatever you want, never interrupting or talking over you like most of the men in the program. He gives you space to explore ideas and theories, listening closely instead of answering everything for you.

And he’s so damn sexy when he’s the one doing the ranting. The way he talks with his hands, ones that are so big with fingers so long you wish he would wrap around your—

“Shut up.”

“Excuse me?” He asks.

Oh shit, did you say that out loud? What a fucking nightmare. “Uh, sorry, just…talking to myself. Too many thoughts racing around the ole dome.”

A slight pout forms on his lips as he continues his rant. Now, the only thing you can think of are his lips wrapped around your—

“Ah!” Your hand slips toward the Bunsen burner and, great, now you’ve got a nice burn on your thumb.

“Oh gosh, are you okay?” He stands quickly. “Let me see.” His fingers graze your palm, igniting a fiercer burn than the actual flame just did. “Run it under cold water, okay?”

In the meantime, he straightens up your station before meeting you at the sink. “Is something wrong?” His words make you jump. “You seem distracted.”

That’s all it takes. The floodgates open. You rant about the sexist piece of shit Professor Vaughn and his power moves to intimidate you when he knows you’re the best student in the program. About how embarrassed you were in lab yesterday. Last semester when you raised your hand to correct an equation on the board and he gave you a firm talking to about respect after class.

He watches you carefully, handing over a towel for your hands as you take a steadying breath, fighting back tears.

“Did I ever tell you why I started studying chemistry?” he asks. You sniffle, shaking your head. “My grandfather. He was a baker.” His voice softens, and you look up to find his eyes full of kindness. “Every Saturday, he’d make me work in his bakery. I didn’t mind—it felt like magic, you know? But really, it’s science. It’s all precision, measurements, timing.”

A smile tugs at his lips. “Once, I tried baking a cake for my mom’s birthday, followed his recipe exactly. Measured the flour, the sugar, the cocoa. When I pulled it out of the oven, it was hard. Flat. I was sure he’d be disappointed, calling it a waste of time and ingredients. I was terrified. But he looked at it, smiled, and told me to try again the next day. When I asked why it didn’t work, he said I needed to ‘feel my way through it.’”

You sit there, the sting from your burn now fading, but your heart’s still aching, wanting something from him—a hug, a kiss, even just a pat on the shoulder.

“If I’d gotten it right the first time, I’d never know what overmixed batter looks like. Or that I like more cocoa than he did. Or that you should coat berries in flour.” His smile creeps up to his eyes. “Seeing how failure could make you better—it made me curious. I wanted to understand why some things worked and others didn’t, why I needed to feel my way through it, to get into the details.” He makes eye contact with you again. “That’s why I went into chemistry. Baking taught me the magic is in the little things—if you’re willing to screw up and keep going.”

Nodding, you smile back. His words hang in the air for a moment, like they’re meant to settle, but something’s missing.

“All I’m saying is, its okay to fuck things up, okay?” he says, his candidness drawing a chuckle from you. “How else would you learn?”

The world’s drained of color—only hazy shades of grey and beige are left. Your palms press against a cold marble countertop with the faint sound of running water echoing in the distance. The reflection of the mirror looks like you, but not quite. The woman in the mirror has her lips painted a dark, sultry brown, a shade you’d never choose. And the outfit is far too dressy for a lecture. Shadows fall where there shouldn’t be any.

The hallways are unfamiliar, yet you know it's the same building you visit almost every day. It's blurry, like you’re walking through a memory that isn’t yours.

You look down at the saddle shoes on your feet clicking against the tile floor, unnervingly filling the emptiness. It feels like someone else is controlling your body but you don’t question it. You can’t. Your hand raises, knuckles brushing a wooden door before it creaks open on its own.

On the other side of the door, Professor Choi faces a green chalkboard. Has that always been in his office? Hurriedly scribbling down equations, he glances between the board and the notebook in his hand. When he looks over his shoulder at you, his eyes soften and a slow smile spreads across his face. “Come in,” he says gently, setting his notebook aside. His voice wraps around you, making the room feel smaller, closer. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

Your spine tingles. “I know,” you reply, but the words sound hollow, like you’re speaking from somewhere else.

“Here,” he suggests, holding a piece of chalk out to you. The way he gestures toward the board is magnetic. As you take it from his hand, your fingers brush his. “What do you think of this?” An unfinished equation waits to be solved. His presence looms behind you, close but not quite touching as you reach up to solve it. Your heart pounds, every stroke of the chalk on the board heavier than it should.

“Impressive,” he murmurs, his voice low, rough around the edges. You turn to face him and he’s closer than expected, his warmth radiating against your skin. The air is thick with something unspoken. You step closer, tentative at first, then quicker, more certain. Your lips almost brush his, but he pulls back, his breath catching.

He looks down, your name a whisper on his lips, soft and pained. “I—” His eyes flicker up to meet yours, then fall back down like the weight of your gaze is too much.

“What?” You ask, your voice barely more than a breath. Your eyes dart between his, lingering on his tempting mouth. He leans in again with desire in his eyes. He wants to kiss you. You can feel it. And for a moment you think he might.

But he pulls away, his forehead nearly resting against yours. “I don’t think we should be doing this,” he says, his voice strained, as if saying the words is physically painful for him.

“Why not?” The question slips from your lips before you can stop it, frustration and longing lacing your tone.

His hands flex at his sides, like he’s fighting the urge to touch you. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to, or—”

“Why would I feel like that?” you interrupt, your voice impatient. Your heart races, pounding in your ears, drowning out reason.

“I’m your professor,” he breathes out like it’s a curse. His words only fan the flames of the tension building between you. There’s nothing wrong with that, you think to yourself. It’s not like you’re fresh out of high school—you’re a grad student, close to starting the same PhD he earned barely three years ago. He’s no more than five years older.

“I don’t care,” you insist, stepping even closer, your lips a breath away from his. “I want you to kiss me.”

His eyes darken, his resolve faltering as his gaze drops to your lips. “It’s a mistake,” he whispers, but his voice trembles with indecision, trying to convince himself more than you.

“Make the mistake,” you urge, your voice soft but sure. Your hand reaches for his tie, tugging as light as you can just to bring him that much closer. “You said it yourself, it’s okay to fuck things up.”

There’s a beat of silence, so thick it feels as though the room itself is holding its breath, waiting. And in that moment, the space between you seems to collapse, the weight of everything unsaid pulling you closer.

The millisecond before your lips touch, you breathe awake.

You bolt straight up, feeling around your soft bed sheets, breathless as your heart pounds from the vividness of it all. For a moment, you linger in the feeling, brushing your fingers over your lips, feeling the warmth of the almost kiss. But reality sinks in and your stomach drops.

Reaching for your phone, you check the time. Great, it’s almost time for his class. But there’s no hazy world to hide in. Skipping class might be an option but an exam reminder drags you out of bed.

Trudging across campus, your stomach sinks lower with each step. How can you look him in the eye? Dropping your bag to the floor with a thud, you hang your head low. Let’s just get through this exam and get outta here.

“How’s your hand?” Professor Choi’s voice shakes you out of your thoughts. “Sorry,” he chuckles, holding his hands up. “Didn’t mean to scare ya.” Looking at you like you’re the cutest puppy he’s ever seen, you can’t bring yourself to speak, but you hold out your hand. The second his fingertips touch yours, you flinch and jerk it back.

“Um—” you start. “Better, thanks.” Turning away from him, you distract yourself with a random notebook from your bag.

“...You okay? You shouldn’t be nervous about the exam.” When you look up, you’re met with eyes that appear…hurt?

“No, it’s not that.” That’s not a good answer. “Just…” What would you even say? I had an incredibly vivid—and delicious—dream about you last night and now I need to know how your lips feel in real life? “Cramps.”

“Ah.” He nods and leaves you alone, awkwardly walking to the front of the class to make some announcements and general good wishes before the exam. With your fist pressed to your chin, you refuse to look up, hanging your head low even as he slides you your copy.

There’s a bright green post-it stuck to it with a note, It’s okay to fuck it up! Your heart races as your eyes dart around searching for him. When you find him, he gives you a soft smile. You return the smile but rush to unstick it before anyone sees, storing it in your notebook for safe keeping.

As you return to your apartment, the post-it stares back at you like you’re the guiltiest son-of-a-bitch in the world. It’s practically calling you a whore. And you can hardly take it anymore. You can’t bring yourself to face him for class a few days later—although skipping feels like a cardinal sin. Soon enough, though, your email dings.

From: Choi Soobin, PhD I noticed you were absent from class today. I hope everything’s okay. The lecture notes are attached for your reference. Feel free to stop by my office hours with any questions. Professor Choi

Did your heart just flutter? Why are you walking toward his office? When you knock on the door, he stands—more like stumbles—to greet you, “Hi!”

“Hi, Professor Choi…” You linger in the doorway, clutching your notebook tight to your chest. “Sorry I missed class—”

“Is everything alright?”

“Yeah—”

“You’re not overwhelmed with coursework, are you?” His eyes search yours, and there’s a softness in his voice that makes it hard to look away.

“No, no, I’m alright. I just…had a migraine this morning,” you say, shrugging slightly. “It’s gone now, though.”

He nods, easing into a warm smile. “I’m glad you’re feeling better.” His gaze doesn’t waver and the intensity makes your pulse quicken. “So, I’m guessing you’re here to go over questions from the lecture?”

“Actually, it’s Professor Vaughn’s class I’m struggling with. His lecture today was…brutal.”

“I’m shocked,” he says sarcastically. “The man’s got a gift for making simple concepts sound like Greek.”

“Exactly,” you laugh, the tension in your shoulders easing. “I thought it was me, but he seems to take pride in making everything harder than it needs to be.”

“Trust me, it’s not you,” he says, a glint of warmth in his eyes. “He’s terrible. And annoying. And boring. And I’d tell him that.”

You raise a brow, skeptical. “You wouldn’t.”

“Well…” He breaks into a grin. “Maybe after I reach tenure. Though he may be retired by then.”

“Or dead,” you say matter-of-factly. He looks at you awkwardly then you both laugh, genuinely. There’s an ease to it.

He gestures to your notebook. “Alright, let’s see what we’re dealing with.”

“I can’t believe I’m laughing at that,” you say, a giggle escaping your lips.

“You always laugh at my bad jokes,” he replies, staring at your face a little too longingly. If you were anyone else, he might find some excuse to touch you. Maybe brush a piece of lint off your shoulder, lightly touch your arm while he laughed at something you said, or something as casual as a fist bump.

If he were any other guy, you’d be much more obvious, making it crystal clear you want him to kiss you right now. But you can’t. You don’t even know how he thinks about you. You’re probably just another student to him.

“Well, those are all my questions,” you say, awkwardly packing your bag.

“Yeah, you can, uh…head out…” he trails off as you start to rise from your seat.

You’re searching for something to say, something to let you stay just a little longer. But nothing comes. He watches you walk toward the door, the silence hanging in the space between you.

“Pens!” His voice suddenly burst out, loud enough to make you stop mid-step. “They, uh—I went to a conference last week and they gave me a ton,” he says, scrambling to gather a handful from his desk.

You take them, your fingers brushing against his in a way that feels far too intimate. His eyes lock with yours, the touch sending a ripple of tension through you. “But you’re, uh…picky about your pens, aren’t you?” He asks, his voice softer now, almost unsure.

Laughing quietly, you say, “Yeah, but…that’s okay.” Your words are heavy with subtext you can’t bring yourself to say out loud. “Well, goodbye.” You offer him a smile, stepping back toward the door. “Thanks again.”

“Yeah. Goodbye,” he says, but his feet shuffle forward as if he’s moving without thinking. Awkwardly reaching for a handshake, he realizes your hands are occupied. Instead, he reaches around you for the door handle, but he gets a tad too close and your brain scrambles.

Before you can hold yourself back, you drop the pens, letting them clatter to the floor as your arms wrap around his neck. Your lips meet his in a rush, warm and soft. While your eyes close to savor the feeling, his widen in shock before he relaxes into your touch and wraps his hands around your waist, pulling you closer.

It’s everything you’ve been holding back—unspoken feelings unraveling in a heartbeat. His lips move against yours with a hunger that surprises you, the world melting away as you lose yourself in the moment. You feel weightless, your pulse racing as his hands grip your waist a little tighter, as though he’s afraid to let you go.

When you finally break apart, breathless and dazed, he presses his forehead to yours, the ghost of a smile tugging at his lips. “You’re never gonna use those pens, are you?” he asks, his voice low and rough, like he’s trying to anchor himself in humor, trying to bring himself back down to earth.

You laugh, shaking your head. “No,” you admit, your heart still pounding. “They’re garbage.”

Before you can think, you kiss him again and this time, he doesn’t hesitate. His mouth crashes into yours with an urgency, like he’s wanted to kiss you since the second he laid eyes on you. His lips are soft, but his kiss is demanding, making up for all the lost moments between you. For those few minutes, nothing else matters—you bask in one of the greatest kisses either of you have ever had. But not for long.

Reality catches up too quickly. You pull away suddenly, breathless and wide-eyed. “Oh my god—” you gasp, backing up, your fingers graze your lips trying to make sense of what just happened. “I’m so sorry—”

“No,” he interrupts quickly, shaking his head. “Don’t be. I—” He’s stumbling through his words, just as lost as you are but neither of you regret it. “I wanted—”

“That was…” You can’t even finish your sentence. It was everything. Too much, too fast, too real. But you can’t take it back.

“I—” He’s trying to find the right words, to reassure you, to tell you he felt it too, that he wanted it just as badly. But he’s as flustered as you are, his voice rough and unsure.

“I’ll just…go throw myself off a bridge now,” you mumble. You can’t even look at him as you make a beeline for the door, your face burning with embarrassment. You think you hear him say something, but the blood rushing in your ears drowns it out.

You leave the room quickly, your heart about to burst through your chest, trying to process what just happened. The kiss lingers on your lips, a mix of exhilaration and terror swirling inside you. It’s too much to handle.

But, hey, there’s one bit of good news. At least he kissed you back.

What the fuck are you supposed to do now? Drop his class? It’s too late in the semester for that. And you need those credits. Wait until the end of the semester to talk to him again? Can you go that long without his lips on yours again?

Back at your apartment, you rummage through your books to find the university’s code of conduct, hurriedly searching for anything related to “appropriate relationships,” “faculty-student relationships,” “consensual,” blah blah blah, whatever the university has coded sleeping with a professor.

The University strongly urges those individuals in positions of authority not to engage in conduct of an amorous or sexual nature with a person they are, or are likely in the future to be, in a position of evaluating.

Your eyes read over the words, “strongly urges” once more. Not totally against the rules, you suppose. Even if you did wait until the semester was over, you’d need to report it. You wish you could talk with him about it, but bringing this up is tricky. Is it moving too fast? You can’t text him, you don’t have his number. And using your student email to send a message to his faculty email that says, “Oh, by the way, I checked the rules and we’re in the clear to have sex!” is a terrible idea.

Maybe one kiss in his office doesn’t mean anything. Oh, but it was everything.

After much deliberation, you convince yourself to attend his class a few days later. You’ve brought the code of conduct along, as well as a bright pink post-it sticking out of the book. To avoid any form of small talk with him, you wait outside right until the start of class.

Along the way to your desk, you silently plop the code of conduct on his desk and scurry away. When you work up the courage to look up at him, he’s flipped to the marked page. Highlighted on the page is the paragraph that “strongly urges” people in positions of authority not to sleep with students.

He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t disappointed. The message couldn’t be clearer, he thought. You’re practically telling him to leave you alone. But when he finally reads the post-it, his heart flutters. Written in your handwriting, it says, It’s okay to fuck it up! complete with a smiley face.

As much as he tries to fight it, he glances up at you to catch your gaze. And just as the slightest smile appears on his face, a big one appears on yours. You hide it with your palm as you start at the blank page of your notebook. Blinking, he shakes his head and begins his lecture. But how can you concentrate now?

You’ve gotta give it to him, he delivers his lecture perfectly. If it were you, you’d barely be able to think. Hell, you barely can throughout the whole thing.

Now that you’ve gotten that smile of permission, you finally let yourself daydream.

Has his ass always been that cute? Has he always been that tall? Has his voice always been that deep and sexy?

You don’t even know what he’s talking about, but that’s okay, you can always stop by his office hours. “What do you think?” He asks.

Oh shit, he’s looking at you for an answer. He can always rely on you to keep class moving along when everybody else is dead silent. You shake out of your thoughts, panic-reading the board to come up with something. It's similar to your discussion you had the last time you went to his office hours. The time that ended in that gorgeous kiss. Throwing together an answer, his eyes brighten as he cheers, “Exactly!”

Oh my god. He’s the cutest thing you’ve ever seen. You could just gobble him up.

“So, I suppose we should talk about…” Professor Choi trails off, leaving the sentence hanging in the air like it’s obvious what he’s getting at. And it is. But you stay quiet. You wanna hear him admit it. You raise an eyebrow, playing coy.

You decided to press your luck by visiting his office outside scheduled office hours—right after class—to simply test the waters and gauge his reaction to the code of conduct and that kiss…that incredible kiss.

“You know…” He gestures vaguely between the two of you, sighing like okay, fine, I guess I’ll say it. “I like you and you like me, right?” His voice dips just slightly, enough for you to notice the hesitation. “Unless I’m totally misreading—”

“No! You’re not…misreading anything,” you’re quick to say, along with a chuckle. Phew—he was worried there for a second. So goddamn cute. “What do you wanna talk about?”

He exhales a small laugh, but his smile is strained, cautious. “I want to make sure you don’t feel…weird about this.” Hand sliding nervously along the edge of his desk, he traces the wood grain before his eyes flick up to meet yours. Truth be told, he’d never do something like this with a student. Never want to make anyone feel pressured. But he never thought he’d feel like this. Giddy and blushy like you’re his first crush.

“Why would I feel weird?” You tilt your head, genuinely curious. You’ve thought about this—about him—far too much for any of it to feel weird.

“I’m just terrified you feel like you need to do something about this.” You’re taken aback, confusion visibly etched across your face. “You know, because I’m your professor or because I’m in the department and I know your plans for a PhD here.” His voice softens, vulnerability creeping in. “I don’t want it to feel like I’m pushing you into anything.”

“I don’t,” you say gently. “It’s not like that.”

He nods, though the tightness in his jaw doesn’t disappear. “Because if you ever even remotely feel like I’m pressuring you, I want you to tell me. Immediately. I mean it.”

“No,” You shake your head, almost too fast. “I mean, it doesn’t feel like that. Not at all. I’ve thought about this…about us, a lot.” Your voice falters for a moment as his eyes widen, softening in a way that makes your stomach flutter. You weren’t expecting him to look at you like that—so open, so relieved.

His fingers twitch as if he’s resisting the urge to reach out to you. “Yeah?”

You nod again, more confidently this time. “But I think we should wait until the semester’s over. Before we…you know…do anything.”

He smiles gently and leans back, visibly more at ease. “I think so too.”

But you didn’t realize how fucking difficult it would be to get through the last six weeks of the semester. Every class you sit there, thighs pressed together thinking about the dirtiest things you want him to do to you. Every office hour you went to, you could practically swim through the thickness of the tension between you two.

It didn’t help how cute he was being. Post-its he’d leave on every exam of yours—You’re gonna do great! You’ve got this. Trust your instincts.—encouragement no other student got. You kept every one of them in your bedside table drawer.

When finals week finally arrives, it wasn’t just about exams; it was about counting the hours until you could finally be with him. Or at least talk to him like he wasn’t your professor. As he handed over your final exam, the familiar green post-it note was stuck to it: Happy Finals Week!

Your internal scream was so loud, you’re worried your classmates heard it. You’d pre-written a post-it to stick to it once you returned the exam. It had your phone number, a smiley face, and the words: Since you’re not my professor anymore.

After a full day of checking your phone every twenty seconds, you started to give up. Was he just playing you? Did someone else see the note? Did he change his mind? But finally, you receive a text.

hi! this is soobin (professor choi lol). i was wondering if you wanted to get dinner or something?

soobin!! omg yes i would love to get dinner with you :) how’s tomorrow?

how about right now? if you want, of course! no pressure we can totally wait until tomorrow it’s up to you

You squealed into your pillow, kicking and giggling like an idiot. Should you be flirty back?

i can be ready in 30 min. 364 oakridge drive. it’s an apartment building- i’ll meet you downstairs.

be there in 45 :)

Like a perfect gentleman, Soobin meets you at the passenger door, swinging it open with a charming smile before gently closing it behind you. The slow walk up to his front door makes your stomach stir. He has to fumble through his keys to unlock it.

Once inside, he slips his shoes off quietly, revealing cozy patterned socks that make you smile. Meticulously, he hangs his jacket on a coat tree and places his keys in a speckled clay catch-all that rests on a table next to a houseplant. As he walks toward the kitchen, he glances over his shoulder, his voice low and inviting. “Do you want a drink or something?” The warmth in his gaze makes your heart skip a beat.

You’re drawn to this softer side of him. In class, his tone is bright and dorky. In his office, it’s casual and laid-back. At dinner, it was sweet and charming. But now? Now it’s sultry, almost sexy. Like he can’t wait to be with you but would never, ever pressure you.

“Hot tea?” You suggest with a steady voice, despite the butterflies in your stomach.

“Sounds good,” he agrees, switching on his tea kettle. In the meantime, you take a look around his much neater than expected apartment.

The mid-century modern furniture is impeccably arranged—a sleek sofa, a low coffee table, and a stylish armchair with an even more stylish decorative pillow. Perfectly nurtured plants thrive around the room, adding a green vibrancy to the minimalist backdrop, breathing life into the space. A gallery wall above his expensive-looking couch features travel photos, beautiful art, and a few subtly science-inspired pieces. In the corner across the couch is a sleek electric fireplace underneath a huge TV.

“Who’s this?” you ask, your heart swelling as a fluffy gray cat glares at you through one half-open eye. Her perfectly groomed fur and regal posture make her look like she owns the place. Just then, Soobin steps into the living room, holding two steaming mugs of tea, filling the air with a warm spice.

“That’s Molly…short for Molecule,” he says. “Don’t worry, she’s sweet.”

Extending your hand toward the cat, he starts to sniff you. “Hi, M—wait,” you pause, looking up at Soobin with a teasing smile. “Molly, short for Molecule?” He nods, his grin widening. “You’re adorable,” you tell him. Has anyone ever blushed quite like he did just now?

He stares down at his feet, clearly caught off guard. “You’re,” he starts. “Well, you’re cute too.” His sincerity makes your smile grow even stronger.

“Can I sit?” you ask, nodding toward the couch.

“Oh,” his smile falters for a moment. “Yes, of course. Make yourself at home.” You plop down on his couch, settling into the surprisingly soft cushions. Molly clearly doesn’t think the couch is big enough for the two of you, so she strides over to probably the nicest cat tree you’ve ever seen.

You sip your hot tea and your body finally relaxes. As you reach to sit it on the coffee table, he politely asks, “I don’t mean to be a square, but can you use a coaster?”

“Of course,” you say, complying with the request. “So, tell me,” you begin, clearing your throat. “How’d I do on my final?” Humming, he stands to rummage through his messenger bag slumped over a dining chair. You gasp, “A ninety-seven?” Thumbing through the pages, you find a single red X on possibly the easiest question you’ve had on an exam since high school: What is the atomic number of oxygen? “Are you kidding me?”

Any attempt to mask your embarrassment is impossible. It only deepens when you look up and catch him already watching you—lips pressed tight, failing miserably to hide a smug, amused smile.

“I, uh…” You scratch the back of your neck. “I got that one wrong on purpose. You know, so as to not raise any suspicion.”

His eyebrows shoot up. “Oh, did you now?” You nod. “That was on the exam just so Toby wouldn’t get a zero.” You nod begrudgingly. “And you put 10! That’s not even close. That’s—”

“Neon,” you grumble. “Yeah I know…” you say, avoiding his eyes as he laughs playfully.

“Neon’s a noble gas and oxygen is a—”

“Reactive nonmetal,” you cut him off. “I know, okay?” You shove his shoulder playfully, but your grin betrays you. “It was a high-pressure environment. Sitting in an exam room with your professor watching you."

"I barely looked up from my laptop,” he reminds you.

"Your presence is distracting enough," you shoot back, eyes sparkling with mischief.

"Ah, so my intellectual aura threw you off?”

“I dunno…is that what you think, professor?” You ask cheekily. “Maybe it was something else.” You’ve tossed the exam onto the coffee table, moving closer.

“Like what?”

“Just…you. You’re distracting.” You smirk, the words slipping out almost involuntarily, like they’ve been waiting on the tip of your tongue.

Intrigued, he tilts his head and asks, “What about me?” There’s something magnetic in the way he looks at you—like he knows the answer but wants to hear you say it, to savor the way it sounds coming from your lips.

You hum, tracing the lines of his body with your eyes, mapping out uncharted territory before exploring it. You don’t want to move too fast, but every fiber of your being screams for more. He’s not lighting a fire inside you—he’s setting the whole forest ablaze. Sure, your imagination has been running rampant since he returned your feelings six weeks ago, but now that you’re here, he scrambles every thought.

“Your eyes…” you say while yours flick over his face, taking in every curve, every freckle, every lash. “They’re so pretty.”

A smile—small but real—tugs at the corners of his lips. The kind that’s private, meant just for you. His eyes darken as he leans in, the space between you shrinking. You glance down, noticing the way his long fingers curl around the mug handle. There’s something almost hesitant in the way he holds it. You take it from him gently, setting it atop a coaster as quietly as you can.

“Your hands…” you whisper, fingers barely brushing his knuckles, tension coiled under his skin. They’re hands that have worked, experimented, written things down—hands you want on you. Guiding one to your thigh, the squeeze he returns sends a shudder through you.

Everything between you is electric. Your breaths come faster now, more desperate. Every inch you move toward him is a test, a slow-motion collapse of restraint.

“Your legs…” A soft breathless chuckle escapes as you glance down. His lips part like he’s about to speak, but you don’t give him the chance. Boldness surges through you like a current and you hike one leg over both of his, straddling him. The shift is seismic. His hands move to your hips, gripping you, afraid to let go. The heat of his touch spreads through you, anchoring you in place, though it feels like everything around you is spinning.

“And your lips…” you murmur, leaning closer, your breath mingling with his. “Oh my god, those fucking lips.” You can’t stop staring at them, just a breath away now, soft and wet. Your pulse races.

You cup his face, lifting his chin until his eyes meet yours again. His pupils are blown wide, the desire in them unmistakable. Your thumb brushes his bottom lip, and the moment stretches, suspended. You lean in just enough to feel his breath on your lips.

“Kiss me,” you whisper.

And he does.

It isn’t tentative—it’s dam-breaking. Like he’s been starving for it, holding back for years. His lips are soft but urgent as his hands tighten around your hips to pull you closer. You taste jasmine tea on his lips, a subtle sweetness mingling with the spice of his cologne—clove, pepper, something dark and addictive.

“Holy shit,” you whisper against his lips. “I can’t believe I had to wait so long to kiss you again.” You kiss him again and he moans sweetly into your mouth. Just as the kiss deepens, he retreats, his breath ragged. “You okay?”

Nervously nodding, he says, “Yeah,” but his eyes flicker away. He tries to kiss you again, but you place your hand on his chest, gently stopping him.

“Wait,” you say, eyes searching his face. “What’s going on? Am I being too—”

“No,” he says, almost a little too urgently. “It’s not that. It’s just…” His hands fall to the couch. Bracing to tell the truth, he squeezes his eyes shut before adding, “I need to tell you something.” You sit back on your heels, still in his lap but giving him room to speak.

“What is it?” You ask softly.

“There’s this thing… I haven’t—uh…” He stumbles over the words, his fingers twitching at his sides.

“Soobin?” you ask, your voice gentle but steady. That’s the first time you’ve called him by his first name. It feels utterly…vulnerable. “Are you a virgin?” The question is delicate. Shutting his eyes again, he takes a deep breath.

“No,” he says. “Well, not exactly.” You narrow your eyes at him. What is that even supposed to mean? “It’s just…it’s been a while. And before then, I hadn’t had a lot of sex. And I haven’t had any…recently.”

“How long?” you encourage, your eyes softening.

“A year.”

You hum softly in acknowledgement, watching his confidence falter. Instead of pulling back, you lean forward, trailing slow, deliberate kisses along his neck. He trembles under your touch, a soft gasp escaping his lips, your hands moving all over his body, claiming him.

“Oh, Professor Choi,” you whisper, your voice dripping with heat and promise. “We’re gonna have so much fun.”

As your breath slows, you sit up and let your hand linger over his chest, feeling his heartbeat under your palm. “Tell me,” you start. “What do you like?”

“Um,” he swallows, trying to force the lump down his throat. He’s so hesitant but he finally says, “Touching.”

“You touching my body or me touching yours?”

He exhales shakily. “The first,” he says, confirming with a squeeze to your hips.

You hum against his ear. What are you gonna do with him? Tease him forever? Let him have his way with you? You ask, “Why don’t you take my shirt off for me?”

Gracing his hands over your arms, he grounds himself again before asking, “You sure?”

“I’m sure.” You nod, guiding his hands to the top button of your blouse, letting him slip it through the buttonhole. One by one, he exposes more of your skin, his heart thumping harder with each passing second. Pushing the silky fabric past your shoulders until your top half is only covered by a bubblegum pink mesh bra, leaving almost nothing to the imagination—except for the red embroidered hearts over your nipples.

After easing the shirt out from your trousers, you reach back to pull at the sleeves, letting the shirt fall to the floor. He slips his finger under one of your bra straps, pulling it to the side, but you stop him. “Wait. It’s your turn.”

Tugging on his tie, you slip it through the collar and unbutton his dress shirt. Seeing his body bare in front of you for the first time, you’re practically drooling. You indulge in running your hands all over his body, lean with subtle muscles, from his chest to the bottom of his abs.

“How come you got to touch me if I didn’t get to touch you?” He asks innocently.

“You’re right,” you chuckle. “I’m sorry.” You smile and sit up to press your palms against his and let your fingers intertwine. Your heart melts and you fear you may throw up. “Did you want to take my bra off first?” He nods. Fumbling fingers reach behind you to snap it off, letting it fall to the couch. As he sees your bare tits, his eyes widen and he lets out the cutest little Oh.

He’s hesitant to do anything. You have to guide his hands to massage your tits—and they’re the perfect size for you.

“You’re so…soft,” he says, looking up at your eyes, like he’s not sure if that was okay to say.

“You like them?” He nods eagerly. Experimentally swiping a thumb across a nipple, it hardens at his touch while you let out a sharp gasp.

“You like that,” he says matter-of-factly. “Can I taste?” Nodding, you lean forward, welcoming his lips. His body finally relaxes as he moans against your skin. Circling the tip of his tongue around your nipple, he’s teasing you. And oh my god do you love it.

One of your hands threads through his hair and you stuff the other down your pants, but he grabs your wrist softly.

“That’s not fair,” he whispers and you concede, keeping your hands to yourself. With one hand, he stuffs your tit back in his mouth while the other plays with your other nipple. His hot, wet mouth on one nipple and his teasing fingers playing with the other sends waves of pleasure through you that may send you over the edge.

If you don’t do something to ease your need, you’re not sure how much longer you’ll be able to take this. You resort to grinding against his hard cock, making his hips buck.

Lifting your legs off his, you swing around to sit next to him, palming his cock over his trousers. Desperately clawing at the waistband, you unbutton and unzip his pants, encouraging him to kick them off. He stands to slip them off and as you reach for the band of his boxers, he stops you.

“Your turn,” he whispers. And you comply. But not without a show. Standing slowly, you push him to the couch and turn your back to him. As you push your pants down, your ass looks delicious in your thong that matches your bra—mesh bubblegum pink with red trim. When you turn back, he’s fisting himself over his underwear.

“Nuh-uh, that’s not fair,” you say. Returning next to him on the couch, you feel him over his boxers and your mouth waters. Goddamn you can’t wait for him to be inside you. “Do you have any lube?” He nods and shortly returns with a barely used tube.

While he stays standing, you sit up on the couch, running your hands across his muscular thighs and perfect pelvis. Looking up at him, his eyes are bright, darting all over your body like he’s afraid to miss something. He fiddles with his waistband, flipping the elastic over softly. A small smile flicks across your lips before you tug his boxers down his legs, leaving trails of kisses along the way.

Encouraging him to sit down, you look down at his cock, long and hard and dripping with precum. Finally, you drag your fingertips up and down his cock before squeezing him. He moans like you’ve never heard a man moan before. Laying your head on his shoulder, you sprinkle kisses all over his skin, finding a spot behind his ear that makes him squirm.

He hisses and—almost involuntarily—wraps one of his hands around yours to use his long fingers to guide your hand up and down. There’s something magical about someone with so little experience telling—no, showing—you what to do with his body. It’s electrifying. He hasn’t been touched in so long that he’s desperate to get off and can’t waste time with words. But no words need to be shared. His movements tell you what speed he likes.

Snaking his other arm around you, he stuffs his fingers in your hair and clenches his fist, subconsciously tugging the strands. His lips are right against your ear, breathing rapidly and heavily and he can hardly take it anymore. You watch his chest rise and fall as he clenches your hair, moaning getting quicker, he squeaks and whines.

Hurriedly pressing his lips to your temple, you can’t take your eyes off his cock as he shoots short spurts of cum all over his stomach. It takes a moment for him to catch his breath before he gives you a sweet smile.

You don’t let up with kisses all over his body. Sprinkling kisses here and there while he cleans himself up with a hand towel he’d brought with him when he got the lube from his bedroom. Once he’s clean, he slouches down the couch.

“Will you sit on my face?” His eyes are ever so sweet and innocent, like he’s finally able to test all his fantasies. “Please…” You hum like you’re only considering it, but we all know you’ll say yes. “Please, mommy?” Everything halts.

“Mommy?”

“F-fuck—” he sits up, ears turning redder than you’ve ever seen them—anyone’s ears for that matter. “I’m sorry, I should’ve asked first—”

“No, no…” you say gently, cupping his jaw to make him look at you. You can’t help yourself—you press your lips to his again and you lose yourself in his intoxicating kiss. But you break it and say, “Keep calling me that.”

“M-mommy?” You hum. Before you give him what he asked for, you shove your tit in front of his lips. He doesn’t need to be told what to do. His plush lips wrap around your hard nipple while he thumbs the other. It feels like fucking heaven.

“That’s my good boy.” He lets out the most pathetic whimper you’ve ever heard in your goddamn life. His eyebrows furrow, looking up at you through his lashes. “Are you my good boy?”

“Yes,” he says, nodding eagerly. “Yes, mommy. Of course.”

“Soobin,” you breathe in disbelief, dropping your head back. “You’re so sexy, I swear to god.”

“Nuh-uh,” he shakes his head. “That’s you.” He smiles. “Will you please sit on my face now?” He slouches down again without waiting for an answer. “Please.” You hike your leg up to rest your foot against the back of the couch, gently hovering over him. But he wraps his hands around your hips to yank you down. As he flicks his tongue over your clit, you might be embarrassed by the volume of your moan, but there’d be no reason to.

“I thought you said you didn’t do this a lot?”

“Well,” he takes a deep breath. “This was always what I was best at.” You chuckle. “Wait, no—” he shakes his head. “I’m good at the other stuff too. I hope.” Returning his tongue to your clit, you gasp and fall forward, bracing yourself against the back of the couch. He seizes the opportunity to get fully entranced in your taste.

There's an impossible contrast—your body melts, muscles soft and pliant as you surrender to the pleasure but, at the same time, goosebumps prickle along your skin, sharp and electric. Warmth and vulnerability layered with a thrill that leaves you shivering, somehow both at ease and on edge.

But then he snakes his hand behind your ass to tease your asshole with his pinky. And it's overwhelming. Your knees are so weak you can hardly hold yourself up. The way his hands feel on your body, touching you in all the right places, flicking his tongue perfectly, moaning so temptingly along with the built up tension—it is so much. So. Fucking. Much.

It builds in your stomach—teetering on the edge and god you only hope he doesn’t stop what he’s doing. But you can’t form words to tell him that. But he knows.

And then it happens.

You feel like you’re floating—or falling may be more accurate—as your orgasm washes over you, thighs quite literally quivering around his face as you come undone on top of him. For him. Unable to hold yourself up any longer, you roll and plop to the couch and he sloppily replaces his tongue with his fingers. You make a mental note to show him exactly where your clit is later. How is it that he found it so easily with his tongue but missed it with his hand? You guess he was right—oral is what he’s best at. Your chest heaves with your deep breaths as you come down from your high, watching him smirk at you.

“Oh my god,” you say breathlessly. There’s a beat of silence. “What the fuck?”

“What?” He chuckles.

“I wasn’t expecting that.”

“I told you I’m good at it.”

“Where’s your bedroom? This couch is too small for what we’re about to do.”

Once he shuts his bedroom door to keep Molly out, he pulls you by your waist to press his bare body to yours and kisses you again so romantically it takes your breath away.

“Wow,” he whispers against your lips. “You’re so beautiful.”

“Oh my god, shut up.” You go straight back in for more kisses. But you break it— “But not literally, though. Please keep saying stuff like that.” You giggle together, slowly falling toward the bed until you’re gently laid on your back and he’s over top of you.

“Can I, like, kiss all over your body?”

“Of course,” you say. “You don’t need to ask.”

And then he does exactly what he wants. Starting at your lips, he moves to the corner of your mouth, trailing behind your ear and down your neck. The way his breath tickles your neck sends shivers down your spine and you need more, more, more.

As you lay there, simply basking in the feeling of him taking his time exploring every inch of you with the softest lips you’ve ever felt, you can’t help but be giddy. He’s tentative in some areas and eager in others. After he kisses the sensitive skin under your breast, he carefully observes your reaction. When he delicately presses his lips to your pelvis, his eyes flutter up to yours nervously.

“Soobin,” you say breathlessly. He hums against your tummy, shaky hands running up your thighs. “I need you please.”

“You need me?” You nod. “Where do you need me, mommy?” You groan, arching your back, not even knowing where to start. You need him everywhere.

“Inside me,” you say. “Please, I’ve been thinking about it for so long.”

“Have you?” He asks innocently, using his fingers to play with the folds of your pussy so casually, like he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it. “I should be the impatient one.” But you know why he’s taking it so slow. He’s nervous as hell right now.

Aligning his cock with your entrance, he slowly pushes himself inside you. And it's utterly exhilarating. For both of you. He falls forward, framing your face with his forearms, digging his nose into your neck.

“Fuck…” He whispers shakily. Your nails drag down his back at his inexperienced hip rolls. “Oh my god, what are you doing to me?” Despite his inevitable desperation, his thrusts are controlled. He’s trying his very best at least. But his cock is so fucking perfect, you figure he’d make you feel good no matter what he does. Although, a little part of you thinks about how good he’ll be at fucking you in a few months after a little practice. Or lots of practice.

He whispers swears, your name, and mommy…over and over again. Then he sits up, looking down at your body. Awkwardly fumbling as if he wants to say something, his mouth isn’t cooperating with his brain. He slowly comes to a stop, sliding out of you and barely touches your calf.

“Can you, uh…would you mind, um—”

"Do you wish to see me on my knees? Is that it, darling?"

“Yes, mommy…please, I’ve never—”

“You’ve never had someone on their knees for you?” You ask and he silently shakes his head. “You’ve been such a good boy for me. Of course I’ll get on my knees for you.” You oblige to his request, turning yourself around and arching your back to give him a perfect view of your ass. He groans at the simple sight of your body. He swipes his hands over the swell of your ass, squeezing here and there.

He clears his throat and asks, “What do I do?”

“Oh,” you chuckle lightly. “Just get on your knees and guide yourself in. Make sure it’s the right hole,” you say light-heartedly, trying to ease the tension a bit.

But when he’s finally inside you again, it’s heaven. And he indulges in himself a bit—thrusting faster, harder, making your ass jiggle. The lewd sounds of his cock in your wetness and his hips smacking your skin makes it all the more erotic. But it doesn’t take long before—

“I like it better the other way, I think,” he says matter-of-factly. “Is that okay?”

“Of course that’s okay, babe,” you say, flipping back over and spreading your legs. And he slides right back inside you, letting his head fall back. But your tits bouncing are simply too tempting not to look at. They’re why he prefers it this way, so why not look at them as much as he can? He retreats a bit, opening his mouth like he wants to ask you something but he’s too shy.

“What is it, baby?”

“I was just wondering if you…if you could—would you want to be on top?” His tone is genuinely sweet. “Like what position do you like?”

“Missionary’s my favorite too,” you say. “But I would, hm, I would really like to be on top for a bit.” Switching quickly, you align yourself over his cock and sink down on him so, so, so slowly, letting out a big sigh of relief. “Oh my god, Soobin. Are you fucking kidding me?” You don’t think you’ve ever felt so full before. The feeling stretches all the way to your toes. “I need to hump you like crazy for a bit,” you say with a chuckle. He nods like that’s perfectly fine with me, mommy.

And you do exactly that—bounce on his cock as fast as your body lets you, relieving that built-up tension. Over the last few months, you wanted to jump his bones every time you were in the same room and that feeling never let up, like there was a tension thermometer in your body that was constantly stuck at boiling.

But perhaps it was a bit more painful for him because an occasional rut up into you isn’t enough anymore. He holds your hips to keep you in place, fucking up into you as fast as he can. Head dropping back, he groans, your name leaving his lips.

“Mommy?” His eyebrows furrow, looking utterly pathetic. “Let’s switch back. Please.” Hiking your leg over his hips, you land roughly on your back. Gently grabbing your hands, he pins them above your head, aligns his cock at your entrance, and slides inside you, rolling his hips so deliciously. As he kisses you, he swallows your moans. Trailing down your neck, he whispers, “Please tell me I’m making you feel good, Mommy.”

Your eyes roll back in pleasure and you say, “Fuck, you’re making me feel so good.”

Slowing his thrusts, he asks, “What else would you like me to do?” Smiling up at him, you rub his thighs. Waiting for an answer, he covers your collarbone in kisses, making his way back to your ear. After nibbling gently on your earlobe, he whispers, “Tell me how to make you feel even better.” Oof. Shivers.

“Rub my clit,” you say. He sits up, fumbling with his fingers. “Use your thumb,” you giggle. “Wait.” Reaching for his hand, you let spit pool in your mouth before wrapping your lips around his thumb. Sucking on it, he looks at you like he can’t believe what he’s seeing. Then he follows your instructions, rubbing your clit with his thumb while he fucks you, listening intently to every instruction, every a little to the lefts, up a little bit mores, and he never gets impatient.

Your back arches impossibly high and you say, “I’m close, babe. Don’t stop.” You rub your own nipple, but he moves your hand out of the way, wetting his thumb with his own spit before circling it for you.

Everything has been building to this moment. Staring at him in every lecture, longing for his touch. That kiss in his office was just the start of your addiction. Attending his office hours didn’t help, but you couldn’t stay away. You needed to be closer to him. To feel heat radiating off his body. To smell his spicy cologne. To watch his fingers wrap around his pen and wish they were wrapped around something else.

All of it was for this moment right here. Cumming around his cock for the first time. You can’t wait any longer. There’s a white hot burning in your belly that’s getting more furious by the second. His name leaves your mouth in a yelp before fireworks explode inside you.

Your legs shake around his waist as he fucks you through it, not changing a single thing. Overwhelmed with pleasure, you grab his wrist to stop him from rubbing your nipple to make sure it’s the most perfect orgasm you’ve ever had—not too much and not too little.

And it’s neither. Instead, it’s perfection. You knew it would be. It seems to last forever but somehow not long enough. As soon as you finish, you miss it.

Catching your breath, your vision clears up as you look up at him with a smile. He shyly asks, “How was that?”

You take a deep breath and say, “Oh my god, that was so good.” Rubbing soothing strokes up and down your thighs, you can tell he’s getting impatient. But still—he’d never pressure you in a million years.

Bending to kiss your neck again, he whispers, “Can I cum inside you?” You nod frantically.

“Please.”

“I have condoms if you want.” You think about it for a second. Really. You would love nothing more than to feel him fill you up. But it’s risky. “Mommy…” His hips slowly start moving again, encouraging a decision from you. “What are you thinking?”

“Cum inside me, please. Wanna feel all of you,” you say, rubbing his back. He smiles, pressing his lips to yours in a passionate kiss that sends your head reeling. He sits up and squeezes your thighs over and over, adoring the way your body feels in his hands. Soft and squishy and intoxicating. Licking your own thumb, you pinch and rub one of his nipples, making his mouth drop open. He didn’t even think of having his own nipples played with.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck—” he gasps. You praise him, Cum inside me, baby. You’ve been such a good boy for me. I want you to feel so good for me, okay? And he’s rutting his hips into you roughly, using your body for his own pleasure. You simply can’t get enough. You want him inside you forever and ever. “You’re…” he trails off. “You’re gonna make me cum, Mommy.”

“Go ahead. Cum for me.” Like it’s a command, his hips stutter and his cum fills you up, warm and sweet and heavenly. Swears and other inaudible words you hope are compliments spill out of his mouth. Falling forward, he digs his face into your neck once more, twitching until he comes to a stop, taking deep breaths.

You expect a warm smile to echo his warm cum filling you up but he stays put. In fact, he doesn’t move or say anything for quite some time. So much time passes that his cock has slipped out of you on its own, his cum leaking down the swell of your ass.

You finally break the silence, “Are you okay?” He nods awkwardly. “Look at me.” He shakes his head. “What’s wrong?” He still won’t budge. “Soobin, what’s going on?”

“I’m embarrassed,” he whines.

“Huh? About what?”

“Calling you mommy,” he finally sits up. “I was just caught up in the moment—I’m sorry—I shouldn’t have—”

“Honey,” you giggle, sitting up with him. “I told you I liked it.”

“You weren’t just saying that?”

“I don’t think I would’ve came that hard if I didn’t like it.”

His eyes brighten before adding, “I guess so.” It genuinely was one of the strongest orgasms you’ve ever had. Surely, he has to know that, right? But wait—

“Was it good for you?”

“Oh my god,” he’s finally relaxed a little, peppering your face with kisses. “That was the best orgasm I’ve ever had, I swear.” He stands, walking into his en-suite to get you a towel, damp with warm water. “So…” he starts awkwardly. “Should we, like, report this to the dean?”

“Is that your way of asking me to be exclusive?” He blushes as you brush some of his hair behind his ear. “Because my answer is absolutely.” You press your lips together. “Although, can we hold off for a while? Just until next semester starts?”

“Be in our own little world for a bit?” He smiles, wrapping his arms around your waist. “You’re taking a break until next semester, right? Are you working right now?”

“No,” you shake your head. “I got a bunch of scholarships to pay for school,” you say proudly.

“Why am I not surprised?”

“Because I’m the smartest person you know,” you say cheekily.

“No lectures until next semester, so I’m pretty much free.” He smiles, clearly wanting to say something more, but bites his tongue. “Can I ask you something?” You nod. “This may be moving way too fast, but do you maybe wanna spend the holidays here? With me?”

The next few weeks are a whirlwind. Both of you admit it’s too fast. But neither of you care. The fireplace roars as you decorate his Christmas tree together, wrapped presents, baked cookies, everything you could think of that ooey-gooey couples do.

And of course, nightly sex is a bonus. You simply can’t get enough of each other. And you just about lose it when you walk into the kitchen on Christmas morning. He’s standing at the counter wearing a Santa hat, flannel pajama pants, and a black tank top making your favorite tea.

“Ah, there she is! Good morning,” he says with a smile. You take a plate full of chocolate chip waffles from him. But not before he kisses you. Cupping your cheek, he pulls you into perhaps the sweetest kiss you’ve ever had. You can feel his smile on your lips.

And everything feels absolutely perfect. You think you may be dreaming, but he feels so very real at this moment. And his voice is clear as day, “Merry Christmas.”

#hp's writing 🪲#soobin smut #soobin hard thoughts #soobin hard hours #txt smut #txt hard hours #txt hard thoughts #choi soobin #chubby reader #soobin x reader #soobin ff #soobin fic #soobin fanfic #soobin x chubby reader #kpop ff #kpop fanfic #kpop fic #kpop smut

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amorest-viesse · 7 months ago

Text

[A Touch of Magic for the Model] - Chloe SSR Card Story Translation

Ft. Faust and Akira

For Future Reference - Chapter 1

[Dressing Room]

Akira: (It was a tough journey to get here, but I’m glad everything turned out fine for Chloe in the end…)

As I made my way to the dressing room, I reflected on our experience with “The Amoire’s Diadem,” the premier fashion contest in the West. It was the stage all designers strived for...

Faust & Chloe: …

Faust and Chloe were already inside when I got there, sitting in front of a mountain of papers with worried looks on their faces.

Akira: Faust, Chloe, is something the matter?

Chloe: Master Sage! Apparently winning first prize comes with a ton of paperwork to complete.

Chloe: We’ve got a whole pile to knock out.

Much like the fashion competition itself, the documents Chloe showed me were decorated with stylish patterns and accents.

Faust: From what I can tell, these papers address things like legal rights and storage instructions for your design.

Akira: Winners still have it rough after the competition huh…

Chloe: Right? But we’re at the final stretch, so we gotta pull through!

Chloe grabbed a document from off the pile.

Chloe: (W- What does any of this mean? There’s so many complicated terms that I can’t make heads or tails of it…!)

Akira: …Are you alright, Chloe…?

Chloe: T- Totally! Umm, I think this one is saying my outfit is gonna be displayed at some grand hall in the West!

Chloe: If that’s fine with me then I just need to sign here…

Faust: …Hold on a second. There’s some more information here.

Faust: The exhibition will only be open from evening hours until morning in accordance with the theme of the competition… Will this cause any issues?

Chloe: Wow, I can’t believe I almost missed that! Since the text was in cursive along the border, I totally thought it was part of the design!

Akira: It really does blend right into its surroundings… Good catch, Faust.

Faust: It's nothing special. I have to deal with this regularly in the East, so I’m used to it.

Faust: …Would you like some help with the rest of those papers?

Chloe: Huh?

Faust: Judging by your reaction, I assume you’re new to this.

Faust: While it’s good to want to tackle things on your own, it doesn’t hurt to ask for some help either.

Chloe: Faust… Thanks so much for the offer.

Chloe: If you’re willing to help out then… Could I ask you to teach me how to do paperwork too?

Akira: What do you mean?

Chloe: It won’t do me any good in the long run if Faust just does the work for me.

Chloe: I want to learn how to do it myself in case I ever win another competition like this again in the future…

Chloe: Ahaha, I’ve only won this one though, so I’ll stop here before I jinx myself…

Chloe: Anyways, I’m sorry for the hassle! If you don’t want to do it, you definitely don’t have to!

Faust: …It’s not a problem whatsoever.

Faust: If that’s what you want, then I’ll teach you what I know.

For Future Reference - Chapter 2

Faust: First off, I’ll explain how to break down and read a document.

Chloe & Akira: We’re all ears, Master Faust!

Faust: …It’s funny hearing that from the two of you.

As Faust was lecturing, Chloe took down notes with rapt attention. Beside him, I listened in for any useful information.

Faust: …And those should be the basics. Next we’ll try applying them for real.

Faust: The easiest way to learn is by practicing over and over again while familiarizing yourself with the formula. If there’s anything you’re unsure about, please ask.

Chloe: Understood! Now where should I start…

Chloe: “From the Armoire to You: A Ray of Light For the Residents of Fashion Nation Consent Form”?

Akira & Faust: (That’s one heck of a title…)

Chloe: First off, I need to replace difficult words with simpler phrases…

Despite the unfamiliar terminology and Western flair of the documents, Chloe continued to write away.

Sitting beside him, Faust would check over Chloe’s work and give advice while I sorted the papers as they were completed.

Chloe: Sign my name here and… Done! Could you hand me the next one, Master Sage?

Akira: Of course! And with this one, we’re halfway done.

Chloe: Already!? I’m taking so long to read these that I was sure we had more to go.

Akira: Aw, don’t say that! You’re getting faster and faster with every document. It’s genuinely impressive.

Chloe: …Now that you mention it, I’m recognizing more of those stock phrases, so it’s getting easier to read things.

Chloe: This must be what Faust meant by “formula” earlier.

Faust: That’s exactly it.

Faust: However, don’t rush things either. You’ve overlooked a few things here... and here, so take your time and be careful.

Chloe: Really!? I totally wasn’t paying attention there… Thanks for catching that!

Akira: It’s natural for your mind to wander once you’ve been doing the same task long enough.

Akira: At times like these, it’s good to get a little change of pace. For example, you could raise your arms and stretch as high as you can.

Chloe: Ahaha, I do that while working on an outfit too! Taking a break can do wonders.

Chloe & Akira: Stre—tch!

Faust: …The two of you remind me of cats.

And so, we made our way through the pile.

Akira: The next one is the final document!

Faust: This one ought to wrap things up nicely.

Akira: What does it say?

Faust: It concerns the first place prize money. Messing up here could mean not getting paid.

Faust: There are several things to fill out, and it’s the most complex form yet. However, if you apply everything I taught you today, I’m sure you’ll do just fine.

Chloe: Wow, this one’s a wringer…

Chloe: Still, I can’t let everyone’s efforts go to waste! I’ll make sure to get that prize money!

Filled with more motivation than ever, Chloe began to read through the final document with a determined look on his face.

For Future Reference - Chapter 3

As Faust watched over him from behind, Chloe scanned through the document with his class notes in hand.

Chloe: Umm, first, I need to read over the whole thing and make sure I have everything I need to fill it out.

Akira: Is there anything?

Chloe: Um, let me see… Ah! Yes!

Casting his spell, Chloe conjured his sketchbook and flipped to a page filled with neat, round handwriting.

Akira: What’s this?

Chloe: A record of how much I spent to make the outfit.

Chloe: Thankfully, Heath said he’d write that down for me.

Akira: Oh! Nice going, Heath!

Chloe: Next… I need to check if there are any terms or conditions that would disadvantage me.

Akira: Make sure to look for any hidden ones like on that first document.

Chloe: Absolutely… Hmm… This looks fine… This too…

Chloe: Alright! Everything looks good to me!

As Chloe went along, he carefully filled in all the required information. Finally, all that was left to do was sign.

Chloe: We finished!!

Chloe: Wait no, I can’t forget! We gotta check one last time for any errors or oversights!

As Chloe looked over the paperwork, I made my way to him and Faust.

Chloe: Master Faust! Please check over it one more time too!

Faust: Good work, Chloe. I’ll take it from here.

Faust: …

Chloe & Akira: …

Chloe: Ohh, I can’t look! What if I did something wrong…

Akira: …I’m sure it’ll be fine Chloe. You got this.

Chloe: Master Sage…

Akira: After seeing how hard you’ve been working today, there’s no way you could fail now…

Chloe: …Ehehe, thank you. Hearing that makes me feel more confident too.

Faust: …Chloe.

Chloe: Y- yes sir!

Handing back the paperwork, Faust looked up at Chloe and smiled.

Faust: Everything looks perfect. Well done.

Chloe: R- Really!?

Akira: Congratulations, Chloe!

Chloe: Thank goodness… I really appreciate both of you for helping me out today!

Chloe: Thank you for taking a break with me Master Sage, and thank you Faust for teaching me how to navigate all this paperwork…

Chloe: Because of you guys, I had a lot of fun learning something new!

Faust: I’m glad it worked out in the end.

Faust: I’m sure you’ll do great the next time you win a competition.

Chloe: …! Thank you!

Chloe: Alright! I’ll make sure to work even harder from now on to make sure I don’t let these skills go to waste!

Looking at Chloe’s bright smile, I could only imagine where he would go from here.

The thought of it filled me with excitement as he took yet another step towards the future.

Start Where You Can - Card Episode

Akira: You did a great job with all that paperwork, Chloe.

Chloe: Thank you! It was super overwhelming at first since I’d never done anything like it before, but I’m glad everything turned out fine in the end.

Chloe: Eastern Country paperwork must be a completely different beast to tackle though. Have you ever dealt with it?

Akira: I received some from Sir Cock Robin before. They were completely crammed with print from top to bottom.

Chloe: Right!? I was helping Faust carry some Eastern paperwork earlier too, and he showed me a couple pages…

Chloe: Every single one I flipped to looked exactly like that. It was insane.

Akira: If anyone could handle that, it’d be Faust.

Chloe: Right, right? If it were me, I’d probably be knocked out before I knew it!

Akira: Ahaha… It was the same back home.

Akira: Whenever I read something I didn’t understand, I’d just end up spacing out.

Chloe: I totally get that. That’s why I think people who can do that kind of work are incredible.

Chloe: Since Faust took the time to teach me, I’ll definitely do my best to get there… Although, maybe I’ll start with Western style paperwork first!

Home Screen Voice Line

“There are times when Heath comes off as cool and capable, and other times when he’s more reserved, like a cute, younger brother. Either way, isn’t he just the best? Even though Heath tends to hold back, he can be quick to make decisions and show how he really feels when it comes down to it. Wait, is this what you call ‘gap moe’?”

#mhyktl #mahoyaku #mhyk #chloe collins #mahoutsukai no yakusoku #faust lavinia

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redfoxwritesstuff · 10 months ago

Text

Pairing: Eventually Alastor x OFC, later- light Alastor x ofc x Lucifer Rated: E for eventual smut Content warnings: It's Hazbin Hotel- this feels redundant. Sex, eventual smut, referenced implied suicide to be discussed in more detail later, drugs, drinking, poor coping, toxic behavior, controlling behavior, cannibalism, idk, it's fucking Hazbin Hotel, if it's worth a content warning it's probably going to come up at some point? Religious trauma. reader has a name/is a oc.

AN: Why not post another chapter? Idk how long this will end up being, depends on how long the new fandom crack lasts and if anyone wants it.

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 4

~~~~~<3

Amber tried to relax as Alastor walked her along the chaos filled streets. Being in the city was hard with Angel but at least she felt safe, to an extent. Sure, angel wasn’t particularly powerful but he knew the city and knew how to handle himself. He’d gotten through decades just fine.

Alastor was a powerful Overlord, she had gathered that much though she wasn’t totally sure what exactly that meant. With him at her side, she knew she didn’t really have need to fear most anyone on the city streets. That didn’t change the fact that she was terrified of the man himself. Danger and safety both were complicated things.

“Stop trembling, my dear.” Alastor broke the tense silence. “I’m here to help you~”

“Why?”

“Because I’m bored!” He laughed, “What better way to fill the dreadful time than to raise up the stray little dog our dear Charlie brought into something respectable. Maybe she’ll even be able to stand on her own feet!”

“Why?” Again she asked, not knowing what else to say.

“Ha! I know you’re rather young but I do believe you’re a bit too old for toddler questions. Now! Back straight, shoulders back. Hold yourself like a lady.” Alastor tapped her shoulders and back with the microphone atop his cane, held in the hand tucked behind his back.

“Good girl!” She flushed at the praise and annoyance at being talked down to equally. “And just like that you don’t look so much like a kicked dog. Head up, chin level with the ground. Do they not teach women how to carry themselves anymore? What a shame, what a shame. Long strides now.”

“We’re not really drilled on posture, no. Too busy learning useful skills.”

“And where are those ‘useful skills’ getting you now?” Alastor countered. “And what had they gotten you before you came crawling to my humble hotel.”

Amber stuttered out, trying to think of a single good answer to give him and failing. She hadn’t been able to keep herself safe with reading or writing in her afterlife. Hell, those things had hardly managed to keep her safe in her first life.

“Don’t change a thing.” Alastor directed as she settled into the posture he wanted, allowing silence to fall while she waited for direction.

Her hips rocked more with each step, trying to keep pace with him as he guided her down the sidewalk. It took work to keep her shoulders back and spine straight, more than she expected. It worked muscles she rarely paid much attention to. She focused on her breathing as they passed storefronts, finding a rhythm she could almost comfortably settle into at his side.

“And how does that make you feel?” Alastor leaned into her as he spoke, encroaching on what little personal space she had with her hand tucked into his arm, “Confident? Prideful? Arrogant?”

“A little?” She hated that he was right, even a tiny bit. She also hated how bitter the idea of those feelings tasted in her mouth. A woman shouldn’t be confident. She shouldn’t be prideful. To be arrogant was wrong. But did any of that matter, really? Was she not in Hell?

“In Hell, physical power goes a long way,” Alastor began his lecture, “Perceived power goes near as far. By luck alone, you stumbled into the acquaintanceship of powerful people. That and the ability to bluff will protect you from many. Using that pretty little head on your shoulders will protect you from many of those who may still try you.”

Amber tried to absorb the advice Alastor had given her. He wasn’t the first person she would expect to give her life coaching in Hell but she was far from in a position to shun it.

Something had to change though, Angel was right- she couldn’t just hide in the hotel forever.

He opened the door to a shop for her and ushered her inside with a hand at the small of her back. It was a simple tailor’s shop, with shelves full of bolts of fabric and figures displaying sample patterns. The sheep demon working behind the counter looked absolutely terrified to see the Overlord, a feeling Amber could relate to instantly. Alastor paid the reaction no mind at all however.

“My little lamb, how are you today?” The sheep meeped out an answer and gathered a stack of shirts, mostly red but some back and all near identical from what Amber could see.

“Your order, Mr. Alastor, Sir. If you’d like to inspect it before I wrap it?”

“Very good,” Alastor gave the stack a fleeting glance as he pulled Amber up to the counter. “I have another task for you of rather urgent need, I do hope you can accommodate it?”

The sheep meeped again, clearly too terrified to turn the powerful man down. Amber wanted to offer some sort of assistance to the sheep woman, some way to get the attention she was so uncomfortable with off of her but there wasn’t much that could be done.

“You see, this lovely little fox isn’t well dressed and she needs to be.”

“What would you like?” The woman came around the counter, eager to put her attention on Amber. It gave the small sheep a reason to focus her attention anywhere other than Alastor without appearing rude.

“Something dignified and elegant.” Alastor answered before Amber could open her mouth. “A few items, skirts and dresses.”

“Colors?” The woman asked.

“Make her match.” Alastor decided with a flick of his wrist as the woman finished taking measurements. She was quick and efficient while Alastor laid out what specifics he wanted. “Have it done by end of tomorrow. Thank you~”

“That’s so fast!” Amber couldn’t help chastising as Alastor led her out of the store while she tried to turn and face the woman quickly going behind the counter. She wasn’t sure what she wanted to tell the little sheep but somehow, she wanted to reduce the pressure.

“And so the fox does have a voice?” Alastor laughed, unphased by her protests. “I pay a premium to be a priority, I expect to recieve the services I pay for, simple as that. Now, let’s do something about shoes for those feet. What you’re wearing is simply dreadful.”

~~~~~<3

Amber had no idea what to make of the day. A imp man thing, black as night and tinted with green walked behind them carrying her bags, not that there were a great many of them. The lines and eyes of the imp were lime green.

A flash of her life top side reminded her that evil was always lime green. That was just in Disney movies however. This was real life. Well, real after life. Fuck this was weird. Who would have thought Hell would be so normal and yet so weird.

“Thank you,” Amber struggled to find her voice. She didn’t know what to make of Alastor. The man still scared her but he hadn’t been anything other than joyfully creepy.

“It is nothing my dear. It wouldn’t do to let the spider dress you alone. He’d have you looking a unsavory lady of the night. That would surely give our fine establishment a poor reputation.” Rude. Not totally wrong but still, rude.

“Can’t have that.” Amber braved saying.

While Angel hadn’t pushed her to buy anything she said no to, he did push her comfort level. It didn’t take much to do that however, her life up top had been full of below the knee skirts, high necklines and long sleeves.

With the simple blouses, modest skirts and slacks that Alastor was having tailored for her, she was being afforded the ability to tone down what had already been acquired. Hopefully she could find a middle ground that allowed her to live her afterlife a little more free and still not feel so exposed.

“Indeed, we cannot.” Alastor hummed a bouncy tune as he walked them down the sidewalk, his steps light.

They walked in near silence otherwise, just the clicking of their heels against the concrete and the melody from Alastor. As they went though, Amber received a sharp correction each time her spine slouched or her shoulders moved forward. The cane floated behind her, smacking whatever part of her fell out of his desired alignment was quickly becoming her number one enamy in Hell.

“That’s starting to hurt.” Amber grumbled as the hotel drew closer.

“Oh? Don’t want to be corrected, do not do anything needing correction. I can’t have a limp flower on my arm.”

~~~~~<3

“Welcome back!” Charlie was eager to see them enter, nearly exploding as soon as the door opened.

Amber ducked away from Alastor as he held the door open for her. It felt ridiculous honestly, to scurry away from him after having spent hours with him but she couldn’t help it. Her back ached from maintaining the posture he demanded and she wasn’t sure what she wanted more- to be free from that damn cane that kept whacking her or free from the imposing presence of Alastor himself.

“Oh good, Creepyface didn’t eat you.” Angel joked, or at least she had hope that it was a joke, as she put more and more distance between the towering man in red and herself. It felt like she could finally breathe.

“Tomorrow you’ll accompany me to collect your items.” Alastor announced, rather than asked.

“Oh, okay.” Amber said dumbly, wanting to say anything else.

“Seriously, I’m glad he didn’t eat you.” Angel said, passing Amber a drink as she reached the bar.

“Was that a real concern?” She asked softly, clinging to the safety of what felt like her first friend in hell.

“I don’t know, probably!” Angel said, looking to the bartender for confirmation. “It’s not crazy, right Husk?”

“Not out of the question.” He grumbled, giving Angel a new glass to replace the one he had given her.

“So, what did he want with you anyway?” Angel leaned, to the side and crossed his long legs while he gave her his full attention.

“I don’t know?” Amber grimaced at the taste of the strong drink in the glass Angel had given her as it burned it’s way down her throat. “He was worried about what clothes we got, that they would give the hotel a bad reputation.”

“Figures, stuck up prude.” Angel grumbled, downing his drink only to get a quick refill. “Probably can’t get laid and doesn’t want to be reminded. If he just asked me nicely-”

“I will close this goddamn bar down.” Husk warned though Amber wasn’t sure the hotel bar ever closed.

“I am sure he doesn’t need help with that,” Amber tried to defend.

Alastor was a handsome man in his own demonic way and power radiated off him. Sure, he was smile was sickeningly yellow and he was terrifying but since the dawn of time, woman have been falling at the feet of terrifying men. Panties dropped for powerful men all the time, looks be damned.

“He’s not unattractive and is a gentleman,” She added.

“Ha!” Angel snorted into his drink. “But that smile! I bet woman dry up as soon as he turns that creepy look on them.”

“That’s so rude.” Amber hushed him, trying not to laugh at the way Angel waved his arms, ever so animated.

“I guess there’s a kink for everything,” Angel sighed. “Would you fuck him?”

“Oh, I- I don’t, I mean- I, I don’t know him, not really. And he wouldn’t, I mean-”

“I’m fuckin with ya, Foxy. Calm down!” Angel laughed, downing his drink. “I don’t think he fucks anyway, even if you were interested. I’ve tried!”

“I am going to bed.” Amber decided, knowing it was the only way she was going to escape this situation. There wasn’t any way in the goddamn world she wanted to have this conversation.

Alastor creeped her the fuck out. The idea of Alastor fucking creeped her the fuck out. The idea of fucking Alastor should creep her the fuck out. It would any sane person and the fact that it didn’t totally was not something she was going to dwell on.

Not after spending what felt like hours being smacked by his cane. Her fucking back was probably going to be bruised. That’s what she needed to be focused on. That and figuring out how to exist in a way that kept Alastor’s attention off of ‘correcting’ her.

What she needed to dwell on was the fact that she was weak, powerless, weaponless and stuck in hell with nothing but a hotel to protect her. Sure, she’d come a hell of a long way, she had a bed to sleep in and now clothes to wear but all it would take was them deciding she wasn’t worthy or something and she was back to hiding in alleyways and trying to not draw attention.

“Amber?” It was Charlie’s voice that stopped her in the hall, turning to face the tall princess. The air around Charlie was different. The sunshine and rainbows had been replaced by a soft assurance. She was in Princess mode. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Amber was caught off guard, far more used to seeing her in her over eager high energy mode the princess existed in most of the time. “Is that surprising?”

“No! No, I just-” Charlie struggled to put her words together. “Alastor’s just, he can be a lot sometimes.”

Amber laughed, she couldn’t say why. Maybe her sanity was fracturing. Maybe Hell was getting to her. Maybe she finally felt safe. Maybe it was the whacks to the back of her head when her eyes would fall to the ground as they walked.

“I had better times before,” She settled on saying. “But it wasn’t the worst time I’ve had. I- He’s really intimidating.”

“Be careful with him, okay? Don’t make any deals with him.”

“He’s dangerous.” Amber stated rather than asked.

“Very.” Charlie confirmed before adding, “He wouldn’t hurt a guest though!” as if that wasn’t in direct contradiction to her direction to be careful. “I’ll let you get some rest.”

“Charlie?” Amber called as the other woman made it a few feet down the hall. When Charlie looked back to Amber, she said “Thank you, for giving me a place to stay.”

~~~~~<3

The morning brought a fresh redemption activity. Amber was certain they wouldn’t work, hell surely wasn’t something you escaped from but who was she to argue. She was a guest, living rent free in exchange for whatever straightening up she could come up with to do and an honest attempt at participation.

Opening the door to head down, she walked right into the massive pink frame of Angel.

“Sorry Foxy.” He caught her with his lower arms, keeping her from falling. “I found the buttons and thread. Figured we’d fix your clothes up.” In his upper hands he held a pair of scissors and a small sewing kit, safely above her head. It had to be nice to have four hands, once one got over the weirdness of it.

Nodding, Amber let him in for what ended up being the most awkward experience in her afterlife. He had her lift her shirt so he could see her ass clearly and establish where and how exactly her tail extended from her body.

He was so tall and lanky that he could sit on the floor and comfortably grab at her clothes, moving her how he wanted without having to slouch down. Amber couldn’t even begin to imagine what the world looked like from his stature. How was it everyone around her was so fucking tall, with few exceptions and she only gained a few inches in her afterlife?

He cut down the back seam of her leggings until her tail rested naturally, though the rest of her was far from comfortable with the pink face focusing so intently on her ass. Sure, he looked at, touched and fucked asses all night, every night for his employment. For him, it was probably as normal as looking at someone’s hand or arm.

For Amber though, she didn’t have nearly as much experience having her ass examined. Especially knowingly. She had been sheltered, having only been with one man and if others looked at her ass to appreciate it, it was a moral failing on her part.

“Cute panties, oh wait- you’re not wearing any!” Angel laughed as he moved the fabric around.

“Shut up.” She hated that her voice was more of an embarrassed whine than forceful. It would have just been another layer of fabric that was bunched awkwardly under her tail. It was just another moral failing.

“You’re so goddamn pure.” Angel laughed. “Why the hell are you here?”

“Guess I wasn’t pure enough.” Amber shrugged, not knowing if she wanted to say why or if he really wanted to know.

It wasn’t something she really heard a lot of people saying. Perhaps most people had many reasons they were in hell and couldn’t identify the one thing that tipped the balance of their soul. Maybe she was wrong and it wouldn’t have mattered if she hadn’t done that thing and just being in the wrong faith was enough.

Did it fucking matter?

“How’s that feel?” Angel asked instead of teasing her anymore while he examined her tail. His finger traced down her spine from her lower back down to where the vertebrae shifted, shooting out and continuing into the tail instead of terminating into the sacrum.

“Better.” She had to admit all the awkward attention on her ass was worth it.

“Good. Don’t move or I might sew your ass cheeks together.” Angel said though Amber knew the general set up of her body made that unlikely. “Or I would if you had much of an ass back here.”

He first set a stitch at the seam, preventing any further unraveling of her pants. After that, he put a button on the waistband and created a hole for it. It wasn’t his neatest work he’d ever done but it would hold.

“We could stick a bow on it next time- that’d be kind of hot.” Angel laughed as Amber squeaked at the indecent idea. “Make your little ass a present.”

“Shut up,” Amber whined as Angel laughed. This was what it felt like to have a friend. It was foreign, something she hadn’t realized that she missed from life. “You’re an ass.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Angel swatted her ass before acting like the strike hurt his hand. “Settle down and let me button you up.”

“Thank you.” Amber wiggled her tail as Angel buttoned the back of her pants, enjoying the feeling of having it freely move while trying to ignore Angel.

“It’s not perfect but it’ll hold. I’ll do the rest later if ya want.”

“I can do them I think, if I use this as a guide. Thank you though.”

~~~~~<3

Charlie had exercises lined up. It didn’t feel like it had much of a point but who was Amber to challenge the process. The ever so kind princess was wholly invested in her plan to redeem sinners even if the group she had to work with was mostly hotel staff.

“So, I thought- maybe we can learn about each other’s lives from up top!” Charlie seemed very proud of herself for the idea as everyone in the room shifted uncomfortably. “Who wants to go first?”

Crickets. Amber felt bad for the silence that stretched on. No one seemed eager to talk about their living lives. She certainly didn’t want to.

“Okay, I’ll go first!” Charlie decided. Amber could feel her ears twitching doubtfully atop her head. “I have never actually been up top! I was born and raised here.”

It shocked Amber that the princess had always been in hell. The woman was more sunshine and rainbows than most people she had known in her life. If anyone deserved a life, it was her.

“You next!” Charlie pointed at her girlfriend who looked extremely uncomfortable.

“I had a lot of sisters.” Vaggie threw out as Charlie squealed in joy before all attention was directed to Angel.

He was just as uncomfortable as Vaggie appeared. “I came from a large Italian American family.” He took the path Vaggie had chosen as well, going with a generic family answer. Not participating but still participating just enough to skate by.

Husk had a likewise vague answer. All anyone was learning about their hotel housemates was that they had come from families which was a given. They had to be born and raised at some point. Even Nifty’s answer had been family based- Though Amber couldn’t imagine it, she had been alive at one point too and had no siblings.

Soon enough, all eyes were on her. It felt like the shadows themselves had eyes that were trained on her. Never in her life had Amber wanted less attention on her. It was suffocating.

“I had a daughter.” She finally said, looking into Charlie’s eyes and deciding to give her a bone, just a little bit more of herself than the others have given. “She was beautiful and caring and kind and sweet. The light of my life.”

“She’s still alive.” Angel assumed. It would make sense, Amber was just recently deceased and children do tend to outlive their parents.

“No,” Amber physically cringed back from the memory even as she forced herself to give more. It was the least she could do to support the princess that so whole heartedly took her in. “She passed shortly before I did.”

Amber stood from her chair in a hurry. She wanted a drink or she wanted to run but neither would have been a nice thing to do. It wasn’t Charlie’s fault that her little trust game struck a nerve. Likewise, it wasn’t her fault that Amber had decided to share her daughter and not something painless like having a father or sister or pet.

“I should go straighten up… something.” Amber decided.

#Alastor x oc #Alastor x original character #alastor x reader #alastor x you #hazbin alastor x reader #hazbin alastor x you #hazbin alastor x oc #alastor x y/n

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dragynkeep · 1 year ago

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Oh boy! Time to be RWDE again!

Volume 1:

Why is Glynda set up with every possible anime trope of being Ruby’s mentor, yet she gets shafted?

Who thought two minutes and forty seconds is an episode? No, that’s a clip. A short.

Speaking of episode length (or lack thereof), what is up with this pacing…

So…team RWBY aren’t going to ever speak to each other? Why not assign them to different teams?

Borrowing from Young Justice, Weiss could lead the team until Ruby is mature enough to handle the role. Why yes, I do think Weiss has the head to be a leader, or at the very least, try to be a leader and fail, teaching her how to be a better team player. Character Arcs 101.

You had Weiss having a internal dialogue (great! Do that!) and then drop it to never use it on her or any other character. That’s a staple of anime, geniuses.

-we’re not copying Soul Eater down to the school layout, we swear- Uh huh. Sure.

Why is Ruby giving Jaune advice she doesn’t know herself??? How did she learn/know that???

Also PS- While Emerald’s redemption is something RT did, it could have been pulled earlier in Volume 2 or Volume 5, but that requires actual good writing and planning.

So many points, so little time with this show fr.

RWBY just hates women. Like I'm not even joking, this show hates women despite being a female-led show. Glynda was given the oppotunity to be this figure for not just Ruby, but the team as a whole, but every chance she gets is given to the male teachers for no reason.

Professor Port was the one to lecture Weiss about being a good teammate and to not allow her ego to blind her to her own shortcomings, even if that scene is dogshit in retrospect. Professor Oobleck was the one to challenge Team RWBY's ideals around being Huntresses, to the point where we got depth into his character on why he wanted to be a Huntsman.

Even when Yang had lost her arm and needed guidance, Port and Oobleck were there with Tai for that arc. Glynda never gets a chance to even talk properly with our main team, or even flesh herself out as a character to the point that the most we got is from the AA game.

The reason why V1 was like 20 episodes long. The episodes were like five minutes long and would've done better just shoving the parts together. It also meant that the pacing was really slow because we'd be waiting a week for a continuation only to have another five minute long episode.

Interteam relationship outside the partnerships have always been an issue tbh. It's just more egrigious now because it's been like ten years and Ruby/Blake are barely friends, let alone close enough that Blake would admire Ruby like she said she does. Classic told =/= shown.

I think the whole leadership issues with Weiss and Ruby were concluded far too quickly, they could barely be counted as arcs. Weiss has justified issues with Ruby not taking Beacon or her role as their leader seriously, but rather than that being built up more and having the two actually grow together, they just get lectured at and immediately change.

Unpopular opinion but I hate the inner monologue used in anime and I'm glad RWBY doesn't go into it all that much outside of that one time with Weiss. The issue rises because they don't ever let the watchers in on what these characters are thinking or feeling, and even contradict themselves over the volumes.

The advice Ruby gave to Jaune is honestly bad advice? A leader isn't someone who puts the team before themselves, that just opens up for the burnout and idiolising the leader, which is exactly what happened to Ruby in the later volumes. But they didn't show that the advice she gave them was not meant to be something taken seriously.

If they even remember what Ruby told him when they can't even keep track what happen in the volume before.

The whole thing with Emerald's redemption is that she really wasn't given much to flesh out. She started the show straight up ignoring Cinder's orders to go out of her way to be more evil and violent, murdering a minority who ran from an organisation she has no part of. Only for the show to try and paint her later as a lost soul who doesn't realise how bad Cinder is for her.

Nevermind the actual redemption doesn't have her face consequences for the fact that she murdered countless people without much care and only ever pulled sad faces rather than, you know, having actual character to push her redemption.

#rwby #rwde #ruby rose #weiss schnee #glynda goodwitch #emerald sustrai #answered #luke.txt

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mit · 1 year ago

Text

Serious play at the MIT Game Lab

Zach Winn | MIT News

Students fill the glass-walled room and spill out into the common area. They gather around tables and desks cluttered with board games and game pieces. Along the far wall, large screens show students exploring the latest virtual reality experience alongside classmates reliving their favorite retro videogames.

Welcome to an open house of the MIT Game Lab, where play and experimentation are joined by serious inquiry about the gaming industry and its role in society.

In addition to its rollicking open houses, which take place at least once a semester, the Game Lab hosts public events, organizes research projects, and teaches courses through MIT Comparative Media Studies/Writing (CMS/W).

The Game Lab’s work is designed to help students think critically about the games they’ve often been playing for years without considering the values they might project, and to prepare them to engage in thoughtful design practices themselves.

“Students come to the Game Lab because it sounds like fun, which is great, but they realize through our research that there’s also something really serious at work in games,” Game Lab Director and Professor T.L. Taylor says. “I think students often have this moment where they realize this thing they’ve been enjoying actually has a lot of stakes in it; these are things that really matter.”

The Game Lab analyzes the gaming industry and its impact, explores new technologies and formats, and creates games that tackle important issues. Many new games are tied to larger research projects.

“There’s a desire from our students to express themselves through games, whether that’s through making educational games or games with specific messages or lessons,” says Game Lab research scientist and lecturer Mikael Jakobsson. “Games are a big part of most people’s lives, so there’s a thirst among our students for not only learning how to make games, but also studying games as social and cultural artefacts.”

Through that research, students come to appreciate the impact of games on the world.

“Game are hugely important in society and culture,” Taylor says. “We’re really trying to always think critically and productively about what we do with this powerful form of media and entertainment, and to think about games as a place in which imagination and stories about the world can be worked over and thought about.”

Make sure to follow us on Tumblr!

#games #culture #design #technology #classes

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winderlylandchime · 1 year ago

Note

I’ve seen you every once in a while mention your partner and I was wondering if you could (would want to?) tell us a bit about them/you guys? Obviously by still being as much private as you’d like to be. Swear this is not meant in a creepy way but more in a ‘awww’ type of way because they sound like a very lovely person through the little moments you’ve shared. But also if you don’t want to, that is completely understandable :)

Oh dear sweet anon! Thank you for this question. I am happy to share a bit about me and my spouse and our relationship. I’m very proud of them and who we are as a couple. It hasn’t always been easy and we have been in couple’s therapy at difficult points in our relationship. But for now I’m just going to gush. Sappy shit under the cut.

My spouse and I met in graduate school. They’re older than me but a year (kinda) behind me in school. We bonded over a shared love of music and values around social justice. Plus they are a hottie and the funniest person I know. As a result, we are both in the same field - I work primarily in the applied part of the field and they teach. Since the pandemic, they teach from home so I get to hear them lecture whenever I’m not in an appointment during their class. Um, hi, they are so talented and also the best professor.

We have been together for 16 years (17 next January). We were engaged after a year and a half together but (if you’re doing math) that was in 2008 and we had plans to move to CA but then Prop 8 passed so we had to wait until it was overturned (as well as DOMA - I don’t know if many people know this but things like health benefits got taxed at the federal level as part of income so when we were still struggling financially and domestic partners, we couldn’t shared insurance because it would have bumped us into another tax bracket). So we have been married 9 years (we didn’t immediately rush to get married as our eldest nieces had just been born and we wanted our siblings to be able to come to the wedding). Anyway! That’s the time line.

We love many of the same things. We watch most of the same TV shows and movies and we do so together. There is A LOT of pausing so we can Seriously Discuss what is happening on the screen. Together, we love Brooklyn Nine Nine, Schitt’s Creek, Drag Race (and going to live drag shows!), Good Omens, Our Flag Means Death, Heartstopper. And pretty much all the fandoms you see me scream about on here.

Queer As Folk. When I met my spouse, I hadn’t fully identified my sexual orientation. I came out as lesbian and then queer as part of being with them. When I met them, they had a chubby one-eyed cat named Kinney. Their walls were decorated with cut outs of Gale Harold from magazines. They had watched most of QAF as it aired (you know the scene in the bar where they’re watching Gay as Blazes? that was their experience watching QAF). So immediately, they sat me down and had me watch the show. They gave me a kitten for our first Christmas together and I named him Emmett. I did a rewatch in 2018 (?) and remembered that fanfiction exists and the rest is history. Unlike many couples, my spouse fully knows I read and write fanfiction. They have read some of my fanfiction and enjoy it. They think I’m talented and that I should write book (?). They buy me candy to eat when I’m writing, they let me close up for hours on end to write.

During the pandemic, we spent every day together in our apartment and we did so for longer than most folks. I have mentioned that they have a chronic pain condition and it appears to be autoimmune in nature and I have a heart condition so we’ve been especially careful (we haven’t totally avoided getting COVID which goes to show how transmittable it is). During lockdown, they also pursued top surgery and came to the non-binary identity (we’re in our 40s, identities are understood now that we didn’t have words or options). I think we became even closer during this time. I can honestly say, my spouse is my very best friend and also the cutest non-binary-bunny.

All the sappy stuff I can’t stand in fic? Tons of I love you’s, tons of (non-canon) nicknames? Ugh I make myself a little sick with how much we do all that. (Btw that is an individual fic preference)

It’s not to say we don’t have problems and we don’t argue. Of course we do. But overall they’re the best and I’m super lucky and we have worked hard to get here. Everyone who wants a partner in life should be so damn lucky.

#dear sweet anon #ask winderlylandchime #sorry this is so disorganized and rambly

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chris-continues · 2 years ago

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Would you teach me?

In which Lilith Clawthorne becomes a mentor for a human who’d stumbled into the Boiling Isles.

WORD COUNT: 1.2K

EXTRA NOTES: Self insert (of myself), Lilith is a bookworm, I’m gonna write more of her because she’s literally me fr (we’re both history nerds and she’s very cool)

The winding corridors of the castle had taken some getting used to- Chris had to be given a mini map in the form of an orb he’d carried around, urged time and time again to never let anyone outside of the coven get ahold of. It floated above his palm, shifting with each movement he made. Better to focus on said item rather than the lingering looks he always got- having never received a coven uniform and instead cloaked in his… usual human clothes.

Very out of place.

Perhaps he could learn magic, as foolish as it seemed. Lilith hadn’t audibly entertained the idea, in fact ever since they’d met she’d been minimal comments and the kindest emotion she’d displayed was obedience towards the emperor.

His free hand reached towards the door, unlocking it with the key he held in his sleeve as he welcomed the sight of the fine room. As a coven leader, she’d been granted lesser inspections and fine luxuries. Tomes and novels lined a large bookshelf and her nightstand, a hot plate resting snugly in a crevice he eyed.

“Hello,” she curtly greeted, legs tucked criss cross with her back against the headboard of her bed. Her hands skimmed the pages of her book. Chris paused before closing the door behind him, briskly walking towards his own bed as he continued to toy with the orb.

“You hold a real fascination for that thing, hm.” She observed, flipping to the next page of her book.

“Yeah.” He swallowed, adjusting his position in bed once more. “Uh, Ms. Lilith?”

“Hm?” She hummed, thumb swiping at the corner of another page.

“Do you think I could learn magic?”

The question weighed heavy in the air as she peered up from her book, “Humans can’t practice magic, for now you’ll have to look for other ways to assist the emperor.” She declared.

Chris sighs.

He’d assumed as much.

He tilted his wrist, the orb following. “If only. Watching you do magic.. it’s really cool.” He admitted, and suddenly her interest was far more piqued.

“You think so?”

“Yeah! There’s a reason why you’re leader of the coven, right?” He shifted the orb once more, “How many years did it take you anyway?”

She cleared her throat, settling her: Eat, Sleep, History, Repeat bookmark into the page she was currently on. “Many. Many years of study- being a witch is a whole feat of itself.“ Ah, lecture mode.

“Could I watch you do magic? Just.. a small spell? And why can’t humans do spells?” Questions continued to tumble from his lips, curiosity building. The Boiling Isles were truly intriguing.

“Presumably, in ancient times witches could cast spells in ways differing from present times. Nowadays, there is a sack at the pericardium of a witch’s heart that holds fluid needed for magic.” Lilith explains, smoothing out her skirt. “That is something only a witch’s anatomy contains.” She concludes, brushing invisible dust off of the cover of her book as she snaps the hardcover shut (with care, of course). “Magic doesn’t simply appear out of nowhere, as most humans like to believe.” She sends a knowing glance up at Chris, quirking her eyebrow.

“I thought it came from like… ancient runes? Or something with power imbued somewhere.. like an energy source..?” He trails off, shrugging his shoulders. Magic wasn’t something he’d pondered a whole lot, the hustle and bustle of everyday life taking priority over whatever fantasy he’d conjured up for a story in his limited free time.

Now, he had all the time to think about it.

“That’s plausible.” She hums, “But alas, cardiac bile is what’s been powering witches as of present.”

Chris’ face hardens slightly,

“Ah! But I’m sure you could.. try?” Her hands are awkwardly midair in some frozen position of reassurance from across the room, “I’ve heard of more far fetched things occurring!” Her voice tapers off awkwardly, tinging into something out of her field.

“That’s plenty reassuring,” he rolls his shoulders, head tipping back, then side to side in a few resounding cracks that reverberate in the room. “Worst case scenario.. there are other things I can try to learn here. I don’t want to just sit around all day doing nothing.”

Lilith’s eyes flit down to the cover of her book once more that lay upon her lap. “That’s… understandable.”

Silence fell between them once more.

“But I’d love to help you in any way I can! And maybe I could learn magic somehow along the way.” Hope filled his eyes as she glanced over once more, hands on her knees moving to clasp each other softly.

“I suppose so.”

He looked so.. so youthful. Something she’d never really considered or given a second thought to.

So… like her. Back when she was just starting in magic. Her eyes cast down to her book, slight smile playing at her lips. A distant memory of when she’d been a young hopeful witch.

“Would you teach me?”

Her head snapped up, “What?”

He curled in on himself, wondering if he’d spoken out of line. “Ah- sorry.” Brows pinching as he took a peculiar interest in his socks rather than the witch across from him. What was he thinking? Some lady he’s barely known just shy of a few days teaching him magic? Something he was biologically not capable of- at least from what he knew. She was a respected leader here, he couldn’t just waltz in and add more to her plate-

“If you find a way, I’ll teach you.”

“Wait- really?” He gasped, hands tapping his knees excitedly, “You would?”

She nods, watching as Chris almost jumps out of his skin (in a good way), buzzing like a bee as his hands flap excitedly. “Could I do research? Like- if there’s a library? Or something like that- or your books, if you don’t mind, of course.” His hands move as he speaks, gaze expectantly meeting Lilith’s.

She raises an index finger in a signal to wait, “Feel free- don’t bend them though, or dog ear any pages, or-“

“Proper book etiquette, of course. I hate when people ruin books.” He frowns in understanding, “I’ll take care of them!”

“Good. May my books rest assured, then.” She hums, leaning back to continue reading, but not before sparing him a warning glance. It didn’t hold too much fire when the victim of said glance was brimming with anticipation on what was to come.

She exhaled, and to her mirth picked up from where she left off in her book.

#lilith clawthorne #chris writes #self insert #drabble #this is long for me #toh #toh lilith #lilith toh

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kyogre-blue · 2 years ago

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Since I need to emotionally prepare for the mom branch, I did the last branch of Kaveh’s hangout instead.

It’s very simple. Another architect has switched careers and opened up a training center for teaching architecture instead. Kaveh joins as an instructor, but quickly realizes that the classes are largely useless for actual education and the senior is just ripping off students while convincing them that they’ll be able to have a lucrative career in architecture (which is untrue, it is stated to be a uniquely shitty career choice). Additionally, the only way the students can afford the high tuition is via illegal loans through his collaborator. We beat up the loan shark and save the day.

There isn’t too much to say, but again, the writing is unfocused and this takes away from what it’s trying to say.

I have two specific issues with this branch.

First, the students at the center all use the child models. I can kind of accept the kids all going “I’m learning architecture because I want to make money!” if we think of it as something they picked up from their parents, but the fact that not only the scummy instructor but also Kaveh keep talking about teaching them architecture specifically is..... bizarre?

Shouldn’t you teach them math first? As per Faruzan’s hangout, it’s pretty common for people to not even be literate. How are these kids even vaguely ready to start learning the basics of architecture...?

Second, there’s an issue where the story wants to talk about the morality of what the scummy instructor was doing, but they also need to make it illegal so that the issue can be resolved. This creates a dissonance where Kaveh keeps saying “oh, I couldn’t do what he’s doing because the voice in my heart would torment me about how immoral it is,” but buddy... what he’s doing is illegal and the bigger problem is that he’s going to jail for it. He’s not gonna have time to feel bad about all the material wealth he’s amassed through unethical means because he’s going to jail for it.

In fact, I spent a good while trying to understand whether the situation even WAS illegal, since Kaveh’s objections were like this:

Aka, what you’d doing is morally wrong.

The actual issue:

In other words, if these two morons charged “only” 30% interest, they could have kept their business running, and there would be nothing we could do about it. But Genshin can’t tackle a problem that complex.

Kaveh immediately after we’re told this guy is probably going to jail:

For like three more dialogue boxes, too.

You’d also go to jail tho. There’s that.

Assorted screenshots:

Although it’s not stated, this likely means that Kaveh has never lectured at the Akademiya either, which I see a lot in fic.

Just mention of the Akademiya entrance exam. It’s unclear if this exam is a general ed situation where it’s the same for all Darshans, or if each Darshan has a different exam.

Given how many different areas each Darshan covers, it seems unlikely to be a tailored exam... but that makes Kaveh’s insistence on teaching the kids specifically architecture even more puzzling, since he explicitly states that they should use the tutoring to enter the Akademiya.

(The actual issue here is that the writers can’t keep it straight whether the Akademiya is meant to be a grade school or college level, so they end up using it as a stand in for both, but they’re not the same thing.)

Just an interesting point, especially in light of the rampant illiteracy. Same for the entrance exam.

#playing genshin

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fckin-around-findin-out · 2 days ago

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venting below the cut :))) cw for very non ND affirming practices

my coworkers are actually terrible and don’t understand autism at all which is awful because we work in a school that exists solely to create an environment where students with more significant disabilities (so labeled as severe/profound by doctors and/or the school district - almost all our students are minimally speaking or non speaking and many have significant physical disabilities too) can be appropriately accommodated. (also I am not the teacher in this classroom so I can’t like…. stop them or just do what will work)

anyways here’s all the things I wish I could say to them but they very clearly think I know nothing and that everything I do is intended to be mean or is not based on my experience.

-if I am successfully deescalating an overstimulated kid, please don’t come take their comfort items or touch them in an attempt to make them laugh. it will just make things worse

-restraining a kid for the ease of your job - because the kid is “too busy” (and only ever restraining one of the kids you label this way) - is never okay

-if a kid is hungry, feed them!

-if a kid attempts to move away from you and you follow them for no reason, and then proceed to grab them for no reason, don’t be surprised when they push you and then hit you. and don’t be surprised when they continue to do that when you keep following them and grabbing them

-don’t lecture me on how letting a kid do whatever they want just because they’re unhappy and displaying inappropriate behavior to communicate that will just teach them to keep doing that when you literally let every other kid in the class do whatever they want in those situations

-stop telling me that a kid needs a very structured day and then ignoring all my attempts at creating a structure for them

-don’t act surprised when I’m able to successfully prepare a kid for transition or an activity that they don’t want to do and you aren’t because you won’t do what I told you works

-they’re not stupid!! and they understand words!! don’t talk poorly about them where they can hear you (really you shouldn’t do that at all, but especially don’t do it where they can hear you). I can pretty safely assume that they obviously like me more than they like you because I actually believe that they’re capable and I respect them as people and they know what to expect from me and not only do I tell them I love them, like you do, but I am kind to them too

-you can’t actually successfully write an IEP/make goals/determine whether or not goals have been met (which legally must be based on data) without collecting data

-these kids are not stupid!!! they are as bored as we are when we read the same book everyday for a month. also, they’re not really learning anything if you just read the same book to them over and over and then color/glue/complete other tasks for them because they just don’t want to

anyways, I’m just progressively getting more and more upset about the way this classroom runs (and that’s barely even touching the topic of how they treat me, just like, as a person) and I really wish I could do something about it but considering I’m not the teacher and they ignore all my suggestions and remove any supports I create and actively go against anything I’m attempting to do with a child to promote independence or learning or language development or idk literally anything we’re supposed to be doing with these kids, there’s almost nothing I can do

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michaelcosio · 1 year ago

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An Invitation

Let's start the New Year off right!

RICHARD B. SPENCER DEC 31

Dear Friends,

The New Year is upon us! Rest and relaxation are good and necessary. But soon, we’ll put down the egg nog and champagne and get back to work.

Substack has been a great experience for Mark Brahmin and myself. In a year-and-half, we’ve reached thousands of new readers and developed a strong community. Substack will be the basis for everything going forward.

If right now you’re a free subscriber, I would love it if you leveled up and became a full member.

t’s $9 per month. That’s the cost of, say, two-and-half cappuccinos, a glass wine, or an appetizer before a meal. In other words, it’s not a whole heck of a lot. And unlike Netflix, we offer enlightenment. And joining is more than giving us support: we’re building a community of the mind.

Here are the benefits.

No doubt, the main thing that attracts subscribers, and keeps us together as a team, are the “Members Only” calls. These occur at a healthy rhythm of twice per week: on Thursday evenings and Tuesday afternoons. Usually, 30-50 people join us live and ask questions and offer commentary. That is essential. As the community grows, these conversations will become even more lively. The podcast versions are posted within 24 hours; and the full archive is available forever. But again, this is for Members only.

I’m happy to announce that ALEX, our online university, will be open to all subscribers in 2024. Each month, we focus on a masterwork (like Hamlet, The Republic, or 2001). Mark or myself presents a lecture with slides, and the rest of the period is dedicated to discussion. We recently analyzed all of Kubrick’s major films; we read Nietzsche’s Birth of Tragedy; and I broke new ground on Shakespeare.

Previously, we charged for registration for these courses. But in 2024, things will be more accessible and better. Registration is free for all subscribers, and the full archive of courses is available as podcasts.

ALEX U is major project. It is, indeed, for lack of a better word, my dream. A lyceum—and organization that produces original writing and scholarship; teaches courses, soon to be in-person; and pursues the path of unrelenting intellectual radicalism. For too long, education has long been wasted on the young. So many Members have told me how enthused they are to return to—or encountering for the first time—the most challenging works in the tradition. And it’s certainly not academic drudgery; all the classes are fun.

Of late, we’ve seen a renaissance of “alternative education” across the board. This is a positive development. By I can confidently say that what Mark and I are doing—particularly, in integrating mythography and REM analysis—is not found anywhere else.

And, of course, there’s more… But you have to join us to find out!

I hope you consider our offer and participate in our community.

Best wishes,

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jcmarchi · 1 year ago

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Serious play at the MIT Game Lab

New Post has been published on https://thedigitalinsider.com/serious-play-at-the-mit-game-lab/

Serious play at the MIT Game Lab

Welcome to an open house of the MIT Game Lab, where play and experimentation are joined by serious inquiry about the gaming industry and its role in society.

The Game Lab analyzes the gaming industry and its impact, explores new technologies and formats, and creates games that tackle important issues. Many new games are tied to larger research projects.

Through that research, students come to appreciate the impact of games on the world.

Learning to play

The MIT Game Lab was founded in cooperation with the Singapore Ministry of Education in 2007. Early on, it would host workshops on game design with students from Singapore in the summer, then conduct teaching and research with MIT students during the school year.

The Singapore collaboration ended in 2012, but the lab continued its work, often partnering with outside companies, private donors, and other groups around campus to explore the influence of games on different aspects of society.

In one project with the Samuel Tak Lee MIT Real Estate Entrepreneurship Lab, students designed a game to explore the basics of real estate development, including managing capital and debt and deciding what sorts of buildings to build and where.

The lab also does work with communities to help them think about civic engagement. It has held workshops around the world with local students and other community members to challenge them to think about issues in their societies through the lens of game design. One such collaboration led to the game Promesa, which Jakobsson created with Puerto Rican graphic artist Rosa Colón Guerra and the design collective Popcicleta to promote what the creators call a “countercolonialist” viewpoint in the context of a game about the island’s debt crisis.

Aside from making games, researchers also consider the influence of historically popular games.

“We’re not making games as much as studying them,” says junior Michelle Liang, who works at the Game Lab as an undergraduate researcher. “It’s so easy to detach entertainment as its own separate world, when in fact media is influenced by a lot of different factors and biases. A lot of the Game Lab’s work is geared toward enhancing that understanding.”

The Game Lab’s organizers say that work distinguishes them from other gaming-focused groups in academia, which often equip students with specific skills to get jobs in the videogame industry.

“We’re not a pipeline program to go work in the gaming industry,” Taylor explains. “Some students do go into the industry, but because we’re doing critical design practice, we’re approaching games with a much broader, critically inflective perspective by thinking about things like equity and representation.”

Liang hadn’t considered the role of games in social and political issues until she discovered the Game Lab. She immediately saw the Lab as a way to combine a number of things she was passionate about.

“It’s funny to talk about my job to people,” Liang says. “Even though we are the Institute of Technology, there’s so much more MIT has to offer.”

Changing the rules

Jakobsson says the perception of games as nothing more than entertainment has led to a lack of introspection.

“The gaming industry has been a bit of a boys club where a lot of social responsibility has been shirked because they say they’re just trying to have fun and don’t have to think about how it affects society,” Jakobsson says. “Now we’re dealing with a lot of the consequences from that mindset.”

For students, involvement in the Game Lab can mean conducting research, enrolling in one of its classes, or just stopping by an open house. Regardless of how they’re exposed to the lab’s work, Taylor hopes they leave with a deeper appreciation of the power of games in our society.

“Games are a hugely important media and entertainment space, but they’re also one of our most culturally relevant and politically active spaces,” Taylor says. “Media spaces are in part where we learn about the world, for good or ill, where we construct imaginaries of the world, where we think about other possibilities. Part of the mission of CMS/W in general is taking media spaces seriously, and games are an increasingly important part of that.”

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whatskraken · 1 year ago

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I can tell we’re entering a new world of techno-class divide. From a day-to-day function it’s not going to be great for those without access to ai technology, but for folks like CEOs and long-term academics who still struggle with opening a PDF, I think it’s high time for a reckoning.

As a Millennial professor myself, I saw how pandemic razed the gap between teachers who were already using baseline technology and those who refused to integrate their syllabi into Moodle/Canvas/Blackboard.

Now the emails and discussions and emergency town hall meetings and all this crazy fearmongering about how students are going to use Ai to bypass the traditional learning models? GOOD!

TBH if your assessment tools are based on projects & assignments that Ai can complete, then they weren’t really all that practical an assessment tool for at least 30 years since Google was invented. And as a professor, if you can’t identify the “Ai voice” in writing, then I’m also curious if you’ve been suffering from homogenous academic language brain rot.

Ai makes logical connections, but as of yet it doesn’t do a great job of synthesizing ideas. All the ai models I’ve used also have a big barriers up in their algorithm making it clear that their generative-language is NOT representative of your opinions. They’re programmed to acknowledge (and often try to actively steer clear of) giving you feedback that could be considered “bias.” So I find that encouraging self-analysis and emphasis on using personal voice (in a “professional” and academic manner) helps students feel more comfortable sharing their own words.

I do teach under a “reverse learning model,” which means my entire pedagogical ethos encourages self-exploration and skill-mastery over lecture & tutorial.

So if a student is so inclined to use Ai to aid them in completing the project, I love that! While we’re still in the position that Ai isn’t “perfect,” we should help guide how to integrate them into our practices. This is no different than how a math teacher doesn’t ignore that calculators exist. There are so many better and interesting ways to mobilize students in the liberal arts to “show their work,” and actually engage with the content you’re asking them to learn.

Obviously this whole discussion is much broader and complicated, but I’ll say that from the inside: we’re at a moment of reckoning with the state of academia in the US. College has become a product, not a process. Degrees mean nothing because “if everyone’s special, no one’s special.” There is no such thing as job security, there is not such thing as a “career path” anymore. Just go out and do cool shit.

Anyways Ai rules and College Drools.

Love,

Your actual college professor.

#pedagogy #college #university #education system sucks #waiting for my ai overlord to save me

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lesfeldickbiblestudy · 2 years ago

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Through the Bible with Les Feldick LESSON 1 * PART 1 * BOOK 72 THE BIG PICTURE OF WHY WE BELIEVE IN THE PRE-TRIBULATION RAPTURE - 1 I Cor. 9:17; Eph. 1:10; Eph. 3:2; Col. 1:25 All right, glad to see all of you here in the studio. For those of you out in television again, we would like to invite you to sit down with your Bible and your pen and notepad and just study with us. I’m not a preacher. I’m not going to be lecturing you. We’re going to be teaching just like any other teacher would out of a textbook, which means that we’re going to use as many Scriptures as possible to not prove the point of Les Feldick, but to prove the point of God’s Word. Now, I just announced to our studio audience that we just got back from three weeks down in Florida and had a great time. The very first church where we started down at Fort Myers, the pastor had asked before I even left Oklahoma, “I never tell a visiting speaker what to speak on, but if you feel so led, I would really appreciate it if you would address why we stand on a pre-tribulation Rapture. Because I understand that we’re under attack for that like never before.” Of course, I’m hearing it from every quarter that people are almost getting aggressively hateful about our stand on a pre-trib. Rapture. So, I agreed wholeheartedly. We were there for the Sunday morning Sunday school hour, the morning service hour, the evening service; and then Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday night, for an hour to an hour and a half each night. And as people were leaving, that’s what gave me the idea, they would say,”Les, why don’t you make a series of programs on this?” And I said, “Well, we’ll consider it.” The more I thought about it and prayed about it, it just seems as though this was the way we’re going to go. I don’t know how many programs it’s going to take. I don’t know where we’ll end any one particular program. We’re just going to be flying free on this, and when we run out of time, we’ll stop and just start up the next time where we left off. We’re going to start on the premise that you cannot understand the concept of the Rapture and the Tribulation and the Second Coming and the Kingdom without being a dispensationalist. Now, it’s a hated word in a lot of quarters. It’s as if it isn’t even Scriptural. But, I have put four verses on the board. We’ll look at them briefly. They all make reference to that very term -- a dispensation. We’ll look at them as we’ve got them up here. The first one is I Corinthians chapter 9 verse 17. While you’re looking that up, I’ll just share an experience with one of my listeners. Several years ago he approached his pastor and he said, “Pastor, why don’t you ever preach a sermon on the Rapture?” “Oh,” he said, “I wouldn’t dare do that, then I’d be a dispensationalist.” Well, what’s so bad with that? But they’re almost afraid of the term as if it’s an unbiblical concept, but I’m going to show you that it is a Scriptural term. I Corinthians chapter 9 verse 17, where Paul writes: I Corinthians 9:17 “For if I do this thing willingly, I have a reward: but if against my will, a dispensation of the gospel is committed unto me.” Dispensation—we’re going to explain that in more detail after we’ve looked at these four verses. All right, the next one is Ephesians 1:10. Just keep on going to the right through Galatians to Ephesians chapter 1 verse 10, and again Paul, by Holy Spirit inspiration. Remember, Paul doesn’t write one word that isn’t inspired by the Holy Spirit, and he uses the term. Isn’t it amazing that much of Christendom detests it. A biblical term, a Scriptural term, but they detest it. And if we get a letter at all that’s less than kind, that’s what it’s over. “How can you teach this false theory of a Rapture?” Well, this is why – because it’s biblical! Ephesians 1:10 “That in the dispensation of the fullness of times, he might gather together in one all things in Christ, both which are in heaven and which are on earth; even in him:” That’s a different dispensation, but never the less the same term.

Now, the next one, I think, is chapter 3 verse 2, and this is actually the verse that we used in every service under those circumstances. I was actually asking my audience to memorize this verse. And it’s easy to memorize. And it’s a good foundation for our approach to Scripture. Ephesians 3:2 “If ye have heard of the dispensation of the grace of God (That’s the one in which we are.) which is given to me (But it doesn’t stay there, where does it go?) to you:” And who are the you that Paul is writing to? Gentiles. So, the dispensation of grace is a set of instructions that God has given to us as Gentiles in particular. I’m going to go into that in a little bit. All right, now the next one is on much the same program or line of thinking—Colossians chapter 1 verse 25, same word. It means the same thing in every case. Colossians chapter 1 verse 25. In fact, let’s read verse 24. Colossians 1:24 “Who now rejoice in my sufferings for you, and fill up that which is behind of the afflictions of Christ in my flesh, for his body’s sake, which is the church:” Which again, is a term only used in Paul’s epistles. You never see the Body of Christ mentioned anywhere else. All right, so he was afflicted bodily, with all of his imprisonments, his beatings, and what have you, “for the sake of the church, which is his body.” Colossians 1:25 “Whereof (The Body of Christ is connected to this apostle.) I am made a minister, according to the dispensation of God, which is given to me for you, (For what purpose?) to fulfill (or to complete or bring to total fruition) the word of God;” So, dispensationally speaking, everything that God has done from Adam in the Garden down through the very end of the Kingdom Age and on into eternity is based on a dispensational approach to Scripture. Now, we usually define a dispensation as simply as possible. If you haven’t already put it in a flyleaf of your Bible, you might want to. A dispensation is a period of time during which God deals with the human race in a particular way. Now, I think a few tapings back I more or less explained it like this: if you went to the doctor a few years ago or maybe a short time ago for whatever trouble you had. We’ll just say you went in for a bad cough. He gives you a prescription for your cough. You take it to the pharmacist. He fills the prescription not only with your cough medicine, but what does he put on the outside of the bottle? The directions on how often and how much to take. All right, some months later you’ve come up with maybe an arthritis attack and your joints are hurting. So you go to the doctor and he prescribes something for your arthritis. For sake of illustration, we’ll again hope that we can use a liquid medicine rather than pills. He puts your liquid medicine for your arthritis in a bottle and you get home. Now you’ve got medicine bottles in your chest and you think, well, maybe it would work better if I mix them. So, you take the caps off of your two different kinds of medication, and you mix them. Now, you don’t know how much of which one to take. Why? Because you’re all confused. All right, isn’t that exactly what they’ve done with Scripture? They’ve mixed all the dispensations together and claim that we only use one Bible. That’s true. And I just use the whole Bible. What you’re doing is just mixing all the dispensations and you end up with nothing that’s going to do you any good but cause confusion. Now, you know as a rule, I’ve always pictured it over the years as putting it in a blender—blenderizing the Scriptures. But see, this is why there are so many different denominations. There are so many groups. They just put it all together and then they pick and choose. Whereas if they would just separate these various times during which God dealt with the human race in a particular way, it clears up everything. All right, now I always go back to the Garden of Eden as the most simple dispensation in all of human history because of the time element as well as the directions for it.

Now, we don’t know how long Adam and Eve were in the Garden. I don’t even make a guess. But I do know that while they were in the Garden, God only gave them one set of directions. And it was simple—of that one tree you shall not eat. Everything else is for you, but leave that tree alone. Now, that was their directions for that dispensation. Simple, wasn’t it? That’s all they had to do—just leave that tree alone, and God would be satisfied, and He would bless them. But after a period of time, and like I said, I don’t know how long – they ate from the forbidden tree. Well, then the wrath of God fell because they were disobedient. Judgment came in and they were cast out of the Garden. Well, that ended that period of time during which they lived day by day under that one direction – you shall not eat of it. That ended the first dispensation. You come on up through history and we have a couple of other periods of time where God put out some distinct instructions. I haven’t got time to go into them, but I’m going to jump all the way up to the time when Israel comes out of Egypt, and they go under the dispensation of what we call “Law.” As they were gathered around Mt. Sinai, Moses goes up into the mountain and God gives to Moses the set of directions for the Nation of Israel under the Law, which included, of course, the Ten Commandments. But that wasn’t all. They were also given instructions on how to deal with sin, how to approach God through the priesthood with sacrifices. That was all part of their directions. And as long as they maintained a semblance of obedience to that, God’s wrath didn’t really fall. But after 1,500 years, the whole reason the Law was given, their Messiah appeared in fruition of all the promises of God. Now, that brings me to the other verse I was going to have the studio audience look at first. That brings you back to Romans 15 verse 8. After 1,500 years of just more or less practicing the religion of Law, or Judaism, now God comes in with a little extra responsibility for Israel, and that was to recognize that Jesus of Nazareth was the Promised Messiah. All right, now I used that word Promised specifically for this reason. Romans 15:8 “Now I say that Jesus Christ was (Now, this is Paul writing years after the fact, past tense.) a minister of the circumcision for the truth of God, (Always stop and read carefully. So, who was He a minister to? Israel. The Jew. See, don’t lose that. He was a minister to Israel, for what purpose?) to confirm (or to fulfill, to bring to fruition) the promises made unto the fathers:” Well, who were the Fathers? Old Testament Israel – Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, and then on up to David and Solomon and the Prophets, Isaiah. Every one of them was looking forward to the time when God would send a Redeemer, a Messiah and a King to the Nation of Israel to fulfill all the promises. Well, the promises were primarily this glorious earthly Kingdom that Israel was looking for. Solomon’s Kingdom was just a little fore view, just a little tip of the iceberg of the glory that was waiting for Israel. But they would have to become obedient and believe who their Messiah was when He came. Now, that brings me up to current events. When Christ came should Israel have known who He was? Absolutely! The Old Testament was full of it. But did they? For the most part – no. Now, I think I can have you come back there with me to Matthew 16. This will probably appeal to the interest of present day current events for a few moments. Matthew 16, because I may just ramble kind of free today. I’m not on a set format to go verse by verse through a particular chapter. So, bear with me. I hope I don’t lose you. In Matthew 16, now let’s refresh your memory so in 15 seconds you haven’t lost where I’ve come from. Jesus came to fulfill the promises made to the Fathers. Right? All right, I asked the question, should they have known who He was? Sure they should have. But did they? No.

All right, now here’s Jesus approaching the Pharisees, and He’s really dressing them down. Matthew 16:1-3 “The Pharisees also with the Sadducees came, and tempting desired him that he would show them a sign from heaven. (Now the Jews were always looking for signs, you know. Now look at His answer.) 2. He answered and said unto them, When it is evening, ye say, It will be fair weather: for the sky is red. 3. And in the morning, It will be foul weather today: for the sky is red and lowering. (Now, look what He’s telling them.) O ye hypocrites, (you false, whited sepulchers) ye can discern the face of the sky; (You can foretell tomorrow’s weather.) but can ye not discern the (What?) signs of the times?” He was talking in regard to His own presence. They should have understood that they were now in the fourth of Daniel’s empires: the Babylonian, the Mede and the Persian, the Greek, and now the Roman. They were in it. The Romans were over Jerusalem. That was the number one sign. That should have told them that this was the time that we can look for the Messiah. But did they? They didn’t have a clue. Well, various other aspects of His appearance – they should have been able to foretell who He was and what He was doing on the basis of the Scriptures. But they couldn’t. It’s the same way today. We are living under the exact same kind of circumstances. The signs of the times, beloved, and you out in television, they’re everywhere. A few people are waking up and realizing it. In fact, I just had a young man call the other day. He was so excited. His pastor, who had been a mainline pastor for years, never touched prophecy (and I’ll explain why a little later this afternoon). He suddenly realized that with the signs of the time maybe he’d better get into prophecy. So he’s starting to change his mind by it. All right, I’m always asking, wherever I go if I approach this subject the signs of the times, what is the number one sign that we are in the end time and Christ’s coming is not that far off? Israel back in the land! That should just scream at everybody whether they know anything of Scripture or not. How miraculously the Jews have come back from every nation under heaven, and they’re in their own land against all odds. They should have never succeeded. But they did! But they didn’t do it. God did it! Because the Word says, “after you’ve been scattered to every nation under heaven, you will return.” That’s in Deuteronomy written by Moses 3,500 years ago, beloved. But here it is. The number one sign of the times – Israel back in the land. In fact, I had a young man a while ago come back, 22 years old. He said, “Les, how can I approach my own aged kids (we call them peers) without them thinking I’m just getting on a religious tangent.” I said, “Well, start with current events.” Sometime when you’re just having a…whatever the kids call it today; we used to call it a “bull session” when I was in service. But anyway, you just sort of start chewing all this stuff over and I said, “Just remind them. Why is a little nation of only around five million, now I guess they’re approaching six million people, in the news every day?” The United Nations is constantly meeting concerning that one little Nation in the world. Why? I said, “Just ask your fellow young people, do you ever think about that?” A little country sitting on a piece of real estate smaller than half of New Jersey and in the news every day, that’s not common ordinary carryings on of the world. It’s a supernatural thing. All right, from that, hopefully, you can show them that our Bible is true. No matter how much Israel is opposed and how much they’re hated, yet they’re there. And they’re there by God’s design. And then all the other things. My, do you ever stop to think, what is rolling over Christendom today like never before, but it has all started since about 1900? I don’t have to remind you of many of them, but number one is an understanding of end time Scriptures.

That was almost unknown until after 1900. The other thing is the coming in like a tsunami of the New Age Religions. My, they’re appealing to our young people, and they’re falling for it by the millions—New Age. And, oh, there’s another I thought of—our secular technology. Imagine the technology. Like I reminded one of my groups in Florida last week, do you ever stop to think that back in the 70’s the powers that be in the world were just wringing their hands because with population exploding we would never be able to keep up with food production? Have we? Why, more food is thrown out in garbage than what the world ever imagined producing. There’s no reason for anybody to go hungry. The only reason there are people starving is not production, it is distribution. There it sits in warehouses. I read the other day that all the aid that poured into Indonesia over the tsunami, most of it is still setting in warehouses. They don’t know how to distribute. But nevertheless, God has provided that no matter how far humanity comes, everything comes along with it, and that’s God’s design. Otherwise, we would never have gotten this far. That’s why I’m not at all shook up about this so-called global warming. God’s in control. He’s not going to let it destroy itself, not until He’s ready to do it Himself. So, always remember, they get all shook up about these things, but they leave God out of the picture. Well, on and on we could go. Oil. Can you imagine how production and distribution keeps up with all these billions of automobiles and planes and everything, and yet the world keeps going. Well, that’s not an accident. That’s our God who is in control of everything. Well anyway, when Jesus said to know the signs of the times. It was just as much a warning for us today as it was for the despicable Pharisees of His day. I could even go a little further yet, but I think that’s sufficient that we are to understand we are at the close of the age. The signs of the times are all around us. All you have to do is watch your daily news, the breakdown of morality, the apostasy of the church. My goodness, you can’t believe what people are hearing coming over their pulpits. We hear it in our phone calls. Well, that’s all part of the end time scenario. It’s a sign of the time. All right, I’ve only got five minutes left. And we just started back with Christ being the minister of the circumcision for the truth of God. In the five minutes we have left, we’ve got to look at the big picture before we can begin to even make sense about an end time scenario, which includes the out-calling of the Body of Christ. Let’s go all the way back to Genesis chapter 12 for just a little bit, because unless you understand Israel’s role, you’ll never understand the Bible. Israel is the key player. They have been from day one, and they will be on into eternity. Never forget that. Now the first eleven chapters of Genesis were God dealing with one race of people. And it was a sorry scenario. There’s hardly a good point in the first eleven chapters. Because after Adam and Eve were created, the first thing they did was rebel. They’re disobedient, and they’re cast out of the Garden. Well, then the kids come along and one kills the other. It’s just one awful thing after another. Then it just kept getting worse and worse and worse until He finally destroyed them in the flood. Then after the flood, God starts over with Noah and his three sons and their wives. It still doesn’t get any better, because 200 years later they’re gathered at the Tower of Babel. It was nothing but a great rebellion again against God, and the establishing of their own human gods and goddesses, which we call mythology. Then after another 200 years, when it seems as though everything has just continued to go moving down, down, down, God steps in once more and brings out one man. Just one man Abram. And here is the big change then in Scripture. Because from chapter 12 of

Genesis, like I said, until we go into eternity, Israel becomes the focal point of all of God’s dealing with the human race. They’re at the core of everything. And of course, Satan knew that. He knows it. So he’s been attacking them ever since, trying to destroy them. Because Satan knows if he can knock Israel out of the loop, then God’s program for the human race falls apart. All right, Genesis chapter 12. Genesis 12:1-3 “Now the LORD had said unto Abram, Get thee out of thy country, and from thy kindred, and from thy father’s house, unto a land that I will show thee: 2. And I will make of thee a great nation, (which of course is a reference to Israel) and I will bless thee, and make thy name great; and thou shalt be a blessing: 3. And I will bless them that bless thee, and curse him that curseth thee: (And then here’s the promise that brings us into the picture, that in Abram--) and in thee shall all families of the earth be blessed.” Not just Israel, but the whole human race would be blessed through the promises that God would make to this one man, Abraham, the father of the Jewish Nation. All right, for sake of time, in the minute or two that we have left, jump over to chapter 15 verse 7. This is the first place that shows the humanity of this man, Abram. He was just as human as we are. God has just promised him all these things and in verse 7 He said: Genesis 15:7 “And he said unto him, I am the LORD that brought thee out of Ur of the Chaldees, to give thee this land to inherit it.” Now remember, they are already standing on the mountains of Israel or in the land of Canaan, and God says, I will give you this land to inherit it. Genesis 15:8 “And he said, Lord GOD, whereby shall I know that I shall inherit it?” How do I know that you’re going to do it? How can I know that you mean business? Well, God says, I’ll deed it to you. So, you come on over to the end of the chapter after going through the process of transferring the title deed as the ancients did it, under the laws of Hammurabi, now verse 18. Genesis 15:18 “In the same day (That God deeded the whole Middle East, from the Nile River to the Euphrates and back, to Israel) the LORD made a covenant with Abram, saying, Unto thy seed I have given this land,(That’s the word of God. It’s His promise.) from the river of Egypt (That’s probably the Nile, but if not, it’s right close to it.) unto the great river, the river Euphrates:” And then all the tribes that were involved in that Middle Eastern area, God says, “I will give it to you and your children after you.” We know, of course, that that’s exactly what all the Old Testament promises rest on. That this whole Middle East was deeded to the man Abram, and that it was to be the homeland of the Jew for all the period of time that this planet will function. And that has never been rescinded. We’ll look at some of the opposition to that as we go on through the afternoon.

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