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reidarkholme · 22 days ago

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PROLOGUE — synopsis | Owen Taylor, a new professor from your class assigned a thesis project right at the start of semester and due next week. Burdened by the amount of paperworks to do, your only solace is a pack of cigarette and your secret “spot”.

CONTAINS❕: age gap, owen taylor × reader, smoking, forbidden attraction, teacher’s pet, vivid description of matured contents, no use of y/n, erotic fanfiction

WORD COUNT : 3.4k

WARNING❕: MDNI

▫️ AUTHOR’S NOTES : Based on “The Starling Girl” played by Lewis Pullman. This is my first time writing a fanfiction with R18+ contents. English is not my first language, please do understand that there may be ungrammatical errors made. BEST VIEW ON DARK MODE !

other social: @d4rkholme on tiktok — an edit based on this story is posted already on my account, you can check it out. <3

It’s been a hell of a week and I haven’t even finished my thesis yet. I am so piled up with schoolworks that I even forgot what it was like to socialize with people, but I don’t have many friends who I can talk and banter with. So, I just sit here in my room with my laptop and a cigarette on hand to lessen the stress that I’m feeling while working on my paper that I have to pass next week.

I rolled my eyes out of frustration and shut my laptop. I checked the time and it’s already two in the afternoon, I have a class at three.

This professor that I will be attending class on has only been here since the second semester started and just casually gave us a thesis to work on, isn’t he just a bundle of joy? But, I’m not going to deny… He’s kind of attractive compared to other professors I had for the past two years I’ve been here at this school. Tall, maybe he’s about six feet, muscles are perfectly defined and doesn’t look exaggerated, slicked back hair, wears a polo shirt that fits him just fine, smells like… I don’t know what brand he’s using but it’s definitely not cheap. Looking at him from head to toe, he’s the accurate figure of what a man should look like. Not some guy who thinks full of himself while looking like trash and treats people, especially women, as some kind of punching bag.

As soon as I stepped foot in the hallway, I instantly went to my class and sat on an empty chair far from everyone. I don’t want to socialize–I am overstimulated because of this paperwork.

Before I even put my earphones on, he came into the room, “Good afternoon.” His voice was mildly loud and sharp enough to make me roll my eyes once again because of irritation. I only hate him because he gave us paperwork like this, but what else could I do? Throw hands at him? Only if I could, I would.

I didn’t even notice that he caught me eye-rolling at him. “Is there any problem?” He said, looking directly at me while placing his book and papers on the table.

Of course I play dumb. “Me…?” I said. “Yes, you. Who else might I be referring to? You’re the only one who’s sitting there far away from your classmates,” he replied.

I sarcastically replied, “There is, in fact, no problem.” I faked my smile.

He seemed not to be content with my answer, but he just went lecturing about a new lesson for today and added some suggestions to put in our paper just in case we haven’t done it yet. But, did I mention I listened to everything he said? Right. I didn’t, because I was busy studying his figure… I don’t know what’s gotten into my mind but I feel like I’m being slowly pulled to him, like some kind of magnetic force that an equation or anything about science could not even explain. I’m still irritated by him, though.

It’s already five o’clock and his class just finished. Before I could even step outside of the door, he called my name and asked me, “How’s your paper?” Really? Why not ask how I am instead of the paper, I thought. “Going pretty well,’’ I replied. “Good, because that will help you to finish your studies,” he said, as he put his book and papers inside of his crossbody bag.

I nodded and gave him a bitter smile. “Yeah, I know.” I didn’t even wait for him to say anything back and just went outside already.

A cigarette could really be a good use to free myself from stress. I have a perfect spot to smoke after class whenever I feel stressed, which I do every time. It’s been a coping mechanism since I was in high school and I could never seem to get it out of my system.

Without hesitation, I lit my cigarette and covered it with my left hand so the fire won’t be blown by the wind.

After inhaling it three times with my eyes closed while leaning on the brick, I was startled by a familiar voice. “Still got some?”

I turned around and recognized it’s my professor from my class… Owen Taylor. I almost threw away my cigarette when he saw me. “Holy shi–” I paused, “I’m… I’m really sorry, I won’t do this again. Just promise me you won’t tell it to the dean.” I pleaded. I feel embarrassed that I want to be eaten alive right now.

He looks unfazed. “I just said if you still got some but you straight up get worried.” He paused for a second, maintaining eye-contact, “So, are you going to hand me one or not?” He handed out his hand from his pocket.

Still startled from what just happened, I grabbed a pack of my cigarettes in my pocket and handed him one of it.

He puts the cigarette on his lips, but he’s still not lighting it up. “Are you just going to let it be like this or will you light it up for me?” He asked, putting away the cigarette from his lips.

“Oh, yeah, sorry. Here.” I said as I handed him my lighter.

He took the lighter from me and lit up his cigarette. Oh, God, I’ve never seen a man who lit up a cigarette effortlessly making it look… I don’t know. Hot? Maybe. But, that’s weird to be fascinated by. He’s my professor and it’s wrong to think of him that way. God forbid a woman who finds anything attractive, especially if it’s acted out by an attractive man, I thought.

There’s a minute of silence before he speaks, “When did you start?” He said as he took a puff.

I instantly understood his question. “Since high school. Just a coping mechanism and not just to be seen as cool by other kids.” I said as I inhaled mine.

“I see.” He nodded.

We didn’t do much talking and just went to finish smoking. We just stand beside each other as we inhale every nicotine we have.

He breaks the silence, “Thank you,” he said. “Yeah, no problem. Just don’t tell anyone from school then we’ll be fine.” I nodded.

He chuckled. “Is that a threat?”

I answered, “No, but if you perceive it that way… Maybe, yes.”

As we were walking away from that “spot” the rain started to pour. Shit, I forgot to bring an umbrella with me, my bag is going to be soaked and my laptop’s inside, I thought as I frowned my brows and looked at the ground getting wet.

He stopped walking and looked at me with concern. “You don’t have an umbrella with you?”

As much as I hate to admit it. “Yeah… I forgot.”

“I have my car with me parked near here, you want a ride?” He offered.

I really wanted to refuse but I am caught with this situation with nothing but his offer. “Okay… sure.” I said as I followed him walking towards his car.

He opened the door for the passenger seat, I didn’t know he’s a gentleman. I thought he was just some kind of teacher to put some stress on his students. Judged him too far, I think.

He closed the car door for me and went to sit on the driver’s seat. I’m too focused on checking my laptop forgetting that I need to put my seatbelt on. “Buckle up, the road’s slippery.” He commanded.

After I buckled up, he started to drive. His attention was too focused on the road so the ride just went silent until the rain started to pour heavily so that he had to idle his car.

“We have to wait for the rain to subside, I can’t risk us getting into an accident,” he said.

I didn’t say anything, I just rested my head on the window beside me, watching and listening to the rain downpour.

Minutes passed by and the rain is still ongoing. When will this end? I need to go home and finish my thesis, I thought.

I noticed him moving from my peripheral vision, he turned the music on.

The mirror’s image tells me it’s home time

But I’m not finished, ‘cause you’re not by my side

And as I arrived I thought I saw you leavin’

Carryin’ your shoes

Decided that once again I was just dreamin’

Of bumpin’ into you

“You listen to Arctic Monkeys?” I asked as he hummed along with the music.

“Hmm, yeah. How ‘bout you? A fan of ‘em?” He asked, turned to look at me after staring at his front windshield for God knows how long.

Now, it's three in the mornin’

And I’m tryna’ change your mind

Left you multiple missed calls

And to my message, you reply

“Why’d you only call me when you’re high?”

“Hi, why’d you only call me when you’re high?”

“Yeah, I am.” I said, as I looked into his eyes. Those eyes… those eyes that could make you crippling your sheets–Oh, oh, no. Enough, I thought. I covered my face with shame.

He looks confused. “What’s wrong?” He frowned his brows.

“Nothing… Just shrugging a thought,” I nervously replied, but I somehow managed to hide my nervousness. If I really did…

“And what those thoughts got something to do with looking at me for too long?” His voice snapped me back to reality and made me realize I stared at him for too long.

Somewhere darker, talkin’ the same shite

I need a partner, (High) well are you out tonight?

It’s harder and harder to get you to listen

More I get through the gears

Incapable of makin’ alright decisions

And having bad ideas

His voice echoed in my ears. “Are you having ideas?”

I gulped, not knowing what to answer. I looked away from him but he cupped my chin with his left hand. The hand that he used to smoke earlier, it still smells marlboro red.

“What ideas…?” I asked weakly.

“You know what,” he said, his voice became deep and raspy.

Now, it’s three in the mornin’

And I’m tryna’ change your mind

Left you multiple missed calls

And to my message, you reply (Message, you reply)

I chuckled shakily. “Are you high?” I asked.

“Why’d you only call me when you’re high?”

(Why’d you only call me when you’re)

His tone seems confused at the same time. “High?”

“Hi, why’d you only call me when you’re high?”

We stared at each other, waiting for one of us to make a move. The tension is palpable inside of his car. I can smell his breath, his perfume, I can see the details of his hair looking soft with a sense of rawness in every strand. The way his eyes blink at the same time as mine. The way my heart pounds at every second his face gets closer with me. I’m not turning away from him which made me question myself. He’s thirty-two years old and I’m only twenty-one. This can’t be happening–I am dreaming but I’m not…

In a flash of two seconds, his lips pressed on mine. I can feel its softness and the way it devours me. I kissed back… I know I shouldn’t, but here I am.

And I can’t see you here, wonder where I might

It sort of feels like I’m runnin’ out of time

Our lips continue to savour every taste, not wasting any saliva. He slides his tongue inside of my mouth. The way our tongues dance with each other is enough to send shivers down my spine. I can feel my entrance getting wet as he touches my left leg with his right hand and his left hand at my nape while making out with me.

His kiss gets deeper and deeper at every second and I fear I might run out of breath. The music still plays while we’re doing an unholy act. What a perfect song for a perfect time.

I haven’t found all I was hopin’ to find

You said you gotta be up in the mornin’

Gonna have an early night

I let out a huge breath after he released his mouth to mine, his lips went down on my neck… A part of my body I considered to be more sensitive than my entrance. I grip his hair signaling for him to suck deeper which he did. This man is going to be the end of me.

And you’re startin’ to bore me, baby

“Why’d you only call me when you’re high?”

He stopped for seconds to pull my shirt up and threw it away at the backseat. I did the same thing with him, I unbuttoned his polo shirt and saw his majestic deliciously carved body. He has the perfect shape I wanted.

“Why’d you only ever phone me when you’re high?”

“Why’d you only ever phone me when you’re (high)?”

The song stopped, then we realized what we were doing. “Are we going to continue this?” He asked, breathing heavily.

I nodded unhesitatingly. “Are you sure?” He asked again.

As soon as he got the answer which I think he wanted to hear, he scooted over in the backseat. I did the same as well.

I laid down and found myself being dominated by this man. He started to unbuckle his belt and unzipped his pants. I also started to take off my underwear but I still haven’t unhooked my bra. He leaned over me and I can feel his manhood bulging and ready to be released from being caged in his pants.

His breath is hot as fire as he breathes, I can feel it in my ears as he kisses my neck again. His right hand slowly went from holding my hair to going down on my abdomen to tracing my legs using his middle and ring finger, teasing my insides.

I sighed out of frustration at being teased. “Touch me…” I said, breathing shakily.

He seems to not have heard what I said. I grabbed his wrist and put it in my center, started grinding and made it more wet than ever.

“Ohh… Slow down.” He said between the kisses.

He breaks the kisses and rises up. “Unhook your bra.” He commanded.

I arched my brow, teasing him. “Why don’t you unhook my bra?”

He looks at me seriously. “Are you going to follow or not?” He said, voice low and raspy.

I took a little sigh and unhooked my bra. It felt like freedom to remove this thing from me. I’ve never been a fan of wearing a bra, so I only wear a shirt whenever I’m at home.

He leaned back again, but this time, it’s my chest that he’s starting to violate. He sucks my nipples as if there’s no tomorrow. His mouth on my left chest, his left hand on my right. Massaging it slowly.

I can feel the metal of his watch touching my skin, sending shivers to my body. The way his tongue twirls on my nipple makes me crazy like an animal. My thoughts are full of lust. This man is breathtaking.

He paused, sliding down his pants. He stroked his manhood three times before entering my insides. I let out a soft moan, feeling every inch of him in my body.

He started to thrust me slowly at first, giving me time to adjust from his hard length. Every single thrust he makes, I can hear him whimper even though he’s trying not to make any sound.

His hair touches my face, giving me a tickling sensation. I brushed and grip the back of his hair. I put both of my feet behind his waist, holding on to his nape as he goes faster and deeper than he did minutes later.

I can feel my core throbbing and pulsating, like a morse code spelling his name repeatedly—like an echo in my mind.

I gripped his back using my fingers to support the force he’s giving. My nails are long enough to leave claw marks on his skin, leaving trails of my scratches.

He licked his lips and started to explore my mouth again. Sliding his tongue in me, sharing heat and feeding each other’s hunger. His kiss gets deeper and deeper as he thrusts me harder and faster. This is the first time a man has given me this kind of pleasure. This is heaven.

He got up carrying my back with him, still not breaking the kiss. Our bodies shifted, I hovered over him—breathless and wanting more.

I began dancing on his lap, my lips traced a path along his throat, sucking hard like what he did to me.

He groaned. “I—I’m close…” He gasped, chest rising.

“It’s okay… I’m taking birth control pills,” I said, gasping for air.

He shut his eyes, each of my thrusts met me with equal intensity. My hips are bouncing by the way our bodies move together in sync. The atmosphere became more tense and hotter as we felt our climax built with every thrust.

We couldn’t hold back much longer anymore. Our bodies collapse together as we breathe against our skin, bodies trembling.

My head resting against his neck, hands hugging his back. His hands stroked my hair, giving me a sense of comfort.

I lifted my head up and leaned backwards, holding on to the passenger seat behind me, I grabbed my bag.

I put down my bag on his right and started to look for my cigarette. I took one and put it between my lips as I lit it up in front of him.

He watches me smoke and blow it, not minding the suffocating feeling it might cause us. I once again inhaled and held it in for three seconds, I leaned onto him, my lips coaxing his mouth open as I exhaled into his.

He grabbed the cigarette from my fingers and inhaled deeply, not breaking an eye-contact.

“You’re good, huh?” His voice, dark and smooth.

I smirked. “And you’re bold,” I replied. I snatched my bag beside him and looked for gum, still not leaving from our position. I peeled the packaging and started to chew.

He frowned his brows slightly. “Are you chewing gum?”

I let out a small smile. “No,” I replied, sarcastically.

“Spit it out.” He demanded.

I stared at him, not doing what he requested. I just started to chew this tasteful gum, there’s no way I’ll throw it away this soon, I thought.

He handed out his other hand close to my mouth, signaling me to spit it out. He looked down at his hand, then he met my gaze again and he slightly arched both of his brows.

I gave him a confused reaction because I can’t understand why he wants me to spit this out, maybe he’s irritated by the sound it makes? I don’t know.

“Spit it out and I’ll give you a high grade on your paper,” he added.

Without a further thought, I spat out my gum. I’d rather waste a gum than waste my grades.

“There you go,” I said, looking at the gum I just sacrificed for a grade. But, whatever.

“We should go, the rain just stopped pouring. I’ll drive you home.” I nodded. I got off of his lap and we picked up our clothes and wore them like nothing happened. I opened the car door beside me and went outside to go back to the passenger seat. He did the same thing and went back to the driver’s seat.

He started to drive and focuses on driving. I broke the silence, “So… what are we going to do now?” I asked.

His left hand on the steering wheel, while his right hand squeezed my thigh, still not breaking his attention from the road. “Meet me at my office tomorrow. I’m going to give you something,” he replied.

I just nodded and let him continue driving until I reached home. It only took me five seconds before I reached for his face, giving him a kiss. I went outside of his car and watched him drive away.

▪️ AUTHOR’S NOTES : DO NOT STEAL❕

#lewis pullman #marvel #bob thunderbolts #smut #mcu #owen taylor #the starling girl #owen taylor × reader

214 notes · View notes

kaira-diaries · 4 months ago

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Show but don’t Tell:

⚠️: SMUT || age gap (university student) 18+ || Professor In-ho

pairing: Professor!In-ho x fem!reader

wc: 5k

a/n: ahhh I promised more of these two and wrote something out for them! This can be read as a standalone or as a second part to teachers pet, which is linked below! Just some smut with plot!!

->teachers pet<-

->masterlist<-

It was Monday, and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t painfully hungover.

Your head pounded with every movement, a dull, relentless ache that made even the dim morning light filtering through the curtains feel like an assault. But none of that mattered right now—because you and Emma were in full-blown panic mode.

Your dorm room was a disaster zone. Clothes were strewn across the floor, drawers yanked open, shoes kicked into random corners as the two of you scrambled in a frenzied search for anything remotely presentable.

“Where the hell are my jeans?” Emma groaned, rifling through a pile of clothes.

“I don’t know! I can’t even find my other sneaker,” you snapped, shoving aside textbooks and empty coffee cups. The time on your alarm clock mocked you, the red digital numbers blinking unforgivingly.

You were late.

Sooo late.

And if there was one thing you knew about In-ho, it was that he was a stickler for attendance. You could practically hear his disappointed sigh already, see the unimpressed tilt of his head as he peered over the rim of his glasses, that sharp gaze dissecting you like a poorly written thesis.

Hell, you’d just gotten a lecture from him this weekend about your occasional tardiness. A long, winding rant about responsibility, respect, and professionalism.

Of course, you had your ways of shutting him up.

And judging by the dull ache in your jaw, a not-so-subtle reminder of how you spent that night, you’d say it worked.

Emma finally found a pair of jeans and yanked them on in record time. “He’s going to kill us this time, Y/n. Like, really kill us.”

You shoved your foot into your missing sneaker, pulling the laces tight before yanking your jacket over your shoulders. “I know,” you huffed, gathering your hair into a quick ponytail. “Let’s just get there first. We can worry about the repercussions after.”

Emma muttered something under her breath, but you were already halfway out the door, slamming it shut behind you.

The two of you bolted down the dormitory hallway, sneakers thudding against the tile floor as you wove past half-asleep students shuffling toward their own classes. Your heart pounded, adrenaline spiking as you practically flew down the stairs, Emma panting beside you.

And then—

The lecture hall.

The door loomed just ahead, the final barrier between you and him.

You practically threw the door open, the loud thud of it hitting the stopper announcing your grand—if not completely belated—entrance. The classroom, once a dull hum of quiet note-taking and the occasional shifting of chairs, fell into absolute silence. You could feel Emma right behind you, her breath warm and uneven against your ear as she tried to recover from the mad dash through the halls.

And then, you felt it.

The weight of his stare.

At the front of the class, In-ho stood rigid, a thick book balanced effortlessly in one hand while his glasses teetered precariously on the edge of his nose. His dark eyes, sharp and unyielding, locked onto you and Emma with an intensity that sent a chill up your spine. The slight twitch of his jaw, the way his fingers flexed against the pages—everything about him screamed pissed.

“We’re fucked,” Emma breathed, voice barely audible.

You hushed her quickly. “Stop it. No, we’re not.”

The corner of his mouth lifted—not in amusement, but in something far more ominous. He glanced at his watch, the movement slow and deliberate, before finally speaking.

“Ladies, thank you for joining us,” he said smoothly, though the sarcasm cut like a knife. “Thirty minutes late, of course.”

You swallowed hard, biting your cheek to keep from wincing.

“Told you,” Emma whispered smugly, just as the class turned in their seats, eyes flicking between the two of you like they were watching a pair of criminals walk to their sentencing.

Clearing your throat, you took a cautious step forward. “...Sorry, Dr. Hwang, we—”

A sharp jab to your back cut you off. Emma.

He didn’t even let you finish. “Your excuses are senseless,” he interrupted, voice cool as he flicked to the next page of his book with an air of complete disinterest. “Sit down.”

And just like that, the room shifted back to normal, the spell of tension broken. You and Emma did as you were told, sliding into your seats as quietly as possible, but the heat of embarrassment still clung to your skin.

In-ho continued his lecture as if nothing had happened.

But you could still feel his eyes lingering.

The lecture dragged on… and on… each passing second stretching into eternity. The words spilling from In-ho's lips became nothing more than a distant murmur, blending into the background like white noise.

But his stare? That, you felt with excruciating clarity.

Even as he spoke, effortlessly commanding the room’s attention, his eyes lingered—sharp, assessing, knowing. Every time you dared glance up, you were met with the same piercing gaze, a silent reminder that your tardiness had not been forgotten. It made it impossible to focus, your mind wandering instead to what repercussions awaited you.

Would he make an example of you in front of the class next time? Deduct points? Or… would he handle it in private?

The thought sent a shudder through you, a slow, creeping warmth unfurling in your stomach. You swallowed hard, ashamed of where your mind was drifting, of the way anticipation coiled inside you. But shame was powerless against the quiet thrill coursing through your veins.

Finally, after what felt like hours, In-ho snapped his book shut.

"Thats all for today. Dismissed."

The scrape of chairs against the floor and the rustle of bags being packed filled the room instantly. Emma wasted no time—she was packed up and out of the lecture hall before you could even blink.

Coward.

You chuckled under your breath, shaking your head as you shut your laptop and slipped it into your bag. Just as you slung the strap over your shoulder, a voice cut through the noise.

“Y/n.”

You froze for half a second before looking up, already knowing who it was.

In-ho stood near the desk, one hand resting on the surface while the other adjusted the glasses perched on his nose. His expression was unreadable, but the weight behind his gaze was heavy.

"A word?"

You exhaled slowly, feigning nonchalance as you stood. Here comes the long, boring lecture.

With measured steps, you made your way down the stairs toward him, the sound of your shoes tapping lightly against the floor. As you reached him, you watched as he leaned back against the desk, his posture deceptively relaxed—but there was nothing relaxed about the way his eyes followed your every movement.

Once the door closed for the final time, leaving the two of you alone, he took his glasses off, placing them beside him.

In-ho exhaled sharply, his tone measured but laced with quiet irritation.

“What did I tell you about lateness?”

You sighed dramatically, crossing your arms as you stepped closer, closing the space between you just enough to test his patience. “I remember, thanks,” you said, tilting your head slightly. “But, in my defense, tequila tends to leave me barely alive. And hey—” you offered a cheeky grin, “—I made it, didn’t I?”

You leaned into humor, hoping to soften the edge of his temper, but his expression didn’t so much as flicker. Instead, he simply shook his head, gaze unwavering.

“You’re supposed to be smart. Professional about your decision-making,” he countered, his voice low and even, the kind that made your skin prickle with awareness.

You huffed, rolling your eyes. “Right, because your decision-making has a flawless track record.”

That did it.

He pushed off the desk in one smooth motion, closing the remaining distance between you in an instant. Your breath hitched, but you refused to back down, lifting your chin as his presence loomed over you.

Dark eyes locked onto yours, sharp and unrelenting.

“You think this is funny?” His voice had dropped, quieter now, more dangerous.

Your lips curled into a knowing smirk.

“Don’t be so mad, In-ho,” you cooed, the casual use of his name rolling off your tongue like a provocation. You let your fingers drift down, toying absentmindedly with the belt at his pants, feeling the faint rise and fall of him beneath your touch. “It was just a mistake.”

A long pause stretched between you, thick with tension.

“Besides,” you murmured, letting your fingers linger, “I’ve read the textbook.”

The corner of your mouth twitched upward.

Before another word could leave his lips, the sudden creak of the lecture hall door cut through the thick tension, making you jump back instinctively. Your fingers slipped from In-ho’s belt as if burned, and you turned just in time to see Emma poking her head inside, eyes darting between the two of you with knowing amusement.

“Y/n, come on, I’m starving.”

You exhaled a laugh, pressing a hand to your chest as if to steady your racing pulse.

Emma, completely unfazed, leaned further into the doorway. “While I truly love your class, Dr. Hwang,” she drawled, her voice dripping with playful exaggeration, “and I absolutely, without a doubt, blame all of the tardiness on Y/n… I kinda need my best friend now.”

You bit your lip to stifle a grin, throwing her a look that was equal parts amused and exasperated.

Turning back to In-ho, you found his expression illegible, though his jaw had tightened ever so slightly. His eyes, however, still held that same sharp glint, as if the interruption had done little to dissolve the lingering heat between you.

You stepped closer, just enough for your voice to drop to a teasing whisper.

��See you tonight.”

The words left your lips like a promise, like a challenge.

And before he could react, you spun on your heel and took off toward Emma, who was already swinging the door open wider, grinning like she had just walked in on something far more interesting than a scolding.

As you exited the lecture hall, you didn’t need to turn around to know that In-ho was still watching you. You could feel it.

Stepping in line beside Emma, you felt her eyes drilling into the side of your face. She wasn’t just looking at you—she was analyzing you, her expression a mix of suspicion and excitement, like a detective about to crack a scandalous case.

“Okay,” she started, dragging out the word for emphasis. “What the hell was that?”

You blinked at her innocently. “What are you talking about?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” she said, waving a hand dramatically. “The obvious tension in the room? Your jumpiness? That sexy-yet-annoyed murder look on his face?”

You scoffed, feigning confusion. “I really don’t know what you’re talking about.”

That made her stop in her tracks.

You took a few more steps before realizing she wasn’t beside you anymore. When you turned back, Emma stood there, arms crossed, lips parted in realization. Her eyes narrowed.

“Are you fucking him?”

Your stomach dropped.

You didn’t answer—because you couldn’t. Your mouth opened slightly, but nothing came out.

And that was all she needed.

Emma’s eyes went comically wide before she gasped, closing the gap between you in record time. She grabbed your arm like you were about to sprint away.

“You’re fucking our professor,” she whisper-screamed, barely containing herself.

Panic flared in your chest. “Would you keep it down?” you hissed, grabbing her and dragging the two of you into the nearest bathroom before she could announce your sins to the entire student body.

The door hadn’t even fully shut before she squealed.

“Oh. My. GOD. Y/n. You and—him?”

You clamped a hand over her mouth, wide-eyed. “Yes, yes, okay! But keep your voice down!”

She peeled your hand off her lips, eyes sparkling with wicked delight. “How? When? Who made the first move? How is he in bed? Does he keep the glasses on? He keeps the glasses on, doesn’t he?”

You groaned, dragging a hand down your face. “I don’t know, it just… happened.”

She gasped again. “Are you mad?” you asked hesitantly.

Her expression twisted in pure offense. “What? No! This is the best thing ever, Y/n.” She grabbed your shoulders and gave you a tiny shake. “How many times have I told you this year to get out of your comfort zone? Loosen up? Have an adventure?” She threw her hands up. “I mean, after all the shit I’ve done, this takes the fucking cake.”

You rolled your eyes. “You cannot tell anyone. Okay?”

Emma gasped, placing a hand on her heart like you’d mortally wounded her. “As if I’d ever! I’d take this to my grave—but you do need to tell me everything.” She grinned. “When do you see him again?”

“Tonight,” you admitted.

Her eyes gleamed.

“Is he mad about us being late?”

You exhaled. “Furious. But he’ll get over it.”

A slow, devious smirk spread across her face. “Ohhhh,” she singsonged, “you’re so gonna get it.”

You smacked her arm. “Emma!"

She just cackled, rubbing her arm. “Oh, this is better than reality TV.”

_________________

You practically had to peel Emma off of you to escape her relentless interrogation.

"Are you on a first-name basis?"

"Can you get him to change my grade to an A?"

"Is he submissive?"

That last question made you choke on your own breath. No, the answer was absolutely no. In-ho was nothing close to submissive. But... could he be?

The thought settled in your mind, uninvited yet intriguing. You shook it off, focusing instead on your plan for the night.

The cold air nipped at your skin as you stepped outside, the weight of your long black coat draping over your body. Underneath? Nothing. Not a single thing to shield you from the chill. The fabric brushed against your bare skin with every step, sending an illicit thrill through you.

You knew In-ho was still mad—of course he was. He wasn’t the type to let things go easily. He’d let his frustration simmer, let it sit heavy between you like an unspoken challenge. But you had no intention of letting him stay mad for long.

You’d make it up to him.

To your professor. Your teacher. Your instructor.

Your lover.

The word still felt surreal, like something plucked from the depths of a forbidden fantasy.

But as you stood in front of his door, heart hammering, hand lifting to knock, the reality of it all settled in your bones.

It took a few moments before you heard the faint sound of footsteps from inside. The door creaked open, revealing In-ho standing there, his posture casual, yet the faint trace of irritation still clouded his eyes. His shirt sleeves were rolled up, his hair slightly tousled from the day’s work, but he was still undeniably commanding.

You leaned against the door frame, taking in the sight of him—something about him always pulled you in, even when you knew you shouldn’t be this drawn to him. The air between you both still crackled with the tension from earlier, but you pushed it aside, trying to steady your racing heart.

“I’m sorry, y’know,” you began, the words stumbling slightly as you looked at him. The weight of your apology felt heavier than it should have.

“I shouldn’t be late to your class; it’s… disrespectful,” you added, your voice barely above a whisper.

He nodded in acknowledgment, though there was something colder about it than you expected. But then, as if he were trying to shake off the remnants of that coldness, he turned to walk further into the room.

“Come on, I just made dinner,” he said, his voice softer now, like a subtle invitation.

As he moved, the space between you both grew and for a fleeting moment, you thought of turning away, of walking out and letting things settle. But then your body reacted before your mind could catch up. Without thinking, you reached out and grabbed his arm.

The contact felt electric, a spark that ran all the way up your spine. He froze for just a beat, his body tense under your touch, but you didn’t let go. With a gentle but firm push, you made sure the door closed behind you, cutting off any chance of escape.

“Actually,” you started, your voice faltering as your throat tightened with a sudden rush of nerves, “I…I wanted—”

But his gaze was on you now. Those dark, piercing eyes didn’t just glance over you, they devoured you, as if he could see right through you, every thought, every hesitation.

Your breath hitched in your chest.

God, he made you nervous. The kind of nervous that made your pulse race and your mind go blank, but at the same time, made your body feel like it was on fire.

You swallowed hard, trying to get the words out, but the heat in his stare made it harder than ever to focus.

"What is it, pretty?" He asked.

You licked your lips, your throat suddenly dry as you reached to untie your jacket, allowing it to slip from your naked body. The sound of it hitting the floor was muffled as his eyes locked onto your bare chest, sliding down to your torso, your thighs, your legs.

You watched him, watched how is eyes filled with want, with hunger and appetite.

"I wanted to make it up to you," you stepped forward, reaching for his hand, guiding it to one of your breasts, "make up for being late to my instructor's class." You looked up at him with big eyes.

He took another step forward, his presence surrounding you like a heavy fog. His hands settled at your waist, his fingers pressing just enough to send a shiver through your skin. You felt the heat of his touch seep into your flesh, your heart pounding in response.

Without thinking, you pushed yourself onto your tippy toes, the height difference between you making the act feel somehow more intimate. You let your breath brush against his lips, close enough that your noses knocked gently together. It was playful, but it held something more.

“Is my apology accepted?” you asked, your voice teasing but carrying an undertone of vulnerability. The words slipped out before you could second-guess them, and your heart skipped as you waited for his response.

He smiled, slow and knowing. The way his lips curled told you he knew exactly what kind of effect he had on you, and the realization made your stomach flutter.

“I forgave you the moment you walked out with your friend,” he replied, his voice low and smooth like silk dragging across your skin.

You raised an eyebrow, confused for a moment. “Then why the lectures about being late?” you asked, trying to sound casual, but the underlying tension in your voice was impossible to ignore.

He shrugged nonchalantly, but there was a glimmer of something in his eyes, something far more intense than the casual gesture let on. “Your habits need to be improved,” he said, his voice dripping with playful disapproval.

You scoffed, leaning in just slightly, teasing him with a small smirk. “So now I need improvement, huh?”

He hummed softly, a sound filled with satisfaction, as he leaned in, his lips brushing yours with the gentlest of caresses. The kiss was unhurried, plotted, as if each movement was meant to make the moment last forever. His lips were velvety and warm, molding against yours in a way that made everything around you fade into the background.

The kiss deepened with richness, pulling you in like the tide—gentle at first, then impossible to resist as it swept you under. You melted into the touch, your breath hitching in your chest as his tongue met yours, a tender exploration that left you breathless. He kissed you as though there was no time, no world beyond the two of you—each moment of closeness felt sacred, like something beautiful and fragile that deserved to be savored.

You responded to him, your mouth parting softly, inviting him in as if there was nowhere else you’d rather be. His tongue moved with such care, each stroke a quiet promise, each movement an unspoken declaration that you were both lost in something deeper than just a kiss.

Your fingers moved with purpose, slowly, but with an unmistakable intent. Each button of his shirt was a soft, deliberate action, your manicured fingers delicately working their way down the fabric. You felt the cool smoothness of the buttons beneath your fingertips, the tension of each one as it gave way to your touch. One by one, you popped them free, the sound of each button sliding out of its hole barely louder than the rush of your heartbeat.

With each button undone, the space between you both seemed to narrow, the anticipation building, the heat between you rising. As your fingers reached the last button, you paused, the fabric now loose enough to fall slightly open, revealing the taut muscles beneath. You could feel the warmth of his skin through the fabric, and you couldn't help but let your hands linger, brushing lightly across the exposed skin as you untucked the hem of his shirt from his pants.

You slowly pulled at the edges of the shirt, watching as the fabric slid free, revealing more of him, inch by inch. The shirt came undone easily, and with a subtle shift, he shrugged it off, the action fluid and effortless.

The fabric slipped from his shoulders, pooling at his feet.

As soon as he was free from the confines of his shirt, you pulled back, your hands gently gliding across his bare skin. You pressed soft, tender kisses along his chest, letting your lips linger against the warmth of his skin. The touch was light, affectionate, like each kiss was a whispered promise you intended to keep.

You let your lips trail upward, finding the curve of his jaw, where you kissed him once more—slow, reverent, savoring the closeness. You traced his jawline, feeling the steady rhythm of his breath beneath your lips. Then, slowly, you moved down to his neck, your teeth grazing gently over the sensitive skin there, just enough to make him shiver, but with care.

The way your lips and teeth moved over him was intentional but tender as if you wanted to show him how much he meant to you with each subtle touch. Your kisses continued downward, over the strong line of his collarbone, your lips barely brushing the surface of his skin.

You felt the steady thrum of his heartbeat as you kissed your way lower to the broad expanse of his chest, where you paused, letting your lips rest for a moment. You couldn’t help but linger there, feeling the warmth of him.

Lowering to your knees, you looked up at In-ho, his eyes already locked onto yours. "You're so beautiful." He stated, making your heart melt as you smiled. Your gaze drifted down, focused on freeing the leather belt from his black pants. Your fingers, as nimble as ever, worked until the belt was loose, hitting the floor a moment later, joining the other pieces of clothing.

Your mouth was watering just at the thought of taking him in your mouth, but before you could reach out to grab the growing bulge beneath his pants, In-ho grabbed your shoulders, pulling you up to your feet.

The frown must have been loud on your face, but it quickly diminished to laughter as In-ho freed himself kicking his pants away and grabbing at your thighs, lifting you with ease. He pressed soft kisses to your cheeks, dragging them to your jaw and neck until he sat the two of you softly down on his couch.

You groaned in disappointment as he hovered above your figure, fitting comfortably between your thighs like a perfect puzzle piece.

"What is it?" He questioned, drawing back to give you some space.

You said nothing as he dragged a palm between your breasts, "tell me, darling."

You took advantage of his settled state.

Sitting up quickly, you wrestled him down, his back resting against the couch, before settling yourself in his lap. A flicker of protest shone in his eyes but it quickly dissipated when you spit in your hand, gripping his cock. That look of objection was now replaced by lust as you pumped him slowly up and down.

With his head now thrown back, you licked at the skin of his neck, "Let me have control tonight, professor." You purred against his skin, earning a groan of approval.

"Fuck, y/n, that feels good," In-ho whined in your ear, making you grin.

You paused, your hand gently moving to his chin, your fingertips lightly grazing the smoothness of his skin. With a soft, yet purposeful pressure, you tilted his head to face you, your gaze locking with his. His eyes were intense, but you could see the vulnerability behind them, a flicker of something deeper that made your heart skip.

"Is that a yes?"

He didn’t immediately answer, his eyes searching yours with a quiet intensity as though weighing the meaning behind the question. The air between you both felt thick with anticipation, each second stretching out longer than the last.

"Yes," he muttered, his voice low and steady, filled with a quiet certainty that sent a rush of warmth through you as his hands released your hips, giving you full authority.

You flashed a sweet grin, kissing him softly.

Lining yourself up, you sunk down onto him, feeling a delicious pressure that persuaded a slow whine to break from both of your chests. After the many nights spent with In-ho, you still hadn't molded to the sheer size of him, and certaintly not at this angle.

Control was In-ho's thing. He relished in fucking you how he liked, taking you at breathtaking angles that you hadn't experienced before, dominating you every. single. time, leaving you with a dull ache in your thighs that you'd have to tolerate during his class the next day. He enjoyed fucking you how he wanted. It was dizzying, intoxicating and always left you wanting more.

You hadn't thought of taking control, you hadn't thought of making In-ho submit to you... someone who was much younger, much less experienced. Of course that had been a topic of conversation every now and then. It was something he worried about, but you reassured him every time that you wanted this..wanted him.

With the swift roll of your hips, you felt every vein he had to offer, every divet, every inch. Gripping his shoulders to ground yourself, you rested your forehead against his, sharing your breaths as you whimpered his name. Leaning into you, In-ho's hand wrapped softly around the back of your head, keeping you in place as you worked the two of you towards the edge. His look was so full of admiration as he whispered..."so young.." he grunted, "so damn pretty."

You pulled from his forehead, throwing your head back in pleasure, sensing his watchful eye, but something else entirely was surfacing within you.

What you once thought was obsession... is slowly turning into love. You can’t ignore it anymore, no matter how much you try. At first, it was easy to convince yourself it was just desire, something stupid—something that would burn out as quickly as it flared up. But now, every time you see him, feel him close, you realize it’s something deeper than you ever imagined.

What was most disappointing was that you knew you wouldn't be able to muster up the courage to tell him..afraid of what he might say or do. Your relationship was complicated enough, and adding an emotion such as love would be enough to send it off the deep end and maybe scare him away.

You felt that familiar coil start to tighten within you as you gripped him harder with every roll of your hips. The air was thick, filled with the sounds of your bodies colliding with one another, and you leaned into him, throwing your face into his shoulder as he wrapped his arms around your back. "Fuck In-ho I think-"

"I know darling, take what you need." He reassured in your ear, sending you off the edge into your release. Crying out into his skin, In-ho spilled into you moments later, making you squirm from the sweet sensation.

The two of you stayed like that for a while, catching your breaths, coming down from the well needed high. You bit your lip, anxiety creeping up as a thought formed in your mind—something you had to tell him, something you couldn’t keep hidden. Your fingers shook slightly as you pulled back from his shoulder, threading them through his soft, silken hair.

"I need to tell you something," you said, your voice barely above a whisper, the weight of it already making your chest tighten.

In-ho’s expression shifted immediately, concern flickering across his face. "But you need to promise me you won’t get mad," you added, the words leaving your mouth before you had a chance to brace for his reaction.

His brow furrowed in that way, you knew, meant he was trying to process what you were about to say, his eyes narrowing slightly. "The fact that needs to be said is worrying me."

You took a steadying breath, trying to calm the fluttering in your stomach. You couldn’t avoid it. "Emma knows about us," you confessed, unable to meet his eyes at first.

You felt his body stiffen instantly, the shift in his posture so sharp it felt like a crack in the air. "Emma as in...?" he trailed off, disbelief lacing his voice.

You nodded, your heart pounding in your chest as you watched the change in him, the quiet fury that brewed just beneath the surface. "I know it breaks the terms of our deal, but it technically isn’t my fault. She found out on her own and I denied it, but... she isn’t an idiot..." The words spilled out in a rush, the nerves in your stomach tightening with every syllable.

In-ho’s gaze flickered behind you, his eyes lost in thought, his jaw clenched. You could feel the tension radiating from him, the silence stretching longer than you could bear. Finally, he turned back to you, his grip tightening around your hand as he pulled you closer.

"You know, Y/n," he began, his voice low, tinged with something unreadable, "what it'd mean if the university found out."

The weight of his words hit you like a physical blow. Your throat went dry, the cold reality of what could happen settling in your bones. He would be fired. You’d be dismissed as a student, easily erased from the system, and everything you two worked for could be gone in an instant. The thought made the room feel smaller, the air thicker.

You shook your head, desperation creeping into your voice. "No, In-ho, I know. She promised she wouldn’t tell anyone."

He stared at you for a long moment, his gaze searching yours as though looking for something—something he needed to see before he could let go of the fear in his eyes. "Do you trust her?"

The question hung in the air. You didn’t hesitate, placing your palm gently against his cheek, grounding yourself and him in the moment. "With my life," you whispered, your voice steady but full of meaning.

He drew a long, deep breath, pressing his forehead to yours, "alright darling."

_____________________

It was the next day, and you and Emma strolled toward class, the crisp morning air doing little to shake the nerves sitting heavy in your chest. You had spent the entire walk warning her—begging her—to behave, to keep her thoughts to herself, to not say anything that would land you in deep water. But deep down, you knew Emma. You knew she would push buttons, test limits, and make comments that would have you burying your face in your hands before the hour was up.

Sliding into your usual seats at the front row, you pulled out your laptop, glancing at her as she did the same. The moment In-ho walked in, setting his bag down with his usual quiet precision, you could practically feel Emma vibrating in her chair beside you. His glasses came out, resting on the bridge of his nose as he flipped open his textbook, and that was all it took.

A snicker.

You knew exactly what she was thinking. You had barely gotten away from her endless questions last night when you got home—Did the glasses come off in bed? Was he submissive? The moment her laugh slipped out, your elbow jabbed into her ribs, a sharp warning to shut up before she made things worse.

Too late.

In-ho looked up, his gaze sharp as he flicked it in your direction. His eyes briefly settled on you before sliding over to Emma, his expression unreadable but his annoyance palpable.

Slowly, he made his way over, each step measured, calculated. You clenched your jaw, shooting daggers at Emma, who—completely unfazed—grinned as if she hadn’t just signed her own death certificate.

"Y/n," In-ho greeted you first, his tone neutral but laced with the quiet control that always sent shivers down your spine. Then, without breaking stride, he turned his attention to Emma. "Miss Dovin."

His voice was devoid of warmth, so flat it could’ve been mistaken for disinterest if you didn’t know better. You bit the inside of your cheek, praying—begging—for Emma to let it go.

Of course, she didn’t.

Resting her chin in her palm, her eyes sparkled with mischief as she tilted her head. "Dr. Hwang," she said, her voice dripping with amusement.

You swore you saw his jaw tighten.

Emma didn’t stop there. No, that would be too easy.

"How was your night?" she asked sweetly, her lips twitching like she was holding back laughter. Then, as if the implication wasn’t already obvious enough, she casually dragged her fingers up and down the length of her pencil, slow, deliberate, perverted.

You choked on air.

"Emma." you hissed, your face burning with mortification as you smacked her arm, but she barely reacted, still grinning like the absolute menace she was.

In-ho’s nostrils flared.

"Get out of my class, Miss Dovin."

Emma shrugged, entirely unbothered, gathering her things at an agonizingly slow pace. Before leaving, she shot you a look, one so smug it made you want to strangle her. "Tough crowd, huh?" she teased before sauntering off, leaving you to deal with the fallout.

You hesitantly peeked up at In-ho, only to find him already staring at you, eyes opaque and unreadable.

This was not going to be a fun lecture.

TAGLIST: @frontwomann

#hwang in ho #hwang in ho x reader #front man x reader #front man #in ho squid game #fanfic #squid game season 2 #the frontman #squid game fanfic #fan fiction #the front man x reader

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cryinginmyroomsposts · 11 months ago

Text

decipher you | Woozi one-shot

Pairing: Lee Jihoon x fem. Reader

tags: angst, fluff, established relationship, yearning, happy ending, good surprises, a pov switch at the end (just for funsies)

a/n: It's been eons since i wrote on here and a sudden woozi brain rot caused me to write this. not proofread and please let me know what you think and if you have any suggestions or fics

masterlist

It’s way past sunset and well into the next day. Hey you can’t help but keep staring at the clock, your phone and the door. The same order. Every 15 seconds.

Clock. Phone. Door. A heavy sigh… Silence… Clock. Phone. Door. A sigh… Silence…

You should go to sleep, you are aware. But the flicker of hope in you has not died yet. He’ll be home before sunrise… today.

You had the same thought for the fifth night in a row. And the last four days you’d been proven wrong.

Yet here you sit, on the edge of your soft brown couch- handpicked by your Jihoon, looking and hoping for any signs of him showing up for a full night’s sleep.

Jihoon always tiptoed in at the early hours of the day- dragging his messy hair and droopy eyes slowly to lay beside you on the bed. Every morning you pretended you didn’t notice him come in. You pretend you didn’t notice his exhausted sigh as his head hits the bed. You pretend you didn’t notice the light peck he gives you even as sleep threatens to take him away. You pretend not to smile as he says the same thing each morning- “Love you baby. I’ll do better tomorrow.”

And each day you pretend you have faith in his sleepy promise. But why wouldn’t you?

This is Jihoon. Your Jihoon.

The same person who stood through your strenuous years of doctorate degree madness. The Jihoon who held your hand through countless vaccinations, never once complaining that you’re too old to cry about needles. The same Jihoon who always cooks every weekend for the two of you, no matter the amount of pressure he is in.

This is the Jihoon who flew 14 hours across the globe to be with you during your thesis presentation.

This is the Jihoon who took a stand against his company and the industry to proudly announce you as his partner and dedicate multiple love songs to you.

This is the Jihoon who learnt your language to talk to you and your parents in your mother tongue.

The is the Jihoon who married you in your home country even if it meant having to fly out his family and friends across the globe.

This is Jihoon. Your whole universe for the last decade. You trust him with everything in this world and know him like the back of your hand.

But even after all these years, you can’t decipher him.

The way he goes silent suddenlymakes it almost impossible to understand if it’s a good, bad, or nothing silent.

Of course, over the years he has learned to let you in on his thoughts. But once in a while, he relapses into this shell of his. This regression happens in higher intensities during the song production time. He is more present during dance practices and comebacks. But when Jihoon is in Producer Woozi mode, he forgets everyone and everything for hours (and sometimes days) on end.

You had gotten used to it for the most part. Usually, this wouldn’t have annoyed or irked you the way it is right now.

But this time, it’s different.

Your world turned around in the last three days and the one person who needs to hear it isn’t there. The one person your heart is leaping out to isn’t there to hold it. This one time you wished life’s timing wasn’t cruel.

There are a lot of things in life you are capable of accomplishing on your own.

But you know how important his work is to Jihoon. After 13 years in this field, the incredulous passion he still carries is commendable. And after everything he and the team has been through, they’re finally enjoying their craft and you’d be the last person to disturb that equilibrium.

Jihoon’s craft is special. His dedication and work ethic are special. You knew he didn’t like to be interrupted or questioned during his process. And god knows you didn’t want to do that.

But you need Jihoon, now more than ever.

So you look up at the clock once again. 1:05 AM Sigh… You turn on your phone once again. No New Notifications. Sigh… You run your hand through your hair. Holding your breath in, you look at the door. Silence… Sig-

The clicking sounds on the door awaken your soul. One-click. One push. The door swings open and there he is- Jihoon. Your Jihoon. Same fluffy, messy hair. The old worn down black hoodie. Droopy eyes now wide open in surprise.

“Baby. Why are you awake? It’s so late.” He says as he kneels next to you after removing his shoes.

“Jihoon-ah…” your voice comes out in a croak. You haven’t uttered a since the last 5 hours you were at home.

“Hmm?” He looks at you with stars in his eyes. The eye bags prominent as the light hits his face. He’s the most beautiful human you’ve ever laid eyes on.

Before you could speak he begins, as his one palm draws circles on your thighs and the other holding your hip. “I’m really really sorry baby… I know I haven’t been present in a while. The company has been pressing us for variety and I’ve been breaking my head about it.”

A pause as he lays his head on your lap and looks at you.

“But today I got it baby. I did it.” His smile lights up his whole face. Pure happiness gleaming from his eyes. This version of Jihoon was one of your favourite. The one gleaming with pride, grinning with joy and enjoying every bit of satisfaction that comes with the kind of dedication only he can pour into his art.

So you smiled, mirroring his happiness.

“I’m so proud of you honey. Can’t wait to hear it soon!”

“You’ll be the first one to hear it.” He says grinning. Your raise your eyebrows and he giggles. The sound of heaven.

“I mean after the team you’ll be the first to hear it.”

Both of you laugh, a soft ringing laughter echoing through the walls of the home you built for yourselves.

You clear your throat slightly.

“Jihoon I need to tell you something…”

“Yes?” He says in the middle of a yawn.

He looks so exhausted in the moment that he looks 10 years younger.

You decided to wait another day.

“I… just needed to tell you… that I missed you… a lot.” Your words come out in a whisper. Barely audible but you know he heard it by the way he shifts on your lap like a little cat.

“I know baby… I’m sorry.”

You sigh. He was sorry and you knew it.

“You could’ve texted me”

He grumbles an apology into your thighs.

“Jihoon you told me you’d communicate better… we’ve been through this cycle before. You’re always going to be creating music, but the least you can do is let me know. You promised me jagi…”

More grumbles as he manoeuvres himself to settle against your stomach.

Your heart skips a beat.

“I understand work is hard. And I’m an adult so I understand even if it’s difficult. But… but your child won’t be able to…”

By the end of your sentence, you could barely hear yourself. But the way Jihoon freezes against you is proof enough that he heard you.

A moment passes and there is no reaction from him. Another moment.

And what feels like a million tiny moments later, Jihoon’s messy head pops up away from your stomach to your face.

His eyes are glistening and big like boba balls. You hold your breath trying to n to read his face. The creases in his forehead and the straight closed mouth slowly give way to the tiniest smile.

That’s all the sign you need as you break into a huge smile.

He looks at your smile, his own mirroring it, and then down at your stomach then up again at your face. He does it a few more times as you break into soft laughs.

He sits upright on his knees, his face in front of you, big wid eyes full of surprise and hope, as his hands cup your cheeks.

“Y/n… are you being serious right now?”

You nod, words too little for the happiness pouring out of in the form of tears.

Jihoon looks stunned but pulls into a close and tight hug.

Home…

When he faces you again, tears are rolling down his cheeks. “When did you find out?” “Umm… four days ago” “Baby why didn’t you tell me soo-“

The color drains from his face as he moved toward your stomach again. He hugs you around your stomach so lightly as if he’s holding a feather.

“I really am sorry jagi. I know I say it a lot but I should do better. I should’ve done better. For you. For us. And…” He looks at you with an apologetic smile, “and for our child.”

You run your fingers through his silky tousled hair. “Jihoon-ah, it’s okay. What’s done is done…”

He smiles at you.

“You have no idea how restless I’ve been waiting to tell you. To see that look on your face.” His smile grows wider and he places a peck on your very normal stomach whcih makes you giggle.

“You do know there is no actual baby in there yet right?” He pouts as he looks at you, causing more giggles on your end.

“I hope our kid doesn’t get your oversmart brain and is normal like me” he says defiantly.

You let out a snort. “Please Mr worldwide popular idol ‘Woozi’! You’re as far from normal as is possible my dear.”

“Well normal or not, I know our child will have the best dad.”

Jihoon’s cheeky comment sets of a back and forth of arguing about which one of you is better until early hours of the morning as laughter rings through the house.

———

Jihoon:

It was another night of sleeping after dawn for him. He was no stranger to a late night. But for the first time in years he feels too ecstatic to sleep.

His mind and body are buzzing with happiness at the thought of the love of his life carrying their child.

He thinks back to the 17 year old Jihoon who saw this cute girl across the street struggling to get her bags on her cycle basket snd decided to forgo his inhibitions for once and help her. He thinks back to 20 year old Jihoon who, for the first time in his life, gave a speech at a bar confessing his love for the same girl despite all his social anxiety. He thinks back to the 28 year old Jihoon who decided to talk to her parents and arrange a special performance for her on their wedding even though all he wanted was alone time with her.

He thought back to everytime he took a chance for this beautiful and smart girl, now lying next to him peacefully asleep, and he thanks every god and higher power in the universe for giving him the courage to do so.

Without her Jihoon wouldn’t know love and life. Now they have a little bundle of joy on its way just to commemorate this love they share.

And this time Jihoon was going to make sure he’d be there every step of the way.

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idrawweirdstuffnominors · 2 months ago

Note

*shyly stumbles into asks, blushing and giggling* uhmmm heres a silly one...bill with a girlfriend who really likes boba fett (we are talking original trilogy. bill is a prequels anti. i will explode on that hill.) & wants to...get freaky with him..while he's wearing the helmet / cosplay...? ‪‪❤︎‬ thats niche !! if its too silly, disregard ‪. ❤︎‬ hehe.. xoxo - @battingmyeyelashes

(Lol he gonna go full nerd on you, gatekeeping and all

Title" STAR—WHORES"

(Epilogue bill dickey x reader smut, role-playing, star wars references, dorky shit)

You’re sitting cross-legged on the musty futon in Bill’s basement, surrounded by half-unboxed McFarlane Toys and the faint stench of Mountain Dew Baja Blast that permanently haunts the carpet. You’re in your Boba Fett shirt (1983 print, thank you), and Bill’s ranting about The Mandalorian again—he’s one bong rip away from a coronary over "lore desecration."

“It’s not even him! It’s his f**king kid cousin with Disney-fied trauma and a plush toy sidekick!”

You smirk, half-listening, until you spot the Fett helmet and gloves on the shelf behind him. It's dented in that perfect, screen-accurate way. You slink off the futon and grab it.

“What the hell are you—don’t smudge the visor, I swear to God, do not—!”

You cut him off by placing it on his head.

"Just leave it on," you purr.

Bill pauses. Under the helmet, he’s quiet—too quiet. You’d think you asked him to LARP as Jar Jar Binks. But then… then that sick little glint creeps into his body language. That self-important, smug power trip kind of silence. He adjusts the helmet. Stands up straighter.

“You want Fett?” he grunts, voice muffled through the helmet. “You got him. But only the OT version. None of that prequel Mandalore crap.”

You nod, climbing back onto the futon. He’s still in cargo shorts and a torn Flash Gordon tee under the helmet, which is somehow even funnier. But hey—it's Bill. He’s not gonna not leave the socks on.

You reach for him and he jerks back.

"Hold on. You're not worthy of touching Fett yet. Recite the bounty hunter lineup from Empire. In order."

“Are you—”

“IN ORDER.”

You groan. But, okay. Fine. “Bossk, IG-88, Zuckuss, Dengar—"

"WRONG!" he barks. "Zuckuss came after 4-LOM. Jesus. Do you even care about this franchise?"

The helmet fogs slightly as he inhales. Then, dead serious:

"You better start showing some f**king respect if you want to ride Slave I tonight.”

You roll your eyes, legs already draped over the armrest as he paces in the Fett helmet like some gremlin bounty hunter with a superiority complex. Which, well. He is.

“You done?” you ask, cocking a brow. “Or do I need to do a f**king thesis on the Sarlacc pit to touch your dick?”

He stops mid-step. Helmet tilts.

“…You think Fett just lets people touch him?”

“Oh my God, Bill—”

He cuts you off with a gloved finger to your lips, voice muffled and hoarse through the helmet.

“Quiet. You’re not talking to Bill right now. You’re addressing the galaxy’s most feared bounty hunter. And you?” He walks toward you slowly, kneepads squeaking. “You’re my little… carbonite trophy. My precious… filthy… rebel scum.”

You snort, but it turns into a moan when he grabs your thighs—rough, sudden, like he's trying to prove something. He doesn’t kiss you, because kissing is too intimate for Fett (or because the helmet’s in the way), but his mouth is definitely open under there. Breathing heavy. Nerd-lust mode fully activated.

“You’re gonna sit there,” he growls, dragging your hips forward until you’re perched on the edge of the futon, “and I’m gonna show you what a real original trilogy character can do.”

“Oh yeah?” you tease. “You gonna choke me with the Wookiee braids?”

“You wish I’d bring the braids out. You haven't earned that yet.”

He hikes your shirt up with way too much flair, like he’s revealing an action figure variant. There’s a hesitation, though. He’s hard—you can see it through those pathetic cargo shorts—but he’s still Bill, which means even when he’s seconds from railing you, he’s got a goddamn opinion.

“You know, Fett wouldn’t actually do this. He’s too professional. Too controlled.”

“Bill,” you pant, frustrated and turned on in equal measure. “I swear to God, if you break character now, I will peg you in that helmet.”

A beat.

“…Yes, ma’am.”

He gets to his knees like it’s a command from Jabba himself. Helmet bobbing between your thighs now, breath hot through the dented visor.

And somehow, under all that smug geek fury, that helmet becomes the hottest thing in the room.

You're still panting, legs twitching, body wrecked in a way that should be embarrassing, but then again—Bill Dickey just f**ked you in a Boba Fett helmet and had the audacity to salute when he came. You're already bracing for the post-nut review.

And right on cue—

“That,” he says, voice muffled, “was better than anything in Attack of the Clones.”

He pulls out with a wet sound and flops beside you like a dead Jawa, the mattress groaning in protest. The helmet’s still on, tilted back now, his sweaty hair plastered to his neck like a guy who forgot hygiene after middle school.

“Better than Clones? That’s your f**king metric?”

He turns his head (helmet squeaking against his pillow) to glare at you like you just defended midichlorians.

“I sweat for that performance. I bled Star Wars lore into that nut. And you’re asking about metrics?”

You roll over, eyeing his now-soft, vaguely sad dick resting against a gut that somehow jiggles with both superiority and shame. You’re about to say something, but he raises a hand—gloved, still—like a traffic cop.

“No. Listen. I just put in more character work than anyone in the sequels. And you—” he jabs a finger at your chest “—you came harder than an EU author writing Mara Jade fanfic in the ‘90s.”

You blink. “Did you just call my orgasm Expanded Universe canon?”

“I called it peak lore integration. And frankly, you’re lucky I didn’t bring the jetpack. That’s a level two fetish unlock and you haven’t earned it.”

You groan, dragging a pillow over your face. “I cannot believe I let you raw me in that f**king helmet.”

“Oh, you didn’t let Bill Dickey raw you,” he says smugly. “You got drilled by Boba Fett as he was meant to be portrayed. Pre-Disney. Pre-bulls**t. Pure uncut LFL masculinity.”

There’s a beat of silence. Then, softly:

“…I love you, but you are the most insufferable man I’ve ever f**ked.”

He grins under the helmet, glowing like a Funko Pop finally taken out of the box.

“And yet. You still came.”

You throw a sock at his face. He lets it hit him like it's a blaster bolt to the chest.

“Bill. Take the helmet off.”

He pauses.

“…You sure you’re ready to see the man behind the Fett?”

“Take it the f**k off, Bill.”

He peels it back with the drama of a Sith Lord revealing himself. Sweat-slick hair, flushed cheeks, glasses askew. That s**t-eating smirk.

And somehow, in spite of everything—the bad breath, the elitism, the deep-seated rage at Rian Johnson—you still want to kiss him.

You sigh, straddling his lap again. “Alright. But this time, I get the lightsaber.”

He looks terrified and horny all at once.

“Only if it’s a legacy replica. I swear to God, if you bring in Force FX, I’ll—”

You cut him off with a kiss, already reaching under the bed for the box labeled “DO NOT TOUCH—SABERS.”

---

#eltingville epilogue #the eltingville club #eltingville fanart #epilogue bill #bill dickey #no minors

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honey-milk-depresso · 1 year ago

Note

Batboys watching anime with reader

You know my ass went FULL ON LOCK MODE with Tim. I went crazy- 💀

***S/o is above 18, which means characters below are also aged up!

Doing requests until 1 Feb! Please see my pinned post and read the request rules on the navi! Thank you!🩷

Batbros watching anime with you

Dick Grayson

He’s watched a few 90s anime before, more the basic ones like One Piece and Pokémon, and he probably still watches them to this day. Boy has old CDs he has and you should probably try finding a Blue Ray (or use his if he can have Tim help fix it because it’s good as dead 💀) because he’s popping in every CD of old anime’s he have lying about.

“Wow, I didn’t know I had cowboy bebop! Or Slam Dunk!” He got a few rare gems, which makes it all the more fun to sit down on the couch under a blanket as you huddle and watch the nostalgic 90s anime shows together while eating popcorn.

He doesn’t mind watching new, modern day animes, just be prepared for when you two watch sad anime shows because he will sob like it’s the end of the world.

“NO, WHY WOULD KAORI DIE LIKE THIS?? AND SHE LOVES ARIMA- OH MY GOD IM SO—”sobs even more. He gets emotional while watching them because it’s so sad that it’s sO GOOD-

Loves dancing to those danceable anime music with you. He goes ALL. OUT. He even sings all of it in Japanese like wow-

I would love to hear him sing Cruel Angel’s Thesis in his Discowing suit and with goth makeup on it because it “sets the mood”, PLEASE-

Overall, great time watching with Dick. <3

Jason Todd

You expect someone like him to like Chainsaw Man, Trigun or something like those grunge-y, guns and knives animes, right? I mean, he does, but only with you and ONLY with you will he let his inner Magical Girl enthusiast ass shine. Because he LOVES Magical Girl animes. That’s probably the reason and one point of time why he wore red ribbons around his arms, he wanted that Sailor Moon experience and Tim might’ve just teased him about that era without knowing his love for Magical Girl animes and Jason might’ve flipped and freaked the fuck out and started chasing him down the manor.

Jason watches Sailor Moon, Madoka when he feels edgier than usual, Cardcaptor Sakura, every Precure series, Tokyo Mew Mew, man has all these shows somehow. He swears they weren’t through illegal means and he just worked very hard to gather all of them. He also might be a shoujo anime fan because if he loves Jane Austen books, you bet his ass would be reading Fruits Basket, Maid Sama or something because of course he would.

Also a Studio Ghibli fan, although watching the Tale of Princess Kaguya might make him feel too much, especially getting pissed off with the dad who forces his daughter into a wealthy life without her input and- yeah, you gotta calm him down as he cries bitterly and sourly with a pout on his face.

The two of you can go on and on about debating about unclear endings of animes all day long. You know the “AND SHE WAS A PRINCESS” video? That’s Jason.

Great man to watch anime with, and he’ll gladly be your Tuxedo Mask to your Sailor Moon (and not the “But you did nothing meme- or the other way around- he don’t mind being the Usagi-). <3

Tim Drake

I’m very convinced this man got into his whole detective shit because he watched Detective Conan and honestly I can’t blame him. Tim has probably the largest vessel of anime knowledge out of all of them. He doesn’t really have a specific genre he likes but he’s pretty fond of old 90s and 80s animes. He can explain the whole lore of One Piece, Fairytale, Pokémon like Jesus Tim, calm down- 💀

I can see him watching Neon Genesis Evangelion, Serial Experiments Lain or Key the Metal Doll because he likes that little bit of horror nature and mystery and thriller in his animes although he really doesn’t mind watching Haikyuu all over again if you want to.

Might introduce you to underrated and/or old animes like Revolutionary Girl Utena, Nadia the Secrets of Blue Water, every Studio Ghibli movie, those kinds of animes that give off the really pretty and aesthetic old anime animations that is just so pretty to watch and with really good storylines that both of you can cuddle on a couch together and watch. I bet he even watches anime with you even before you two got together, so you guys pretty much have “watching anime together” as part of the foundation of your relationship. Owns so much manga that you can’t even count, too.

Just… don’t make him watch those really slow burn, comedy love animes, specifically Love War. Not that he don’t like romance animes, he watches Ouran High School Host Club and Your Name, trust me, but Love War? He is going absolutely insane because of it.

“OH MY GOD- PLEASE JUST KISS ALREADY. ME AND S/O ARE ALREADY TOGETHER FIVE MONTHS AGO ANF YOU TWO ARE STILL TOO PROUD TO ADMIT YOU LOVE EACH OTHER WHILE BLUSHING- JUST KISS ALREADY-” <3

Damian Wayne

Damian likes anime. Would 100% go to an anime convention with you as a date if you’re up for it. He doesn’t mind (surprisingly- just for you only-).

He doesn’t necessarily like showmen animes although he has enjoyed a few, but he really loves slice of life, I feel. It just feels like he wants to put himself in a normal life and with a tad bit of drama in it like what the characters go through. The touching ones like Hyouka or Natsume’s Book of Friends.

Also animal related anime maybe except Beastars because he didn’t understand shit-?? He calls that peak anime. Aggretsuko, Chi’s Sweet Home and My Roommate is a Cat?? Damian loves this shit, he watches it intently with his arm around you. Even if he doesn’t smile, you know he loves it by the way his eyes sparkle.

Just don’t tell his brothers. He will seriously feel betrayed if you do so because he only watches these kinds of shows with you: the cute animal ones that are actually wholesome and/or funny.

The whole family is into Studio Ghibli, and he is no exception. He feels like it’s the best kinds of anime to watch with you when you guys just want to turn in for the day and huddle up on the couch. It’s one of the rare times he relaxes and softens and he’s glad to have quality time with you. <3

Duke Thomas

He likes anime! Studio Ghibli is definitely a favourite of his and he would gladly watch it together with you! He also love a fair bit of Shounen animes, the more popular ones like Jujutsu Kaisen, One Piece, Haikyuu, or Spy x Family. He likes them a lot!

A big fan of romance animes too: Ouran High School Host Club and The Melancholy of Haruhi Suzumiya (if you two are in the mood to huddle on the couch together and cry).

Duke doesn’t mind any kind of anime so long as it doesn’t have too much horror or gore like… Higurashi. He gets chills when that anime is mentioned. D-Don’t watch it for your own sake if you don’t know. And if you do, avoid it with him at all cost because he will.

Duke also like singing some good anime songs with you and you guys can go crazy and dance around, just not as dramatic as Dick.

He would be super excited to spend a date with you watching shounen anime movies like from Jujutsu Kaisen and he would be so hype to spend time with you being a fanboy while also sharing that romantic air for the shared love of anime between you two and the love that you two share, although that love is far stronger. <3

Reblogs help! ^^

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marley-manson · 2 months ago

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well i shouldn't have complained about how annoying all the criticism and hate in the yellowjackets tag is because i think i cursed myself lol

I am less than enthusiastic about the season 3 finale unfortunately.

I think the writers turning the hunt from the pilot into a secret faction vs faction battle of wills was meant to be just a neat twist and a way to add more interpersonal conflict, but like, I'm actually here for the story of the fucked up survivalist teenage cannibal cult and how it still impacts and tempts the survivors 25 years later, and what that says about like, the nature of humanity and stuff.

I'm not super into 2.5 people bullying 10ish other people into cannibalism because they're mentally ill/power hungry, while the innocent ones plot against them to save themselves. That is just inherently less thematically rich, and less interesting in terms of complex characterization, and it introduces irreconcilable problems.

Like eg if Natalie is a saint trying to save everyone who sees the cannibalism as completely fucked up and is horrified by Lottie and Shauna... why was she just as into the hunt reprise in the season 2 finale as anyone else?

I get that they're trying to explain some discrepancies (like eg Natalie and Shauna civily interacting as adults I assume) by mentioning trauma fucking with their memories a few times this season, and I'm willing to accept that as a way of smoothing some continuity over even if it is a bit shoddy lol, but like this is a total 180 of thesis statement.

Now to be fair and because I'm an eternal optimist, this only truly kills my interest if the show doubles down on the good guys vs villains angle, and that does seem kind of unlikely to me.

Like for one thing, the show is still very direct about how fucked up the adults all are. Melissa is on the "good guys" side in the teen timeline, and she just killed Van for the sake of stabbing someone in the adult timeline. Tai is back in Dr Jekyl mode and she just ate Van's heart raw lmao. The show has pulled back on Misty's sociopathy a bit, but she was introduced torturing her patients and cavalierly killed a woman in season 1 and I think the show still knows she's fucked up. Also she was very casual about Callie killing Lottie.

Plus it sounds like they're all going to be trying to kill each other next season. Probably with shifting alliances and surprise enemies and allies, rather than strictly Misty and Tai vs Shauna vs Melissa. And like, Tai and Misty seem to be instigating it, which isn't exactly good guy behaviour lol, given Shauna didn't do anything to them.

And as for the teens, the overall framing sucked, but lbr more than three of them were howling for blood during the hunt. Most of them believe in the cult, Akilah killed her own animals to facilitate the hunt because Lottie told her to (I think), they all ate Ben while partying, and they all went along with Lottie's decree of a sacrifice pretty easily. And Misty has been blatantly fucked up in various ways the whole time. Saint Natalie might be a write off unfortunately, but you can't tell me Shauna's the only one into it. (And honestly Natalie could show her own dark side in a conflict with Shauna or something pretty easily.)

Like don't get me wrong, obviously I love Shauna going full villain protag and embracing her inner cannibal, and I'm looking forward to finding out what that's going to look like in the adult timeline. But I'm interested in Shauna as representative of a dark aspect of humanity and maybe the most extreme of them, not so much as a fucked up evil anomaly because she's just a bad person. If it turns out that she's only fooling herself when she says they all actually loved it deep down and that's what they had to repress, and she's the only one who loved it, I'm going to be upset because I was calling "they all loved it and that's what really fucked them up" the basic thesis of the show on my initial watchthrough of the first two seasons, and I was extremely happy about it.

But I've still got plenty of hope that season 4 will continue to be fun. I mean even if the teen timeline continues to annoy me, all the adults left are certifiably fucked up and about to battle royale each other. That should at least be entertaining.

#yellowjackets #yellowjackets spoilers #marley on yellowjackets #like 95% of the yellowjackets tag is people hating on the adult timeline while praising the teen timeline and i'm the complete opposite lol #the teen timeline's the one that's been annoying me while i love everything happening in the adult timeline

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akajustmerry · 1 year ago

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do you have a top 5 richonne moments?

hell YEA. 💕

In Alexandria when they first get there and rick has one of his classic covered in blood madman monologues and she comes up behind him and knocks him tf out mid sentence and later, he's basically like thank you for not letting me lose my mind <3 it's hot because 1) rick is so hot when he's in maniac mode 2) michonne is so hot when she steals scenes and 3) you know if anyone else did that to him he would NOT have thanked them lol. true LOVE. (I also love this scene cos the first time I watched it was with my then bestie and he was like "rick got MICH-OWNED" and we laughed for ages)

would be remiss not to mention that moment in season 3ish (???) when michonne tries to cheer rick up by letting him know she too also used to talk to her dead ex so she's not bothered by him seeing things and rick smiles for pretty much the first and only time that season hehehe.

it's not really a richonne moment in that way, but danai and Andrew's performances while Carl is dying are so good. like there's a lot of stuff in twd that's forgettable but not that. All the love that's there between the 3 of them in that scene is so guttwrenching and there's the added element of how the cast knew the death was for such bullshit reasons idk. for a death that was so unscrupulous, their performances made it mean something so full of love.

on a lighter note, that bit in I don't rmr what season when rick is gonna head off to do something insane about the junk people or the saviours or whatever and michonne kisses him Like That™ sksksksnsnsndn it's not just because I love them and they love each other so much but also that I'm bi and wanna be them both so badly I could chew on titanium bricks. like that's what mitski is singing about when she's like, "give me one good movie kiss and I'll be alright"

honestly, a lot of people talk about horny and cute they are in say yes and amen 🫡 BUT since that episode is also the richonne thesis statement and manifesto the combat scenes are also SO GOOD. like, richonne isn't just a hot couple madly in love, they are an undefeatable combat duo. even before they were together when they go on their first runs and fight off the governor and terminus etc, they're so (I'm sorry I have no other phrase) drift compatible. they don't even need to speak most of the time they just know what to anticipate from each other. the way rick and michonne fight as such a seemless team with so much trust. unparalleled. genuinely, hope I know a love like that someday (minus undead shit).

this doesn't count because it's just a danai/Andrew moment but that episode in season 8ish when rick's imagining life growing old in Alexandria with michonne? anyway, I think it was in talking dead or something and danai and andrew were being asked about how the make up department aged them and andrew is like, "it was so RUDE. I had to spend hours getting all this old man make up and then I walk on set and all they've done is give danai grey hair!" and she's just like, "well, Black don't crack, baby" they're so funny 🥹

#richonne #the walking dead #anon

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inventors-fair · 2 months ago

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Leaps and Bounds: Animated Adaptation Winners

Our winners this week are @milfannihilator, @mudthing, and @nine-effing-hells!

@milfannihilator — Whisperwood Ceremony

I'm glad the addition of face-down cards to the contest purview got picked up and run with by so many people, truly. I think there's a lot of interesting design space there waiting to be explored, and this card serves as an excellent proof-of-concept. In a lot of ways it's brilliant in its simplicity, with the end result always being a handful of face down cards and a few cards dumped graveyardways. I feel like that description is doing it a disservice, though, because in practice there's a lot going on here. We've seen plenty of instants and sorceries that get value from the graveyard, but it's generally in the way of a second hurrah and then it's gone for good, or occasionally a hurdle to get it back to hand. This one falls squarely into the hurdle camp, but ending up on the battlefield is a delightfully unusual take. I also want to praise how this design did specifically need to be a sorcery: going straight to the graveyard means that the card it manifests can be immediately used to bring it back for double the value.

@mudthing — Through the Deep Ways//Deep-Lurker Tanglestar

Art is, as always, completely and utterly optional in these contests. That said, it is always good for a reminder every so often as to how much a piece of art can elevate a design. There's not a whole lot of mechanical cohesion going on here, but the flavorful picture you've painted is absolutely phenomenal. First of, instants and sorceries with disturb is just a genuinely good idea, full stop. Putting the body on the "backup" mode creates a lot of interesting decisions because of how many more hoops you need to jump through to get the field presence. Plus, the use of disturb here really resonates with the aforementioned excellent flavor. What better way to get a dreadful sea monster (or Starfish Kraken, in this case, which by the way I adore) to action is to, well, disturb it unwittingly in your travel Through the Deep Ways. I'm instantly fascinated to learn about both the set and the world that this card is hypothetically taken from, and I can't say much better than that for a card.

@nine-effing-hells — Prismari Thesis Defense//Octavia, the Magnum OctOpus

First of all, a thousand apologies for completely overlooking the excellent pun in the name in the entries post. But anyway, speaking of excellent flavor pictures, this fits the bill nicely as well. First off, the idea of casting a thesis defense as a literal Siege is at once hilarious and also makes complete sense. After all, who says a battle card has to be two armies clashing when we fight battles in our every day lives? Adding an alternate method for removing loyalty is both cool from a design perspective and eminently sensible. After all, Arcavios being a plane largely focused on its instants and sorceries naturally leads to an on-average lower board presence, so ensuring that plays into battles too is smart. If this were expanded to an entire hypothetical set, I could easily see that magecraft ability as a recurring feature on battles. And naturally for a battle, the back side makes all the effort you put into it very much worth it. Octavia certainly does a lot, and while it's not quite as adept at increasing power as its previous version, the card draw is a tempting carrot on the end of a tempting stick. Plus, I love the gameplay of Octavia being a less-than-ideal target of its own ability, but offering the certainty that it can always hit the magic number of 8 if you're otherwise unable.

We're not done yet, so don't go anywhere! Runners up are hot on your heels. —@spooky-bard

#mtg #magic the gathering #custom magic card #inventor's fair #commentary #winners #animated contest

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holyhikari · 4 months ago

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(Long time no see, fellow digidestined! Anyone still around?)

I just finished the Truthful route of Digimon Survive. I had only played Harmony so far but the new game announcement and the urge to procastinate my undergraduate thesis pushed me back into trying to complete the story and getting all the achievements on Steam (currently at 37/46). I took some notes of my impressions during the Truthful playthrough in the hopes of writing a proper Steam review (in Portuguese) once I perfected the game, but now I think it would be fun to expand on this idea and post one here as well for the English-speaking community. I miss this space to go on full Digimon hiperfixation mode lol and I think it's an interesting time window to introduce more people to the uniqueness of Survive while we wait for the release of Time Stranger, the next installment of the more "traditional" Digimon Story series.

I might do this even if no one is interested, but if you took the time to drop a ❤ or a comment to let me know it's something you'd like to read (and can wait for), I'd really appreciate it!

#digimon #digimon survive #digisafe #bea with the tea

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nofomogirl · 1 year ago

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Before the Beginning (part 1.3.)

Part 1.1. | Part 1.2. | Part 1.4. | Part 1.5. |

Part 2.1. | Part 2.2. | Part 2.3. | Part 2.4. |

The time has finally come for me to do something I've been both very excited about and terrified of ever since July - to analyze parts of Companion of Owls. Honestly, every scene in this minisode is so much, so dense and meaty and loaded, that I find it overwhelming.

But, as I've just said, the time has come.

The topic that interests us today - the fact that Crowley used to be an angel - is brought up in the courtyard of Job's children's house.

(...) A: I... I don't think... that is what God wants. C: Well... A: And I don't think you want it either. C: What do you know about what I want? A: I know you. C: You do not know me. A: I know the angel you were. C: The angel you knew is not me. A: Then... Then you tell me that you want to do this. You look me in the eye and tell me. C: I want to. I long to destroy the blameless children of blameless Job, just as I destroyed his blameless goats. A: Then God forgive you.

Oh dear, where do I even start?

Firstly, this exchange proves that Aziraphale has memories of Crowley from before the fall AND he's aware that the demon Crawley is that person he knew. We still don't know how much exactly Aziraphale remembers and knows, nevertheless, this is an important piece of the puzzle.

As to Crowley's response - it doesn't actually tell us as much. Unlike Aziraphale, Crowley is in a full bluff mode here and very keen to chase the angel away. Let's leave it for now.

Secondly - and for me this is really the crux of the scene - when referring to the demon's past angelic self, Azirhale uses the verb to know in the present tense (I know the angel), while Crowley says it in the past tense (the angel you knew). It's quite a big deal. It shows us that they perceive the object of that knowing - the object being pre-Fall Crowley - very differently. For Aziraphale, that person still exists, even though they're not an angel anymore. But Crowley speaks about this person the way you speak about dead people, closed chapters, and generally things with no significant connection to the present. He very clearly draws the line between his before and after while Aziraphale blurs it.

This is where things get complicated and I'm not sure how to present my thoughts in an orderly and comprehensible fashion...

God, this minisode is so much all at once!

Ok, let's start pulling at the thread about how Aziraphale was actually right about Crowley not wanting to hurt Job's kids.

The angel's own words suggest that he reached that conclusion based on what he knew about Crowley from before the Fall. He knew the angel who built the stars wouldn't do something like kill innocent children; he believed that the demon Crawley was still the same person as the angel who built the stars; therefore, he assumed that the demon Crawley would make the same decisions and act the same way and wouldn't kill innocent children. And he was correct.

What does that tell us?

Nothing definitive, actually. Because of course, it doesn't. It's Good Omens.

On the one hand, it may be a hint that Aziraphale does understand and see Crowley. Sure, the thesis of this whole sub-series (part 1 of the Before the Beginning series of posts) is that the Fall has fundamentally changed Crowley and that Aziraphale fails to realize just how deep that change goes. I still stand by it. But, true to the spirit of the show, it's not as black and white and clean-cut as it may seem at first glance. It's not as simple as Crowley understanding himself and Aziraphale being wrong.

Crowley is a trauma survivor and a lot of his behavior is coping mechanisms of various kinds. The way he separates himself from a past version of himself is certainly one of them. He is not objective and logical when it comes to the change he underwent. There are plenty of things about himself he doesn't understand because he's unable to calmly examine them. There are things he is in denial about. It's not exactly a stretch to think that he might actually NOT have changed as much as he insists he did, he simply finds it hard to identify with his past self. His before self. It's not exactly uncommon.

But on the other hand, how much did Aziraphale really understand?

Firstly, while he did correctly predict what Crowley would do, he didn't necessarily get why. He might have no clue what exact specific reasons made killing innocent children - just so God and Satan could settle a bet - so despicable for the demon. Because they might have been slightly, yet significantly different reasons than Aziraphale's.

Just look at the line Aziraphale throws Crowley's way while he's gorging on ox ribs and the demon lounges and drinks wine:

Come on, you're a little bit on our side!

Just because Crowley doesn't want kids hurt, Aziraphale jumps to the conclusion that his allegiance lies with Heaven in some way. Even though Heaven very clearly wants the kids hurt, so not the most logical conclusion...

It's quite evident the angel hasn't connected the dots as well as he thinks.

(By the way, we will get back to the dialogue that follows that line because it's just so... SO.)

Secondly, I suspect Aziraphale committed a serious logical fallacy here, which is reversing the entailment. His reasoning is that IF (A) the angel who built the stars wouldn't hurt children AND (B) the demon Crawley was the same person as the angel who built the stars THEN (C) the demon Crawley wouldn't hurt children. It is a logical statement. If A is true and B is true then indeed C must be true as well. Aziraphale either knows or simply believes A, believes B, and that leads him to the conclusion - C.

C turned out to be true.

I'm very much afraid that in the depth of his mind, Aziraphale has used it as proof that A and B, but especially B, are true as well. And this kind of reasoning is most definitely not correct.

If you have a statement like IF X IS TRUE THEN Y MUST ALSO BE TRUE it absolutely does not equal IF Y IS TRUE THAN X MUST ALSO BE TRUE. It just doesn't. Let's use an example. X = A brainrotten fan has bought a copy of Good Omens in an antique bookstore; Y = A brainrotten fan owns a copy of Goof Omens. If I know that you bought the book in an antique bookstore, I also know for sure you now own the book. However, if I only know that you own the book, I don't actually know if you bought it in an antique bookstore. You could have gotten it in dozens of different ways.

I'm hardly the first one to point out that the Job minisode shows us the seeds of a great many problems that bore fruit in the final fifteen. One of them is that Aziraphale's questionable belief that he understands Crowley really well gets validated and reinforced.

The worst thing is, that there weren't any chances to correct this mistake until it was too late.

During the events surrounding Job's trials, there was an unprecedented amount of soul-bearing between Aziraphale and Crowley. Well, objectively speaking the "bearing" was still just a few glimpses, nevertheless, it is more than we ever got to see on the show. Even the imminent Armageddon hadn't caused them to be so open and honest about their relationship with Heaven and Hell.

Ok, we're definitely not done with Companion of Owls yet, but I will stop here. See you in the next post.

#good omens #good omens 2 #good omens meta #crowley #aziraphale #before the beginning #post series #companion to owls

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mariacallous · 2 months ago

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In Donald Trump’s first term, he reinvented many things about how the job of President was done. The strictly scheduled day of his predecessors—the rigid procession of fifteen-minute meetings, the early-morning starts—was not for him. Instead, much of his “executive time” was spent in the small dining room off the Oval Office—a place eventually made infamous by his decision to spend a large part of the afternoon of January 6, 2021, there watching a mob of his supporters storm the Capitol and refusing to do anything about it. He would sit there and watch cable television, then tweet about something he saw on TV, and then watch the coverage of his tweet. Having spent years observing that behavior, a former White House official from Trump’s first term once told me that it was as though the President looked at his job as an extended tryout for the role of Mike Teavee, the television-addicted American kid in “Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory.” In the film, the boy jumps inside an actual television and finds himself split into millions of pieces, then shrunk into a tiny version of himself. Wonka’s Oompa Loompas stretch him back out on a taffy puller, and sing of how television turns the brain into goop.

In Trump’s case, his second term has demonstrated another thesis—that the President of the United States can spend so much of his day on camera that it is as if he were live-streaming his tenure and not merely obsessively watching it play out on TV. Hardly a day goes by when Trump does not summon the White House press pool—now handpicked by his staff rather than independently chosen by the media itself, as it was for more than a century—for an announcement, a visit with a foreign dignitary, or merely to get a few things off his chest. Sometimes, this happens multiple times in a single day. These Oval Office rambles have largely replaced the more formal press conferences in the East Room which he held during his previous term. And with no more elections to run, Trump has mostly eschewed the big rallies that were the hallmark of his campaigns, preferring to spend time at the White House or at his own private clubs in Florida and New Jersey; one analysis found that, on forty of his first hundred days—and twelve out of fourteen weekends—he spent time at his personal properties.

When he is in the White House, the trademark image of his second term has become Trump at the Resolute desk, with a rotating cast of admiring Cabinet members and other characters behind him, while he talks and talks and talks to the cameras and jostling questioners arrayed in front of him. Trump has not yet reached full dictator mode with these appearances; the late Venezuelan strongman Hugo Chávez used to have a weekly show, “Aló Presidente,” that lasted from 11 A.M. each Sunday until whenever Chávez shut up, which was often four to eight hours later. But, increasingly, they are the signature of Trump’s Presidency.

On Thursday, the press pool was summoned at 10:48 A.M. for what Trump had billed as a “very big and exciting” announcement of a new trade deal between the U.S. and the U.K. Reporters arrived to find the President already on speakerphone with the British Prime Minister, Keir Starmer. The deal, it turned out, was somewhat less than advertised—an agreement in principle, after years of talks, and with many details to be finalized. Trump is nowhere near meeting the goal of “ninety deals in ninety days” that his trade adviser promised, after the President’s threat of “reciprocal” tariffs in his April 2nd “Liberation Day” speech shocked the world economy. Still, it was something, and Trump, with all the zeal of a used-car salesman, plumped for the agreement, though he admitted it wasn’t quite done yet. “In the coming weeks, we’ll have it all very conclusive,” he vowed. His Commerce Secretary, Howard Lutnick, praised the boss as “the Closer.” “He gets deals done that we could never get done,” Lutnick said.

As Lutnick said this, I thought of Trump holding forth in the Oval Office just two days earlier, during a visit with the new Canadian Prime Minister, Mark Carney, who was elected largely on the basis of his promise to push back against Trump’s threatened trade war. With Carney at his side, Trump had called the trade agreement that he signed with Canada and Mexico during his first term merely a “transitional deal,” billing it as a convenient way to get rid of NAFTA, “the worst trade deal in the history of our country, probably in the history of the world.” Transitional? Back in 2020, when Trump signed the pact, he proclaimed it “the largest, most significant, modern, and balanced trade agreement in history.” Poor Keir Starmer. There are many words that come from Trump’s mouth, and few that he will not renounce when they are no longer convenient.

As for words on Thursday, there were a lot of them, many having little to do with Great Britain or global trade. In the course of his on-air comments, Trump talked about knowing the late Sean Connery. (That was sort of Britain-related.) He explained that he invests in golf courses only “if they’re on the ocean.” He complained, once again, about the chairman of the Federal Reserve, Jerome Powell, refusing to lower interest rates, even after Trump very nicely said he was not planning to follow through on his many threats to fire him. “He doesn’t want to do it—probably he’s not in love with me,” Trump posited. Later, and, as far as I could tell, apropos of nothing, he mocked the Senate Democratic leader, Chuck Schumer, saying that Schumer, who is Jewish, is so sympathetic toward Palestinians that he is officially becoming one; maybe, Trump said as someone—I wasn’t quite sure who—laughed raucously, there would be some sort of “ceremony” to welcome him.

Asked about a disastrous breakdown in the air-traffic-control system at Newark Airport, Trump complained about Pete Buttigieg, the Biden Administration’s Secretary of Transportation, and explained that he would soon be buying a “brand new,” “state of the art,” and “incredible” system to replace the old one. He added that he had personally given his Transportation Secretary, Sean Duffy, a crash course in how to negotiate a good deal. “I’ve given him a ten-minute lesson in buying,” Trump said, “and he’s become really good.”

Nearly an hour into his talking, Trump dropped an unexpected bit of news—that he would drop the nomination of his controversial choice to be U.S. Attorney for the District of Columbia, Ed Martin, after a key Republican on the Judiciary Committee had said that he wouldn’t go along with the choice of Martin, who helped organize the Stop the Steal movement and embraced conspiracy theories about what happened on January 6th. Trump suggested that there just weren’t enough hours for him to defend Martin amid all the other important things he’s doing. “I’m only one person,” he said. “I can only lift that little phone so many times in a day.” At first, it wasn’t entirely clear that he was actually dumping Martin, but then he shook his head and indicated there was no other choice. “That’s the way it works sometimes,” he said.

By the time Trump stopped talking, at 11:53 A.M. on Thursday, it had been an hour and five minutes since the press pool had been summoned. But Trump, it turned out, was hardly done. At 12:13 P.M., the pool was called into the East Room, where Trump began another televised event, a rare joint appearance with First Lady Melania Trump, at which he bragged about “tremendous things happening on trade, the likes of which we’ve never seen before,” and, on the eve of Mother’s Day, made some eyebrow-raising observations about his own mother, who was “such an angel” but also “could be very tough,” he said, adding, “she had her tough moments, some difficult moments she had.”

Even that awkward commentary, however, was not enough to get Trump to stop for the day. After a private meeting with the golfer Tiger Woods, who is now dating his son Don, Jr.,’s ex-wife, he unexpectedly came out on the patio next to the entrance of the West Wing to talk to reporters again. The big story, it turned out, was not his deal with Great Britain but the selection of a new Pope, the Chicago-born cardinal Robert Francis Prevost, who will now be known as Leo XIV. Trump wanted a piece of the news cycle. “To have the Pope from the United States of America,” he said, “that’s a great honor.”

And so a day in the live-streamed life of Donald Trump ended as it began, with confirmation of a lesson learned many times over these past long few years: there is nothing at all for which he cannot claim credit.

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