#I don’t want to take literature classes and learn everything there is to learn about writing

[rosiereveries]

professor!John who teaches history at university. You finally have classes with him and since the beginning of the year, all the girls in your year talk about how hot he is. He is something over 40 and he won the secret dilf competition that you made with your friends.

You take extra good time preparing for his classes, not just you learn the materials for the lesson, you also make sure that your outfit looks nice, that your hair is perfectly styled, and your makeup looks flawless. You always wear short skirts and cute tops to his classes, and you are 100% sure that when you wear knee high socks, he looks at you more that on the other girls.

John noticed you the very first time you came to his class. You sat in the first row like the good girl you are, and you raised your hand every time he asked questions. There were so many girls in his classes who tried to seduce him, but none of them were as smart as you were. You always had perfect score on your test, and he knew that you wanted to make him proud. It was just a bonus that when you crossed your legs on the chair you were sitting, he could sometimes see your panties.

He tried to wait until the end of the year, to approach you, so he wouldn’t be your professor anymore when he would fuck you. But you gave him no choice with your flirty remarks and your outfits.

That’s why he called you into his office after your lesson ended. He wanted to speak with you about the paper you were working on, and he wanted you to tell him how it was going.

When you get into his office you start to talk about your paper. You hoped that he called you there for other reasons, but he is patiently listening while you ramble about the sources and literature you found. After a while he asks you if you would mind if he smoke, he tells you that he needs a little bit of relaxation before his next class.

You watched him as he lights up a cigarette and offers you one. You decline and watch him blow out the smoke. “You sure you don’t want one?” he asks and when you tell him that you never really smoked, he pats his thigh and tells you to come closer.

“You know, this time of the year everything is so hectic” he says, “maybe you could help me with some pent-up stress, you know. What you think?”

That’s how you end up on the floor on your knees under his desk. You kneel between his thighs unzipping his trousers and taking out his thick cock. He is bigger that you imagined, and you know that there’s no way you can take him whole into your mouth. He gathers your hair in his hand, and he makes you look up at him. “You always look so pretty for me, but I think you will look even better with these lips around my dick” he says, and he gently guides your head to his crotch.

You choke on him quite a lot. You can take half of his length without a problem but after that, your gag reflex makes you stop. You hear him mumble something about training your mouth. When John finishes his cigarette, he makes you stand up, your lipstick ruined, most of it is on his cock like a pretty mark you left.

He bends you over his desk, pulling your skirt up. You can feel his cock teasing you through your underwear. When he pulls your panties down and starts to push inside you can feel him stretching you. “Just like that, you’re taking me so well, you’re so wet for me” he says. John pushes one hand under your t-shirt, pulling it up so he can see your tits. He tells you to take it off, so you just stand there in your skirt and knee-high socks.

He fucks you rough, quick thrust that makes your eyes roll. He plays with your nipples, twisting and pulling them until your breast are sensitive. You know that you don’t have a lot of time, anytime now his colleague could come back from their lunch break and find you like this.

When John starts to rub circles on your clit you can feel your orgasm approaching. With one hand he rubs your most sensitive part, and the other one is around your throat. “I need you to cum on my cock, I need you to milk me dry with your sweet wet pussy” he tells you and you can feel that he is also close. You cum like the good girl you are right as he tells you. A few moments later he is cuming inside you, his hot seed spilling in your pussy.

He helps you to put your clothes on. He pulls up your panties, and when he sees that his cum is spilling from your pussy, he quickly pushes two fingers inside you, saying that it needs to stay where it belongs. You’re still there, in his office with your thighs still trembling when his colleague comes back. John walks you out on the hallway, saying that you should come to see him again tomorrow at noon, that you still have a lot of work to do. You just hope that his colleague can’t hear when he whispers that you should come without panties this time.

Masterlist You can support my work here : ko-fi

[witchslove]

Study Sessions

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Summary: You and Wanda have been best friends since your first semester of college. When you have to take a physics class, Wanda is more than happy to help you study, but your late night study sessions blur the lines between friendship and romance.

Warnings: 18+ nsfw content; bottom!wanda maximoff, top!reader, fingering (w receiving), oral (w receiving), wanda’s first time with a woman, slight angst, jealousy

A/N: Save me college Wanda, college Wanda save me…

——————————

The sun beamed down on you as you walked across campus, sweat forming on the back of your neck from the heat.

You had just finished your first day of classes for the semester and you were feeling confident about all of them, except for one. Even as an English major, you were stuck taking a physics class to complete some general requirements for graduation.

You could handle the most complex forms of literature on a bad day, but when it came to math and science, you found yourself feeling a little lost.

The good news was that your roommate and best friend, Wanda Maximoff, was a physics major. Wanda was everything you wanted to be - naturally smart, driven, focused, and incredibly organized.

She was also the most beautiful person you had ever laid eyes on, long brown hair that was somehow even softer than it looked, stunning green eyes that sometimes made you nervous under her gaze, and the perfect body - since you shared a room, you’d seen her undress before, and you weren’t sure if you wanted to look like her or fuck her brains out.

You constantly pushed down any desires you felt towards Wanda since she was your best friend, telling yourself your friendship was far too valuable to risk just because you occasionally had confusing feelings towards her.

The two of you had known each other since you both started college. You were roommates your first semester and instantly became close, despite your contrasting personalities. Where you were more relaxed and laid back when it came to your studies, Wanda was very serious. It made sense though, her major was far more demanding than yours was and she always worked hard to maintain her perfect GPA.

You’d always admired Wanda and found that you could no longer envision your life without her by your side. She was easily the best friend you’d ever had; she was supportive when you needed it and stayed on top of you when you felt like slacking. Wanda was extremely likable and you felt honored that she considered you her closest friend as well.

When you finally made it back to your dorm, you sighed as you felt the cool air inside. You headed to your room and unlocked the door, stepping through the threshold to the familiar sight of Wanda studying. You smiled to yourself; it was only the first day of classes and she was already trying to learn as much as she could.

“Hey,” you greeted, setting your things down and plopping into your bed, taking a moment to relax.

“Hi,” Wanda said back, turning in her chair to face you. “How was your first day?”

“It was good,” you responded, looking over at her from your bed. “My professors seem cool, most of my classes don’t seem too hard. What about you?”

“Not too bad, although my nuclear and particle physics class might kick my ass this semester,” Wanda chuckled.

“Is that what you’re over there studying already?” You teased her, gesturing to the open books on her desk.

“Yeah, it’s actually pretty interesting. I want to get ahead this semester so I have more time to hang out with you and do fun stuff,” she explained.

“That’s good. I’ll remind you that you said that the next time you’re trying not to go to a party with me,” you joked, bringing a smile to her face. “Or maybe you could use some of that extra time to help me out, I’m stuck taking a physics class this semester and I have no idea what’s going on.”

“Oh, which one?” Wanda asked, her interest piqued.

“Classical mechanics I think,” you said, feeling slightly embarrassed at needing help with one of the most basic physics courses.

“That’s a fun one,” she commented. “I’d be glad to help detka.”

That was another thing about Wanda. She often called you pet names, in a friendly way of course, but it made your heart flutter every time she did it.

“Okay cool, thank you. Maybe we can have a study session at the library tomorrow if you’re not too busy with classes?” you asked, knowing you only had one class to worry about in the morning.

Wanda turned towards her desk to flip through a binder, checking her schedule. “I have a morning class and one in the afternoon, could we do 7pm?”

“Sounds like a plan,” you said, biting back a smile at the thought of Wanda tutoring you.

“Perfect! I’ll meet you there tomorrow.” She turned back to face you again, her expression becoming serious as she pointed a finger at you. “Ten minutes of bed-rotting time and then I want to see you reading or writing something,” she demanded, trying to motivate you to get ahead like she was.

“Okay mom,” you retorted, rolling your eyes playfully.

She went back to studying, taking notes as she flipped the pages of her nuclear physics textbook. You laid in bed for a few more moments, scrolling through Instagram reels, before getting up to join her in studying.

The next day, you attended your morning class and then grabbed a latte at the coffee shop on campus, deciding to review your notes as you sipped your drink, knowing it’s what Wanda would want you to do.

The rest of the day went by slowly but you managed to get some work done. You were eager for your study session with Wanda, excited to spend some time with her after the two of you had gone home for the summer and had barely seen each other.

You arrived at the library early, finding it to be relatively empty at this time of night. A few students were at the computers, but overall the library was quite vacant. You picked a spot in the corner, away from others, where you felt you’d have the most privacy and the least distractions.

You waited for Wanda, who came in a few minutes later, looking around the shelves before she spotted you.

“Hey,” she greeted as she sat down beside you, her thigh touching yours. She reached into her bag to pull out different colored pens, highlighters, sticky notes, and some of her old physics notes from when she took classical mechanics.

“Hi,” you breathed out, forcing yourself to ignore the feeling of her so close. “Someone came prepared,” you jested, making her laugh softly as she finished setting up.

“I’m here to help you, aren’t I? I have to make sure you have everything you need,” she quipped with a smile and the most adorable nose scrunch.

Your heart skipped a beat at the sight; you didn’t remember it being this hard to be around Wanda, but everything she was doing was driving you crazy in the best way. You watched her for a moment as she placed everything on the table in an organized fashion, biting her lip with a focused expression on her face. You wanted nothing more than to pull her bottom lip from between her teeth and capture it with your own.

“Let’s get started, shall we?” She broke the silence, bringing you back to reality. You blushed at what you were just thinking about, nodding in response.

“Sounds good,” you managed, opening your textbook to the first chapter.

Wanda reached over to move the textbook so it was centered between the two of you and as she did so, your fingers brushed against each other. You almost shivered at the act, the soft touch feeling like too much but not enough at the same time. Wanda didn’t seem affected as she began to dig into the material, asking you what the professor had already gone over.

She somehow kept finding ways to touch you, whether it was a hand on your shoulder or her fingers grazing your own over the textbook as she pointed to pictures and paragraphs. You could barely answer her questions, the close proximity and subtle touches making you yearn for her.

Unbeknownst to you, Wanda was just as affected; she was just better at hiding it. She couldn’t understand why but she kept intentionally finding ways to be closer to you. She didn’t notice the effect it was having on you, too preoccupied with steadying her own heart rate every time she felt your skin against hers.

She’d always thought you were beautiful, but this was something else. She didn’t know why she was struggling to keep her composure around you now. She’d always found comfort in your presence - you often studied together, came home drunk from parties and cuddled in the same bed, or watched movies together laying side by side, the computer across both of your laps.

Something about this study session felt weirdly intimate. She was enjoying teaching you about her passion, physics and science, and maybe that was part of it. She chalked it down to that and tried to push her feelings aside, focusing on helping you with your studies and being a good friend.

A friend - that’s what she was to you and that’s how it would stay. She couldn’t complicate something so perfect with these conflicting feelings of wanting more from you.

Despite both of you trying hard to ignore how you felt, the air was still charged, the tension still there. It wasn’t just this time either - it became a regular occurrence.

Wanda helped you with physics at least once a week and her eager guidance actually helped you grasp the subject more. You found yourself falling in love with the way her eyes would light up when you brought up a subject she knew a lot about. She was so excited every time you understood it too, feeling both accomplished that she could help and proud that you were getting it.

She found it adorable when you didn’t understand something and she loved the way your eyebrows furrowed as you tried to think harder about it. The two of you became closer than ever, which you didn’t think was possible. You and Wanda were already attached at the hip when she wasn’t deep in her studies and you never expected to feel like you were getting to know her better just from a few study sessions, but you loved it.

You found yourself wanting her, despite trying to repress those feelings. Sometimes when you got an answer right and Wanda beamed with excitement, you only wanted to break the distance and kiss her, to feel her lips against your own and wrap your arms around her neck as she kissed you back. You couldn’t help but look at her lips as she spoke, imagining how soft they’d be against your own. Whenever she bit her lip, you wished she was biting yours.

The thoughts weren’t always so innocent though. Yes, you wondered how she would taste as you kissed her, but you also wondered how she would taste with your head between her legs. You wanted to thank her for her help by making her cum on your fingers right there in the library, where anyone could see.

You tried to shake those kinds of thoughts, feeling guilty for thinking of your best friend that way, especially when she was being so kind as to tutor you on the subject you struggled with. She didn’t have a lot of free time to begin with, her workload keeping her fairly busy, and here she was making sure you could pass your physics class with flying colors.

And here you were, too distracted by thoughts of fucking her to pay attention to Newton’s law of attraction. The only law of attraction you could think about was how you felt about Wanda.

Wanda was in the same boat, cursing herself for threatening to ruin your friendship with this newfound attraction towards you. She wondered if her seemingly innocent thoughts about you in the past were actually just the seeds of this desire for you, only now flourishing the more time you spent alone with her.

Whenever she felt your gaze on her, it made her feel hot all over. She tried to ignore it and focus on the material, reminding herself that you just needed help with physics. That’s what she was there for, nothing else.

But sometimes, she wished it was more. When you weren’t looking, she’d rake her eyes over you, taking in the sight of you beside her, feeling her heart stop in her chest when you’d catch her staring. You convinced yourself she was just watching you to make sure you were immersed in the subject, when in reality she was most definitely checking you out.

Still, her eyes on you made you nervous and you brought your attention back to the textbook in front of you solely to rid your cheeks of the blush she caused.

One particular night in the library nearly changed everything.

You read Wanda’s notes about motion and energy, scanning the pages to better understand the concepts. While you admired her neat handwriting and the cute ways she annotated her own notes, Wanda admired the concentrated look on your face.

She was so lost in watching you that she barely noticed when you spoke.

“So special relativity is the exception to Newton’s laws when objects move at high speeds and general relativity is when objects are too massive, right?” You asked, looking up at her for confirmation as she stared at you intently, a slight smirk coming across your features when you caught her.

“Yes,” she choked out, looking away for a second to regain her composure. “And quantum mechanics?”

“That’s the exception when objects are very small,” you responded, feeling confident in your answer.

“Good job,” Wanda praised, making your heart flutter. “You’re really getting it.” She looked at you with nothing but pride and approval, smiling softly.

“Thank you,” you mumbled, feeling hot under her gaze. Despite how nervous she was making you, you didn’t break eye contact.

The two of you sat like that for a moment, just looking at each other, until Wanda’s eyes flicked down to your lips for a brief second. You almost thought you imagined it at first, but then she did it again. You mimicked her actions, looking down at those lips you wanted so desperately to capture with your own.

You swore Wanda was leaning in and you couldn’t stop yourself from doing the same. Your faces were mere inches apart now and you could feel Wanda’s warm breath against your lips.

Before you could close the gap, the door to the library opened and startled both of you. You turned to look at who came in, silently cursing them for ruining the moment as Wanda pulled back to look too.

There was an awkward silence before Wanda cleared her throat. “So now that you know what quantum mechanics is, let’s move on to the definitions of atomic and subatomic,” she said, her voice nearly trembling as she tried to recover from the heated moment you shared.

“Right,” you responded, turning your attention back to her notes, trying to calm your racing heart.

You and Wanda had almost kissed, everything suddenly felt very real. But instead of addressing what just happened, Wanda moved on, bringing the conversation back to the task at hand.

You played along, focusing on looking for the definitions she mentioned, finding it difficult to learn anything new when you had just come so close to kissing the brunette.

The rest of the study session felt tense and slightly awkward, but you made it through the last of the material without any hitches - or almost-kisses. Eventually, the two of you packed up your things and headed out, discussing projects and exams on the way back to your dorm.

A few days later, you were watching a movie in bed when Wanda came in, smiling brightly with a skip in her step.

“What’s got you so giddy today?” You asked, pausing your movie.

“Do you remember Vision, from my data analysis class?”

“Yeah,” you answered, nodding.

“He just asked me out,” she said excitedly. “I said yes of course. We’re going out on Friday, he’s taking me to dinner.”

Her words felt like a punch to the gut. You forced a smile, trying to be happy for her when all you could focus on was the feeling of your heart breaking.

“That’s great, Wands,” you muttered. “I’m happy for you.” The words felt fake coming out of your mouth but you kept up the act and tried to ignore the jealousy bubbling within you.

“He’s so sweet, he even used a silly joke about data to ask me out,” she went on, continuing to tell you about her day as you listened, your mind elsewhere the entire time.

All you could think about was the kiss you almost shared, how it meant everything to you and nothing to Wanda. Obviously she wasn’t interested in you like that and you wondered if you merely imagined the intimacy of the library study sessions. You had to come to terms with the fact that the tension you felt in the air when you were with Wanda lately was all in your head.

You thought when you almost kissed that maybe, just maybe, she felt the same way. Now, you realized you were horribly wrong, the harsh reality hitting you like a truck. Wanda was just being nice helping you study and you let yourself believe that it was more. You felt incredibly stupid, wishing the ground would swallow you whole so you didn’t have to hear any more about the date Vision was taking Wanda on.

What you didn’t know was that Wanda only said yes to Vision out of pure denial. She was having a hard time coping with her feelings for you and this seemed like a good way to move on, to try to save your friendship from her own selfish desires. She was excited for her date, hoping that it would take her mind off of you.

Maybe Vision would be the perfect guy for her and she could fall for him instead. He was handsome, slightly dorky, and very chivalrous, always holding the door open for her when they showed up to class at the same time. He was planning on taking her to a lovely restaurant near campus and Wanda was trying her best to look forward to it.

Friday rolled around and Wanda went on her date, which couldn’t have gone better. Vision greeted her at her dorm with flowers, walking her to his car and taking them to the restaurant. He listened intently while Wanda talked about herself and her passions, seeming genuinely interested. He paid at the end of dinner, leaving a generous tip for their server which Wanda found attractive. He asked politely to kiss her when he dropped her back off and didn’t pressure her for more.

Despite how wonderful the date was, Wanda was frustrated. She didn’t feel a spark with him like she did with you. She didn’t feel anything when they kissed, not even when he cupped her cheek in his hand as he moved his lips softly against her own.

Wanda felt more butterflies in her stomach from your hand brushing against hers during a study session than she did from kissing Vision at the end of their date and she hated it.

She figured it would take some time to get over you and continued to see Vision, going on a couple dates a week with him when she had the free time. She tried to continue your study sessions as well, but you told her you didn’t need the extra help and to just have fun with Vision. She felt slightly hurt - she didn’t like the idea of you not needing her anymore - but she was also proud of you for taking on the subject on your own.

You, on the other hand, were avoiding Wanda at all costs. You only came back to the dorm when she was in class or when she was already asleep, staying out late hanging around college parties that weren’t nearly as fun without your best friend.

You were in far too deep and came to the conclusion that you needed to move on in order to stay friends with Wanda. So you kept your distance, hoping that not seeing her or hearing from her would help you lose feelings for her.

You also couldn’t bear to see her with Vision; the sight of them together on campus made you feel sick to your stomach. You didn’t want to hear about their dates either, knowing it would destroy you. You couldn’t possibly listen to Wanda describe how he got to take her out and kiss her and hold her when it should’ve been you, not without revealing your true feelings to her.

While you spent your days hiding from the brunette, Wanda was confused as to why you were avoiding her, not understanding that it was an act of self-preservation.

She had so many things she was excited to tell you about - being the top student in her relativity class, getting a perfect score on her nuclear and particle physics exam, and of course, her budding relationship with Vision. The opportunity to tell you never came, as you were gone until she went to sleep and out of the dorm before she woke up.

She missed your study sessions, even if not having those intimate moments with you was for the best. She missed your movie nights, your conversations, your presence in general - she missed everything about you. It frustrated her to no end that she could never seem to see you anymore and she wondered how you could possibly become so busy all of a sudden.

She only realized you were actively avoiding her one night when she stayed up late, waiting to see if you’d come back to the dorm.

When you entered, you were surprised to see her still awake.

“Hey,” she said, happy to see you for the first time in weeks. “Where were you?”

“At a party,” you said back coldly. You internally cursed yourself for not staying out later, unaware that Wanda would still be up when you came back. You looked around before grabbing some things from your dresser. “I need to shower,” you announced, leaving the room before Wanda could ask any more questions.

The brunette waited up for you, but you never came back. She waited hours before she finally succumbed to sleep, her thoughts a jumbled mess as she drifted away.

When she woke up the next morning and you were still gone, she knew you were actually making an effort not to see her and she could only wonder what she had done wrong. She mulled over it for a while but came up with nothing. She thought back to the almost-kiss and wondered if maybe she had made you uncomfortable that night.

Days went by and you continued to avoid her. Not knowing why you were staying away from her was driving her crazy. Her grades even began to suffer from how distracted she was in class, her mind consumed with thoughts of you.

She finally decided to confront you about it, but first she’d have to actually find you. She vaguely knew your class schedule but didn’t want to corner you in a public place, so she went to the one place she thought you might be late in the evening.

As soon as she entered the library after hours, she saw you in the corner at the same table the two of you used to sit at for your study sessions.

You were nose deep in your physics textbook, focusing intently as you tried to understand the topics without Wanda’s help. She walked over to you, mentally hyping herself up for the conversation she was both anticipating and dreading.

When you set the book down to take notes, you looked up and your eyes widened at the sight of Wanda approaching you.

Before you could say anything, she was taking a seat across from you. “Why are you avoiding me?” she demanded, raising an eyebrow and crossing her arms, her tilting to the side.

“I- I’m not, I-” you stuttered out.

“Don’t,” she interrupted. “Don’t lie to me. You’re never back at the dorm anymore, you stopped spending any time with me, you literally said you were going to shower and just never came back. So don’t you dare lie to me right now.”

“I’ve just been busy,” you said nonchalantly, not wanting to tell her the truth. “I have a life outside of you, you know.” You regretted the words as soon as you said them.

“Bullshit,” she responded, getting angry. “You’re avoiding me and I can’t for the life of me figure out why. What did I do to you?”

“Nothing, Wands,” you reassured her. “You didn’t do anything. I just- I need to be alone.”

“Why?” She didn’t let up. She came here to get answers and she would get them one way or another.

“It’s personal,” you tried, hoping she wouldn’t press any further.

She scoffed. “What’s so personal you can’t share it with your best friend?”

You were at a loss for words. You couldn’t tell her the truth and risk ruining your friendship, but at this point there was barely anything left to ruin. You hadn’t seen Wanda properly in weeks, your friendship with her was practically nonexistent at the moment.

When you didn’t respond, she spoke again, softer this time. “What’s going on? You can tell me anything,” she uttered, reaching out to place a hand over yours.

“I can’t tell you this,” you mumbled, feeling your resolve weakening.

“What could possibly be so bad you can’t tell me?” She asked, her heart falling at the sight of you looking so small under her gaze.

“I- I can’t stand to see you with him,” you whispered, your voice so low she almost didn’t hear you.

“With who? Vision?” she asked and you nodded, looking down at your lap. “I still have time for you too, I’m not choosing him over you,” she tried to dispel your worries, not yet understanding what you were implying with your confession.

“No, Wanda, I can’t stand to see him with you,” you said, avoiding eye contact. “You don’t get it, you are choosing him and it hurts too much to be around you.”

“What are you saying?” She questioned, feeling both confused and hurt.

“I’m saying that I like you, Wanda,” you started. “As more than a friend.”

Wanda was silent for a moment, processing what you were telling her. Could she really have been so oblivious that she didn’t notice you wanted her too? It all made sense now. You’d stopped hanging out with her right around the time Vision came into the picture and she couldn’t figure out why, but now she understood.

“Please say something,” you said, feeling nervous and vulnerable as you looked up at her, unable to read her expression.

“I- I didn’t know,” she managed to get out.

“That was kind of the point,” you retorted, half-smiling to alleviate some of the tension.

Wanda let out a suppressed laugh. “I only started seeing Vision because I like you too,” she began. “I thought if I could be with him, I wouldn’t have to worry about complicating things with my feelings.”

Your mouth fell open at her words; you weren’t expecting her to ever reciprocate how you felt about her. “You do?”

She nodded. “I didn’t want to ruin our friendship,” she said.

“Me neither,” you mumbled, looking down at her lips for a moment before making eye contact with her again.

She smirked when she noticed where your eyes went, making you blush. “I don’t think that’s a problem anymore,” she said, her eyes flicking down to your lips and back up.

“I think you may be right,” was all you could say before you stood up and walked around the table. Wanda stood up too, meeting you halfway as you pulled her in for a kiss that was long overdue.

You sighed against her lips, kissing her deeply the way you’d wanted to for so long. Your mouths moved together perfectly and it felt so right, you didn’t think you’d ever be able to stop.

This was what Wanda was waiting for.

The kiss she shared with you was everything her kiss with Vision wasn’t. It was electrifying in the best way, butterflies erupting in her stomach with every movement of your lips against hers.

When her tongue traced your bottom lip, you nearly moaned into the kiss, immediately granting her entry. Your tongue collided with hers and she whimpered, the sound going straight to your core. You brought a hand up to caress her cheek, your other hand going to the back of her head to play with her hair, causing her to let out a soft moan. This was everything you could’ve imagined and more.

Wanda’s hands came up to your face, cradling it as she deepened the kiss. Your lips and tongues moved in tandem, neither of you wanting to stop any time soon.

When you finally did detach from her, it was to catch your breath. You stayed close, your noses still touching as the two of you breathed against each other. You felt every breath from the brunette against your skin, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear as you finally opened your eyes.

You pulled back slightly to look at her, her eyes opening to meet your stare. Her pupils were dilated and you were sure yours looked similar. She looked so beautiful looking at you longingly, her lips swollen from the kiss and her breaths coming out labored, green eyes sparkling with lust and adoration.

“Wow,” you breathed out.

“Wow indeed,” she agreed, chuckling as she pulled you in for another kiss, this one much shorter than the first.

A comfortable silence fell over you, the two of you taking in the moment.

“So what now?” you asked, looking at her tenderly.

“I don’t know,” she answered, biting her lip. “It’s safe to say the friendship is ruined at this point, because I don’t want this to be the only time we do that.”

You nodded your agreement. “Me too,” you replied, your eyes falling to her lips once again. “I want you, Wanda. I have for so long.”

“I want you too,” she said without hesitation. “I’ll tell Vision it’s not working out. I want to see where this goes.”

You made a face at the mention of his name and Wanda chuckled. “Oh, you really don’t like him, huh?” She teased.

“Not one bit,” you murmured. “Not when he got to have what I wanted so badly.”

“Charmer.” She smiled at you, her cheeks turning red at your words.

“Can I kiss you again?” You blurted out, feeling your own cheeks redden at your neediness.

She responded by pressing her lips to yours once more and letting her tongue slide into your mouth, humming into the kiss contentedly.

The two of you stayed like that for a while, languidly kissing in the library after hours, catching up on lost time.

When you went back to your shared dorm for the night, you picked back up where you left off, this time with Wanda in your lap as you laid in your bed. Every once in a while, she’d grind her hips down against your lap just to hear you grunt in arousal against her lips.

You fell asleep together in your bed, Wanda’s head on your shoulder as her breathing evened out.

The following week, Wanda ended things with Vision and you took Wanda out on a proper date. Vision’s date paled in comparison to the one you took her on. This date was better simply because it was you and not him, but on top of that, you took her somewhere nice and treated her like a princess the whole night. She practically swooned every time you held the door for her, complimented her, or pulled out her chair for her.

By the end of the night, you were on cloud nine. It was just like spending time with your best friend, but this was infinitely better because you could kiss her whenever you wanted and tell her how beautiful she looked at any given moment.

You walked back to your dorm together, fingers interlocked as you listened to her talk about her dreams after college. When you made it back to the dorm, you opened the door to let her in first.

“Such a gentleman,” she joked, stepping in, and you followed.

“You wouldn’t be saying that if you knew what I wanted to do to you right now,” you said, pushing her against the door softly and looking at her for permission to kiss her.

A pang of arousal shot through her at your words. She wasn’t expecting you to be so bold, but she also wasn’t complaining. “Oh yeah?” she asked, playing along. “How about you show me?”

You didn’t hesitate as you kissed her hungrily, the feeling of her lips on yours making you feel dizzy with lust. You slipped your tongue into her mouth and she gasped at how eager you were, kissing you back with just as much fervor.

You trailed your kisses down to her neck, making her moan as you licked and sucked at the soft skin there. Her perfume invaded your senses and you groaned against her neck, her scent making your knees weak.

Her moans spurred you on as you sucked at her pulse point. She gripped your shoulders, her head thrown back against the door, eyes fluttering closed as you continued your assault on her neck.

She pulled you back up for another kiss, moaning into your mouth when you sunk your teeth into her bottom lip. When you finally pulled apart to catch your breath, you ran your thumb along her bottom lip, gazing into her lustful eyes.

“Are you sure about this?” You checked in with her, wanting to make sure she was really okay with what was about to happen.

“I’ve never been with a woman before,” she admitted, suddenly feeling shy. “But I want it to be you, please.”

You nearly groaned out loud hearing her beg for you, nodding as you lifted her up and carried her to your bed. You placed her down gently, crawling on top of her and kissing her again.

You once again began your descent, kissing her neck and sucking on her soft spots. She squirmed beneath you, feeling herself becoming wet under your touch.

Your fingers found the bottom of her shirt, playing with the fabric as you silently asked for permission to remove it. “Take it off,” Wanda whispered, starting to feel desperate from your slow teasing.

She sat up so you could pull the shirt off of her and reached back to unclasp her bra, letting the material fall from her shoulders. Your mouth fell open at the sight of her bare chest, nipples already hard. You’d seen her topless before while she was changing, but never like this. You’d never been allowed to look as much as you wanted, to admire her before you.

“Fuck, you’re perfect,” you said, bringing your hands up to her chest as she leaned back again. Your thumbs brushed over her nipples, causing her to let out a whimper that sent heat coursing through your body.

You leaned in to take one of her nipples in your mouth, licking it gently before sucking on the hardened bud. Wanda moaned at that, the sound making you even more aroused. She sounded so pretty moaning under your touch and you couldn’t wait to hear what she sounded like when she came undone for you.

You gave her other nipple the same attention before moving down, one hand finding its way under her skirt. Your fingers reached her center, feeling a wet spot on the front of her underwear.

“You’re so wet for me,” you mumbled, in awe of how turned on she was. It almost made you feel a bit cocky, knowing it was you who made her so wet she was soaking through her panties.

“Please,” the brunette gasped out, bucking her hips up against your fingers. “Need you.”

“Yeah? You need me, pretty girl?” You cooed, rubbing your fingers along her slit over her underwear.

She nodded frantically, her hips desperately trying to meet your hand for any sort of friction against her aching pussy. You pushed aside her panties to touch her without any barriers and you let out a moan of your own at the soft, slick feeling of her folds against your fingertips. She was dripping, her wetness clinging to your skin and the lace of her panties as you dragged your fingers through her folds teasingly.

All of a sudden, you pulled your hand back and she whined, already missing the contact. “Shh, I’m just gonna take these off, okay?” You asked, subtly making sure she was comfortable with you removing the last of her clothes.

“Yeah,” she responded, lifting her hips so you could pull her skirt and panties off in one motion.

Once she was rid of her clothes, you took a moment to appreciate the view before you. Wanda was gorgeous all over, you thought to yourself, admiring her underneath you. You raked your eyes over her, committing the sight to memory as she blushed against the covers of your bed, feeling hot under your gaze.

“You can stare all you want later, right now I need you,” she said breathily, grabbing your hand and bringing it to where she needed you most. Your fingers met her wet center once more and you immediately started rubbing her clit, making her moan and buck her hips.

You kissed her again, swallowing her moans as you picked up your pace, making tight circles on her sensitive bundle of nerves.

“Fuck, just like that,” she whimpered, her face contorted in pleasure, eyebrows furrowed, heavy breaths escaping her as you brought her pleasure.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” you mumbled, watching her throw her head back and close her eyes as she got lost in the feeling of your fingers against her.

You stopped your movements just long enough to tease her entrance and upon hearing another “please,” you slid a finger inside. You fucked her with one finger for a few moments before sliding another one in, causing her to let out a guttural moan at the feeling of you stretching her out.

You kissed down her body again, making your way down to where you desperately wanted to taste her. When your hot mouth met her clit, she let out another delicious sound, her hips starting to grind against you, chasing her pleasure. Her movements caused her clit to rub against your tongue while your fingers pumped inside of her and she felt herself becoming close already.

“You taste so good,” you praised, barely moving your mouth from her pussy to speak, before reattaching your lips to her clit and sucking hard. She moaned at your words and at the pressure building in her lower stomach, continuing to rut her hips against you.

“I’m gonna cum, fuck, I’m so close,” she moaned, one hand coming to the back of your head to keep you there, as if you would ever deny her anything.

With a few more thrusts of your fingers, she came undone, loud moans filling the room as she reached her peak. Her hips stuttered against your face, her clit pulsing under your tongue while her pussy clenched around your fingers.

You slowed your movements, helping her ride out the aftershocks, small whimpers and moans leaving her as she came down from her high. She sighed, all of the tension having left her body, before pulling you up for a kiss, tasting herself on your tongue.

“I could get used that,” she hummed, smiling up at you tiredly.

“Me too,” you panted out, still incredibly turned on from seeing her cum for you. “I kinda can’t wait to do it again.”

“You want me that bad?” She teased, smirking.

“Absolutely,” you replied genuinely, staring at her with so much love and lust in your eyes it made her heart flutter and her pussy throb.

“Go ahead baby, fuck me again,” she said, your own cunt clenching around nothing at her words. You returned to your new favorite spot between her legs and did exactly what she told you, her hand in your hair guiding you the whole time.

After three more rounds, Wanda was spent, and you joined her at the head of the bed, letting her turn towards you and rest her head on your shoulder. You held her close as she traced patterns on your arm, catching her breath after falling apart for you so many times.

“Do you still need help with physics?” She asked, breaking the silence.

You chuckled at that. “Yes, desperately,” you responded, letting a hand come up to play with her hair. “I have no idea what I’m doing.”

She laughed, finding it amusing that you’d needed her help the past few weeks but were too stubborn to ask for it. “Study session this week?” she suggested, her eyes falling closed at the feeling of your fingers on her scalp.

“I wouldn’t miss it,” you said, smiling happily, feeling at peace in the arms of the girl you loved.

You never would’ve thought you would be so grateful for having to take a physics course, but now you were certain it was the best thing that had ever happened to you.

[gayerthanevertbh]

teacher's pet

chapter i: give me what i want

n.r masterlist | teacher's pet series

summary: you start your first day at university and meet the enigmatic professor romanoff in your russian literature class. instantly captivated by her presence, you can’t stop thinking about her—even during a phone call with mj, where you pretend everything’s normal. As you reread anna karenina and scramble to finish the essay she assigned, you realize something’s already shifting inside you: you want her to notice you. maybe even like you.

pairings: professor!natasha romanoff x student!reader

warnings: nothing much, but you could feel the tension between them from this chapter.

author's note: yes i had this drafted a long time ago, i'd say a few weeks? so i hope you guys like it. x

It didn’t always feel like this.

You used to know who you were. Sharp. Focused. Always top of your class — the kind of student who didn’t just chase grades, but conquered them. So when you told your mother you got into NYU, she lit up like she’d been holding her breath. Your best friend barely blinked.

“Of course you got in,” she said. “You’re smart.”

Like it wasn’t a compliment. Like it was just a fact.

Still, you were proud. You are proud. Even if you don’t know what exactly possessed you to enroll in Russian Literature of all things. Maybe it was the challenge. Maybe it was the part of you that couldn’t stand to do the expected. You’ve always been good at learning fast — you figured this wouldn’t be any different.

And then there was her.

Professor Romanoff. Students called her a legend. Cold but brilliant. The kind of woman who could quote Chekhov like scripture and cut your argument in half with a single glance. You looked her up, obviously. Found articles. Interviews. Even a guest lecture she gave with Professor Stark — the engineering icon — who seemed almost cautious around her. That only made you more curious.

You push the door open on the first day and there she is, already seated behind her desk. A paper in hand. She doesn’t look up, not fully — just a flick of her eyes in your direction.

“Take a seat,” she says, voice low. “We’ll begin shortly.”

Okay. So she’s not warm. But she’s not a monster.

She’s wearing a deep plum coat, the fabric tailored to her form like it was made for no one else, and a black pencil skirt that hugs her hips and cuts neatly at the knee, revealing just enough of her legs to look powerful without seeming like she’s trying. Her heels are quiet on the floor, but commanding. Her hair is red — real red — the kind that doesn’t need lighting tricks or filters to stand out. It falls in soft, deliberate waves that frame her face like a painting, too polished to be accidental. There’s something about the way she moves, the way she occupies space without asking permission, that makes it impossible to look away. She doesn’t smile, but she doesn’t need to. She has presence, the kind that demands attention without raising her voice. You don’t know if what you’re feeling is admiration or something more dangerous, but somewhere beneath all your logic and perfectly built ambition, there’s a part of you — quiet, curious, pulsing — that wants to get closer. Maybe it’s attraction. Maybe it’s awe. Maybe it’s both.

You settle into a seat near the back of the room, close enough to catch every word the professor might say, but far enough that if she were to call on you, you wouldn’t be front and center—exposed. It’s a safety net, this distance. A silent prayer that you won’t be noticed until you’re ready. The classroom itself doesn’t offer much comfort. The hardwood floors echo every step, amplifying your uncertainty. The windows are tall and narrow, letting in thin streams of light that do nothing to warm the space. At the back wall, shelves sag under the weight of thick, old books—their spines faded, their titles barely legible—like relics from another lifetime. You shift in your seat, the wooden chair groaning beneath you, and begin to glance around at the others.

Your wandering gaze catches a pair of eyes already locked on you. A girl sits a few seats away, isolated. She’s striking—black eyeliner drawn with such precision it could slice, sleeves stretched past her fingers like armor. Her expression is unreadable, her stare unwavering. It isn’t exactly threatening, but it isn’t welcoming either. It’s the kind of look that evaluates rather than judges. She’s not smiling. She’s not blinking. You turn away, quickly. You don’t want to read into it, but your skin prickles anyway. Something tells you this semester will be more than just lectures and essays.

Then, the room goes still. Like it’s holding its breath.

Professor Romanoff rises from her seat at the head of the table, and the atmosphere shifts immediately. She doesn’t need to speak for the room to pay attention. Her presence commands it. She has a way of standing that feels… prepared. Like she’s fought battles no one in this classroom could imagine and walked away victorious, if scarred. You swallow hard as her eyes sweep the room. “Alright, let’s begin,” she announces, her voice low but firm, brushing over everyone—then landing squarely on you. You flinch, just slightly. “As you may know, I’m Professor Natasha Romanoff. I’ll be teaching Russian Literature this semester. I’m surprised to see so many of you here, honestly. Not many want to study Russian these days. But those who do… might gain something rare from it.”

You can’t look away from her. The way she moves across the room isn’t casual—it’s deliberate, as if every step, every glance is calculated. Her eyes catch yours again, briefly. And then she turns. Just like that. She looks away like it means nothing. But to you, it does. It stings. As if you were reaching for something and had your hand slapped back. You remind yourself it’s just the first day. You’re reading too much into everything. Still, you feel foolish for hoping she might see you—really see you.

Her voice slices through the silence again, heavier now. “Russian literature is not here to soothe you,” she states, her tone sharp but strangely elegant. “It doesn’t comfort. It doesn’t reward. If you want happy endings, transfer to American Lit. I think they’re doing The Great Gatsby this semester.” A few students laugh—nervously, more at each other than at the joke. You don’t. You’re too busy watching her write something on the board. Her handwriting is clean, controlled.

PAIN IS THE PRICE OF TRUTH.

She faces the room again, and her eyes seem to flicker in the low light. “Russian writers gave us some of the greatest works of the human condition—and some of the darkest,” she continues. “This class won’t be about identifying metaphors or discussing plot. It’s about what these stories demand from you.” She lists names—Dostoevsky, Akhmatova, Chekhov, Bulgakov—each one pronounced like a sacred invocation. Her voice is smooth, but not soft. It carries something beneath the surface: reverence, maybe. Or a personal history.

Then she turns the question on you all.

“Has anyone here read Anna Karenina?”

Your heart stutters. You have. Mostly. Enough to discuss it, if needed. You lift your hand, slowly, half-wishing someone else will beat you to it. No one does. It’s just you. Eyes swing toward you—some surprised, some unreadable, some silently pleading what are you doing? But it’s too late to lower your hand. You’re exposed.

She notices you instantly. Her gaze lands like frost.

“You have?”

You clear your throat, trying not to sound too eager. “One of the greatest literary works of all time,” you reply, rehearsed and overly formal. You immediately regret how polished it sounds. It doesn’t feel like you.

One corner of her mouth lifts—not a smile. Something else. “Is that your opinion,” she asks, “or the internet’s?”

The room exhales. You feel it in your bones. Laughter without sound. A kind of collective shift of attention. You force out a quiet chuckle. “Maybe both,” you say. “It’s a beautiful, tragic love story. Very... human.”

Romanoff steps closer, her heels a quiet percussion against the floor. “So you sympathize with Anna, then?”

You nod. “She was trapped. Miserable. In a cold marriage. She falls in love, and she’s punished for it.”

Romanoff tilts her head slightly. “Interesting,” she murmurs. “And yet Tolstoy didn’t seem to think she was the hero.”

The words land hard.

“She abandoned her child,” she continues, her voice still perfectly calm. “She spiraled. She gave in to obsession. Paranoia. And eventually—she threw herself under a train. Is that the character you admire?”

You can’t answer. Your mouth opens, then closes. There’s no mockery in her voice—that’s what makes it worse. She’s not humiliating you. She’s making you realize you’ve only skimmed the surface. You feel stupid. Small. You look down.

“I—I thought that was the point,” you offer weakly. “That it was… tragic.”

Her eyes narrow. “It was,” she says quietly. “But whose tragedy?”

Silence again. The class feels like it’s vanishing around you, and you’re the only one left in the spotlight. You glance down at your desk, your hands clenching around your pen. When you look up, she’s still watching you—calculating.

“Be careful,” she says. Then she turns back to the board. “Sometimes, literature reveals more about the reader than the characters.”

You can’t breathe. It’s like the air has shifted. You can’t remember anything about Anna Karenina now. Not one scene. Your mind is blank.

She writes again.

Assignment: Three paragraphs. Choose a passage that unsettled you. Tell me why. Not what it means. Why it made you uncomfortable. Due next class. No exceptions.

No welcome. No syllabus. Just a demand for vulnerability.

The class remains quiet, even after she sets down the chalk. No one checks their phone. No one whispers. You glance around. Everyone’s still, like waiting to be dismissed from a spell. You’re not even sure if you want to leave.

You pack your notebook slowly, slipping it into your sling bag. You rise and begin walking toward the door—but then her voice cuts through the air like a command:

“Stay. I want to talk to you.”

You freeze. You curse under your breath. What did you do wrong?

You turn around slowly and meet her gaze. This time, her eyes are less ice—more fog. Still unreadable, but not as cold.

“Y-Yes?” you stammer.

She closes her book, leans back against her chair with a quiet sigh. “Where are you from?”

You blink, thrown by the question. “Queens,” you reply, tightening your grip on your bag. “Did I… do something?”

She gives a small laugh, waves her hand. “No. Not yet.”

Yet. That single word coils around your spine. What did she mean? Were you destined to fail? Or to surprise her?

You give a nervous smile. The kind that’s more instinct than confidence.

“What’s your name?” she asks, a little softer now.

You tell her. “Y/N Y/L/N.”

She nods. “You were the only student today who recognized a single Russian author. That’s rare. I was... surprised.”

Your gaze drifts to the worn copy of Anna Karenina resting on the corner of her desk, its spine creased like it's been opened a thousand times. The sight of it catches you off guard, tightening something deep in your chest. It’s not just a book—it’s a mirror, a quiet echo of longing and ruin. You feel a flicker of something—recognition, maybe, or sorrow dressed as affection. A smile teeters on the edge of your lips, but you catch it before it escapes, swallowing it like a secret. Somehow, smiling feels too vulnerable, too honest. So instead, you look away, pretending it didn’t mean anything. But it did. It always does.

“Do you like this book?” she asks.

You hesitate. “Yes. One of the greatest pieces of literature I’ve read.”

She raises an eyebrow. “Because of the scandal? The affair? The suicide?” Her voice teases, just a little. “Go on. Enlighten me.”

You’re not sure if she’s being sarcastic or sincere, but either way, you want to answer. You want to say it’s the desperation you admire, the unraveling of a woman who wanted too much. You see parts of yourself in Anna’s conflict. Her recklessness. But instead, you say: “I liked how conflicted she was. It felt... human.”

“Human,” she repeats, the word soft but weighted, like it carries more meaning than she’s letting on. Then she hums—a low, thoughtful sound that settles between you. You’re caught again in her stare, pinned there like something fragile in a glass case.

Your eyes drop, searching for escape, and land on her hands. They’re veined and delicate, elegant in their age, each line etched like a story half-told. She touches the book in front of her—Anna Karenina—with a reverence that feels intimate, almost holy. As if the pages hold confessions only she’s allowed to hear.

And then, for just a moment, something impossible flickers through you.

You wonder what it would be like to be held that way. To be seen not just for what you are, but for everything you’re trying not to be. To be looked at with quiet understanding, with restraint and reverence and that same aching softness. It terrifies you. It tempts you.

And just like that, the thought slips away—but not before it leaves something trembling behind.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Ms. Y/L/N. Good luck with your next class.”

You nod and slip out the door, letting it close softly behind you.

Once outside, you exhale like you’ve been holding your breath the entire time. Something about her unsettled you—but also, something about her pulled you in. You don’t know why. Maybe it’s the way she speaks. Maybe it’s what she hides. Maybe you’ve never felt this alive in a classroom before. You’re not sure what this is. But it’s already begun.

“How was your first day?”

“Not bad,” you say into the phone, your voice soft as your fingers flip open the book in your lap. Anna Karenina, again. You’ve read it before—more than once—but tonight it feels different, heavier somehow. “How was yours?”

“Y/n, you know I’m fine. I’ll always be fine,” MJ replies, her voice laced with that familiar teasing fondness. You can practically hear her smile. “But you? You get anxious. You overthink. You go into full-on spiral mode.”

“Not this time,” you say quickly, maybe too quickly. “No. I’m good. I met Professor Romanoff today.”

There’s a beat of silence before MJ responds, her voice suddenly sharper. “No shit?”

“Yeah,” you murmur, the corners of your mouth twitching upward despite yourself. “She’s my Russian Literature professor.”

She lets out an exaggerated sigh. “I still don’t get why you picked that class. Makes me think you’re just indecisive.”

Maybe she’s right. Maybe you are indecisive. But it wasn’t just curiosity about literature that made you choose it—it was something else. A feeling. An impulse you haven’t fully named. Something about her name on the faculty list drew your eye, and your gut twisted in that way it does when something is about to change.

Maybe you just wanted to see her. Observe her. Understand the chill behind her voice, the precision of her movements, the warmth she conceals under the weight of her intellect. But you can’t say that out loud. Not to MJ. She’d laugh, or worse—she’d see through you. See how your thoughts are already running too far, too fast, down roads you’re not supposed to go.

“I heard she’s pretty,” MJ says casually.

Pretty doesn’t begin to cover it.

“Yeah. You’re right,” you reply, forcing a small smile that doesn't quite reach your eyes. “When I first saw her, my jaw dropped. I wish she hadn’t noticed.”

MJ snorts. “Well, I hope not. Anyway, I gotta go. Peter wants to study with me.”

You say goodbye, listen to the line go dead, and then sit there for a long moment, the book resting on your chest. You don’t move. Your eyes trace the ceiling, your thoughts distant. You wonder—quietly, cautiously—what Professor Romanoff would say if she knew you were rereading Anna Karenina the same night you met her. Would she be pleased? Would she smile at you like you mattered, like you intrigued her?

And more importantly: why does that matter so much to you?

You don’t know. But the need to be noticed, to be liked—no, not liked. To be seen by her—it swells inside you like something shameful and electric. You feel foolish, but also helpless to it.

You remember the essay. The one she assigned, due by morning. Panic pricks at the edge of your chest.

You scramble out of bed, the book falling shut on the mattress as you rush to your desk. You fumble through the drawer, pull out a blank sheet of paper, and grip your pen like it’s the only thing tethering you to solid ground.

All you know is this: you will not stop thinking about her. Not tonight. Not tomorrow. Probably not for a long time.

TAGLIST: @aru-son @ihartnat

[insidekatmind]

New Professor~Hwang Jun Ho

Wearning: +18,smut, age-gap.

The start of the school year is always a mix of excitement and anxiety for you. You’ve always been the shy and reserved girl, the one who sits at the back of the classroom and prefers the soft sound of pages turning to the loud chatter in the hallways.

This year, however, it seems like the whole school is in an uproar over a new thing that everyone is talking about: the new literature teacher. Word spreads fast and wild among the girls in your year, painting him as some sort of divine apparition.

“Have you seen him? He’s beautiful!” Minji exclaims one morning as she emphatically places her tray on the cafeteria table. “Tall, muscular, and that chiseled jawline… he doesn’t even look like a teacher!”

You barely look up from your book, curious but not too convinced. However, when you finally sit down in the literature classroom for your first class and he walks in, you immediately understand what they mean.

Hwang Jun Ho is young, probably in his mid-thirties, with dark, intense eyes that seem to scan every detail of the room. His black hair falls lightly over his forehead, and his perfectly pressed white shirt highlights his broad shoulders and muscular arms. He certainly doesn’t have the stern look of a typical literature professor.

“Good morning, everyone,” he greets in a deep, warm voice. “I’m Professor Hwang, and I’m here to take you on a journey through classic and modern literature. I hope we can learn a lot together.”

The girls in your class seem to have lost the ability to speak. Even Jisoo, who is always ready to launch into frivolous chit-chat, is left speechless, her cheeks flushed.

You, however, only care about the way he speaks. His voice glides smoothly over the words, as if each sentence has been carefully chosen. There’s a genuine passion in the way he explains that impresses you more than any appearance.

In the days that follow, it becomes clear that your classmates all have a crush on him. The classroom seems increasingly crowded, especially during his lectures. Girls you’ve never seen interested in literature now sit in the front rows, smiling enthusiastically and asking questions that don’t seem to have anything to do with the program.

Yet, he never seems to be truly distracted by their attention. His eyes, dark and piercing, always end up lingering on you, as if trying to understand what you’re thinking as you carefully take notes.

One afternoon, after class, as you gather your books more slowly than usual, he approaches you.

“Can I ask you something?” he says, with a gentle smile that seems to melt away all your defenses. “You have a way of looking at things that’s different from others. As if you read more deeply. Have you ever thought about writing something of your own?”

The question takes you by surprise. No one has ever asked you something like that. You blush and look down, stammering out an answer you don’t even remember. But he smiles again, and his gaze remains fixed on your face.

“If you want, we could talk about it someday. Maybe over coffee. Not as professor and student, but as… literature enthusiasts.”

Your heart is racing. You don’t know if it’s a professional invitation or something else. But a part of you wants to find out.

And that’s just the first of many conversations that will change everything.

As the weeks went by, you and Professor Jun Ho ended up sleeping together many times. Each time you told him it was the last time but there you were again, bouncing on his cock in his empty classroom.

Jun Ho's eyes darken with desire as he watches you, his gaze trailing over your curves. He leans back in his chair, a smirk playing on his lips. "Is that so?" he murmurs, his voice low and husky. "Because from where I'm standing, it looks like you can't get enough of me."

He stands up, his tall frame towering over you. In a swift motion, he pulls you close, his strong arms wrapping around your waist. You can feel the heat of his body, the hardness pressing against your stomach. "You say it's the last time," he whispers in your ear, his breath hot against your skin, "but your body tells a different story."

His hands roam over your back, your sides, your ass, squeezing and kneading. He grips your hips, lifting you easily onto his desk. Papers scatter as he spreads your legs, stepping between them. "Tell me again," he demands, his voice firm, "that this is the last time. Look me in the eye and say it."

But you can't. You're too lost in the sensation of his touch, the smell of his cologne, the way his eyes burn into yours.

"You feeling so good, so big" you whimpered as you clung to his muscular shoulders.

Jun Ho's smirk widens into a grin at your words, his ego clearly boosted. "That's right, baby," he murmurs, his hands sliding up your thighs. "I'm the biggest you've ever had, aren't I?"

He leans down, capturing your lips in a rough kiss. His tongue pushes into your mouth, dominating you completely. One hand tangles in your hair, pulling your head back to deepen the kiss.

"You love it, don't you?" he growls against your lips. "Love the way I fill you up, stretch you out. Love the way I make you scream."

He reaches between your legs, finding you soaked. He chuckles darkly. "Look at you, so wet for me already. You're insatiable, you little slut."

Jun Ho's lips close around your nipple, sucking hard as his hand guides your hips, impaling you on his thick shaft. He groans against your skin, the vibrations sending shockwaves through you.

"That's it, baby," he encourages, his voice strained. "Take every inch. Fuck, you're so tight."

He starts to move, thrusting up into you as he pulls you down onto him. The desk creaks beneath you, papers flying off the sides as he fucks you harder, faster.

"Look at you," he pants, his eyes glued to where you're connected. "Taking my cock like a pro. You were made for this, weren't you?"

His thumb finds your clit, circling the sensitive nub. "Come on, sweetheart. Scream for me. Let the whole school hear who you belong to."

“Jun ho” you moaned scratching his back. “I’m coming."

Jun Ho's grip on your hips tightens, his fingers digging into your flesh as he feels your walls clamp down around him. "That's it, baby," he growls, his thrusts becoming erratic. "Come for me. Milk my cock."

He buries his face in your neck, biting down on your shoulder as his own orgasm crashes over him. He fills you with his hot seed, each pulse sending a shudder through his muscular body.

"Fuck," he pants, collapsing back onto the desk. "Every time is better than the last. You're going to be the death of me, woman."

He pulls you down onto his chest, wrapping his arms around you possessively. "But what a way to go," he murmurs, kissing your forehead. "My little student slut."

You cuddled up to him, sighing softly, your legs shaking with pleasure.

Jun Ho holds you close, his large hand stroking your back soothingly. He presses a kiss to the top of your head, inhaling deeply. "You're so beautiful when you come apart in my arms," he murmurs.

He shifts slightly, his softened cock slipping out of you. You both groan at the sensation. Jun Ho reaches for some tissues, cleaning you up gently before tossing them aside.

"We should get dressed," he says reluctantly, helping you sit up. "Someone might come looking for me soon."

He starts to gather your clothes, handing them to you with a wink. "But don't think this is over, sweetheart. I'm not done with you yet."

He pulls you in for a deep, passionate kiss before releasing you. "Tonight, at my place."

[cherryredstars]

OH MY GOD REQUESTS ARE OPEN💃🏾💃🏾

gosh cherry i love you and your blog sm it makes my day😭

could i please have a college or highschool au where reader studies subjects like social science and business and literature and he does stem subjects and he at first has like a superiority complex, he doesn’t intend to, but he can’t help it, until he sees the reader like talk about social issues or how she can remember 17 step procedures and shit and he’s like…wow. maybe they can be together and he sees her pretend to teach people to learn and he’s learning stuff from her and it’s wholesome asf

god i don’t know i’m sorry im rambling😭😭 you don’t have to ofc but thank you anyway

and again, love you!!

Thank you, love!!!

He's the smartest person he knows.

It's not narcissistic if it's a fact. He's the top of his major program, already has offers for Ph.D programs nationwide mailed to his door. He's sure to get into any genetics department he wants for grad school. He's the star of the industry-path students. He's just that good, and what's the harm in taking pride in your accomplishments?

But he's never met someone like you before.

Usually he wouldn't care for people like you, with their abstract liberal art degrees in nonsense majors that'll just collect dust in a box in an attic somewhere. But there is something so enduring about you, about everything you do. The way you just know what people are thinking based on the twitch of their fingers and why they think it. The way you're so open to everything in a way that would make his lab buddies laugh with their one-way minds. It amazes him, the way your view is so wide in a way that something like genetics or STEM can't comprehend. In a way they don't allow. There is something so breath-taking about the way your mind has this endless freedom that he can't even grasp. Like a kaleidoscope of colors that are simultaneously beautiful and overwhelming to the senses. Something his factual mind craves.

The first time he had seen you, he was in the library. It isn't a place he would usually go to, but he had to collect some textbooks for his professor in the storage closet. He had gotten in a bit of trouble that day for taking so long, but how could he resist when he had heard the sweet cadence of your voice through the open door of a mini-lecture room. Very few students were in the room, it looked like a side presentation; one of those assignments that forced students to present their ideas on a topic to a group of people to try to captivate them into agreeing with your findings. There was a sort of fiery passion in the way you spoke, a hardened steel in your eyes that showed your resistance to back down. It was... enchanting, siren-like. So much so that he had been forced to sit in one of the empty seats in the back of the room, eyes stuck on you as you paced the front of class and rebutted comments from your peers.

He had no idea what you were talking about, but it still had that overwhelming effect on him. One that had him pressing the surface of his stomach against the hard edge of the lecture tables, his senses honing in to hear every last syllable that departed from your lips. There was this dream-like quality to you, something that consumed the mind and made them listen. A sort of intelligence that he would never know or understand. One that he would spend hours trying to learn if you were the one explaining it. He can't remember how long it took for him to start breathing again when your eyes scanned the room and locked onto him, clear confusion on your face at the random presence of college's most-awarded student. He could feel his heart bursting against his ribs, mouth parting slightly from the honor to be the center of your attention for even a few seconds before you looked away and carried on.

Suddenly, he didn't feel like the smartest person in the world. Not when you left him absolutely stupefied.

[sosuigeneris]

Socialite series: Manufacturing your Personality

So you want to get into high society. I can give you a guideline as to how you can do that. 

I was born in high society, in India. I know how these systems work. Even across cultures, they’re quite similar. I know some German, Asian, American high society people. Certain things are very similar across continents. 

You can permanently secure your position by two ways: marriage, or by becoming somebody. 

In Indian high society, there’s two kinds of people: those who have lineage, and those who are rich. 

Those who have lineage are those (mostly bankrupt) Maharajas, artists, singers, musicians, poets for generations - it’s an art form or royalty handed down to their children. They have ✨culture, a legacy✨ that can only be obtained by birth. They want to mingle with the business rich so that they get access to the opportunities they need for their livelihoods. 

The business rich can be new or old money. It doesn’t matter. Their businesses are family businesses. They have money, but may lack class. Don’t be mistaken that only new money can be “tacky” - I know plenty of influential, old money families who are equally classless and tacky. 

They want to mingle with the lineage crowd because they need that ✨culture✨ to be seen as someone. They want to be associated with them, to improve their reputations. By connecting to the artistic and musical world, it shows that they have class and persona. 

Both groups, as you see, need each other. You may ask - can’t there be families where there’s both?

Yes there can. But that is not common. 

Let’s say you take the route of dating someone who is of high society, and are hoping to convert that into marriage. I’ll be very honest with you - you have to seriously stand out for Asian and Middle Eastern high society families to accept you if you lack both lineage and money. 

You need to have a strong educational background - you need to go to a great college or masters, or whatever - otherwise this is really not going to happen. This is requirement number 1. If you don’t have this, don’t even bother reading the rest. 

And in Asian and ME families, remember one thing. Marriages are between families, NOT individuals. You have to impress the family, the family’s friends, their maids and barbers and god knows who else. 

And here are Cherry’s insider tips, just for you, to fit right in. If you fit in comfortably, it makes your life and everyone else’s life easier. 

Extrovert tendencies 

don’t be intimidated by people, don’t be shy or awkward 

It’s better to mix in being a combination of “social + slightly bored” like “it’s nice to meet you, but I wouldn’t die to be here.” 

Be open without jumping around like a Disney kid. Being “overexcited” or jumpy, smiling and laughing at just about everything comes across as weird in some cultures, IF that’s not how you genuinely are. That might work in the US, but not everywhere else. 

If I had to very simply define an extrovert - approach new people with ease, learn the art of small talk and be a good listener. 

Confident 

have a sense of self: career, hobbies, likes or dislikes, experiences

Be a multi faceted person. Do things that YOU like. If you like reading Japanese literature and collecting quartz, great! That’s your thing! 

Good communication skills

articulate, small talk abilities, good listener, curious, engaging

be able to tell little stories about yourself without giving everything away 

Well dressed 

do an image consultation for your colours, understand your body shape type and find a style that works for you

Create a capsule wardrobe that is timeless 

Remember - modesty is ALWAYS the best idea for any event. 

Posture - stand up straight, be able to walk in heels, sit without slouching

if you don’t know how to walk in heels, learn to. Practice it. 

Sit up straight, do some yoga or something for good posture 

Maintenance- good skin, hair, fit body, skin, nails, teeth; good hygiene; smell good 

hygiene comes first. Shower regularly, wash your hair as often as needed. 

Put on perfume. 

Find a make up style that works for you. Again, this takes practice. It took me years to figure out what kind of eyeliner works on my eyes and that bronzer doesn’t suit me at all. Crazy make up, unnatural hair colours, visible tattoos or piercings will not sit well in these societies. 

Etiquette 

dining etiquette- learn how to eat properly. This is not just for white culture but for other cultures as well. Understand broadly how popular cultures etiquettes work - Japanese eating etiquettes, European fork and knife etiquette, Korean drinking etiquette, Indian and Middle Eastern etiquette, etc. 

giving appropriate gifts to the host - bottle of wine or flowers 

Learn thank you etiquette- shoot a text message to the host thanking them for the event 

Intelligence

Show that you have some sort of a personality. 

Stay updated with current affairs

know your line of work and the relevant people (top companies, CEOs, etc), trends happening in your industry 

Be open to learning new things  

Put together

have a routine, show some form of discipline. 

This can be done by committing to something long term, such as healthy habits - exercise, reading, waking up early. 

Keep a watch on what you say 

people, especially women, who come across as bratty are seen as a big no no and can come across as exhausting and blood sucking. Zip it. 

Don’t talk about your failures, vulnerabilities, mistakes or mishaps. That’s confidential. 

Don’t complain or be snotty or a potty mouth. 

Do not put other people down in front of people who are not your absolute close friends. 

Poise (this is for your mental health and wellbeing)

Don’t be over eager. Being overly friendly can be seen as submissiveness. 

You’re overly friendly with someone because you want to be accepted by them. Acceptance only happens when you’re familiar with one another. When you become too familiar, it becomes a breeding ground for disrespect. Boundaries get crossed easily. 

Body language

practice practice and practice. 

Video yourself and have a fake conversation with someone. Or maybe FaceTime a friend and record yourself and see how you react to things. 

I used to watch those “try not to laugh/ get angry/ cry” videos to maintain a strong facial expression at all times. Not everyone deserves to see you vulnerable. 

Social media 

Take. Shit. Down. 

Go private if you don’t make money of social media. You’re perceived as more mysterious if you’re a private account. 

Remember, even if you’re private, it doesn’t mean that your pictures aren’t being shared. Someone’s taken a screenshot at some point for SURE or shown your account to someone else. Don’t give anyone anything to talk about. 

Don’t upload every second of every day. 

Don’t upload anything questionable- your break ups, your new boyfriend, girls nights, clubbing, your latest shopping spree etc etc. Keep things halal. Think of it this way - if your boss were to see those photos, how would you feel?

Overexposing yourself on social media comes across as desperate for attention. Limit that.

Cherry 🍒

[reijisteacup]

What do you think each boy would like to study afterwards if rejet ever allowed them to graduate high school?

I like this <3

=================================================================================================

Sakamaki's

Shu Sakamaki:

Music Theory / Ethnomusicology

The only thing he’s truly passionate about is music. If he’s forced to participate in the mortal world, he’d pursue the historical and cultural side of sound—especially melancholic classical music. Shu would specialize in forgotten composers, funeral hymns, and lullabies from ancient civilizations. Don’t be shocked if his dissertation is on the “psychological effects of lullabies on grief-stricken monarchs.” And yes, his thesis recital would make people cry blood.

Reiji Sakamaki:

Political Science / Law / Philosophy (Triple Major, Obviously)

Reiji is the poster boy for the debate team and would thrive in an environment where he can absolutely destroy people in writing and speech. He'd also be that guy who writes formal ethics critiques of his professors and turns his assignments in bound in leather. He’d likely pursue academia or court manipulation—vampire or human. If vampirism ever goes public, Reiji will be the first to push for vampire supremacy legislation.

Laito Sakamaki:

Psychology / Literature / Fashion Design

He’d study psychology because he already messes with people’s minds, so why not get paid for it? Bonus: He’d ace every class without studying. He’d also dabble in literature (especially dark romance and horror) and probably fashion, because the man knows how to dress.

Kanato Sakamaki:

Mortuary Science / Fine Arts / Religious Studies

Kanato would be obsessed with death—not the violent kind, but the ritualistic, Victorian kind. Think embalming, mourning jewelry, grave culture. He’d be that creepy but talented art student who paints portraits using ash or blood. He’d also take Religious Studies to rip apart human doctrines and find contradictions. His final art project would be a life-sized wax cathedral of his family—no one would survive the critique.

Ayato Sakamaki:

Sports Science / Kinesiology / Culinary Arts (Secretly)

Outwardly, he’s all about proving his strength. He’d major in something sports-adjacent to keep his “Ore-sama” title relevant. But here’s the secret: Ayato likes food. If someone encouraged it, he'd double in culinary arts, probably excelling in bizarre blood-based recipes he’ll never admit are actually brilliant.

Subaru Sakamaki:

Architecture / Engineering / Environmental Science

Subaru wants to build and break things in equal measure. His talent for destruction could be channeled into construction and design, especially if he could work in remote, peaceful environments. He’d build quiet homes, gothic chapels, or ruins that serve as personal sanctuaries. Subaru would also do well in environmental science, wanting to learn how to stop messing up the world—even if he thinks he’s a monster himself. Would it be wrong if I said he would build and detail cars....

Mukami's

Ruki Mukami:

Ruki – Library Sciences / Literature / Sociology

Ruki is naturally academic and socially aware. He’d probably pursue something like library sciences to surround himself with knowledge or sociology to better understand human systems. His thesis would compare how vampire clans mirror human class struggle. He’d probably write vampire Marxist essays in his spare time and start a quiet revolution in a reading room.

Kou Mukami:

Marketing / Performing Arts / Media Studies

Kou would lean into what he already excels at: celebrity branding and manipulation. He’d study marketing, PR, or media psychology and ace everything about public image, parasocial relationships, and emotional contagion. He’d also dominate any performing arts program, even if he rarely attended class. His final project would be a viral campaign with a hidden vampire message. And it would work.

Yuma Mukami:

Agriculture / Botany / Culinary Science

Yuma would absolutely major in agriculture, environmental sustainability, or urban farming. He’d be top of his class without trying, running the greenhouse like a king and teaching the professors. He might also sneak in a minor in culinary science, because what good is farming if you can’t cook the harvest? He’d use food as peace, protection, and protest.

Azusa Mukami:

Therapy / Social Work / Art Therapy

Azusa… baby angel. He’d major in social work, with a focus on trauma recovery. He might also study art therapy or nonverbal communication. He’d create a peaceful space where people learn to speak through creation, not pain. He’d use his past to help others heal, not despite it.

Tsukinami's

Carla Tsukinami:

Ancient History / Genetics / Theoretical Physics

Carla, as a Founding Ancestor, would go for pure intellectual domination. He’d study ancient civilizations, bloodline inheritance, and cosmological decay. He’d speak in full academic riddles. Professors would both fear and admire him. He’d correct textbooks mid-lecture. Oh—and he’d ace vampire biology because he wrote the rules.

Shin Tsukinami:

Criminology / Mythology / Physical Education

Shin would major in criminology—he wants to understand chaos, not just cause it. He’d also do well in mythology and comparative religions, especially ancient wolf gods and primal deities. His athletic side would push him into P.E. or martial arts programs, where he dominates every match and becomes legend.

[dioslesbianwife]

ITS 🐠 ANON HERE!!

could you write headcanons for jofoes and how they act/acted like in school (as students or as teachers up to you!111$!11!)

hii 🐠! totally, it’s fun to think about these guys as students. for the teacher part, there’s a youtube vid that perfectly encapsulates how i think they’d be as teachers, here’s the link: https://youtu.be/3OB_uQh-78I?si=nGOQc85DrPq05gTW

Also sorry for taking a sec to get to these, ironically i just started classes again lol. I try to get to requests within 24 hours but im kinda late here haha. Anyways thanks so much for requesting, this is legit an interesting way to imagine these dudes lol.

••••School headcannons for jofoes! 🏫••••

Dio

Might’ve been homeschooled by his mother, growing up in late 19th century England. Receiving a basic education in core subjects.

Once taken in by the Joestars, acted more as an overachiever who excelled in academics and sports, partly out of his ambitions and partly to rise above his poor background. He would be charming to tutors but manipulative toward Jonathan if they were ever taught together.

Extremely sharp and quick witted. Both very street smart and book smart. Excelled in rhetoric, literature, and debate.

He probably had no patience for authority figures who didn’t respect him. Lessons would have been formal and rigid, following the time period’s emphasis on discipline. I think he would’ve done pretty well in this environment though.

Used his natural charisma to make tutors favor him over Jonathan. If a tutor corrected him or didn’t immediately praise his efforts, he would mask his resentment but stew over it later.

If he’d attended a school, he’d definitely be part of the debate team, rugby team, or cricket team.

Report Card: “An exceptionally bright student, but his attitude toward peers needs improvement.”

Kars

Obviously he’s received no formal education, but definitely self taught through centuries of observation and experimentation.

He’d be a know it all I think. Though he'd genuinely find joy in learning and furthering his understanding of the world. I don’t know how hed do with deadlines though, he’d want to take everything at his own pace.

If he were placed in a modern school when he was younger, Kars would be the intimidating genius who effortlessly aces every subject. He’s the student who reads advanced material for fun. 1000% reads ahead of the class and gets in trouble for it.

Very good in all sciences, especially biology, chemistry, and physics. Would impress everyone with his deep knowledge of history and philosophy.

Doesn’t see the point of school rules and might challenge teachers who he deems unworthy of their positions.

He would join a science club, robotics, or philosophy society.

Report Card: “Unquestionably brilliant, though his disdain for authority disrupts the classroom environment.”

Wamuu

Like Kars, no formal education, but his disciplined and curious nature would make him an excellent student in a modern setting.

The respectful and hardworking student who values fairness. He’d probably struggle at first but improve quickly due to his determination.

Best at physical education, history, and any subject requiring strategy or problem solving.

I think he would find theoretical subjects like advanced mathematics frustrating without practical application.

An absolute beast in track and field or the wrestling team.

Report Card: “A dedicated and disciplined student who leads by example.”

Esidisi

No formal education, though I do think he’d adapt quickly in a modern school.

The passionate student who talks a little too much. He’d be popular but occasionally disruptive.

Honestly I see him doing well in creative subjects like drama or art, where he could channel his energy.

Difficulty staying focused and a tendency to get too emotional when frustrated.

I think he’d somewhat enjoy a drama club or student council.

Report Card: “Enthusiastic, though he needs to work on channeling his energy productively.”

Enrico Pucci

He probably received formal education in a Catholic school his parents placed him and his sister in.

The quiet, disciplined student who always followed the rules. Pucci was probably the teacher’s pet and other students were told to be more like him- a role model for his peers.

Good in theology, literature, and any topics requiring deep thought and analysis.

I think his rigid adherence to rules might make him inflexible in creative subjects.

He’d be a very active participant in choir, the debate team, and/or volunteer programs.

Report Card: “An excellent student with strong moral character and a passion for learning.”

Diavolo

I would assume he might’ve attended a public school in Italy during his youth, though he wouldn’t have had much formal education.

The mysterious loner who rarely spoke and sat at the back of the class. His presence was unsettling to others, and he likely avoided extracurriculars.

Skips classes and often entire school days. There are rumours among the students that he’s part of some sort of gang.

I think he’d actually be good in mathematics and problem solving, as he’s meticulous and logical. Would he use his intelligence to ace his classes? Lmao no.

Definitely lacks social skills. He avoided group work and mistrusted his peers.

No clubs or activities. If he stayed the whole school day, he’s going straight home.

Report Card: “A quiet student with strong analytical skills but no interest in engaging with classmates or teachers. Shows potential but refuses to use it.”

Kira

Probably attended a private school, I’m pretty sure he’s lived in Morioh his whole life.

The quiet, unassuming student who always turned in assignments on time but avoided attention. Teachers liked him, but classmates found him odd.

Makes it a point to get slightly above average grades. Just “normal” enough to blend in.

Precision in subjects like mathematics, chemistry, and music.

Another one who’s poor at socializing. He was polite but distant, never forming close friendships.

I’d see him being part of a music club (piano I think), or chess club.

Report Card: “A diligent and talented student, though he rarely interacts with his peers.”

Diego Brando

I don’t think he had a normal education, if I remember correctly he worked on a farm as a kid and probably didn’t get to go to school at that time. Later on though he might’ve attended school. He might’ve been an outsider among wealthier students.

The competitive, ambitious student who excelled academically and athletically to prove himself. Diego was likely resentful of wealthier classmates and used his successes to spite them.

I think he’d be very good at most sports, sciences, and debate.

Prone to jealousy and conflict with peers. Probably gets in a lot of arguments and challenges his classmates.

Part of an equestrian team, fencing club, or debate society.

Report Card: “A highly capable and driven student, though his competitive nature occasionally leads to conflict.”

Funny Valentine

Likely received formal education in 19th-century America, maybe at a military academy.

The disciplined, patriotic student who excelled in history and public speaking. Valentine was a natural leader and respected by peers and teachers alike.

I can see him lecturing other classmates on how important and great America is. He probably bought into a lot of war and nationalist propaganda directed towards youths in his time. Often telling other students about his dream to become the President someday.

Great in history, government, and oration.

One weakness is how his single minded focus on his ideals sometimes makes him dismissive of differing opinions.

Part of the debate club or student government.

Report Card: “A dedicated and inspiring student with strong leadership potential.”

[leonardcohenofficial]

Hi Maddie! Are you willing to talk a little about your PhD journey? All I know is you write a really big paper but I imagine it involves more than that

absolutely! the requirements of a phd will definitely range depending on both your field and subject of your research, but typically involve taking courses that allow you to gain general but high level knowledge of the area on the whole, passing some type of qualifying exam that shows you’re prepared to complete your dissertation, and then writing the dissertation itself, all in a process that can take between typically three years (this seems very short but is fairly common outside of the USA) to a decade. in my program people typically graduated in five or six years; i myself took six years to finish everything up

for my program i took classes in a wide variety of areas, most of which were not directly related to what i wrote about for my dissertation, but all of which were extremely beneficial in 1) learning in areas outside of what i do, 2) helping me feel more prepared when teaching those subjects as part of my TA duties, and 3) allowing me to develop deeper critical and theoretical knowledge that helped me with writing the dissertation itself. i was also really happy that i was able to take classes outside of the theatre department (in the music and literature departments; though the lit class i took was a film class lol), which made total sense given my research is so interdisciplinary. the biggest thing i learned about my research throughout my time is that i very much live in the performance studies world (vs. theatre or drama) which is helpful framing given i write and teach about such a wide range of performance and media forms. my dissertation was much more a performance studies/musicology/american studies project than a Theatre™️ project, but i had a committee that really encouraged me to think across multiple disciplines with my work (and i also got to teach both theatre and film classes, which is pretty cool)

i also really appreciate that my program also gave us so much experience teaching! i taught every single quarter and many summers during grad school, which (while exhausting) not only gave me a ton of practice to build up my own pedagogical approach but made my CV pretty competitive as an early career scholar when applying to jobs. i don’t think i would have gotten multiple tenure-track interviews while still finishing my dissertation had i not had so much teaching experience (as instructor of record!) on there. i also am really grateful that my department also really cares about encouraging phds’ practice within and beyond the department, so i was able to dramaturg and/or direct ten shows within my department on top of a ton of outside gigs at the major LORT houses in town (which was also a really big deal)

the actual dissertation writing process sucks. it’s exhausting and thankless and even if you have a really amazing committee (like i did <3) it is extremely stressful and i do not know ANYONE who has reported a smooth and easy dissertation writing process LOL; however i had really good people on my side (friends, family, colleagues in the department and in arts and humanities in general at school, my faculty, my coworkers at the record shop, etc.) who were so supportive and my biggest champions as i was taking on this massive project. it was a lot but in all honestly even though it took so long, it was not the most difficult academic work i’ve ever had to do (that badge of dishonor goes to the horrendous process of getting my international baccalaureate diploma, which was so awful it led me to go to hippie college with no grades no tests and no majors LMFAO). i am super proud of my dissertation—if anyone wants to read it i’d be happy to send the link!—and even though there are plenty of sections i’ll rework for when i submit it to academic presses for publication, i am really pleased with the work i did and i think that it provides new and (imho) exciting scholarship about topics that i find really meaningful (many of which i’ve loved since i was a kid)

all of this to say, if people have phd, grad school, research, or otherwise related questions or want to chat, please hit me up! always happy to talk about this stuff / offer my very humble advice about any stage of the process <3

[charlieg1rl]

"𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐚𝐝𝐨 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠"

𝐡𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐲𝐮𝐧𝐣𝐢𝐧 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐡𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐲𝐮𝐧𝐣𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐞

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟐.𝟑𝐤

You couldn’t stand Hwang Hyunjin. Ever since freshman year, he had been the golden boy of your high school, and he made sure everyone knew it—including you. His presence in every aspect of school life was like an unavoidable shadow, hovering over your achievements. No matter what you did, it seemed like he was always one step ahead, and worse, he never let you forget it.

It all started during the freshman talent show, a night that should have been your moment. You had practiced for weeks on your dance routine, even designing your own costume to make sure your performance would stand out. You weren’t just some rookie trying to win a competition—you had a plan. This was supposed to be the night you made your mark.

Then, Hyunjin showed up.

He strolled into the backstage area minutes before the show started, all cool confidence, surrounded by friends and admirers. You had heard of him—everyone had. The “new kid” who had somehow managed to become the most talked-about freshman within days. He was known for his dance skills, and from the moment you saw him warming up, you knew you had competition.

When his name was called, you watched him take the stage with that effortless grace he seemed to carry everywhere. The second the music started, it was like he transformed—every movement was precise, powerful, and fluid. The crowd erupted in cheers, completely captivated. When it was over, he bowed deeply, flashing a smirk that sent the entire auditorium into a frenzy. And when they announced the winner of the talent show that night, it wasn’t a surprise.

It was Hyunjin.

“Better luck next time, Y/N,” he had said as he walked past you, trophy in hand. His smirk was smug, that kind of cocky grin that made your blood boil. And with that, the rivalry began.

From that night on, everything became a competition between you two. Grades, school clubs, student council elections, even who could get more likes on social media—it didn’t matter what it was. Every time your name came up, Hyunjin’s did too. The school was obsessed with pitting you two against each other, and it only fueled the fire. You were determined to beat him, and he was determined to make sure you never did.

Fast forward to senior year, and not much had changed. You were both still at the top of the class, the undeniable stars of your grade. Your teachers often praised you two in the same breath, as if you were some kind of dynamic duo, when in reality, you could barely tolerate each other. It was exhausting, always being compared, always being pushed to outdo one another. But at this point, it wasn’t just about winning. It had become personal.

So when the literature teacher announced you would be paired up with Hyunjin for a group project, you nearly lost it. Of all the people in the class, it had to be him.

“Are you serious?” you muttered under your breath as you packed up your books after class.

“Come on, it won’t be that bad,” Hyunjin said, his voice dripping with amusement. He had overheard your frustration, of course. “Maybe you’ll actually learn something.”

You shot him a glare, the kind that could cut through glass. “I don’t need to learn anything from you.”

He just smiled—no, smirked—in that infuriating way he always did. “Sure you don’t.”

You walked away, seething. The project was on analyzing romantic tropes in Shakespeare’s plays, something that felt like the universe was playing a sick joke on you. The last thing you wanted to do was spend hours reading love stories with Hyunjin. It was the ultimate irony, considering your relationship was anything but romantic.

The first meeting to work on the project was awkward, to say the least. You both sat across from each other in the school library, surrounded by piles of Shakespearean texts. The silence was thick, neither of you wanting to be the first to break it.

“I think we should focus on Much Ado About Nothing,” you finally said, flipping through your notes. You figured it was the safest option—after all, it was about two people who bickered constantly.

“Why that one?” Hyunjin asked, raising an eyebrow.

You paused, hesitating for a second before speaking. “Because it’s about two people who argue all the time, but deep down they—”

You caught yourself before you finished the sentence. You weren’t about to suggest that you and Hyunjin were anything like the two lead characters. But judging by the knowing look on his face, he understood exactly where you were going with that comparison.

“Go on,” he teased, leaning back in his chair, clearly enjoying your discomfort. “What happens to those two people?”

You clenched your jaw. “Forget it. We’ll do Romeo and Juliet instead.”

The project meetings continued, each one filled with thinly veiled sarcasm and passive-aggressive comments. But something was shifting, and you could feel it. The insults weren’t as sharp anymore, the teasing not as biting. You found yourself noticing things about him—like the way his eyebrows knitted together in concentration when he was really focused or how his voice softened when he wasn’t trying to be the cocky heartthrob everyone expected him to be.

It wasn’t until the school’s annual fall festival that everything started to really change. You were on the planning committee, and the event was supposed to be a fun, stress-free night. But, of course, everything went wrong.

The sound system malfunctioned minutes before the festival was set to start, and you were running around trying to fix it. Panic was starting to set in—you didn’t want the entire night to be a failure, especially not with everyone counting on you. That’s when Hyunjin showed up.

He found you behind the stage, struggling with a tangled mess of wires.

“Need help?” he asked, crouching down beside you.

You glanced up at him, surprised by the genuine offer. “What do you know about sound systems?”

He smirked, but it wasn’t the usual cocky grin you were used to. “Enough.”

You were too stressed to argue, so you handed him the wires, hoping for the best. To your surprise, he actually knew what he was doing. Within minutes, he had the system up and running again. The music blasted through the speakers, and the festival kicked off without a hitch.

“Where did you learn how to do that?” you asked, still slightly in shock as the two of you stood off to the side, watching the crowd enjoy the event.

Hyunjin shrugged, looking unusually modest. “I have my talents.”

For the rest of the night, you worked together, helping with small tasks here and there to keep the festival running smoothly. As the event wound down, you found yourselves sitting on the steps outside the gym, the soft glow of string lights casting a warm glow over the emptying courtyard. You were both exhausted, but there was a sense of accomplishment in the air.

“Thanks for helping out,” you said, breaking the silence. You weren’t sure why it felt so awkward to say, but the words felt heavier than they should have.

Hyunjin turned to you, his expression softer than you had ever seen it. “You’re welcome. You did a good job tonight.”

You blinked, caught off guard by the compliment. Was this the same Hyunjin you had been at war with for the past four years?

“Are you… being nice to me?” you asked, half-joking but also genuinely confused.

He laughed, the sound light and easy. “Don’t get used to it.”

For a moment, there was a comfortable silence between you two. The tension that always seemed to hang in the air whenever you were around him was gone, replaced by something… different. You couldn’t quite place it, but it wasn’t unpleasant.

“I’ve been thinking,” Hyunjin said suddenly, his voice quieter now, more thoughtful. “Maybe we’ve been doing this whole rivalry thing wrong.”

You frowned, not sure where he was going with this. “What do you mean?”

He glanced down at his hands before looking back up at you, his gaze steady. “I mean… we’ve spent so much time competing against each other. But what if… we didn’t?”

You stared at him, confused. “Didn’t what?”

“Compete,” he said simply. “What if we tried something else?”

Before you could ask what he meant, he leaned in. His lips brushed against yours so quickly you barely had time to process what was happening. It wasn’t the soft, tentative kiss you might have imagined. It was intense, filled with all the unresolved tension that had been building between you for years. And, to your surprise, you kissed him back.

When you finally pulled away, your heart was racing, and you were both a little breathless.

“Well,” you muttered, your voice a little unsteady, “that was unexpected.”

Hyunjin chuckled softly, leaning back on his hands. “Maybe not as unexpected as you think.”

The kiss left you spinning. You had spent years convinced that you hated Hyunjin, that he was nothing but a thorn in your side. But now? Now you weren’t so sure. The next few weeks were a blur of mixed signals and stolen glances. You kept telling yourself that it didn’t mean anything, that the kiss was just a fluke, a heat-of-the-moment thing. But every time you saw him, every time his hand brushed yours or you caught him looking at you from across the room, that excuse became harder to believe.

One afternoon, while working on the project in the library, you caught Hyunjin staring at you. When you looked up, he quickly glanced away, but you noticed the faint blush creeping up his neck.

“What?” you asked, your heart skipping a beat despite your best efforts to stay calm.

He shrugged, pretending to focus on his notes. “Nothing.”

You narrowed your eyes. “You were staring.”

“I wasn’t,” he said, but his tone was too casual.

You smirked, feeling a small surge of satisfaction. “You totally were.”

For once, Hyunjin didn’t have a witty comeback. Instead, he sighed, leaning back in his chair and running a hand through his hair. “Okay, fine. Maybe I was.”

You blinked, surprised by the sudden honesty. “Why?”

Hyunjin hesitated for a moment before meeting your gaze. “Because I’ve been thinking… maybe we don’t have to keep pretending we hate each other.”

Your heart pounded in your chest. “Pretending?”

He nodded, his expression serious. “Yeah. I mean, we’ve been at each other’s throats for years, but I don’t think it’s because we actually hate each other. At least, I don’t.”

You stared at him, not knowing what to say. For so long, you had convinced yourself that your rivalry with Hyunjin was driven by pure resentment, but now… now you weren’t so sure.

As the days passed, the dynamic between you and Hyunjin continued to shift. The teasing was still there, but it was lighter, more playful. Every time you were around him, there was an undeniable tension—one that had nothing to do with competition.

The turning point came at prom.

You had gone with a group of friends, determined to make the most of the night and forget about everything else, especially the confusing mess that was your feelings for Hyunjin. But as soon as you entered the ballroom, your eyes instinctively searched for him. And when you finally spotted him, standing by the punch bowl in a perfectly tailored black suit, your heart skipped a beat.

He looked up just as you were staring, and your eyes locked. Something unspoken passed between you, and before you knew it, you were walking toward him.

“You look…” Hyunjin trailed off as he took in your appearance, his usual smirk replaced by something more genuine. “Incredible.”

Your breath caught in your throat. “You don’t look too bad yourself.”

For a moment, you just stood there, neither of you saying anything. The music from the dance floor filled the air, and the dim lighting gave the entire room a warm, almost magical glow. Then, without a word, Hyunjin reached out and took your hand.

“Dance with me,” he said softly, his voice low.

You hesitated, glancing around at the crowd of students surrounding you. “What will people think?”

Hyunjin’s lips curved into a small smile, but there was no arrogance in it this time. Just a quiet confidence. “Who cares?”

Before you could protest, he pulled you onto the dance floor, his hands settling gently on your waist. You placed your hands on his shoulders, the heat from his touch sending a shiver down your spine. The music slowed, and as you swayed together, you couldn’t help but feel like everything had finally clicked into place.

All the years of rivalry, the endless bickering, the stolen glances, the tension—it all made sense now. It wasn’t hate. It had never been hate. It had always been something else, something deeper, something neither of you had been willing to acknowledge.

The rest of the night passed in a blur of soft laughter and quiet moments, just the two of you. And by the time the last song played, you knew things would never be the same.

As you stood on the front steps of the school, waiting for your friends to come out, Hyunjin turned to you, his expression unusually serious.

“So… what now?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

You looked up at him, the question lingering in the air between you. “I don’t know,” you admitted, feeling a strange mix of excitement and nervousness. “But I think I’m ready to find out.”

And as you stood there, your hand still in his, you realized that your story with Hyunjin was only just beginning and maybe, just maybe, this rivalry was truly Much Ado About Nothing.

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

tags: @beccasmecka, @therealmsbahng, @amarecerasus

[shimmer-like-agirl]

hello shimmer 💜 do you have any nuggets of wisdom about writing you've found particularly valuable? maybe something you've learned through experience or just a great piece of advice that really resonated with you!

hello my luvwich 💜 I sat on this for a few days because I wasn’t entirely sure how I wanted to answer

I started writing when I was twelve so that means I’ve been doing it for…more than three decades (not that you would know it based on the piddling amount I post these days). I’ve read a lot of books on the craft of writing, taken some classes, and seen so many posts on the subject in the last decade here on this hellsite (affectionate) to the point that when someone starts talking about their process and whatnot my eyes glaze over and I skip ahead to the next post. That’s not to say what’s being said isn’t valid, it’s just that I’m past the point of being into it or finding it useful

If you’re still with me, congrats! (You made it further than I would have in your place). So. Advice? from me?

Write what you want, how you want. There are a lot of “rules” out there and no two people will ever agree on everything, so pick what you like and fuck the rest (or don’t, I’m not the boss of you). Make shit up if it suits your vibe and the piece. If you want to use beta readers, that’s cool, but take their suggestions with a grain of salt (remember all those rules no one can agree on) and apply what is most useful to you

Oh also, this. Not everything needs to be Deep or Meaningful. Writing doesn’t need to have a hundred underlying themes and metaphors that readers may or may not pick up on. Or argue about. Or be up their own asses about. Have I mentioned my major in university was for Comparative Literature? I’ve had my fill of people being up their own asses about things literature. That was also when I realized I preferred reading and analyzing stories in private which is why you will never see me dig into meta stuff online and why I stay away from writing discords and the like where those of conversations tend to take place. I get why people like doing those things, but they aren’t for me. Most of this paragraph was not advice and instead was me being up my own ass, but I’m not deleting it

I was going somewhere with this and I lost the plot

Don’t be afraid to have fun. Write something surface level if that’s what’s gnawing on your brain. Or make your writing a puzzle of twisted metaphors if that’s what makes you happy. Don’t let what you see other people posting be the determining factor in what you write. Don’t compare yourself to them, either

[purplepeptobismol]

hiya I'm the the anon from the writing thingie c: I will also get an emoji it's gonna be this one 🌺 tysm for the tips!!! If you don't mind me asking more could you go more in depth about sentence structure? I GENUINELY suck with them ,_, my brain can just think in one way and as a result it ends so stiff it makes me cry

Love your fics sm, I will read finish my missing chapters of IWMOY you'll hear about me again trust 🫵

[previous]

Good to see you again anon! And no, I don’t mind at all :3 (sorry this response took a while)

Now, I’m no expert when it comes to sentence structure or literature in general (in fact, I am considered the dumbass in my friend group), so if you want actual solid information, maybe an English teacher or a video from someone who studies/teaches these things would be better at this.. 😭 take my advice as things I use/do myself in my OWN writing. I’ll try to keep it simple and brief tho!!

In order to understand sentence structure, you have to consider everything you’re going to be putting in your writing. That means: the story, dynamic, scenes, character, scenario, emotions, and what you are trying to convey.

Certain scenes require a specific way of structured details to convey emotions/story. Words can be very complicated, so I do recommend expanding on your vocabulary by looking up synonyms of over repetitive words; or, you can do my favorite which is genuinely just reading old poetry to look at their usage of old vocabulary.

When you have a scene in mind, you have an option to keep a Simple Sentence or use one of the many sentence structures.

Let’s go use the sentence example I used earlier! This is a scene of chapter 10 from my fic! The contexts of the scene can help paint a picture to my explanation!

Now, let’s make the original sentence into a simple sentence:

“Cooper smiled.”

Note: not all simple sentences are bad. Simple sentences are good for clarity, but they can also be impactful in heavily complex situations (ex. fear, shock, realization, etc.)

The most common and known sentence structures are Compound, Complex, and Compound-Complex

• Compound is when there are two or more independent clauses. They’re usually joined by coordinated conjunction (words like: and, but, nor, or, yet, so), a semicolon, or a conjunctive adverb. It balances ideas in a single sentence.

Example: “Cooper tilted his head, and he smiled.”

Complex sentences is when independent clause has a dependent. (They usually have words like: because, although, since, if, while)

Example: “Cooper smiled because of Emilio’s reaction.”

Complex-Compound is when there are basically two or more of the ones above. You can use it to express relationships between ideas or actions.

Example: “Cooper tilted his head, a smile curled his lips because of Emilio.”

These are the most common type of sentence structures, and probably the ones you will learn in elementary writing class. But there’s actually different type of sentence structures I like to use: Periodic, Loose, Balanced, and Run-on

Periodic sentences are my favorite style overall. It’s when the main cause/idea is put in the end for dramatic effect. It’s really good for when you want to add suspense or emphasize a conclusion.

Example: “With the tilt of his head and a slight curl of his lips, Cooper smiled.”

Loose sentences (I believe they’re called cumulative lmaooo, I just like calling them loose) is when the center cause is at the beginning and it’s followed by phrases that elaborate on it.

Example: “Cooper smiled, tilting his head slightly, lips curling into a smirk.”

Balanced is exactly what it sounds like. It’s when phrases or clauses are similarly structured to create a rhythm. It makes it more elegant in a way.

Example: Cooper tilted his head, and his lips curled into a smile.

Run-on sentences are usually when more than two independent clauses are joined together improperly. Majority of teachers will tell you run-on sentences are bad. But I like to use them once in a while. Intentional run-on sentence can really help with creating a rushed or even overwhelming flow. If created properly in specific scenes, you can really do a lot with them. I tend to use other techniques to stretch my sentences a lot. Which brings in to my next topic!!

Figures of Speech and Wordplay!!!

There are ALOT of them. So I’m just gonna name the ones I myself commonly use.

Simile- a comparison to something (ex. like, as)

Personification- giving human qualities to non-human things

Metaphors- a direct comparison to enhance depth/symbolism

Hyperbole- exaggerates things for dramatic effect or emphasis

Onomatopoeia- words that mimics sounds to add sensory details. You can even use this as symbolism!! I’ve done it with ticking sounds!

Irony- yeah. I use this a lot… it adds a bit of wit and humor in my opinion

Euphemism- polite/mild phrasing. Makes things less tense.

Idioms- kinda works like a fun metaphor. It’s when a phrase has a figurative or non-literal meaning that is different from the actual meaning. Most famous one is: “it’s raining cats and dogs.”

Epistrophe- repeating words/phrases at the end of the clauses. It can add emphasis and focus, I usually add these in dramatic (mainly lovey-dovey) moments

Remember how we were talking about run-on sentences and such? Well, another thing that can really enhance a sentence is, of course— PUNCTUATION!!!

The most common ones I like to use besides the obvious commas are the Hyphen, Em Dash, Colon, Semicolon, Parentheses, Ellipses, and Apostrophes! I know there is a proper way to use them, but I like to be a little gangster and use it in my own way (I’m deadass doing my own thing)

I tend to use Em Dashes (—) and Semicolons (;) almost the same, it’s usually when I’m trying to stretch a sentence for dramatic flair or when I’m genuinely trying to put two thoughts together.

I mainly use Hyphens (-) like en dashes lmaoo. It’s usually when I’m doing an interruption/stutter in dialogue or thought process.

Colons (:) are really good when you want to introduce quotes, indicate ratios, or emphasize key points.

As for Parentheses (()) (<—lol), yeah. I use it to add clarity, internal thoughts, or simple witty comments that usually wouldn’t sit well in the sentence. Depending on the character, this can really help paint their personality!

Ellipses (…) cause an omission in a sentence. It usually helps build in suspense or trial thoughts. Very good for those angsty scenes! Especially in dialogue!

I don’t use Apostrophe the way it should be used most of the time. I actually love using them to create internal thoughts. Maybe it’s just a me thing, but I don’t like using italics for first person internal thoughts… I feel like it confuses me a lot!! Like, imagine you’re reading a third person story, and then they use a first person internal thought in italics?? Eugh. It’s not a bad thing, it’s just a little peeve of mine. AND THAT SAYS SOMETHING FROM SOMEONE WHO USES ITALICS ALL THE TIME. There are certain times you should use italics for internal dialogue and others with apostrophe. A quick guide I use is:

Italics- unconscious thoughts/emotions in the back of your mind.

Apostrophe- thoughts/emotions so clearly heard, even a mind reader could listen to it.

Human emotions are so complex, and not all the time are they clear and precises, so I express that through using these methods.

All of this talk mainly involves with dialogue, and that’s not the conversation of this topic, so maybe we can talk about this some other day if you’re interested :)

Anyways. I’m explaining all of this and all— and I’m pretty sure your main question is now: “Great! This was very informative! So, how do I use them?”

Well… that’s why I said that in order for your sentence structure to work is to consider your scene, characters, scenario, etc. If you do not understand what you’re trying to explain or emphasize, then you won’t know what will work. You can’t have a witty character using metaphors and euphemism when they’re more likely to express themselves with idioms and think in Run-Ons. Simple sentences are good for shock value, but you can’t keep all of them short and simple when you’re not even emphasizing on why the scene is shocking. If you use too much of one structure, it becomes so over repetitive and brain numbing (and at some tragic points: cringe). You have to have a balance between all of them. Maybe you can start a paragraph with a Loose sentence and end it with a periodic; vice versa can work too.

I can’t really tell you what’s the proper way of using them cuz if I’m being honest… I’m also learning too. Overall, all of these differ per person, because just like every artist, it’s a writing style. I have certain quirks and preferences in my own writing that maybe others don’t like, or may be seen as improper. As you grow as a writer, you start to develop your own style! There is sooooo much more I could say of the topic, but that would be yet ANOTHER essay (I said I was gonna keep this brief too!! SHEESH!!). But if you still have any other questions regarding my writing style/advice, do not be afraid to keep on asking!! ٩( 'ω' )و

[fluentmoviequoter]

Literary

Requested Here!

Pairing: college!Victor Vale x fem!reader (literature student)

Summary: You take it upon yourself to show Victor the beauty of literature.

Warnings: fluff, spoilers and references to: The Outsiders, A Merchant in Venice, Invisible Man, The Hound of the Baskervilles, The Lord of the Rings, An Ideal Husband, The Picture of Dorian Gray, Hamlet, Frankenstein, The Most Dangerous Game, Pride and Prejudice. I also reference some of Schwab's other books

Word Count: 2.5k+ words

Victor Vale Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

Picture from Pinterest

Victor is leaning over a book, scribbling notes every few lines.

“What are you reading?” you ask quietly, sitting beside him.

He flips the book up, showing you the cover of one of his many textbooks.

“Hmm. I thought you were actually reading.”

“I am.”

“No, you’re studying.”

“What’s the difference?”

You sigh, shaking your head as you murmur, “Maybe the two different worlds we lived in weren’t so different. We saw the same sunset.”

Victor ignores you, returning to his notes on adrenal responses.

“Vic, what’s the last book you read?” you ask. “I mean, what’s the last thing you read that wasn’t a textbook, required reading?”

“I think you know.”

“You really need to stop reading your parents’ books, but that’s not my point here. What’s the last fiction piece?”

“I don’t read fiction.”

Your jaw drops, shock evident in your features as you fail to speak. Finally finding your voice, you momentarily forget you’re in a library as your voice raises to repeat, “You don’t read fiction? Why?!”

“Nothing to learn from it,” Victor replies with a shrug.

“Vic.”

He glances at you as a few people whisper for you to be quiet.

“Why read something that isn’t true, that you can’t learn from?” Victor asks.

“Who says you can’t learn from fiction? Just because it didn’t happen doesn’t mean it can’t teach you something. We learn from trees, fish, paintings… literature is no different.”

Victor shakes his head, and as you look at your assigned reading, you realize you must do something.

“Meet me in your dorm after your class tomorrow,” you whisper before standing. “I have a lot to teach you.”

Victor watches you leave, shaking his head before trying to focus again. He has trouble remembering how you became friends sometimes, but then he remembers how you met…

✯✯✯✯✯

1 Year Ago

Someone decided to put Shakespeare on the top shelf. You sigh, looking around to see if anyone is nearby to help you.

“Who puts one of the most-read authors in history up so high?” you ask under your breath.

Stepping back to gauge if you could jump and reach it, you run into someone. Warm hands land on your biceps for a moment before dropping away.

“I’m so sorry,” you apologize.

When you turn around, his arm is over your head.

“Which one?” he asks.

You blink at him, growing distracted, before whispering, “A Merchant in Venice. Please.”

He nods, pulling it off the shelf and lowering it between your chest and his.

“Thank you.”

He nods again and steps back before you rush to introduce yourself.

“Victor,” he offers.

“Nice to meet you, Victor. I’ll see you around.”

His pale brows furrow and you immediately decide you will see him again, no matter what it takes.

✯✯✯✯✯

Present Day

“You’re late,” you chide as Victor enters his dorm.

“How did you get in here?” Victor asks, ignoring your comment.

“Eli keeps a key hidden under the doormat.”

“Idiot,” Victor mumbles.

“I concur, but we’re not here to talk about Eli. In fact, I wish I could forget his name.”

Victor neither agrees nor disagrees, but asks, “What are you here to do?”

You raise your brows, smiling as you tease, “What do you want me to do?”

“I’d like you to leave,” Victor replies flatly. “But it seems unlikely.”

“What and how much had I lost by trying to do only what was expected of me instead of what I myself had wished to do?”

“What is that?”

“Invisible Man, H.G. Wells,” you reply, smiling.

“Why do you make everything about books?���

“Look, I’m here to convince you that fiction, that literature, is beautiful. Vic, there are more lives in literature than we could dream of living; whatever you want to do, learn, be, it’s all in there.”

“Is this going to become another debate on whether pride or prejudice is more detrimental to character development?”

You sigh, looking at the stack of books you brought. Victor watches you, and when he realizes that you’re serious, he removes his trench coat and joins you on the couch.

“You have ten minutes,” Victor tells you.

“Okay, then I get to ask questions, too,” you counter. “So, first, what is your issue with fiction?”

“It’s fake, unbelievable.”

“They don’t have to be about an immortal woman finding her reincarnated lover or parallel earths. Being made up and being unbelievable aren’t inherently connected. Middle-Earth isn’t real, but the imagery makes it realistic.”

“One out of a million, well, I’m convinced,” Victor says, hitting his thighs.

You stretch your arm out past him to stop him from standing. “What kind of fiction did you read before coming to this conclusion?”

“Uh, I remember reading fantasy in middle school.”

Waiting for more, you ask, “And?”

“That’s it.”

Chuckling, you lean toward him. “Literature isn’t about one type of story, Vic. You don’t have to choose a genre and stick to it. No two books are the same because no two people or stories are the same. There isn’t fiction or nonfiction, mysteries or romance, you can read any and everything you want. It’s both/and, not either/or.”

“If your argument is now ‘read what you want to read,’ why can’t I stick to my textbooks?”

You groan, laying your head against Victor’s shoulder. “Because I can’t rest until I help you see why literature is so beautiful and impactful. Why do you think I’m studying it, giving my life to it? Because it changed my life, Victor, and if you give it a chance it can change yours, too.”

“Then what is it you want to do?”

“Is this an invitation?”

Victor sighs as he nods, his shoulder warm from your touch.

“Then, I’m going to teach you and you’re going to be patient and give it a chance.”

“Fine. Where do we start?”

“I mean, your parental trauma is begging for a look at Hamlet, but we’ll ease into it.”

✯✯✯✯✯

You intentionally left a copy of Invisible Man by H.G. Wells on his table when you gathered your things after visiting Victor. While you walk to the library to meet him, you hope he’s read it.

“Hey,” you greet softly.

Victor nods, sliding an anatomy book onto the return shelf.

“Glad I caught you while your friends are busy,” you tease, taking the chair closest to him.

“Alone—it is wonderful how little a man can do alone! To rob a little, to hurt a little, and there is the end.”

“You read it. Even though it’s completely unbelievable and unrealistic?”

“All men, however highly educated, retain some superstitious inklings.”

Your eyes widen as you realize that he not only read it in its entirety but enjoyed it enough to remember it.

“Racism, symbolism, foreshadowing,” Victor lists off. “It wasn’t completely incapable of teaching something.”

“Did you just admit you were wrong?”

“No.”

“So, are you open to more?”

Victor shrugs, and you slide a worn copy of The Hound of the Baskervilles to Victor. He picks it up, touching the cracked spine before looking at you.

“Sherlock is famous,” you answer, smiling brightly.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Stapleton was a deceiver,” Victor says, rushing to your side as you exit class.

“What?” you reply, surprised to see him.

“The hound- it’s a symbol of his deception and the entire time the moor is symbolizing the cloudiness of the mystery because it wasn’t a real mystery. Stapleton’s death was completely avoidable, yet he isn’t even the one to be attacked by the hound.”

You stop, grabbing Victor’s coat to stop him as well.

“You read the entire book last night?”

“I- I couldn’t put it down,” Victor admits lowly.

“Do you see what I mean now?”

“I’m- I’m starting to. Uh, what next?”

“I don’t have another book for you right now. We can go get-“

“Yes. Please,” Victor adds.

“Ready to try fantasy again?” you ask with a smile.

Victor inhales deeply before nodding. “I trust you.”

✯✯✯✯✯

When Victor closes the book, he stares at the cover.

“Well?” you ask. “Don’t say anything bad about Aragorn, that’s all I ask.”

“He and Legolas portray a really- a perfect friendship,” he answers.

“Amity.” Victor glances up at you, and you explain, “Amity is usually associated with Shakespeare. His male friendships were built on this mutual respect and beneficial relationship qualities, but Tolkien used it in his creation of the Fellowship as well.

“I think…” you pause as you look at your overflowing bookshelf. “It’s time for a play.”

“Please no Shakespeare.”

“Okay, one, we need to get you over your irrational fear of the Bard.”

“It’s not irrational, he makes me want to puke.”

“Because he makes you feel things; must be weird for you.”

Victor rolls his eyes, and you smile as you find what you’re looking for.

“Oscar Wilde. An Ideal Husband.”

“What’s it about?”

“An ideal husband.”

Victor huffs, and you quote, “Seriousness would be very unbecoming of him. Pray be as trivial as you can.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“Victor, the point of books is to read it the way you’re supposed to read it. And if you want to talk after finding out what it’s about – in your eyes – then we can. As you gain experience it will be easier to find the common ‘accepted’ views too. But the point is to read for yourself.”

“Experience is merely the name men gave to their mistakes.”

You gasp, rushing to stand over Victor. “You’ve read Wilde before!”

“Just Dorian Gray when I was a kid. Thought it might help me escape the cookie cutter I kept getting shoved into.” Noticing your smile, Victor asks, “What?”

“You’re getting symbolic and theme-y. My literature lessons are rubbing off on you.”

“Something certainly is,” Victor replies, looking at your leg pressed to his.

“Are you ready to admit I’m right?”

“Not if it means the lessons end.”

“Oh, never. We’re a two-man book club now, Vic.”

✯✯✯✯✯

“Are you here to speak to me as Lord Goring speaks to Mabel?” you ask, blocking the doorway.

“More like Mrs. Cheveley to Robert.”

“If you keep using literature references, I’m going to fall in love with you, Vic.”

“I have a request,” Victor says, drawing your attention (and his) from your comment.

“I’ll see what I can do.”

He moves to your bookshelf after you open the door, quickly finding what he’s looking for. He holds it up, and you cross your arms.

“You sure?” After he nods, you say, “Go for it. It’s short, read it here if you want.”

Victor doesn’t have to be told twice, tossing his coat over the back of your couch and making himself comfortable with a copy of Hamlet.

✯✯✯✯✯

“This is too long,” Victor reads.

“It shall be to the barber’s, with your beard,” you reply.

“Don’t spoil it,” Victor reprimands.

“Though you can fret me, you cannot play upon me.”

✯✯✯✯✯

Within a few hours, Victor is done with the play and pacing.

“Still want to read your parents’ books?” you ask.

“Yeah. But- if Hamlet can deal with an actual ghost, I guess their passive aggressive advice isn’t so bad.”

You chuckle before pointing out, “Hamlet was troubled when Horatio, Marcellus, and Barnardo told him. If it assumes my noble father’s person, I’ll speak to it isn’t an outright acknowledgment of who it is. It isn’t until he talks to the ghost that he seeks revenge on his uncle.”

“Which applies to me in no way,” Victor argues.

“What does Hamlet do to get revenge?”

Sighing, Victor answers, “Nothing.”

“Hamlet changes his reaction because of his morals and his thoughts. You can change your view of your parents like that, too.”

Victor sighs, and you see his poorly hidden smile after you say, “Though I personally won’t decide to forgive them for what they did to you.”

✯✯✯✯✯

“What’s your favorite book?” Victor asks.

You answer without hesitation, then ask, “Why?”

“Can I read it?”

“Sure. If you admit you were wrong.”

“I was wrong. Literature can be good, and it is possible to learn from fiction.” He quiets to add, “And you have good taste.”

You lean closer, turning your ear toward him as you ask him to repeat that.

 “I’m not your Lord Goring or your Mr. Darcy or any other dashing soulmate,” he says.

“No, you’re not,” you agree. “You’re my Victor Vale.”

Victor’s phone buzzes, and he rolls his eyes as he reads Eli’s message.

“Is he still working on the EO thing?” you ask. When he nods, you murmur, “Someone never read Frankenstein.”

“Would I like it?”

Nodding, you sit beside Victor. “Be careful with Eli, though. Books can teach a lot, but anything short of Richard Connell’s The Most Dangerous Game won’t prepare you to deal with him.”

“What’s that about?”

You consider not telling him, but he nudges you with his elbow, and you concede. “A man who hunts other men for sport.”

Victor hums, looking back at his phone. “Can I admit something else?”

“Depends.”

“I didn’t lie about my thoughts on reading, but I learned something else.”

“When?”

“The week you forced me to read Pride and Prejudice.”

“You learned that you must be in want of a wife. I suppose I could be convinced to consider a proposal.”

“No. Darcy taught- he said, ‘My real purpose was to see you, and to judge, if I could, whether I might ever hope to make you love me.’”

Twisting toward Victor, you lay your hand over his heart. “The only people for me are the mad ones.”

“Is that a yes? A maybe?”

“It’s a yes,” you whisper. “I’d choose you; in a hundred lifetimes, in a hundred worlds, in any version of reality, I’d find you and I’d choose you.”

“I don’t know that one.”

“I told you; we’re easing you into it,” you remind him, kissing his jaw and chuckling when his breath catches.

Bonus: 10 Years Later

“What happened in Merit, Victor?” you demand.

Victor stiffens at your use of his name, no ‘Vic’ or pet name. Rather than telling you the exact truth, he takes your hand and says, “I was benevolent and good: misery made me a fiend. Make me happy and I shall again be virtuous.”

You relax, pulling him close as you reply, “We’re not having the argument about you being a monster again, but you know I’ll do everything I can to make you happy.”

Victor returns your hug, and you feel a small paperback in his pocket, smiling at how much has changed.

“The world is made up of two classes – the hunters and the huntees. No one will blame you for this, Vic, but it will never be the same.”

“I have you and your books,” Victor replies. “There is no one more equipped for change than us.”

“I can’t believe you used to be against fiction and now you carry around a barely legible copy of my favorite book.”

“What can I say? It is love. Love, and only love. For both of us a new life is beginning.”

[urhoneycombwitch]

love ur roommate Eddie but also all the time spent together between sexy times stresses me out

at least with husky neighbor Eddie he's across the hall and if you're not in the mood to see him, then you don't have to

but roommate Eddie is literally in. your. walls.

what about when you just have ugly days when your hair is a mess and you walk around the apartment smelling a lil before you hop in the shower

what about when either of you get sick and it's real nasty?

is there only one bathroom?? do y'all gotta coordinate times???

what if he insists on putting the toilet paper the wrong way around???!!! what about the hair clogged in the shower drain!!

what about the arguing and the tension and the resentment that arises from sharing a space with someone on the worst of days??

like maybe Eddie is the best roommate to ever fictionally exist ever but I can only imagine that there's gotta be some issues that arise especially when they're blurring the boundaries

and roommate!reader seems really strict and anal (same) with her rules so I figure that also extends to sharing a space

I know it's normally default to want to imagine that they figure everything out and live happily ever after, but do you see roommate!Eddie and reader being long term? how do they work out their issues with both sharing a space and finding footing with their agreement? what's the first problem to arise? and if they don't work out, what to do think is the largest issue/ what finally breaks them apart?

anon I love love love this. thanks for asking the nitty gritty questions they are so IMPORTANT!!

okay full transparency, when I started writing for roommate!Eddie I absolutely used the fic logic of “everything is perfect here” because I wanted to focus more on the relational/emotional aspect of two people who have already learned how to share a space. at the time, I think the first meeting/time it took to iron out issues were less interesting to me from a writing standpoint. however, I certainly had the framework for their backstories in the back of my head while i wrote!

I’ll share my thoughts below for those who are interested in the roommate!Eddie+roommate!Reader story. but also don’t hold me to anything I say here for future stories bc my personal canon is subject to change. lol.

in this no-magic Big City AU of mine, I imagined reader and Robin meeting in college and becoming good friends. you were in a horrifically boring history class together (Robin for her smarty-pants Psych/Art double degree and you for a Literature degree) and started hanging out outside of school. by proxy, you also hang out with Steve, Robin’s roommate, and by the time the three of you graduate you’re all good friends.

and then you’re staring down the barrel of a mostly useless degree, a shit ton of college debt, and nowhere to go. you land a job at a local publishing company, but it’s mostly boring and corporate and doesn’t pay for a two-room apartment in the heart of the city. which is unfortunate, because your last roommate (a nightmare by all accounts. quite literally never learned how to clean up after herself) moved out a month ago and you need the extra income to keep the space.

enter Steve’s mysterious friend Eddie. whom you’ve only heard wild stories about. apparently, he’s looking for a room- and according to Robin, he’s “well-mannered for a boy”. you ask a million questions before agreeing to meet with him (neither Steve or Robin gave you a straight answer as to the guy’s career which is weird…), and you make it really clear you’re not in the mood to be screwed over. or stuck with an unlivable situation. 

but your friends assure you it’ll be a good fit. and when you meet for drinks later that week, Eddie is extremely charming and honest. tells you he is, in fact, in the drugs business, but promises it never follows him home. he agrees to all your house rules. he also flirts a lot. but you learn to take that with a grain of salt.

so Eddie moves in and yeah, absolutely there’s an adjustment period. learning the rhythms of each other’s days and nights, figuring out how to split household duties, all the mundane shit that comes w/ a new roommate. there’s an awful first winter where the heat goes out; you two alternate getting colds and stomach flus, multiple nights spent sweating over the toilet or kitchen sink (one bathroom is a KILLER for the sick season). 

there’s a camaraderie that forms after those sucky cold months. you absorb into each other’s lives, friend groups, spaces that extend outside of your apartment. you become real, actual friends who enjoy each other’s company.

and also? Eddie is happy to appease. he’s not a pushover, but he is really respectful of you and your space. he puts effort into learning your little quirks, or things that tick you off (there are a lot). you both figure out early on that open communication is the best policy. Eddie’s the type to tell you if there’s something he doesn’t like or wants to change, so neither of you end up holding secret quiet grudges.  

which is why I think reader finds this whole attraction thing so scary (and uses rules as a defense mechanism sorry I wrote my own OCD into this!! lmao) like Oh, fuck. if this goes sideways, if we have a big fight or fall in and out of love and can’t be in the same room anymore… we’d have to move. I’d have to say goodbye to the best roommate I’ve ever had. our shared friend groups would be dispersed. it would be devastating on so many levels.

anyways. here’s the masterlist if u read this far and want it ;)

[gnabnahc317cb97]

The Sound of Silence

Jisung x Female reader

Word count: 4.5k

Synopsis: When you were born deaf your parents and you thought you were just like anybody born unable to hear, that is until you meet your soulmate Han Jisung.

Warnings: 18+ONLY MDNI! Cursing/strong language, strength kink (a little if you squint), oral (m&f receiving/69ing), unprotected piv sex (please use condoms), cream pie, breeding kink. That should be it, I feel like the soulmate ones are all pretty tame which is okay. If I misses something please let me know and I'll add it asap!

When you were born your parents were so happy. Of course they were, they had a beautiful healthy baby girl. You were a normal happy baby, your parents had no reason to think otherwise. It wasn’t until you were a year old when your mom was taking you into daycare and a firetruck with it’s sirens on went blaring by did she have suspicions. When the loud siren flew past almost all the babies started screaming and crying, scared of the unfamiliar loud noise, all the babies but you. You laid there nuzzled against your mom’s shoulder sound asleep, didn’t even flinch. Your parents took you to the doctor who confirmed what your mother already knew. You were deaf. The strange thing was, after your examination, there was nothing the doctor could find wrong with you that could be causing the hearing loss but it was clear that you were one hundred percent deaf. 

Your mother was determined not to let that hold you back and wouldn’t let anyone treat you differently just because you couldn’t hear. When you were ready to start primary school the school board wanted to send you to the deaf school. Your mother told them you didn’t need a special school and insisted on sending you to a regular public school. She had taught you sign language since you were an infant and you were learning to read lips. As you grew the doctors tried every kind of hearing aid. Your mom was against a cochlear implant, she didn’t feel like you needed to have surgery, there was nothing wrong with you. The doctor had said so himself. None of it ever worked, you still couldn’t hear. Everyone was baffled. You didn’t know any different, so it didn’t really bother you either way. Just because it didn’t bother you didn’t mean you didn’t wish you could hear, especially certain things. Birds, music, you wish you could hear your mom’s voice because you knew how happy it would make her. You wished you could hear these things, but you couldn’t. Dwelling on it would do no good so it didn’t bother you, but everyone had a wish. 

Your mother was right about school of course. You thrived just fine at a regular public school. When you graduated high school you did so a year early, with honors. Now at twenty-three you were working towards your master's degree in literature. Single and still living with your parents. Not ideal but you worked all the time and it seemed silly to spend money on a place you’d never see. It was a light semester for you and when you were leaving one of the classes you were auditing, god you needed a life, you saw a flyer posted on a bulletin board and that immediately caught your eye. ‘Sound of Silence’ it was a study another student was doing on vibrations, music, and the deaf and he was looking for volunteers. You typed the number in your phone and texted it. 

You: Is this the sound of silence guy? 

Unknown: Uh yes? 

You: You don’t seem certain... 

Unknown: Sorry! I am I just... those flyers have been up for two months and you’re the first person to text. 

You: Oh, well I just started a class over this way and saw it. You need deaf volunteers? 

Unknown: Yes! Oh my god that would be fantastic. 

You: What exactly do I have to do? 

Unknown: It’s nothing invasive! I’ll ask you some questions and do a simple experiment 

You: Experiment? 

Unknown: It’s not like it sounds I swear! I can explain everything in more detail if you’d like to meet for coffee or something? If anything seems fishy or if you’re uncomfortable, then you just don’t have to do it. 

You: Okay which coffee place do you want to meet? 

Unknown: Really?! 

You: Yeah of course. Why not? Like you said if I don’t feel comfortable, I just don’t have to do it. 

Unknown: Okay uh does ten tomorrow morning work for you? The one on main by campus? 

You: I’ll see you there! 

Unknown: Thank you so much! My name is Jisung by the way, Han Jisung. 

You: Han Jisung I’m y/n I’ll see you at ten 

Unknown: See you at ten! 

You weren’t sure what you were doing exactly but it seemed like an interesting concept and music was THE wish. If you could only hear one thing, only one time, it would be music. Maybe he’ll show you a way to see it, you were definitely intrigued by this Jisung guy right off the bat. When you went to meet him for coffee the next day you were looking around trying to find a guy and you didn’t even know what he looked like. Suddenly a ridiculously cute guy with moppy hair and chubby cheeks was waving you over. He started signing. 

“y/n right?” You didn’t know why but you were surprised he could sign. You signed back. 

“You can just talk I can read lips.” He smiled and continued to sign. 

“I really don’t mind signing, most people tell me I talk too much anyway.” You giggled and he smiled bigger, his eyes scrunching up, they sparkled, they were such a beautiful deep brown. 

“If you don’t mind I don’t.” Turned out Jisung picked that café because they had baristas that could sign. You both ordered and Jisung started explaining just what this experiment was going to be. 

“So I’ll put a sticky little probe on your forehead in four places and I’m going to record your brain waves while I play certain instruments and songs.” You were impressed. 

“You can play musical instruments.” He smiled nodding. 

“Only a two, piano and guitar.” You shrugged. 

“Two more than I know how to play.” He smiled and shook his head. 

“Fair enough.” You and Jisung sat at the coffee shop for two hours as he explained how he had come up with such a study. His grandmother had been deaf. She had raised him most of his life, she’s who taught him to sign. She was the inspiration behind it all. He asked about your major and you explained that you were preparing a thesis for your masters in literature. You finally realized the time and you had to go, you had class. 

“Oh I’ve got to run, I have a class. Text me the details.” Jisung stood. 

“So you’ll do it?” You nodded.  

“Of course Jisung. Tell me when you need me and I’ll be there.” He grabbed your hand with both of his and shook it. Your whole body erupted in goose bumps when he touched you. Get a grip you told yourself. Jisung let go with one hand and signed thank you over and over. You giggled again and shook your head as you left to run for your next class. Jisung texted you the address and asked if that Friday after classes would be okay. You guys set the time and everything was ready to go. 

Friday was upon you. After classes you went home, washed up and changed. Nothing fancy, jeans and a hoodie. You let your mom know you were leaving to meet Jisung. You had shown her the flyer and told her about your meeting with him at the coffee shop. You mom was a little wary of you meeting a strange guy but it was on campus in the music department, it wasn’t like you were going to his apartment or anything so she kissed you and told you to be careful. When you got to the music department Jisung was already there setting up. He smiled and waved at you. 

“You made it. Fantastic. Have a seat right over here.” Jisung pulled up a chair for you and you sat. He grabbed a notebook and jumped right in. 

“Okay so questions...” You nodded smiling sweetly at him. 

“If there is anything you’re uncomfortable answering just say so and we can move on.”  

“Okay Jisung shoot.” He smiled his big toothy smile at you and you started melting. He was so cute it was almost hard to pay attention to his signing. He did start speaking while he signed and then at least you had an excuse to be staring at his lips. The questions were pretty basic, were you born deaf, what was your diagnosis, things like that. Once you were done with the questions it was time for the experiment. 

“So I want you to sit there and I’m going to play the piano and record your brain waves. Then I’m going to have you put your hands on top of the piano and I’ll play it again and record those brain waves. I’m looking to see if there’s any drastic changes or unusual readings.” That all made sense to you, at least it seemed like it should, you didn’t know shit about music or brain waves. Jisung started placing the probes on your forehead. His face was right in front of yours as he concentrated. His eyes flicked down and looked into yours, realizing only then how close he was, his heart pounding in his chest. He smiled and quickly looked back up at the probes, a little sweat forming on his temples. As soon as he was done, he wiped his face with his sleeve and walked over to the computer he had set up. He clicked the mouse and hit a few buttons before walking over to the piano. 

“Okay so just sit there and well just sit there.” You laughed and nodded. 

“Sit, got it.” He shook his head, took a deep breath and started to play the piano. You watched his movements, fluid, passionate, you could tell he loved the music, he loved making it. When he completed the song you clapped. He smiled, shy, clearly not good at accepting praise and compliments.  

“Why are you clapping I could have just elegantly mashed the keys for all you know.” You shook your head no as he walked over and punched keys on his computer again. He looked up at you. 

“I can see the music through your eyes when you play.” Jisung rubbed the back of his neck and looked down at the ground blushing. 

“Well thank you.” You nodded and he quickly changed the subject. 

“Okay this time just sit next to me on the bench here and put your hands on top of the piano.” You did as he said and sat down on the bench, putting your palms flat against the top of the piano. He sat next to you almost elbow to elbow and your heart started racing. You hoped that wouldn’t show up on his brain scan thing. Jisung took a deep breath again and started playing. You weren’t sure why you’d never thought to do something like this before. The vibrations of the piano tickled the tips of your fingers and your palms, you could feel the music as Jisung played. The rise and fall, the building crescendo, tears filled your eyes as, for the first time, you truly felt like you were experiencing what music was. The song felt sad, it felt lost, it felt heartbroken. When Jisung finished the song he stared at the keys in front of him for a moment, then looked up at you. When he saw the tears in your eyes his face softened. His hand came up and his thumb swiped at the tear rolling down your cheek. His palm rested gently against your face and you leaned into his warmth. Jisung started to close the space between you, his gaze fixed on his target, your lips. When his nose brushed yours you realized what was about to happen and panicked. You pulled back falling off the bench and on your ass. Jisung stood quickly. 

“Are you okay?” He tried to help you up but you quickly got up. You looked at him exactly one second and ran off. You felt like a complete idiot. You ran into the closest girls room and cried for a good ten minutes. When you finally managed to dry it up you grabbed your phone and saw the slew of texts Jisung had sent you. You opened the thread. 

Jisung: I’m so sorry... I... 

Jisung: I shouldn’t have done that I’m so sorry I made you uncomfortable. Just... are you okay? 

Jisung: I get it if you don’t want to finish the project. 

Jisung: You left your bag here. I’ll just take it to the lady at the front desk. 

Jisung: I really am sorry y/n 

Your heart ached. He didn’t make you uncomfortable, it was just a lot of intense feelings all at once between the music and him and you freaked out. Now he thought he’d done something wrong. You weren’t sure how you would face him again but you knew you had to. You cleaned up your face and headed back towards the music room Jisung had set up in. You walked through the first set of double doors and you were certain you were losing your mind all together. You could swear that you heard a soft pretty sound. Someone’s voice singing. You burst into the room and Jisung jumped, surprised to see you there. It was silent again. 

“Were you just singing?” You were signing frantically because you thought you were losing your fucking mind. Jisung looked surprised that you asked that but nodded. 

“Yea I was, how did you know?” You shook your head. 

“When you speak as you sign are you actually talking or just moving your mouth?” He shrugged.  

“I usually just move my mouth, I really prefer to just sign.” Your head kept shaking from side to side. 

“Say something.” Jisung was confused. 

“Say something. Anything.” He was brain dead not sure why you were so adamant about him saying something. You yelled. 

“SAY SOMETHING!” He yelled back startled that he was being yelled at. 

“OOOOKAY WHAT DO YOU WANT ME TO SAY!?” You stood there shocked. You heard every word he had just said. The longer you stood there wide eyed and awestruck the more sounds you noticed. The hum of the AC, birds outside, a car horn and siren. After a minute Jisung touched your shoulder and you focused on him. He signed. 

“y/n? Are you okay?” A tear rolled down your cheek. 

“I can hear Jisung.” He shook his head confused and started to sign again. 

“What do you-” You grabbed his hands and put them down. You looked into his eyes, his deep brown eyes that shined. 

“I can hear you Jisung.” 

“How is that possible?” You shrugged as tears ran down your face.  

“I... this might sound crazy but... I think we might be soulmates.” Jisung suddenly looked like a light bulb went off in his head. 

“That’s actually not crazy at all! From the moment you text messaged me I have felt this magnet pulling at me and the closer I get to you the less it pulls. Like I’m close to what it’s drawing me towards.” You stepped closer to Jisung. 

“Like this?” You stepped closer again and wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders. You were about to lean in and kiss him but Jisung beat you to it his lips crashing into yours as he gently held your face. He stood there holding you and kissing you for a moment, both of you feeling like a piece of a puzzle you didn’t realize you had lost was in place. You finally broke away for air. Then it hit you. 

“I’ve gotta go tell my mom!” He nodded and kissed your lips.  

“Go, text me later?” You pecked his lips. 

“I’ll call!” You dashed off to go tell your mom. To hear her voice. When you got home you ran through the front door and your mom was right there. She immediately started signing. 

“What are you running like a bat out of hell fo-” 

“Mom I can HEAR!!” Your mom was surprised you didn’t talk often, she wasn’t used to hearing your voice. She looked at you like you were crazy. 

“What are you talking about?” You grabbed your mom’s shoulders and made her look you in the eyes. 

“Mom just say it. I can hear!” She looked at you still disbelieving but spoke. 

“Sweetie, how is that possible?” You shrugged shaking your head. 

“Jisung, the guy who I was helping? I think he’s my soulmate. We almost kissed and I panicked and then I thought I heard him singing and I don’t know mom, when he spoke I could hear every little bird chirping outside the window there. I could hear him, I could hear them, and I can hear you, I can hear mom!” She wrapped her arms around you hugging you tightly as tears came to her eyes. 

“I... that... I don’t know what to say...” You squeezed your mom and your dad walked in hearing a commotion. 

“What’s going on?” Your mom turned to him. 

“She can hear.” Your dad’s brow scrunched up. 

“What?” 

“I can hear dad.” He quickly pulled you in and hugged you kissing the top of your head. 

“How on earth...” You told your dad and your mom that you would explain everything to them. You all sat in the living room and you told them about Jisung and his grandmother and his project. You told them that he seemed like a kindhearted man and that you both believed you were soulmates. Your dad agreed, there were some strange soul links, this could very well be one. Once you had explained everything and your parents exhausted their questions you felt all the events of that evening catching up with you. Your eyes were getting heavy. You excused yourself to bed and went up to your room. After you changed and crawled into bed you called Jisung. He answered on the first ring. 

“Hey Jisung.” You talked on the phone for longer than you intended to and ended up falling asleep with him still on the line. 

“y/n?” He heard your slow breaths and realized. He whispered. 

“I think you’re going to be the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Sleep well.” Jisung hung up the phone. Unfortunately for Jisung he no longer had a deaf volunteer but he could live with that if it meant finding the love of his life. Someone else would find a flyer eventually. As it turned out Jisung didn’t have to wait too long. You asked a friend that was also deaf if he’d be interested in helping Jisung and he agreed. You decided to take a speech therapy class a couple of times, just to work out a few kinks in your pronunciation of certain letters or words.

You also went to a specialist on soul links who confirmed what you both already knew, you were in fact soulmates. You and Jisung spent every minute you could afford together when neither of you were working. After seven months Jisung asked you to move in together. Your mom was sad to see you go but glad that you were so happy, hearing or not hearing that’s all she’d ever wanted for you. Your dad insisted on coming over with his truck and helping you and Jisung get things moved in. He’d instantly taken a liking to Jisung and knew his little girl’s heart would be taken care of. 

The first night in your apartment together you ordered pizza and watched tv on a mattress on the floor in the living room. After you ate you picked up your trash and put the box in the kitchen. You dug around and found some clean clothes. 

“I’m getting in the shower.” You kissed Jisung’s pizza saucy lips and laughed as you wiped it off your lip and licked it off your thumb. 

“Maybe you should take one too.” Jisung wiggled his eyebrows at you while you grabbed your toiletries from the box labeled bathroom. 

“Together?” You giggled shaking your head. 

“No way you hog all the hot water.” He laughed and finished eating as you walked back towards the bathroom. While you took your shower you couldn’t help but get lost in the sound of the water hitting the porcelain tub. Little sounds like that surprised you still sometimes. Your thoughts wandered and before you knew it Jisung was knocking at the bathroom door. 

“You okay in there? Need some help?” You quickly rinsed and laughed as you shook your head and replied. 

“Nope all good!” You could hear him laughing through the door. You turned off the water grabbed your towel and went to dress in what would eventually be your bedroom once you unpacked everything. Jisung was at the door his lips ready for your soft, clean skin. He went in for your neck and you laughed pushing him away.  

“You’re gonna get pizza on me I just got clean!” He shook his head. 

“I washed my face.” His lips made contact and you started to melt instantly. 

“Well we’ve been moving all day and you’re stinky so go wash everything else too.” He laughed kissing the side of your head as he walked into the bathroom and you towards your room. You got dried off, put on your panties and t-shirt, wrapped your hair in your towel and went out to the bed on the living room floor. You took your hair down, climbed in, and got cozy while Jisung showered. You didn’t realize it but you had started to doze off. About twenty minutes later you were waking up to Jisung crawling into bed warm and clean. He pulled you close and you turned burying your face in his chest and taking a deep breath. He smelled so good. You kissed the soft skin of his firm pec and he hummed. You kissed his collar bone and up his neck. 

“Mmm should we break the new place in?” You giggled against his skin then pressed your lips to the shell of his ear and whispered. 

“If you mean should we fuck each other's brains out on this mattress in our new living room...” You kissed that soft spot under his ear. 

“Then yes, we should.” He playfully growled and rolled on top of you, pinning you down. You were suddenly under him and at his mercy, exactly where you wanted to be. His lips ghosted over your skin. You could feel the warmth from them but they never touched you. He climbed down your body, between your legs and smirked. He pulled on your panties and you lifted your ass so he could take them off. When you were exposed for him he licked his lips and didn’t hesitate to start savoring you slowly. You gripped his hair and moaned. 

“Mmm Ji yes, that feels... fuck...” He nodded, his tongue flicking over your clit as his hands traveled up your shirt and started squeezing your breasts. He hummed as he sucked on your clit and it kind of felt like when your hands were on the piano but all over your body. You tugged at his hair harder as your impending climax rushed up on you. 

“D-don’t d-don't st-stop...” You were panting, he could feel your chest heaving under his hands as they cupped your tits and pinched your nipples softly. If you said don’t stop there was no way in hell he was. Not until you saw galaxies exploding. Your legs tightened around Jisung’s head while your universe collapsed as you came. Jisung gently kissed your thighs, running his fingertips along your buzzing skin. When you could see, hear, and everything else again you sat up pushing Jisung to his back. You pulled your shirt off and knelt next to him. Jisung hadn’t bothered getting dressed after his shower, he laid there hard ready for you. You grabbed him and started sucking on the tip of his cock. 

“Oh fuck yes! Come here jagiya.” Jisung made you move and straddle his face. He pulled you down and started going down on you again. The deeper and sloppier you sucked his dick the more he licked and sucked at your tender pussy. You deep throated Jisung and came, your legs shaking in his hands as he worked your through your second orgasm. You had to stop sucking him off and catch your breath. 

“Lay back beautiful.” Jisung turned flipping you onto your back again. He propped himself over you and ran his hand down your face. 

“I love you y/n.” Your eyes got big and watery. 

“I love you too Jisungie.” He kissed you and sank into you at the same time. You moaned against his lips as you took him. Jisung let out a breath. 

“Made for me...” He kissed you again and started a slow but steady rhythm. He was right, it was obvious that you were made for each other. Every roll of his hips made his cock brush against that soft spot inside you. You held onto his broad shoulders as he started fucking you harder. 

“Yes yes! God please faster!” Jisung picked up his pace and sweat started beading on his brow.  

“Can I cum inside you jagiya? Wanna give you my babies, god please can I?” You nodded gripping one shoulder, your other hand gripping his hair again as you looked into each other. 

“Yes Jisung god yes please cum inside me! I’m so close! Cum with me!” Jisung’s hips stuttered and you came hard around his cock as he started coming deep inside you. 

“Take it jagi, fuck, yes! That’s where it belongs baby... inside you.” Jisung thrusted deeper and then collapsed on you, breathing heavily. You ran your fingers through his hair gently as you both recovered from your orgasms. Jisung took a long deep satisfied breath and nuzzled into your breasts more, ready to fall asleep.

"I knew you'd be the best thing to ever happen to me..." Your heart swelled.

"You're the best thing that ever happened to me too Jisung."

Please do not repost or translate any of my works. My blog and stories are NSFW and 18+ ONLY! Minors, ageless, and blank blogs will be blocked!

[accidentally-in-fictional-love]

🕶️🌶️🥰 (Take ur time replying, i don’t mind waiting :) thank you<3)

Open Books - Spicy/Romantic James Lewis Headcanons

Warnings: Implications of sexual times, nothing explicit.

Notes: Double James let's goooo 🥰 Since I got these back to back I decided to do both a drabble and some headcanons, so I hope I made the right choice for each heh 💗💗💗

at first, you wonder if he was pretending to be as cliché of an English teacher as he was, but eventually you find out yeah, he's just that smart and sweet

you meet at the bar, where he's having some sort of teacher's night with his coworkers, but even with everyone attempting to get him to join in you can't help but catch the glances he keeps pretending not to turn your way

you're the one to ask for his number, since he was really about to leave without saying a word

he loves going on lunch dates with you, especially when you surprise him at work when he's too busy to get away, where you can pull up a chair and share a quick meal at his desk

sometimes after work he'll surprise you with flowers when he knows you'll be working late, or something to tide you over until you can get home

he didn't used to cook a lot before, microwavable food is cheap and fast after all, but together you teach him until he starts to learn on his own, determined to make up his own menu of things you like so you can be the one coming home to a hot meal every now and then, although he should really stick to literature (you eat everything he makes regardless)

he loves it when you cuddle up to him on the couch, your body pressed into his own like a perfect puzzle, a space that had been empty for so long now filled with you like you were always meant to be there, his arm around you and rubbing your shoulder

while he is shy, he's also surprisingly talkative once you get him going, and while that can sometimes be a bad thing on a bad nights, it's primarily a great thing when he closes his eyes in concentration and just goes on and on about a book he likes that you haven't read yet or what happened in class that day

he doesn't do it often, but he really loves to dance, bad memories usually stopping him from initiating it so it's up to you to lead until he lets loose and enjoys himself

you think he looks adorable in his glasses, but in the beginning, before you move in together, the rare times you see him with them off always makes your breath catch in your throat with how handsome he looks

along with being so predictably cliché, he also keeps finding ways to surprise you the longer you're together, when his shyness finally melts away and you get to see a more daring side of him

for instance, you don't realize he's been holding back from giving you affection until you find him kissing your neck with a little more fervor, taking the lead for once and surprising you with a small nip

he can go either way, but you think he might prefer it when you're on top of him when you makeout, since it gives you the freedom to stop when you want, but it also reassures him that this is where you wanna be

he's very vocal once he starts opening up to you, not just in conversation but when you make him feel good, but it takes a while for him to be able to tell you what he wants without feeling bad, and each time it happens you just kiss him and give him all the time he needs

he handles you like he's afraid you'll break, not quite his usual gentle touches but like you're made of glass if he ever gets to into it, he's had bad experiences with this kinda thing and he doesn't want you to hate him, but of course you never could and you're sure to tell him that as you encourage him to hold you with a little more strength

on the nights where he's completely let go of his inhibitions, you get surprised to find out that he's actually a pretty good dirty talker, his mind a treasure trove of promises fueled by that beautiful imagination of his

he stopped drinking when he met you, wanting to get his life back in order and knowing he depended too much on it, so as a treat you'll get his favourite nonalcoholic beverage and just curl up in front of the TV to watch movies together, but of course even without being drunk he can't help but get a little braver on those nights

he really likes it when you trail kisses from his lips down to his stomach, not just because of where you're headed but because it fills him with awe to see you love every inch of him, and he adores it when he can pull you back up to lay against his heaving chest when you're done

he also really loves it when he can do the same to you, although he does get extremely wrapped up in pressing soft kisses to the inside of your thighs the most as you whisper his name and tell him how much you love him

he hasn't said it explicitly, but you're pretty sure that the person in his story, the attractive one whose heart is stolen by the protagonist, might just be based on you when you sneak onto his computer to see if he's written anything new