#quiz Assignment Help

[phantom-of-the-memes]

Me writing the module evaluation for that one Professor…

[fursasaida]

ok. this is the week i catch up on grading. i am announcing this publicly to make it real because the deep sense of responsibility i feel about every other aspect of teaching extends to giving tailored and meaningful feedback far more than it does to doing so in a timely manner

[elegyofthemoon]

ok to add to the hsr kin quiz bc another one popped up on my twitter feed (its 41 questions and i was speeding)

extensive hsr kin quiz

please send help 😭😭

[swaggy-skeletons]

ok i got that chem test back and i got a 48/50??? this kind of always happens with chem tests and i feel bad because i don't want to be THAT guy that's like "i did so baddddd" and literally got 2 points off but i really didn't feel like i understood those two questions. the points i got off were also just me misreading the question (common for me)

my teacher also grades each question on a 5 point rubric so that also somewhat explains it. I guess those 15 minutes i spent thinking about that one question paid off because i got it right

i seriously kind of hate being that person that always is acting like i did bad when i only get a few points off but genuinely i will be done with a test and be like "i don't know how that went, could've been good, could've been bad" ESPECIALLY in chem and spanish. my spanish teacher also curves test grades so that's probably part of it. like i remember i took a test that i thought i did REALLY bad on and i got a 93%??? i was actually confused because there had been a whole section that i know i messed up, but hey im not gonna complain about a good grade

oh also i have a spanish test tomorrow. it's open note which is good because otherwise id actually bee cooked there's SO much vocabulary like it's pulling from a previous unit and this unit we only started last week. in total 6 pages of vocab, two of which were from a previous unit and im already forgetting lots of that and i don't even know lots of the stuff from this unit since there's so much. i should be fine though

[somefisher]

Praying to anything that i can get on adhd meds before i start school next semester because i want to be able to learn in my climate change class so bad

[ms-demeanor]

Sometimes college professors like to hop on my posts lamenting the sorry state of syllabi these days and joke about how they haven't thought that far ahead in the course themselves, or talk about how they struggle to complete a schedule for their students.

With all due respect, that's your job. If you can't do your job, you should have a different job. If you need help, ask your colleagues or your department chair or *someone* because I know that professors aren't given a hell of a lot of education on how to educate, so you probably *need* help.

But every single time I make one of those posts I get anywhere from ten to thirty messages, replies, reblogs, and asks say "oh man, that's exactly why I had to drop out of school; I couldn't keep up with the assignments because I didn't know when they were due until the week they were due."

I have been a college student in three separate decades, and "not having a schedule of assignments in the syllabus" is new to my experience. That shit didn't fly in the 2000s or 2010s and I think it likely has to do with professors being overly reliant on apps.

AT A MINIMUM your syllabus should have:

Contact information (including preferred method of contact) for the professor

Office Hours

Grading Policy

Assignment schedule.

Your assignment schedule doesn't necessarily need to have the exact page numbers of every reading or a full assignment sheet for each project, but it should have things like:

December 1st - Major Project 3 second draft due December 9th - Quiz 10 December 12th - Major Project 3 final draft due December 15th - Final Exam

If you end up presenting a more thorough schedule with readings and homework later, that is acceptable to present a week or two into the semester but it is absolutely insane to me that students these days don't know what homework they're going to have to get done over Thanksgiving break during the first couple weeks of class.

If I had three professors at once who didn't give me a schedule, how on earth would I know if I was going to have to read three chapters of a novel, take a midterm and turn in two stats homework assignments, and complete a history research paper the same week that I'm planning to travel to see family? If I'm aware of this from the beginning of the semester I can make sure not to pick up extra shifts, or I can plan to leave a day later to accommodate the midterm, or I can start working on the paper early to complete it before the due date but if I don't know what's going to be due when, I'm going to have a big problem.

If you don't give your students a schedule you are communicating that you don't care about their schedule, and that you think it's their responsibility to contort their life (and their job, and their other classes) around your class, and honestly my advice to students in that situation is "drop in the first week and pick up another class". That's actually part of why I recommend signing up for one more class than you can really manage - if you get a professor whose class looks like it's going to be a disaster because they don't have a schedule, you can bail before the withdrawal period and get a refund for the class.

I'm only in one class this semester but the professor's response has fully dropped me into "Fuck it, I guess I'll fail" mode and I don't even know if I can pull myself out of my current D grade because I don't know how many assignments we have left in the semester.

This is a shitty way to run a class. If you can't do better than this, you shouldn't be running a class.

[essaywritinghelp]

[onlineexamhelpers-tutor]

[paperhelpwritingservice]

How to Write Good Academic Papers: A Comprehensive Guide

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Research Papers

Research papers involve in-depth exploration of a topic, supported by primary and secondary sources. They require a well-defined thesis and present an argument based on evidence.

Essays

Essays are shorter pieces of writing that usually focus on a specific question or prompt. They can be argumentative, descriptive, or analytical, depending on the assignment.

Theses and Dissertations

These are lengthy, detailed documents that showcase original research or comprehensive analysis. Theses are typically for master’s programs, while dissertations are required for doctoral degrees.

Literature Reviews

Literature reviews summarize and evaluate existing research on a topic. They don’t present new research but rather provide a synthesis of current knowledge.

Case Studies

Case studies analyze specific events, individuals, or groups in detail. They are common in fields like psychology, business, and medicine.

Book Reviews

Book reviews assess a book's content, strengths, and weaknesses. They are often subjective but should be backed by specific examples from the text.

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If your topic is too broad, you may struggle to cover it in detail. Narrow it down by focusing on a specific aspect or question within the broader subject area.

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Choose a topic that interests you.

Make sure the topic is relevant to the course or field.

Check if there’s enough research material available.

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Good research underpins every strong academic paper. Without solid evidence, even the most well-written paper will lack credibility.

Importance of Research in Academic Writing

Research provides the foundation for your arguments, allowing you to back up your claims with facts and insights from experts in the field.

Primary vs. Secondary Sources

Primary sources are original materials, such as experiments, surveys, or historical documents.

Secondary sources interpret or analyze primary sources, such as review articles or textbooks.

Using Academic Databases

Academic databases like JSTOR, PubMed, and Google Scholar provide access to peer-reviewed journals, articles, and books. These resources are often more credible than general internet sources.

Evaluating Sources for Credibility

Check the author’s credentials, publication date, and whether the source has been peer-reviewed. Avoid using outdated or biased sources unless they’re necessary for a historical perspective.

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Your thesis statement is the core of your paper. It should clearly state your main argument and guide the reader on what to expect.

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A thesis statement is a concise sentence or two that summarizes the main point or claim of your paper.

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Specific and clear

Arguable and not a statement of fact

Focused and relevant to your paper’s content

Examples of Effective Thesis Statements

“The rise of social media has significantly impacted the political landscape by increasing both misinformation and civic engagement.”

“Climate change poses a serious threat to biodiversity, and immediate actions are necessary to prevent irreversible damage.”

6. Structuring Your Academic Paper

A well-structured paper makes it easy for the reader to follow your arguments. Most academic papers follow a similar structure, consisting of an introduction, body, and conclusion.

Understanding the Basic Structure

Each section of your paper serves a specific purpose:

Introduction: Introduces the topic and thesis.

Body: Presents and supports your arguments.

Conclusion: Summarizes the findings and reiterates the thesis.

Outlining Your Paper

An outline serves as a roadmap for your paper, helping you organize your thoughts and ensure that each point logically flows into the next.

Creating a Coherent Flow of Ideas

Transitions between paragraphs are essential for readability. Make sure each paragraph naturally leads into the next, reinforcing your thesis throughout.

7. Writing the Introduction

The introduction should engage the reader’s interest and provide a preview of what the paper will cover.

Hooking the Reader

Start with an interesting fact, a rhetorical question, or a brief anecdote related to your topic. This helps grab the reader’s attention right from the start.

Providing Background Information

Give the reader enough context to understand the importance of your topic. Avoid going into too much detail, as this will be covered in the body.

Stating the Thesis and Purpose

End the introduction with your thesis statement and a brief outline of the paper’s structure.

8. Crafting the Body of the Paper

The body is where you present your arguments, backed by evidence from your research. Each paragraph should focus on a single point that supports your thesis.

Organizing Ideas Logically

Each paragraph should begin with a topic sentence that introduces the point, followed by evidence and examples.

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Avoid long, convoluted sentences. Aim for clarity and brevity, ensuring each sentence adds value to your argument.

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Support your points with evidence from credible sources, such as statistics, quotes, and examples. This adds weight to your arguments.

Citing Sources Correctly

Use in-text citations according to your style guide. Proper citation not only gives credit to the original authors but also strengthens your credibility.

9. Writing the Conclusion

The conclusion wraps up your paper by summarizing your main points and reinforcing the thesis.

Summarizing Key Points

Briefly restate the main points of your paper, highlighting how they support your thesis.

Restating the Thesis

Rephrase your thesis statement, showing how your arguments have proven it to be true.

Providing a Closing Thought

End with a thought-provoking statement, a call to action, or a suggestion for further research.

10. Editing and Revising Your Paper

Revision is essential to producing a polished final product. Don’t skip this step!

The Importance of Revising and Editing

Editing allows you to catch errors, improve clarity, and ensure your paper meets academic standards.

Common Errors to Look Out For

Grammatical mistakes

Unclear arguments

Inconsistent citation format

Using Peer Review

A fresh pair of eyes can catch errors you might miss. Ask a friend, classmate, or mentor to review your paper.

11. Formatting and Style Guides

Different disciplines have different formatting requirements. Make sure you know which style guide to use.

APA, MLA, and Chicago Styles Explained

APA: Common in psychology and social sciences.

MLA: Used in humanities, especially literature.

Chicago: Preferred in history and some social sciences.

How to Apply Formatting Guidelines Correctly

Refer to the official style guide for specific formatting rules on citations, headings, and references.

12. Using Citations and Avoiding Plagiarism

Proper citation is crucial in academic writing. Not only does it give credit, but it also strengthens your credibility.

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Citations acknowledge the work of others and allow readers to verify your sources.

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Avoid incorrect formatting, missing citations, and over-reliance on one source.

Tools for Managing References

Consider using reference management tools like Zotero, EndNote, or Mendeley to organize your sources and create citations.

13. Academic Writing Tips for Success

To produce a high-quality paper, follow these tips:

Maintaining a Formal Tone

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Use short sentences, active voice, and direct language to enhance readability.

14. Common Challenges and How to Overcome Them

Writing academic papers can be challenging, but with practice, you’ll improve over time.

Dealing with Writer’s Block

Take breaks, brainstorm ideas, and set small goals to overcome writer’s block.

Managing Time Effectively

Create a writing schedule, break the work into manageable chunks, and stick to your deadlines.

Handling Feedback and Criticism

Embrace constructive criticism as an opportunity to improve. Learn from feedback and apply it to future assignments.

15. Conclusion

Writing good academic papers takes time, practice, and a methodical approach. By following this guide, you’ll be well on your way to producing high-quality academic papers that communicate your ideas effectively and meet academic standards. Remember, every great writer started somewhere—keep practicing, and you’ll continue to improve.

FAQs

1. What makes a good academic paper? A good academic paper is clear, well-organized, and thoroughly researched. It has a strong thesis, uses credible sources, and adheres to formatting guidelines.

2. How can I improve my academic writing skills? Practice regularly, read academic journals, seek feedback, and pay attention to style guides to improve your skills.

3. What are the most common mistakes in academic writing? Common mistakes include vague thesis statements, lack of structure, improper citations, and failure to follow formatting guidelines.

4. How do I know if my sources are credible? Look for peer-reviewed articles, reputable authors, recent publications, and information from academic databases.

5. How long does it take to write an academic paper? The time varies based on the paper’s length and complexity. A well-planned schedule and disciplined approach can make the process more manageable.

[lolitalovess]

thinking about loser vi who humps on the strap harness when she's fucking you!!

｡･ﾟ･♡･ﾟ･｡ loser vi who invites you over to her place when you mention that you're trying to organise a few study groups at the town library with a few of your friends to her. she knows she's got a shitload of assignments due by the end of the week like you, you're fun to work with, she wants to help you with your notes and you haven't been in her bed in forever. she can't help herself.

loser vi who cannot stop letting her pussy do all her thinking when you show up at her door with your laptop and books all in your bag and your smile so radiant from the familiarity of her face and the kisses she pulls you into after you handed her a pipeline punch monster.

loser vi who's sitting against the headboard of her bed with you leaning your head on her shoulder, writing perfectly detailed and descriptive notes with her hand beginning to cramp while you're reading through some article for history on your laptop for some upcoming important quiz. she can tell you're tired and bored with the way you're slumped against her, sighing through your nose without even realising and squinting your eyes from the bright screen every time she looks over at you. you have been doing this for atleast two hours - she knows that you both need a break.

loser vi who asks you if you wanna lay down and cuddle for a little while, pressing kisses to the crown of your head when you say yes and move your laptop and both of your textbooks on her bedside table, her hands on your waist as she practically guides you back to her, burying your face into her chest while she murmurs a "c'mere, baby."

loser vi who's pulled her blanket to stop at your chests, one of her hands running through your hair and she's murmuring about unimportant nothing's about her day and powder. she guides one of her hands to unclasp your bra, knowing that the fabric would be uncomfortably pressing into your skin, discarding the item by tossing it on the ground. you know the action is out of genuine love and hope to comfort you - but you also know violet well enough to already know that it's also out of lust.

loser vi who's hands are grasping your hips as leverage when fucking you with her strap another two hours later, both your and her pyjamas thrown onto the floor like your bra, her fluffy blue blanket pushed to the end of the bed. she's thrusting into you at a relentless pace, a train of whimpers, moans and curses leaving her heart shaped lips as if the rest of her family isn't in the house.

"fuck, baby," she whines, throwing her head back. back she's always been a whiner, it's one of the things you adore the most about her, apart from her hair and the love she has for you. she's the sweetest girlfriend you could be blessed with, and you're forever grateful to the foils of the universe that it gave you the chance to meet her and have her in your life.

her pace grows sloppier from a newcome friction she feels on her clit from the harness of her strap when she grinds on it, her eyes squeezing shut as she does so. she's doing both - fucking you and grinding her clit on the harness of ther strap, even if the balance between doing both is sloppy.

"look at me." you speak out, your hands squeezing her biceps as if it were the only thing you could do to stabilise yourself, which it was. you don't mind that she's doing this in anyway whatsoever. it's cute, the way her eyebrows furrow and her mouth hangs open and her tits bounce when she's becoming mayor of pound town with you, always acting like she's the one getting fucked when you are.

she complied after a few moments of bliss, tilting her head back down to look down into your eyes. you look so pretty, with the way sweat is beading down your forehead and you're grasping onto her and your pussy is taking her dick so easily. she leaned down to kiss you, whimpering into your mouth when you shove your tounge into hers and wrap your legs around her waist to encourage her movements, earning a loud moan from her when she hid her face in your neck and the both of you came at the same time, her needy pussy absolutely soaking the harness without shame.

she eventually pulls away from you after a few minutes of hugging and kissing for a few minutes, glancing over at your textbooks, dead laptop and half drank monster can sitting sadly, though her eyes shift back to your face when she notices herself yearning to look at you. "you wanna go again?"

i wrote this so fast and rushed so if it's a lil bad in some spots that's why 😭 also why half of this was hcs and the other half was like a fic LMAO

[lynbels]

25 jungwon pls pls pls

looks deceive - yjw (m)

#25: The quiet nerd turns out to be anything but shy, using your body like it’s his.

pairing: jungwon x reader - prompt req list

synopsis: You spent months teasing Jungwon for being the quiet nerd in class—until one night he finally snapped, and you learned exactly how wrong you were about him. ✉️ 3782wc

‼️tw: slight bullying, dubcon vibes, dominance, manhandling, degradation (light), oral (m receiving), rough sex, creampie, praise, possessiveness, spanking, slight hair pulling, unprotected sex (wrap ur willies guys)

💌: no because I totally imagine this happening good jungwon by day evil jungwon by night 😈

You weren’t a mean girl, not really. Just…a little playful. Maybe a little too playful when it came to the nerdy boy who sat in the back of your Chemistry class.

Yang Jungwon.

Blonde hair always perfectly parted, button-down shirts always ironed stiff, and those stupid little glasses perched on the bridge of his nose—he was practically begging for it. He didn’t even talk back when you and your friends joked about him. He just sat there, quietly scribbling formulas with that pretty hand of his, pretending not to hear the way you laughed.

“You think he’s a robot or something?” your friend Hana giggled one afternoon, chin propped on her hand as she watched Jungwon flip through his notes. “Bet he’s never even held a girl’s hand.”

You snickered behind your palm. “Held? I bet he’d pass out if a girl even looked at him for too long.”

It wasn’t personal. It was harmless, you told yourself. Jungwon was just…so easy to tease. Always so quiet, so polite, so desperately nerdy. He wore khaki pants for god’s sake. Khakis. In high school.

Sometimes you’d catch him sneaking glances at you when he thought you weren’t looking—soft, wide-eyed stares, like he couldn’t believe you were real. It only made it funnier. You’d smile sweetly at him on purpose, wave too enthusiastically, lean a little too close when asking him a question during group projects, just to watch his face flush scarlet and his glasses fog up.

The poor boy was so easy to break.

And you weren’t the only one who noticed. Your whole group kind of adopted it as a game at this point: how fast could you fluster Jungwon? How pink could you get his cheeks? How many stuttered responses could you collect like trophies?

“He’s like…a pet,” your other friend Minji whispered one time after a pop quiz. You had just tapped Jungwon’s shoulder and thanked him (loudly) for “helping you study”—which he hadn’t—and the boy had practically short-circuited on the spot. “Like a little lost puppy.”

You’d laughed then, flipping your hair over your shoulder, feeling every bit the queen bee you were supposed to be. Jungwon was safe. Harmless. He wasn’t like the cocky jocks or the bad boys you flirted with sometimes—he was soft, easy to control, easy to tease.

Or at least…that’s what you thought.

Until one afternoon, everything changed.

You were sitting at your desk, lazily twirling a pen between your fingers, when you felt a shadow fall across your table. You looked up, blinking.

It was Jungwon.

He stood stiffly in front of you, clutching a neatly organized folder to his chest like a shield. His blonde hair was slightly messy today, a few strands falling across his forehead. His glasses slipped down his nose a little, and he pushed them up nervously with one finger.

You raised an eyebrow, amused. “Lost, Jungwon?”

He opened his mouth like he was about to say something—but then stopped, his throat bobbing with a hard swallow. His hands fidgeted against the folder, knuckles white from how tightly he gripped it. You could see the tips of his ears turning red.

Cute.

“I, uh…” He coughed lightly, adjusting his glasses again. “I…thought you might need help. For the chemistry assignment. Since…you asked…before.”

You blinked.

You hadn’t actually asked him for help—you’d teased him about it, sure, but it was all in good fun. You were popular, and smart enough to get by without tutoring from the class nerd. But now, standing there in front of you, Jungwon looked so serious. So determined, despite how nervous he clearly was.

You could feel Minji and Hana watching from across the room, barely containing their laughter. You gave them a quick glance—watch this—before turning back to Jungwon with your most dazzling smile.

“That’s sweet, Jungwon,” you said, voice dripping honey. “You’re worried about me?”

He flushed deeper, shifting his weight from foot to foot. “I just…you seemed like you might…um…need help.”

You bit the inside of your cheek to hold back a laugh. God, he was so easy.

Leaning forward on your elbows, you rested your chin in your hand and looked up at him through your lashes. “Are you offering to be my private tutor?”

His lips parted slightly, like the words got stuck in his throat. His glasses fogged a little again. “I—uh—I guess. If you want.”You smiled wider, loving the way his voice shook.

“Aw,” you cooed mockingly, loud enough for your friends to hear. “You’re so sweet, Jungwon. Are you always this nice to girls who bully you?”

Behind you, Hana snickered into her hand.

For a moment, Jungwon didn’t say anything. He just stood there, folder clutched tight to his chest, face burning. His eyes flickered to your mouth for a second—so quick you almost missed it—and then dropped to the floor again.

You tilted your head, smirking. So predictable.

“You’re cute when you’re nervous,” you added, voice low enough that only he could hear it. “Maybe if you’re lucky, I’ll let you buy me coffee after tutoring too.”

He said nothing. Just nodded stiffly, turned on his heel, and practically fled to the other side of the room.

You and your friends broke into giggles immediately.

“Poor thing’s gonna have a heart attack,” Minji whispered, wiping a tear from her eye. “Y/N, you’re evil.”

You smiled lazily, twirling your pen again. It was just harmless fun. Jungwon would never do anything about it. He was too shy, too sweet.

He’d stay quiet. Like he always did.

…Right?

You didn’t think about it much when you got the text later that day.

[unknown number]: you forgot your textbook. rm 3b.

[unknown number]: i can bring it if u want.

You stared at the messages, confused for a second—until you realized it had to be Jungwon. Of course it was. Who else would be that polite about a stupid forgotten book?

You texted back a half-hearted ok, already smirking to yourself. God, he’s desperate, you thought. He was really going out of his way for you now. It was almost pathetic.

You made your way to Room 3B after the last bell, the hallway practically deserted. Most people had already left for the day, leaving only the low hum of distant footsteps and the occasional squeak of sneakers on tile.

When you pushed open the door, the room was dim, the late afternoon sun spilling in long, golden streaks across the floor.

And there he was.

Jungwon stood by your desk, your chemistry textbook in hand, head bowed slightly. His blonde hair caught the light, making it look almost soft around the edges. He wasn’t wearing his blazer anymore—just the white button-up, the sleeves pushed up a little—and it made him look…different. More casual. More real.

You stepped inside lazily, the door clicking shut behind you.

“Wow,” you teased lightly, crossing your arms. “You really take your job as my tutor seriously, huh?”

He didn’t laugh.

Didn’t even smile.

He just looked up at you—and for the first time, you noticed something different in his eyes. Something that made your skin prickle a little.

He wasn’t nervous.

Not anymore.

“You forgot this,” he said simply, voice low and even.

You walked closer, letting your bag slide off your shoulder onto a chair. “Thanks, Professor Jungwon,” you joked, reaching for the book.

But instead of handing it to you, he held onto it—just out of reach.

You frowned. “What are you doing?”

For a second, he just looked at you, head tilted slightly like he was studying something.

Then he smiled.

Not the shy, awkward smile you were used to.

No, this one was slower. Lazier. A smile that knew things. Dangerous things.

“You think you’re funny, don’t you?” he said, voice still light but edged with something sharper underneath. “Messing with me. Laughing at me with your little friends.”

You blinked, heart skipping once, confused. This wasn’t…this wasn’t how it was supposed to go.

“I mean…” you said slowly, trying to summon that same teasing tone. “Maybe a little?”

Jungwon stepped closer.

You instinctively backed up—only to feel the desk press against the backs of your thighs.

You opened your mouth to say something else—to crack another joke, maybe, to turn the moment back into something safe—but before you could, he set the textbook down carefully on the desk beside you.

And caged you in with both hands, palms flat against the wood.

You stared up at him, breath caught.

His eyes, usually so soft, were burning now. Sharp and focused, like he was seeing right through you. His body was so close you could feel the heat rolling off him, suffocating, dizzying.

“You think you can just say whatever you want to me,” he said softly, so close you could feel his breath fan across your lips. “Laugh at me. Flirt with me. Make me look like a fool.”

You swallowed hard, every nerve in your body standing on end.

“I—It was just a joke,” you said quickly, but your voice wavered.

Another slow, dangerous smile.

“Yeah?” he murmured. “Well, here’s the thing, Y/N.”

He leaned down, mouth brushing your ear.

“I’m done being the joke.”

You froze, your whole body tensing, but Jungwon didn’t give you any time to think.

One hand slid from the desk to your waist, fingers digging in just hard enough to make you gasp. He pressed his body closer, chest against yours, so you could feel just how much bigger and stronger he really was.

“You’re so loud usually,” he whispered, voice smooth and dark against your ear. “Where’s all that attitude now, huh?”

You squirmed, but it only made him grip you tighter, pinning your hips against the desk.

“You thought you were in control,” he murmured, dragging the tip of his nose down the side of your throat, inhaling like he could smell your fear. “Laughing with your friends. Acting like you were better than me.”

You whimpered—quiet and unintentional—and he chuckled low in his chest.

“Not so funny now, is it?”

Slowly, torturously slow, he trailed his hand up your side, brushing under the hem of your shirt, fingertips feather-light against your bare skin. Your breath hitched, and he smiled against your neck.

“You like this,” he said quietly, almost like he was marveling at the realization. “You like when I’m mean to you.”

You shook your head automatically, but Jungwon just laughed again, dark and soft.

“Liar.”

He tilted your chin up with two fingers, forcing you to look at him.

His eyes were molten now, dark and hungry, and you shivered under the weight of his stare.

“I should make you beg,” he whispered, thumb brushing the corner of your mouth. “Make you apologize for being such a little brat.”

Your lips parted, desperate to say something—anything—but no words came out.

“You gonna be good for me now?” he asked, almost gently, dragging his thumb slowly across your bottom lip. “Or do I have to teach you a lesson?

You whimpered again, nodding weakly.

His smile widened, all sharp teeth and dangerous promise.

“Good girl.”

Without warning, he grabbed your thighs and lifted you up onto the desk, spreading your legs with his knees. The sudden movement made you squeak, grabbing onto his shoulders for balance, but he didn’t let you go—he loomed over you, hands gripping your waist possessively, like he owned you.

“Show me,” Jungwon said, voice so soft it barely made a sound. “Get on your knees.”

You blinked up at him, heart racing, and whispered back without thinking, “W-What?”

He just stared down at you, unblinking, fingers tightening at your waist like a warning.

“On your knees,” he repeated, firmer now, and when you hesitated for half a second longer, he grabbed your chin and guided you down slowly, almost gentle, until your knees hit the floor with a quiet thud against the carpet.

“Jungwon…” you whispered again, voice small, but he didn’t budge.

He tilted your chin up with two fingers, forcing you to meet his eyes. “Pretty,” he murmured. “So pretty when you’re quiet.”

You bit your lip, cheeks burning, and breathed out shakily, “I-I don’t know what you want me to do…”

A small, dangerous smile played on his lips. “You’ll figure it out.”

With slow, deliberate movements, he unbuckled his belt, the soft clink making your stomach twist in anticipation. You couldn’t look away—couldn’t even think—your mouth already watering slightly as he tugged his jeans down just enough, freeing his cock, hard and thick and leaking at the tip.

You whimpered, staring, and your thighs instinctively pressed together.

“You want it, don’t you?” he whispered, thumb brushing against your bottom lip.

You nodded frantically, voice barely a breath. “Y-Yeah… I want it.”

“Then open up,” he ordered, and his voice was so calm it made your whole body shudder.

You parted your lips obediently, heart thundering, and he slid the tip against your tongue, teasing you slowly, making you feel every inch.

“Good girl,” he praised in a low growl. “Keep those pretty eyes on me.”

You whimpered again, looking up at him through your lashes, desperate to make him proud, desperate for him to keep saying those things to you.

“You’re so good, Jungwon,” you whispered around him, voice muffled and needy.

A dark flush colored his cheeks at your praise, but he didn’t let up, sliding deeper with slow, shallow thrusts, one hand threading into your hair to hold you there.

“That’s it,” he murmured, hips rocking slowly. “Such a good little mouth… made for me.”

Tears prickled at the corners of your eyes from the stretch, but you forced yourself to stay still, to let him use you like he wanted. You wanted it. You wanted him.

“You look so good like this,” he breathed. “Bet you never thought you’d end up on your knees for me, huh?”

You whined around him, the humiliation and heat rushing through your body too much to handle.

“Didn’t know you’d be so mean,” you managed to mumble out when he pulled back a little, your voice wrecked and breathless.

He chuckled lowly, thumb brushing away a tear that slid down your cheek.

“You have no idea what I’m capable of, baby,” he whispered.

You nodded, so desperate, so wrecked already. “Please…” you whimpered. “Please, Jungwon… I want you…”

His jaw flexed, his control visibly snapping.

“Fuck,” he muttered, hips jerking forward as he pushed deeper into your mouth, making you choke slightly.

You pulled back with a gasp, panting, and he immediately stroked your hair gently, calming you.

“Shh. You’re doing so good, pretty girl,” he praised. “You’re perfect.”

You looked up at him, tears in your lashes, spit glistening on your lips.

“I want to be good for you,” you said, voice wobbling.

“You already are,” he whispered, dragging his cock slowly across your tongue again.

You shivered, feeling your whole body light up at his words.

He tightened his grip in your hair, sliding himself back into your mouth with slow, deliberate thrusts, using you like he had every right to.

And you let him. Whimpering, obeying, looking up at him like he hung the stars in the sky.

Because he owned you now. And you didn’t want it any other way.

You barely had time to catch your breath before Jungwon yanked you up from the floor, strong hands gripping your waist and shoving you back against the couch. His body pressed flush against yours, caging you in.

“You’re not done,” he muttered, voice low and dark in your ear. “I’m not done.”

You whimpered, nodding without even thinking, your thighs squeezing together at the way he looked at you — like he was starving and you were the only thing he could eat.

He grabbed your chin roughly, tilting your head up so you couldn’t look away from him. His eyes, usually so soft and sunny, were blown wide and black with hunger.

“Look at you,” he whispered, breath hot against your cheek. “Already fucked out and I haven’t even gotten started.”

You tried to say something—tried to beg—but he didn’t give you the chance. In one swift movement, he manhandled you onto the couch, forcing you onto your back, and tugged your panties down your legs without ceremony.

“Spread those legs for me, pretty,” he murmured, voice steady but ragged with want.

You did, shakily, heart pounding so hard you could barely breathe.

He tugged his jeans down just enough, cock hard and leaking, and lined himself up without warning. You felt the blunt, thick head of him pressing against your entrance, and your breath caught.

“You ready?” he rasped.

You nodded desperately, nails digging into the cushions.

“Use your words,” he ordered, tapping the inside of your thigh sharply.

“Please,” you gasped out. “Please, Jungwon, I want it—need it—”

That was all he needed.

He slammed into you in one brutal thrust, burying himself to the hilt, and you screamed — high-pitched and choked, the stretch overwhelming. Your whole body arched off the couch at the sudden, merciless intrusion.

“Fuck, so tight,” he hissed through gritted teeth, holding himself still for a second, letting you feel every inch of him. “Feels too good. Gonna fuck you so stupid, baby.”

You sobbed, legs trembling around his hips, tears slipping from the corners of your eyes.

He didn’t give you time to adjust. He pulled out halfway and slammed back in hard enough to make the couch creak beneath you. Again. Again. Hard and deep and punishing, every thrust knocking the breath out of your lungs.

“You wanted to tease me?” he grunted, voice still soft and deadly in your ear. “Wanted to be a brat in front of your little friends?”

You nodded frantically, whimpering, barely coherent under the relentless pace.

“Bet you don’t feel so cocky now, huh?” he whispered, punctuating every word with another deep thrust.

You tried to answer but all that came out was a broken moan.

He chuckled low under his breath, slowing down just enough to drag himself out painfully slow before slamming back in to the hilt, making you cry out.

You didn’t even realize you were crying until he licked a tear off your cheek and murmured, “Poor thing. Too much?”

You shook your head wildly, clinging to him.

He kept going until your whole body was trembling, until your nails carved angry red lines down his back, until you were sobbing his name like it was the only word you knew.

Finally, when your legs gave out completely and you sagged into the cushions, he slowed. His hands gentled, cradling you.

Wordlessly, he pulled you into his lap, your thighs straddling his hips. His cock still heavy and hard between your legs, pressed against your soaked folds.

He cupped your face in both hands, smoothing your hair back, and kissed you so softly it almost hurt. You whimpered into his mouth, desperate for him.

“You still want it?” he whispered against your lips.

“Yes,” you breathed, voice wrecked and trembling. “Please.”

He guided you down onto him slowly this time, letting you feel every thick inch stretch you open again.

You gasped, clinging to his shoulders, tears brimming in your lashes again from the slow, aching fullness.

“That’s it,” he murmured, kissing the corner of your mouth. “Take all of it. You’re doing so good.”

He rocked you on his cock gently, holding you close, whispering filthy things in your ear the whole time.

“Feel how deep I am, baby? You were made for this… made for me to fuck you like this.”

You whimpered, biting his shoulder to muffle your sobs of pleasure as he guided your hips, slow and deep and overwhelming.

“Never teasing me again,” he whispered, smiling against your hair. “Not unless you want this.”

You nodded desperately, grinding down against him, so full you could barely think.

“You’re mine to fuck,” he murmured, dragging his cock against that sensitive spot inside you, making you jolt in his lap. “Mine to ruin.”

You came apart in his arms, sobbing his name into his shoulder, shaking and gasping. He held you through it, never stopping, whispering praise into your ear until you completely fell apart.

And when he finally followed, spilling deep inside you with a low groan, he didn’t move away.

He just held you, rocking you gently in his lap, brushing kisses across your temple, your jaw, your mouth.

Like he hadn’t just broken you completely.

Like he was never gonna let you go.

The next morning, you could still feel it — a dull, delicious ache between your thighs with every step you took. Your body was sore, your neck littered with faint bruises you tried—and failed—to cover with makeup, and your heart raced every time you even thought about Jungwon.

Which was a problem. Because you were sitting across from him in class, and he kept sneaking little glances at you from behind his glasses, a tiny smirk tugging at his lips whenever your eyes met.

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, clenching your thighs together under the desk, cheeks burning.

“What’s up with you?” one of your friends whispered, elbowing you in the side during lecture.

“Huh? N-nothing,” you stammered, staring down at your notes so hard the lines blurred together.

Another girl leaned over. “Why do you look like you just ran a marathon?”

“I don’t,” you protested weakly, adjusting your jacket to hide the faint purple marks blooming down your throat.

They weren’t convinced.

“You’re acting weird,” the first girl said, wrinkling her nose. “Like…all shy and jumpy. Did something happen?”

“No,” you said too quickly, glancing instinctively at Jungwon.

You caught him looking again — but this time, he didn’t look away. His tongue flicked out to wet his lips, slow and deliberate, and your stomach flipped.

Oh god.

Your friends caught that look.

They turned, following your gaze, and their jaws dropped.

“Wait. No freaking way,” one of them whispered, half-laughing. “You’re into him?!”

“I—” You opened your mouth, but no words came out.

The other girl snorted. “Since when do you like nerds?”

You shrank into your seat, wishing the floor would swallow you whole. Especially when Jungwon leaned back in his chair casually, spreading his thighs just a little wider under the desk — like he knew exactly what he was doing to you.

You swallowed hard, pulse hammering in your throat.

“Bet he’s not that nerdy when he’s alone with her,” one of your friends joked under her breath, laughing.

Your face flamed.

And across the room, Jungwon smiled lazily at you, like a wolf who knew his prey wasn’t going anywhere.

prompt request list

[sahisan]

— third door on the left, marked “debate club"

two professors. one office door away from kissing or killing each other. maybe both.

featuring . theoretical philosophy professor!anaxa x practical philosophy professor!fem!reader.

tags . university au. nodern au. suggestive. semi-public sex mentioned/referenced. (you make so many) sex jokes. fluff. ooc. soft anaxa. comedy. mild language. academic rivalry but make it professors. mentions of alcohol use. workplace romance. bickering as a love language.. flirting. so many philosophy terms (that i barely understand). wc 3.1k.

a/n . a friend dabbed me into philosophy and i folded. the handjob joke was initially hers but i couldn't help myself. im not a philosophy major so if you are please forgive me for any mistakes, my friend who actually majored in it helped me a small bit and im still confused. lmk if there are any typos. enjoy <3

"your handwriting is offensive," you mutter, turning the paper sideways, then upside down.

anaxa doesn’t look up from his tea. "you still read it, though."

"barely. is this supposed to say 'conscious' or 'conscience'?"

"both."

"no."

"well, that’s why i'm a philosopher."

"i also am one. your last footnotes gave me a headache."

he finally looks up, raising an eyebrow. "then my work here is done."

"so you’re telling me," you, crossing your arms. "that again, you rewrote the entire reading list after midterms?"

"no," he replies, not looking up from his notes. "i rewrote it because of midterms. frankly, your students deserve better than whatever you assigned them. i read the discussion boards."

"you’re on the discussion boards?"

"i moderate three of them. and i banned a user who called you hot. you’re welcome."

you pause and tilt your head. in the end, you mumble "...that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever done for me."

"don’t get used to it," he mutters, knowing you're exaggerating. "they spelled ‘epistemological’ wrong."

your bring in tea and fruit for your students. anaxagoras brings nothing and cancels half his office hours because, quote, "philosophy isn’t learned in panic, it’s metabolized in silence" (half the admin hates him).

his and your students are in quiet (jealous) war. campus hallway signs include:

"vote: whose exam will kill us with more dignity?

team prof [name]: understanding through application

team prof anaxagoras: no multiple choice, only anguish"

you and anaxa both pretend you don’t see the posters.

you end up stealing one and taping it to the wall in your office. anaxa responds by using it as part of a pop quiz question.

the students get back by gifting both of you matching mugs that say: "#1 philosophical threat". anaxa mutters about not joking with philosophy majors anymore. (they're literally his students and he's starting to get scared)

him and you sit on opposite ends of the philosophy department’s couch like it’s some kind of contested ground.

you're reading ethics of desire upside down. he’s pretending not to notice.

"why do you hate me?" you ask, out of nowhere.

"i don’t."

"then why do you argue with me in faculty meetings like we're at the fucking olympics?"

"because you like it," he looks over, holding eye contact.

"and," he adds after a beat. "because you're brilliant. and you're wrong about kant."

"i’m never wrong about kant," you frown.

"see? fun."

the dean told you it's mandatory to be in the department-wide group chat. anaxa has notifications off, your have them on, and neither of you participate until absolutely necessary.

today, someone sends a meme about faculty budgeting. it evolves quickly into... something.

@ecologywillsurvive_vaelis: what if we held a bake sale for chalk

@anaxagorastheory: what.

@cai_NaOCl: maybe we should sell naming rights to the new ethics wing. welcome to the ‘crypto.com moral foundations lab’

@anaxagorastheory: if you sell naming rights to a lab about ethics i will personally remove my eye patch and stare into your soul.

@praxis[name]: we’ve talked about this, the patch stays on in public spaces

@praxis[name]: and cai i'm going to rename your organic chem wing to 'half baked molecule lounge' if you bring up the ethics wing again

@anaxagorastheory: i’m just saying. the thread of reason is fraying.

@praxis[name]: your self-control is fraying

@anaxagorasthery: say that in office hours.

@epiphany_uni_admin: hi everyone! just a reminder that this is a professional chat

"you're late," you say without looking up from your laptop, fingers flying across the keyboard like you've been waiting specifically to outpace him.

"i was grading," anaxa responds, setting down a stack of painfully annotated printed philosophy 201 essays with a grimace. "your TAs let them write in first person and i nearly hemorrhaged."

"they’re freshmen, let them think they matter," you reply, finally glancing up at him.

"dangerous ideology for a praxis professor."

you hum. "dangerous man to say it."

"you’re wearing my coat," anaxa notes when he opens his office door and finds you there.

you blink once. then, "i spilled tea on mine."

he steps aside to lt you in, utterly unsurprised.

"also," you add as your shrug the coat tighter. "yours smells nicer."

he doesn’t say anything for a moment.

"would it be weird if i told you i hope you spill more tea tomorrow?"

you smile, mischievous.

"depends where."

"you always write in pen," your mutter, flipping through the latest draft of his paper with red ink bleeding into printed black. "only pen."

"i trust my convictions," anaxa replies, deadpan.

"you misspelled 'epistemological' three times after getting distracted by me."

"i was testing you."

"were you?" you ask, eyes narrowing. "you wrote 'epistomagical' at one point."

he shrugs, takes a sip from his coffee. it's black and bitter and you know he hates it.

you bite back a smile. "idiot."

"your handwriting is worse," he mutters. "at least i try."

"i write in runes," you say, prim.

"those are hearts above your i's."

"...runes of war."

"do you always grade with red?" you ask, leaning over his desk, some random paper in hand that you forgot about long ago.

anaxagoras doesn't look up, "of course. red forces clarity. confrontation."

"you wrote 'source?' in all caps across a paragraph about love in greek tragedy."

"and?"

you smile, as if holding back laugter. "it was a quote. from you."

he looks up. slow. silent.

you set the paper down with calmness he swears one can only see in fiction.

"next time, check your own citations, professor."

wednesdays are mostly alright. you walk into the staff lounge and there he is: anaxagoras. at the coffee machine. holding two cups.

"brewing double today?" you raise an eyebrow.

"i had to offer the students a choice," he says, pressing the start button. "do you want to study logic, or do you want to study… your soul?"

"you’re so terrible," you say with a sigh, taking the second cup from him. "you know no one really wants to study their soul?"

"not true," he replies, smiling smugly. "they want to study it, they just don’t know it yet."

he takes a sip of his coffee, watching you. you narrow your eyes.

"and what's this 'quiz' you’ve decided to torture them with?"

"it’s not a quiz. it’s a philosophical challenge," he says, moving to the small whiteboard. "i ask them to define their own existence without using ‘i think, therefore i am'.

"you’re evil," you raise an eyebrow.

"i'm not," he argues. "they tiktokified descartes!"

"they what?"

anaxa finds a note slipped into his bag.

it’s folded on thick paper, smells like your hand cream.

in that unmistakable handwriting, hearts a constant above the i's like it's a love letter (maybe it is):

"you didn't have breakfast this morning, so i left a little something in your office

<3"

he stares at it for five minutes straight. then folds it again and tucks it into his coat pocket. the 'little something' ended up being a bento of salad and two bacon sandwiches.

he won’t ever admit it, but he carries it for the rest of the week (and he will absolutely not start mimicking your handwriting later).

it's a faculty party. you're in black silk and sipping terrible wine. anaxa's next to you, lecturing someone on metaphysical paradoxes. again.

"you could’ve worn a bow tie," you murmur when he leans in.

he looks at you like he’s already undone. "and you could’ve worn less loud heels if you didn’t want me distracted."

your fingers pause on the stem of your glass. "hm. touché."

"that’s french."

"you speak french?"

he leans closer, "i learn languages for spite."

you lick your teeth to hide a grin. "is that how you learned to say je veux te baiser in the hallway last week?"

anaxa chokes on his wine.

"you're in my office," he says, arms crossed, glasses half-lowered.

"your sign says 'office hours clpsed unless it's a crisis'. this," you say, dropping a thick bundle of papers on his desk, "is a crisis."

he glances down.

"this is… a peer review."

"your peer review. you cited a wikipedia page in a footnote."

anaxa doesn’t look even remotely sorry. "it was cited ironically."

"you teach epistemology, anaxagoras."

"and irony is a form of knowledge."

you blink. “oh my god. leave."

"it's my office."

"i don't care, leave."

obvious enough, your offices share a wall (god bless the dean and the department chair). it’s the point of thus where, sometimes, you hear anaxa recite passages of obscure texts to himself aloud; sometimes in ancient languages.

today, it’s greek.

"…lógos eikós," he says. "reason is likely—"

"and so is the fact that your argument on practical virtue is still wrong," you call through the wall.

"it was metaphorical!"

"so is your whole career!"

you hear the sound of a book being thrown at the wall and smile.

"you rearranged my bookshelves," you say flatly, arms crossed, eyebrow arched.

"i reorganized them by author. the fact that your copy of moral letters to lucilius was next to the hungry caterpillar is—"

"—educational range."

anaxagoras doesn't smirk, not really, just sips his coffee like it's the antidote to your nonsense.

"you’re impossible."

"and yet you still broke into my office to alphabetize my praxis."

"it was unlocked."

"it was not."

(it was.)

anaxagoras gets sick and refuses to take time off. you physically remove him from the building.

"i’m fine," he rasps.

"you’re a hazard," you say, throwing his bag over your shoulder. "you coughed on three students and almost knocked over aristotle's bust in your auditorium.

he slumps into your car without protest. later, you make him him soup and read aloud from his own research while he’s half-asleep just to see if you can make him correct your pronunciation mid-fever. he does.

"you’re ridiculous," you murmur.

"you’re warm," he mumbles, drifting.

"i’m human."

"keep being that."

@epiphanyconfessions

"i’m just saying. if prof [name] leaned over my desk the way she leans over prof anaxagoras’s desk i too would forget how to spell my own name"

@epiphanyconfessions

"anybody remember that one time she called him 'anaxagoras' during a rare joint lecture and he straightened up like a victorian man seeing ankle for the first time. someone sedate them."

@epiphanyconfessions

"i heard prof anaxa say ‘consent is the highest form of logic’ and i haven’t been the same since. like sir i just wanted to pass intro metaphysics please don’t take me apart like that"

you're the one who finds the twitter account. it's an automated bot which quite literally posts all the gossip in the university. unsurprisingly now, 70% of what you've seen include you and anaxa.p

you scroll for three minutes in silence, then turns your phone around so he can see it.

"i think your students are obsessed with me."

anaxa doesn't look a single bit impressed.

"well, at least i've managed to teach them something about attention to detail."

you end up paired for the damn symposium panel because someone in admin has a cruel sense of humor.

"just be civil," the dean says, sipping bitter coffee as the two of you stand on either side of the projector.

"civil as in—" you start.

"no blood on the mic."

anaxagoras doesn't smirk, not quite, but there's a twitch of something near his mouth when he says "i'll keep my composure if she does."

"i never lose my composure," you shoot back.

his eyes go to your mouth. "you have. once."

your silence is thin and sharp and full of fuck yous that do not get spoken.

the dean groans. "if either of you fucks the other on the mic, i swear to god i'm retiring."

you're walking out of the symposium together, the cold air catching your hair just right.

"they misquoted kant four times," he mutters, voice slightly hoarse

"only four?" you tease. "you’re mellowing."

"i’m trying not to ruin our evening."

"oh?" you glance at him. "are we having an evening?"

he stops walking and you take two steps before realizing he’s still behind you.

"…yes," he says. "if you want."

your expression warms without looking at him. "i do."

he doesn’t say anything else, just walks beside you the rest of the way, hands close, not touching.

it's christmas eve and everyone’s a little tipsy in the lounge, even the department chair.

anaxa is holding a glass of deep red wine and trying not to react when you make a joke about morals and oral fixation in the same sentence.

later, outside under the garden lights, you speak.

"cai told me your students think we're sleeping together," you say, watching the breeze catch your own hair.

"we are."

"they suspect, anaxagoras."

"then they’re late to class."

you laugh, quiet and unguarded, the kind of laugh that makes his shoulders drop. he reaches out to fix the collar of his your coat.

"you're soft when you're smug," you murmur.

"you're smug when you're soft," anaxa retaliates.

"you’re in love with me."

"that too."

youre both tired. the grading deadlines loom and the campus heating is out again.

"sit down," anaxa mutters, patting the seat next to him on the floor of his office.

"your carpet has chalk dust on it."

"so do your pants, professor."

you sigh as if you're bearing the weight of the world on your lone shoulders and sit.

there's no light in the office but the blue glow of his screen, and the soft static of the heater humming through the vents.

"i'm not rewriting the conclusion," you murmur, almost asleep on his shoulder.

"i know."

"but i miiight let you footnote me."

he hums, head tilting against yours. "if you do, i'll stop quoting you out of context."

"...maybe don't. i sound smarter when you do it."

"you are smart."

you hum, noncommittal. anaxa sighs.

anaxagoras is having a deja vu; a really strong one.

you're seated across from each other at another faculty mixer (he complained about seeing too many people outside his lectures in the past three months on the way to this one). you're wearing black, sharp eyeliner, and a gold pin in the shape of a crescent. anaxa is halfway through a whiskey and trying very hard not to look impressed.

"you know they’re calling us ‘the debate club’?" you say, lazily stirring your drink. "it’s not flattering."

"they only say that because you get louder when you’re wrong."

"you’re still upset i said plato would’ve folded if someone gave him a nice handjob."

he tried to mask laughing with accidentally choking on his whiskey.

he definitely is having a deja vu. (he loves it with you.)

you kiss once in the archives.

it’s a study break, technically.

you're sitting on the dusty desk. he’s standing between your legs. you're surrounded by books about love and logic and ancient epics, and you don’t speak about the copy of whatever book you were supposed to help him with looking for.

later, as you fix his messed up hair again for him, when he’s too flustered to do it straight, you murmur,

"you lose arguments better than anyone i've ever met."

he leans into your palm where it cups his jaw.

"i only lose to you."

"i hope so."

he sees you grading in the courtyard and sits beside you, uninvited.

"your first-years are circulating a petition."

"ah. is it about the essay extension?"

"no. they want you and i to 'just publicly kiss already and not torture us anymore'. their words."

you don't pause your hand. "did you sign it?"

"...maybe."

you're more often in his office than you're not.

"if we get caught—" he starts, breathless.

"it's your fault. stop kissing me like you’re too lazy to drive us home," you cut him off, sliding your hands into his hair.

"i’m not built for scandal," he breathes against your mouth.

"you’re wearing an eyepatch, anaxagoras."

"...it’s academic."

"so is this," you say tilting his head back, climbing into his lap as your hand loosens his tie. "let me study you."

"you’ve been reading the same sentence for five minutes," he murmurs.

you don’t look up; your head is resting against your palm, pen slack between your fingers. "because it says 'therefore, subjectivity is inherently sus'."

anaxagoras blinks. "they submitted that in ink?"

"typed," you sigh. "with a footnote that just says 'as per amongus'."

he leans over, eyes scanning the page, then: "…expel them," flatly.

"i can’t expel them."

"i can."

"you teach philosophy, not moral hygiene."

"same thing, if you ask the right philosopher."

you're sprawled on the old couch in his office, shoes off, his coat folded under your head, flipping through his notes. your eyes hurt. you flip the papers upside down.

"you really wrote a thirty-page rebuttal on the concept of divine intervention just because i said some gods might have been hot?"

"you said apollo could get it in front of our students."

"and you wrote a philosophical hitpiece," you counter.

"i cited my sources," anaxa grumbles, tired.

"you are absolutely insane."

"we're pretty much equal in terms of that, i believe."

he brings you coffee exactly how you like it before every morning seminar. you make his lecture slides look presentable. you pass post-it notes through interdepartmental mail—yours are gold-trimmed, his are so painfully neat. once, someone intercepted one. it just said:

'you were right about that footnote. bring your smugness and your mouth to my office at five. i need to be convinced again.'

you're reading in the living room. anaxa's half-asleep next to you, head on your lap, one hand absently tracing lazy circles on your thigh.

"what are you annotating now?" he murmurs.

"your latest essay."

"and?"

"you cited yourself fourteen times."

"i trust my sources."

you hum. "sure you do."

"if we were set to constantly teach a class together," anaxa says quietly, "we’d probably get fired."

you yawn. "i think we’d start a cult."

"that too. if we didn't already."

a hum. “a sexy cult."

he laughs, soft and tired and you want to kiss him until your lips remember his skin for the rest of your life. "you’re the one who brings up sex every time we talk about curriculum."

"it’s integral to ethics and aesthetics."

"and not philosophy?"

"it is philosophy," you grumble. "do you talk about pleasure in your lectures?"

he pauses. "…not directly."

"coward."

he squeezes your hand. "i love you."

"i know," you say. "even if your syllabus doesn’t include eros."

he smiles into your hair. "next semester."