#anyway did i write this instead of writing my bachelor's thesis? yes i did :)))
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Language Learning Through Immersion: One Year Japanese Update
11/03/2021
I did it, you guys! I’ve successfully reached my very first year of Japanese language immersion! I honestly thought that I would have given up by now, but this really has been a fun and ultimately rewarding endeavor.
Studying the language has been at the back of my mind for years since elementary school, I just never really knew how to go about it before, and I always thought that I could learn it in a classroom setting someday. That someday for me was in two elective courses in university, and while those were fun as well, it did not give me the same gains that I have achieved in this past year.
It’s probably easier to quantify learning a language in a classroom setting, especially when going through a program to earn a language degree. Learning through immersion, however, I had to really consider what my goals should be on my own. Eventually, I stumbled upon an article saying that for an English speaker, Japanese was exceptionally difficult to learn and that at least 2,200 hours must be spent with the language to reach a certain level of proficiency. So I said to myself, “well okay internet, if you say so!”, and set that as my long term goal going forward.
Spoiler Alert: I did not hit that goal in my first year. I am not crazy and will never listen to Japanese in my sleep regardless of what Khatzumoto (the creator of All Japanese All the Time) says.
I did, however, hit a total 1,226.65 active immersion hours in my first year, so I guess I’m still a bit nuts. That is 874.96 hours of active listening and 351.69 reading hours. I also did 270.59 hours of passive listening, also known as the time in the very beginning of my immersion where I was using Japanese subtitles (therefore not really concentrating on listening alone). That’s a cumulative 1,497.24 hours spent with Japanese. That’s more than halfway towards my goal!
To further break that down for curious animanga fans out there, that’s 973 episodes from 109 anime, 765 episodes from 33 dramas, 7 movies, and 967 chapters from 107 volumes of manga (21 series). Here’s my anilist and mydramalist to see what I’ve read/watched.
During all this, I was also doing my daily Anki reps and now I have a 530 day SRS streak (includes the time prior starting immersion and only doing RTK and some vocabulary cards) and a total 8,857 sentence cards. I’ve been averaging 406 cards daily (because I’m trying to cure my leeches) and I spend about an hour per day doing reps and learning new cards. I don’t really track my time on Anki, but I do have a set timer that goes off after 1-1:30 hours.
What I haven’t touched upon at all is output. I have not gone out of my way to find a tutor or a language partner. There’s still plenty of input out there to immerse in before I even consider outputting.
Graphs, stats, and more thoughts:
Here's my current card count in my main deck (minus the cards in my new/learning queue and leeches I've been relearning which are in separate decks):
That one day in 2019 where I did not do my cards because I was seriously doubting whether I can actually stick with language learning this time around will forever haunt and inspire me to keep going everyday.
Workflow and Tips
You might be wondering, how do I have a lot of time? I started this whole endeavor in the middle of a pandemic, which eliminated the option of me going to a language school, and a slew of other things I were considering doing last year became impossible (and if anything, very scary to do in a pandemic). All I can say is that, things work out eventually if it is His will, and if I can learn a skill before everything properly settles back down again, then why not?
I wake up at 5 in the morning everyday to either do my Anki reps or read until the time when I need to get up and I listen to compressed audio throughout the day. The biggest tip is to switch the time you spend watching/reading in your native language to your target language instead. Listen to a podcast during your commute, watch an episode during lunch break, read before going to bed, do your Anki reps in the bathroom if you have to.
But, if you’re feeling burnt out, there is no reason for you to not take a break! I have been watching a lot of Among Us streams before bed, and I chat with my friends from time to time. Language learning is not a race.
More Stats
Here are a couple of grids of the kanji characters that I have encountered at least once in my immersion and how well I have answered them in my vocabulary/sentence cards.
It's interesting that after almost 9000 words, I have yet to encounter every single character from the Remembering the Kanji 1 (RTK 1) book by James Heisig, which teaches you the most common use characters that are part of the 常用漢字. Which brings me to the question, was writing down every single character being taught in RTK worth it every time it came up in my reviews for the first 3-ish months I was reviewing them? Maybe, maybe not. It certainly removed my anxiety whenever looking at blocks of text in Japanese, but the longer I think about it, the more I feel I should have switched to Recognition RTK earlier. Still, being able to write in proper stroke order is cool I guess, and it also helps me when looking things up in the dictionary.
Here’s the same grid but in JLPT order:
I clearly need to grind those N2 and N1 level cards! Speaking of which, I have apparently almost covered every single character that could possibly appear in the JLPT (except for the N1 which I have only covered half of) in just a year's time. If the JLPT word frequency lists I’m using are accurate, I have about 2,000 words more to go to to cover most vocabulary that could appear in the test. This makes the "10,000 sentences/words to fluency" argument a reasonable milestone to aim for for Japanese learners if said aim is only to pass the test. That said, 10,000 words is just that, a milestone. It's more akin to a comfortable level of comprehension, but not my own concept of fluency which is being able to read with ease, speak articulately, and write comfortably.
READING IMMERSION GRAPHS
My biggest motivation for tracking my stats is for the purpose of seeing whether my reading speed is improving over time. Reading speed is also easier to measure than listening comprehension which is kind of subjective, so I had a lot of fun making these. What I found is that for the first volume or chapter of whatever it is I’m reading, I always take the time to get used to the writing style of the author. My speed really improves whenever I keep reading the same topic over and over again. On the other hand and quite obviously, looking up many new words in a row and trying to parse sentences slows me down.
Manga: Reading Speed Progression per Volume
I clearly love ちはやふる and I am not ashamed to admit it.
I need to start reading longer manga. When I do, I’ll probably split this graph into less than and greater than 20 volumes. Imagine if I start reading something ridiculously long as 名探偵コナン or ワンピース, these graphs will start breaching the bounds of time and space.
Novels: Time Spent Reading per Chapter
#neverforget the time I read chapter six of Norwegian Wood for 9 hours when it took me less than half that time in English RIP. Also, my interest in Kitchen plummeted LOL. Still planning to finish it don’t worry.
I also need to start branching away from manga and start reading more novels and light novels, too just so I can make more pretty graphs.
Visual Novels: Time Spent Reading and Daily Word Count
Also known as images that clearly show that I’ve already spent several days only reading the prologue of Island. I’m not sweating. 切那 needs to stop using words I don’t know in succession. More thoughts on this VN far into the future.
Thoughts on Immersion
I can’t really say anything else other that that it works for me, and needless to say if you’re considering this method, remember that the SRS is your friend but immersion should be your one true love.
Prior to all this, I couldn’t even read a sample paragraph from Genki without being confused to my very soul. Yes, I know, it’s embarrassing, but that’s the truth. I was way more scared of failing my Japanese classes than my actual thesis for my bachelors degree, I kid you not. I would quite literally spend all my free time in university trying to understand grammar, memorize vocabulary, and answer my workbook exercises with little to no success.
I tried so hard to get all the grammar “formulas” into my head for 1.5 years and it only brought me more confusion. I’m never going back to traditional classroom study for language learning, but I will still refer to grammar books when I need to, and not because I feel like I need to answer 4783342 different workbook exercises like my life depended on it.
I still can’t believe it, but with immersion this statement is actually true to a point, don’t try shadowing anime/or calling your boss anime language slurs, use your common sense:
study anime to understand Japanese > study Japanese to understand anime
Future Goals/Plans
2,200 immersion hours was my initial goal, but honestly I feel like that number could be much higher. There’s still a lot of stuff I don’t understand (news, politics, sciences, etc.), so I’ll make attempts to cover more of those things in my immersion.
I’ll continue reading more, because that’s a natural SRS in itself. Try to read longer manga, more novels, visual novels, and light novels, and maybe news articles.
I’ll try to mine as much “JLPT vocab” as I can before making any attempts at taking the JLPT. I noticed that a lot of the words I know don’t appear in the JLPT word lists as much, even though they appear a lot in media/daily conversation.
Continue mining all words I don’t know because all words are useful anyway. There is no such thing as useless words. I never really understood mining only “interesting words” or words that “pop up” in your immersion. As I said in my previous blog post, 美人局 is an interesting word and I certainly caught it being said in my immersion, but in the three languages I know, I wouldn’t know when I would be able to use such a word, as compared to something like ジャガイモ which is a significantly less interesting word, but is certainly useful to know.
_
I have managed to talk up a storm, but if you have any questions regarding my process or recommendations for new immersion material, please feel free to send an ask/reply to this post. I love hearing about other people’s language learning/immersion journeys.
See you on my next post!
#language learning#japanese language#language acquisition#study blog#langblr#studyblr#graphs#language immersion#japanese#visual novels#manga#novels#anime#dramas#movies#youtube#podcasts
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From the Desk Of...
Summary: The mandatory class you’re forced to take this semester is enough to make you consider dropping out of college. The only thing that makes it bearable is your teacher: Professor Duncan Shepherd. He’s smart, handsome, witty, and, not to mention, twenty years your senior.
Word Count: 5500 (I am so sorry)
A/N: So I’m totally going to hell for this. Cannot believe my longest oneshot on here is now an older!professor!Duncan fic. You’ll recognize the first part of this from a blurb I wrote a couple of weeks ago. Anyways, warnings for age gap, questionable place to have sex, sex, student-teacher relationship, mentions of cum, daddy kink, yeah that’s it.
Political science was not something that interested you at all, nor was it something that was even remotely related to your major. Your college made it a requirement that students take at least one class not related to their major, and unfortunately for you, the only class that fit your schedule this semester was American Politics. And boy, is it a boring class. You could be learning something that you actually care about, furthering your education and gaining new skills to use in your intended career. Instead, you’re stuck sitting in a classroom for fifty minutes a day, three days a week, being forced to learn about the Framers and how it relates to politics today. The only thing that makes the class bearable is him.
Professor Duncan Shepherd is incredibly smart, enigmatic, witty, and not to mention extremely attractive. He’s tall, with a pair of piercing blue eyes that easily pin you to your seat whenever he glances your way. Sometimes you have to physically hold yourself back from running your hands through his perfectly-styled chestnut hair, and you’ve spent countless hours imagining how his salt and pepper beard would feel against your inner thighs. How cliche, right? You have a crush on your professor. Your older professor, at that.
Yes, you had Googled him, but that was before your first class with him! Who doesn’t look up their professors on the internet to make sure they’ve got good reviews? Instead of finding out on Rate My Professor that he graded really harshly or enjoyed debates about the Constitution (or whatever the fuck political science professors get excited about), you learned that the 40-year-old perpetual bachelor had taken a job teaching college students as a part of his plea deal after some scandal that had happened when you were a kid. Apparently he really enjoyed it, and left Washington’s inner circle to teach full-time.
Mr. Shepherd, in addition to being one of the hottest men you’ve ever seen, is also a damn good teacher. He was passionate, and believed that his students’ ideas were valid and just as good as his. Although the subject of political science didn’t interest you, the debates that you could hold with Mr. Shepherd about any political subject are some of the highlights of your week. You still can’t look at him for too long without turning red and having to look away, but you’re working on it. It’s only been a month, and hopefully soon you’ll be over this childish crush.
As you make your way to Mr. Shepherd’s office, you keep repeating over and over again in your head that you’re “over this little crush.” It’s not like you had wanted to be alone with him in his office, but the current essay you’re working on is kicking your ass. With the due date looming closer everyday, you decided it’s time to finally swallow your nerves and ask for help from your professor.
“Mr. Shepherd?” You ask, slipping in past his slightly-open office door. His office is exactly how you thought it would be: classy, scholarly, and organized. He looks up from his computer, and your heart skips a beat at the thick black frames perched on his strong nose.
“(Y/N), come in. Close the door behind you, please.” He smiles at you, and you have to bite back the urge to run out the way that you came in.
“Oh-uh, okay.” You stutter, lightly closing the door.
“We can keep it open if you’d like, I just prefer to have it closed when I’m meeting with students.” Duncan chuckles. You don’t notice the way that he bites his lip when he sees your face going bright red, or how his eyes linger on the swell of your ass when you go to close the door.
“No, that’s fine!” You gratefully sit in the chair opposite his desk, thankful to not be supporting yourself on your shaky legs. Unizpping your backpack, you busy yourself with grabbing your laptop so you don’t have to look him in the eye.
How disgusting, Duncan chides himself when he can’t stop staring at you. Having a crush on your student? Of all the creepy things you’ve done, this has to top the list. She’s twenty years younger than you! She could be your daughter!
He tries to reason with himself, but the thought of the age gap only makes his attraction for you grow. Duncan can already feel himself swelling inside his slacks, and he grits his teeth and tries to think about the weather instead.
“So, you had mentioned in your email that you’re having a little trouble with writing your midterm paper?” He clears his throat, taking his glasses off so he can better see your (beautiful) face.
“Yeah, I just-I have my thesis statement, but that’s basically the only thing I have. I have no clue what sources to use to support it.”
Duncan nods, relieved that this is something he can use to distract himself. Gesturing for you to put the laptop on his desk, you both fall into the complexities of writing a good essay. Even after he helps you find sources that would fit well with your paper, you don’t leave. Instead the conversation shifts, easily changing from schoolwork to news from today.
You’re very smart, Duncan notices. He’s known that you’re smart; your tests and papers have proved as much. But the way that you talk, your ideas and viewpoints, rival the intelligence of many of his colleagues and friends. Soon enough, two hours have passed since you first set foot into his office. The sky has long-since darkened, and neither of you realize how late it is until Duncan glances at the clock.
“I apologize, (Y/N). I kept you here far later than you had probably intended to be here.” You smile bashfully, looking down at your hands, and Duncan’s own heart skips a beat at the sight.
“Oh that’s fine, Mr. Shepherd. If I hadn’t been here, I’m sure I would have just been back at my dorm.”
“Please, call me Duncan.” Your eyes widen, and you look at him with a raised eyebrow.
“Funny, I specifically remember you telling everybody that you were only to be called ‘Mr. Shepherd’ and nothing else.”
Duncan has a split-second to decide on what to say and do. He could lie, tell you that he only lets students who actually put an effort into his class call him Duncan. Or he could tell you the truth, that he likes you (but just conveniently leave out the part where it’s more than platonic). He makes his decision, and sends out a prayer to whatever’s out there that it’s the right one.
“That’s true, I did say that. But you, (Y/N), can call me Duncan.” A deep blush paints your cheeks, and Duncan has to bite back a groan at the angelic sight.
“O-okay…Duncan.”
“My name’s never sounded as nice as it does coming out of your mouth.” The words slip past Duncan’s inner filter before he can even think, and his heart sinks when you gasp. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have-”
“Is that what you like? You like it when I say your name, Duncan?” Duncan’s eyes are the size of saucers, and they darken a shade as he stares at you. It doesn’t help that you look so goddamn innocent, looking up at him through your lashes and just barely holding back a smile.
The next few moments pass by in a blur. You stare each other down, both silently asking the other if they’re feeling the same feelings. Suddenly, Duncan surges over the desk and grabs your face in his large hands. If you thought that the kisses you’ve had before were good, the one that you’re currently sharing with Duncan cannot even compare. He’s extremely skilled, his tongue working your mouth open and exploring every inch of you. You can’t help but to groan loudly, finally getting to tangle your hands in his beautiful hair.
When you both realize the taboo of your actions, a teacher kissing his much-younger student and vice versa, you spring apart.
“Oh my god, we shouldn’t have done that! I’m so sorry!” You apologize profusely, lips swollen and face flustered. Duncan only smirks at you, crossing his arms over his chest.
“What, you didn’t want that?”
“No, I did, but it’s so wrong! I just-I need to go.” Duncan didn’t think it was possible for you to blush more, but your face gets redder in embarrassment as you start throwing your things in your bag. Yanking a spare sheet of paper out, you scribble something on it and fold it up before throwing it on his desk. “Thanks for your help, Mr. Shepherd.” You squeak, slamming the door behind you.
Duncan sighs, running a hand through his disheveled hair as he thinks about what just happened. He almost starts to regret making a move on you until he picks up the paper you had thrown on his desk. A grin spreads across his face when he realizes what you wrote down: your phone number.
Stupid. What a stupid, stupid, stupid move move on your part. Not only did you kiss your much-older professor and run away right after, but you also decided to leave your phone number on his desk! Who does that? You do, apparently, but that’s not the point right now. The fact that you feel sad when you periodically check your phone through the rest of the night, only to see no notifications from Mr. Shepherd--no, Duncan--mildly sickens you. You’re really that cliche girl who gets a crush on her teacher now. What makes you think that he even wants a college student? You’re sure that there’s plenty of beautiful men and women his own age who throw themselves at him. Tossing and turning all night, you can still feel his scratchy beard and full lips against your own.
The next day, you’re considering just skipping Duncan’s class. It’s a Friday, after all, and you’ve been really good at making an effort to show up to classes this semester instead of skipping. Skipping one day of class surely wouldn’t hurt your grade, but it would also just prove that you really are a coward who couldn’t handle having shared a kiss with an older man. So, no matter how much you’re dreading the next hour, you still get ready and trudge towards Political Science.
It’s a small miracle that Duncan’s talking to another student when you slink through the door, making it impossible for him to try and talk to you. You take your seat in the middle of the room, immediately opening up your laptop and making it look like you’re busy with some sort of work. You’re actually not, the Buzzfeed quizzes on your screen acting as a dead giveaway, but you’ll do anything right now to avoid having to look into his eyes. Even though you’re not looking at him, you can still feel the exact moment that his eyes lock onto you. Your shoulders stiffen when that familiar electric feeling courses through your body, the source of it all able to pick you apart and put you back together with a simple glance. Thankfully, class starts before he has a chance to approach you, forcing Duncan to stand at the front of the room and give his lecture.
The lecture today is actually mildly interesting, and the class passes by quickly. You’re not quite sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing, but you decide you’ll figure it out once you get out of class without having to interact with Duncan. Throwing your coat on, you slide your backpack over your shoulders and keep your head down while you power towards the door.
“(Y/N).” A commanding voice has you stopping in your tracks right before you can reach the door. Your classmates file around you, obviously miffed that you’re blocking the exit. Turning around slowly, you force a smile on your face and head to the teacher’s desk.
“Yes, Mr. Shepherd?” You ask quietly, picking at your nail instead of looking up at him.
“I know we ran out of time yesterday before you finished requiring my help on your paper,” you’re mildly confused for a moment before you hear the coughing of a student standing behind you who also has a question, “so if you’re available today and you still have some questions, you’re more than welcome to stop by my office after four. Alright?”
“I’ll keep that in mind. Thanks, Mr. Shepherd.” You look up at him, automatically blushing when your eyes meet his, before hurrying out the door.
Although you’re tempted to lurk around campus, it’s only two o’clock. If you do decide to take Duncan up on his offer, you want to at least get ready and wear something that isn’t a baggy college sweatshirt and a pair of leggings. Sitting on your bed at home, you stare at the wall while you think about what just happened.
Surely Duncan’s offer to ‘help you with your paper’ meant that he didn’t regret the events that happened last night, right? Unless...maybe he did regret it. Maybe he wants to speak to you and let you know that he’ll be failing you due to what occurred in his office. What if he reports you to the Dean for coming onto him like that? You were the one who teased him, after all, calling him by his first name and asking him what he ‘liked.’ The idea of getting in trouble for one stupid lapse in judgement makes your palms extremely sweaty and your chest tighten. The ever-increasing speed of your thoughts is interrupted by your phone chiming next to you.
‘I really do hope you take me up on my offer. I look forward to seeing you. -D’
You gasp in excitement, falling back on your bed and re-reading the text since your brain doesn’t want to believe that this is actually happening. There’s no doubt in your mind now that Duncan wanted last night just as much as you did, and if the same trains of thought apply tonight, you’re both expecting the same things. Opening up the middle drawer of your dresser and pushing past all of the t-shirts you sleep in, your hands drift over the silky materials at the bottom.
The lingerie had been a spur-of-the-moment decision. You had originally gone to Victoria’s Secret intending to just get some new panties (because who can pass up their semi-annual sale?), and had come across a pretty pink babydoll piece that had accidentally been placed with the wrong items. Something stopped you when you went to toss it to the side, making you pause and feel the fabric between your fingers. You had never owned a set of lingerie before; any of the boys you had even managed to make it to second base with, which is very few, cared less about what you were wearing and more about what was under your clothes. Still, the idea of lingerie intrigues you. Even if you don’t have a man to wear it for, just the thought of wearing such risque undergarments under your clothes while going about your regular day sounds exciting. Plus, sometimes a girl likes to feel sexy for herself.
In the end, you had bought three different sets: a sheer bra and panty set, the pink babydoll piece (which you wore to bed when you needed some self-esteem and self-love), and a lacy teddy. Although all of the pieces are different, they all make you feel sexy, powerful, and confident. But, that was always when you were wearing it just for you. No man had ever seen you in lingerie (jesus, had it really been that long since you got laid?), and the confidence that you normally feel in lingerie starts to be replaced with some doubt. Would Duncan like the lingerie or would he think it’s cheap; like some little girl trying to play dress-up?
You grab the bra and panties before you can change your mind, slipping them on and staring at yourself in the mirror to make sure you’ve got it on right. While you want to look nice for Duncan, you don’t want to look too nice. After a few minutes in front of your closet, you decide on a pair of jeans and a plain t-shirt, a comfy cardigan completing the look. You’re not too pleased with your final outfit, but you know that if you don’t leave now, you’re never leaving.
“Now or never.” You mutter, swiping some chapstick on your lips and fixing your hair before walking out the door.
You deliberately wait to enter Duncan’s office until 4:05. Not too late, but also not early or on-time. Knocking politely, you wait a moment before opening his door.
“Mr. Shepherd?” You’re a little nervous that he’ll already have a student in here, but you only see him. Those glasses that somehow manage to make Duncan look even more distinguished are perched on his nose while he types away on his computer. Once you call his name he stands, closing the computer and placing his glasses on top.
“(Y/N), come in please.” You don’t need him to tell you to close the door this time, but he still walks out from behind his desk. “I’m glad that you decided to meet me.”
“Sorry if I was...uh, awkward...in class today.” You apologize sheepishly.
“That’s alright, I figured that’s how it would be. You did leave here very abruptly yesterday.”
When the blush spreads from your cheeks to your neck, Duncan can’t help but to smile. It’s endearing to him how utterly flustered you get when in his presence, all of your stuttering and blushing only making him want to take you in his arms and never let you go.
“Sorry about that.” You repeat.
“You don’t have to keep apologizing, you did nothing wrong.” He chuckles. “Listen, before we do anything besides standing here and talking, I want to make sure that you are comfortable with this.”
“Yeah, I’m comfortable.” You nod your head jerkily, and Duncan frowns slightly.
“That was one of the most unconvincing answers I’ve heard in a while.” He teases you, if only to watch you flush and dip your head. “(Y/N), do you want this as much as I do?”
“I do want...whatever this is gonna be.” You still won’t look Duncan in the eyes for too long, so he takes your chin and lifts your head so you have no choice but to look at him.
“Why are you hiding from me, then?”
You shrug, but he can see that his touch has an immediate effect on you. Your eyes are dilated and your lips part to let shaky breaths out. You’re drawn in, subconsciously tilting your head to try and feel his touch on your cheek. Duncan can tell just how inexperienced you are. If you have had sex, it’s likely been with boys your own age, ones who only know how to fuck in missionary and cum within minutes. He doubts a boy has even made you cum before, which is a true shame. Duncan Shepherd, however, is not a boy.
He’s a man.
A man who can tell just how desperate you are to let go of control. A man who can tell that you want an older, more experienced man to teach you and guide you. A man who knows you want to be taken care of, and who wants to take care of you. A man who can help bring you intense pleasure, the likes of which you’ve never felt before.
Your bodies are drawn closer together while you look up at him with wide eyes, unintentionally batting your eyelashes towards him. The innocence that radiates off of you is enough to make Duncan already hard at the thought of all of the possibilities. He wants nothing more than to rip your clothes off and mark all up and down your body. He wants you on your knees, pretty mouth wide open while he paints your face with his seed. He wants to fuck you anywhere and everywhere, and to let everyone know that you’re his.
“Don’t be shy.” He whispers, leaning his face closer to yours.
This kiss is just as good, if not better than the one that you shared yesterday. Duncan pushes you against the door, tongue running against your bottom lip while you tangle your hands in his hair. He smirks against your lips when the stubble of his beard rubs against your cheek and makes you whine out. His hands are all over you, leaving trails of fire in their wake before they settle on your hips. Eventually you pull away for air, biting your lip when you see Duncan’s swollen lips.
“We should probably lock the door.”
You mutter, breathing deeply in an attempt to stop your head from spinning. Duncan nods, running his hand through his hair while he reaches around you to lock the door. The only window in his office is one that overlooks the science building, and the blinds on that have been closed since before you arrived. Duncan grabbing your hand pulls you out of your thoughts, as well as straight into his chest. Your hands fly up, landing against his solid muscle. When you look up at him, he’s staring at you with a look you’ve never seen someone have towards you--it’s more than attraction, and while there’s definitely lust, you can feel a softer emotion there too. His lips claim yours again for a moment, Duncan barely pulling back so he can speak.
“Jump.” He commands, large hands cupping your ass.
It’s impossible for you to ignore his request, and you wrap your legs around his waist while you take the lead and kiss him again. He walks towards what you’re assuming is his desk, not even needing to open his eyes to know where he’s going. His hair’s incredibly soft, you muse when you find your hands tangled in his locks once again. Duncan takes your distraction as an opportunity to seize control again, squeezing your ass harshly. When your mouth opens in a gasp he slips his tongue inside, expertly curling it around yours. He removes one of his hands from around you to sweep the papers off of his desk, leaving you momentarily impressed at his strength.
Once Duncan sets you down on the desk he pulls away, making you pout exaggeratedly. You slip your fingers into the top of his slacks, using his belt to pull him towards you. When your hands start to undo the buttons on his shirt, he gently takes your hands in his.
“What?” You ask, staring up at him with wide eyes.
“This is all about you. Let me take care of you, (Y/N).”
Duncan’s own hands find the hem of your shirt, gently pulling on it while he waits for your signal. The second you nod he’s pulling it over your head, a low groan forcing its way out of his throat at the sight. He’s entirely too eager when he unbuttons your jeans to pull them off of your legs, making you giggle. Duncan’s eyes rake over your body, and he takes a step back just so he can fully take in the sight.
“Matching bra and panties? You little minx! Did you do this for me, (Y/N)?”
“Do you like it?” Duncan can see how desperate you are for his approval, which makes his knees weak. He can’t help but to give you an approving kiss, nodding.
“Of course I do, princess.” He’s not really sure where the pet name comes from, but the moan you make after he calls you by it is all he needs to know. “You know I’m gonna have to take this pretty set off, though.”
“Do it, please.” You say softly in his ear, looping your arms around his neck.
Duncan easily unclasps your bra, removing your hands from him so that it can slide off of your arms. Once bare, you’re suddenly self-conscious: what if he doesn’t like what’s under the wrapping? When you try to slyly cross your arms over your chest, he catches on immediately.
“Don’t hide yourself from me.” His hands, which you’re quickly becoming infatuated with, gently pry your arms away from your chest. His intense gaze has you turning red again, but the open-mouthed kisses he starts laying on your neck and trailing down towards your chest erase any thoughts of self-consciousness from your mind.
“Duncan, I-” A broken moan cuts off what you were trying to say when he lightly bites down on the skin above your collarbone, sucking until he’s satisfied with the quickly-forming bruise.
He continues leaving bruises down your body, fingers tweaking and teasing your nipples. Your head is thrown back towards the ceiling while your hands grip the edge of his desk, hips bucking up while you attempt to gain some sort of friction. Duncan smirks against the swell of your breasts when he notices your impatience, lithe fingers ghosting against the top of your panties while he surges back up to kiss you. You lift yourself off of the desk for a moment, allowing Duncan to hook his fingers into your waistband and drag the fabric off of your body. Even though you’re completely exposed now, the hungry way he looks at you makes it impossible for you to feel shy.
“You’re beautiful, (Y/N).” He says, placing both hands on his thighs while he looks at you earnestly. You’re almost taken aback at the compliment; you’ve been called things like cute, hot, and pretty before, but never beautiful. A goofy smile pops onto your face, making Duncan chuckle softly. “You are.”
You didn’t need the reassurement, but it certainly doesn’t hurt to continuously be called beautiful by the most handsome man you’ve ever seen in your life. You watch with rapt attention as Duncan sinks to his knees in front of you, using the hands on your thighs to spread your legs apart for him. He licks his lips when he sees your glistening cunt, once again looking up at you to make sure you’re okay with what he’s going to do. His head delves between your thighs when you let him know it’s okay, and you can’t help but to toss your head back when his lips attach around your clit.
You cry out, toes curling at the electricity sending shockwaves through your body immediately. When you manage to focus long enough to glance down, Duncan’s staring up at you intently, watching your facial expressions while he goes down on you. You’ve never even had anyone go down on you, much less a man as experienced as Duncan. His tongue curls around your bud while he alternates between sucking and drawing shapes. When Duncan’s fingers slip into your already soaking pussy, you have to throw a hand over your mouth to stifle the yell of his name. Stars explode across your vision as Duncan bites down on your clit, sending you hurtling off the edge and into your orgasm. You chant his name like a prayer, toes curling while you shake around him.
Duncan has to hold you up when you come down from your high, eyes unfocused and breathing erratically. He coos in your ear the entire time, telling you how you’re such a good girl for him and how you taste so sweet. You’ve barely recovered from the intensity of your orgasm before you’re reaching for his belt, leaning up to kiss the taste of yourself off of his mouth.
“You sure you can handle it?” Duncan looks at you in concern. One orgasm and you already look utterly fucked out which, while it’s certainly a pretty sight, he doesn’t want you to overdo it.
“Please Duncan, I need you inside me.” You whimper, fingers shaking too much to properly unbuckle his belt.
Duncan’s hands cover yours while he removes his belt for you, easily sliding his slacks down his legs and unbuttoning his shirt. He’s painfully hard against his briefs, and precum has caused a small spot to form on the front of them. You don’t even realize your hand darts out to grip his erection until Duncan hisses from the squeeze you give it. When he finally frees his cock, you stare in awe. Although not the longest you’ve ever seen, he’s incredibly thick, and the prominent vein on the side makes your mouth water.
“Are you ready?” Duncan asks. You nod, and huff out a groan when he still doesn’t move.
“Yes, I’m ready.” He’s satisfied at your answer, and kisses you deeply before pulling away.
Duncan pulls you to the very edge of the desk, placing one hand on your hip while he gives his cock a couple of quick strokes. He lines himself up with your entrance before pushing in slowly. You groan as he goes as slow as he possibly can, but you can tell it’s taking all that he has to keep from slamming himself into you. When he finally bottoms out, the unfamiliar fullness of it all has you sobbing. Tears run down your face, and Duncan looks bewildered for a moment. Until he hears your moans mixed in, he thought he had hurt you. The self-satisfactory smirk that appears on his face upon knowing that he’s made you feel something you’ve never felt before is stifled as he bites his lip, pulling you against his chest and whispering in your ear.
“You’re doing so good, baby girl. Don’t worry, I’ll be right here. I won’t move until you’re absolutely ready.” It doesn’t take too long for your sobs to quiet to soft whimpers, and for you to pull your head away from his chest and nod.
“Move, please.” You request.
Duncan doesn’t need to be told twice, pulling all the way out before thrusting right back in. You’re tight, tighter than he’s experienced in a long while, and he can already feel the familiar tendrils of an orgasm starting to form. Although the pace he sets is fast, his thrusts are still gentle while he makes sure that your needs are being met too. Your mouth is open as moans try to form, but you’re so out of breath that they only come out as gasps. No words are spoken for a few minutes, the office being filled instead with the sound of skin slapping against skin and various noises of pleasure. The rhythm of Duncan’s thrusts is starting to become erratic as he nears his orgasm, and he can tell by the way that you’re clenching around him that you’re close, too.
“Please Daddy, I’m so close!” You both still after the words slip out of your mouth, eyes flying open as you stare at Duncan. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry. I don’t know where-”
You’re cut off by Duncan slamming back into you, the words filling him with a newfound vigor.
“Are you gonna cum for Daddy?” He growls, hair flopping in front of his eyes.
You can only nod, your moan stifled when Duncan holds his fingers up to your mouth and forces them in. You suck on them eagerly, eyelids fluttering while you groan around his thick digits. He pulls them out of your mouth and pressing them harshly against your clit. The tears have started up again by now as the overstimulation starts to set in, and Duncan periodically licks them off of your face.
“Cum around Daddy’s cock, won’t you baby girl?” Duncan pleads.
The words send you over the edge for the second time, and your nails rake down Duncan’s back as you attempt to grasp onto anything to help ground you. You’re still twitching from the aftershocks of your orgasm, not even registering as Duncan pulls out of you and gently slides you off of the desk and onto your knees. It’s only when you feel the head of his cock against your lips that you look up at him, obediently opening your mouth for him. Duncan comes with a low groan, jerking himself off into your mouth. His salty cum fills your mouth, and there’s so much that a little bit manages to dribble onto your chin. You swallow anyways, wiping your hand across your mouth to collect anything else that dripped out.
Duncan falls onto the floor next to you, pulling you into his arms. Your naked bodies are both slick with sweat, and the cool air coming from the vents is a welcome relief. When your breathing’s normalized finally, Duncan grips your chin and has you look up at him. You smile tiredly, enjoying how dark his blue eyes have gotten.
“What do you say?” He asks you.
“...Thank you, Daddy.”
Tag List: @sebastianshoe @queencocoakimmie @trimbooohgodplsnoooo @let-me-try-mom @sammythankyou @pastel-cloudz @nana15774 @divinelangdon@lichellaw @sammythankyou @ultragibbycentralworld @grim-adventures58@dandycandy75 @alexcornerblog @everything-is-awesomesauce @khaleesimel@sloppy-little-witch-bitch26 @langdonslove @heda-mikaelson @readsalot73@jimmlangdon @lvngdvns @wroteclassicaly @ccodyfern @venusxxlangdon @heylolitahey13 @langdonsdemon @divinelangdon @rocketgirl2410 @duncan-sojourn @michaelsapostle
#Duncan Shepherd#duncan shepherd smut#Older!Duncan#Duncan Shepherd imagine#Duncan Shepherd imagines#hoc#house of cards#Michael langdon#Michael Langdon imagine
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Happy Days - Dramatical Murder Fic
Title: Happy Days
Pairing: Mink/Clear
Rating: G
Word Count: 2475
Summary: When the Oval Tower collapsed Clear felt uneasy. He didn’t exactly understand why, and he didn’t expect it would be Mink who stayed behind and helped him figure it out. Clear also didn’t expect that this day would mark the beginning of the happiest time of his life.
Tags: Fluff, Family Feels, Mink has a little son and Clear absolutely adores him.
A/N: It’s been ages, but I promised one lucky person who supported me by filling out my bachelor thesis survey a little request fic.
The moment I first read that request I knew this was going to be a challenge. I have never written a family fic before. I have never written Mink/Clear before! It’s honestly a pairing I never even considered lol
I’m sorry, it’s so short despite the eternity it took me to write it!
This is for @qinsei! I hope you enjoy, even if it isn’t exactly as you described xD
Happy Days
They had accomplished what they had set out to do.
Everyone was eager to return to their homes in Midorijima, but they couldn’t help one last look upon the remains of the Oval Tower, as if needing to convince themselves of the fact that it was really over, that the people were free of Toue’s reign.
There was no trace of Toue himself, or the people who had worked for him. Even if some had survived the fall, it was unlikely they would ever return.
Satisfied with what they saw Aoba and most of the group left, only Clear’s gaze remained transfixed on the tower’s ruins. There was a… feeling within him that he could not place. He had worked with the others towards a common goal, and yet the view presented to him left him feeling unsatisfied, unsettled even, and he remained frozen to the spot.
Clear thought he was alone until a shadow fell over him as Mink stepped up to stand next to him. In any other situation Clear would use the moment to voice his amazement at how tall the man was, blocking the sun like that, but for some reason his throat constricted and no words were forthcoming.
Silence reigned and Clear expected Mink to leave at any moment, but he didn’t. After an undetermined amount of time Mink spoke up: “You helped free these people.”
There was no hint of emotion in his words that would make it easier for Clear to understand why he chose to say that. Confused he could only look up at the other man instead.
He could see Mink watching him out of the corner of his eyes, but he didn’t turn to look at Clear directly.
There was a pause in which silence settled over them once more. Clear watched the minute changes of Mink’s expression, realizing that the other man was thinking about something, though Clear had no idea what it might be.
After a while Mink straightened, not looking at Clear at all as he voiced his next words, words so sudden and unexpected they froze Clear to his core: “Don’t you think it’s time for you to be free as well?”
The words processed in his mind, but they made no sense to him, or rather there was so much they could possibly mean that Clear had no idea what the most fitting response here was supposed to be.
‘I don’t understand. I am free.’
But the words vanished before they could ever leave his mouth.
He shook his head inwardly. There was no way Mink could know what was going on inside Clear’s mind right now, what unsettled him so that he found himself incapable of leaving the Oval Tower behind him for good. Clear had held steadfast onto his grandfather’s words. No one knew because no one was allowed to know.
Realizing he would get no response Mink continued: “There is no one left to stop you, no one left to judge.”
There was no response in his mind, and yet his mouth opened, unprompted.
“I…” His voice quavered on that single syllable. “I was told I should never…”
“Who’s telling you that now?”
Clear paused, his eyes wide, though his mask hid his surprise from the world.
Mink wasn’t looking at him, wasn’t judging his reaction, his weakness. Instead he continued speaking calmly: “The evil haunting this island has vanished. The people are rejoicing. You should join them.”
“I…” Again, he did not get past that word without his voice abandoning him. “Is that really okay?”
Mink shrugged noncommittally.
“It’s up to you.”
Clear hesitated. Being offered a choice was new to him. He had always been free in a sense, free to go and do as he pleased. And yet, even without the “power” forcing him, he had always chosen to follow instructions rather than to deviate from them. When it came to his grandfather and Aoba he had known that they always meant well, so following them came naturally to him. He liked listening to them, to help them or even to make them happy.
But Mink was right. Clear’s grandfather had fled to escape Toue and passing away he had told Clear to stay hidden because he was different, recognizable.
But that didn’t hold true anymore, did it?
On the other hand it had never felt much like a restriction before, not until this very moment, when he was suddenly offered a choice.
“And if I wanted to…?”
Mink only offered another shrug, not commenting on the way Clear’s voice trembled.
“As I said: no one’s here to judge.”
Clear wavered. Could it really be that easy?
“O-okay…” he managed to say and somehow Mink’s nonchalance about the whole matter actually did make it okay, enough so that Clear slowly reached up to the clasp holding his mask in place.
Mink turned slightly toward him, but that remained the only indication that he was curious. His face remained carefully blank.
Clear’s fingers shook, about to falter in his decision. Clear took one deep breath and pulled the clasp open. He felt the mask come loose and reached up to lower it slowly, its weight multiplying in his hands the more of his face was revealed.
He clutched onto the mask until his fingers hurt, too afraid to open his eyes for what felt like hours but was probably only a few seconds. When he did open them the world suddenly seemed too bright and too much to bear, so he averted his eyes, turning to Mink instead.
Mink looked at him for only a moment with an expression of surprise on his face before quickly looking away, mumbling something incomprehensible. At least it would have been if Clear’s enhanced hearing didn’t allow him to understand every single word as it was muttered in exasperation: “Of course he wears a mask to hide his stupid face…”
Pain registered in Clear’s mind, though he was certain that he had not suffered any physical damage.
“It is… stupid…?”
His grandfather had said that it was different. Was that what he had meant?
Mink visibly tensed at having been heard and sighed exasperatedly, suddenly looking like this was the most unpleasant conversation he had ever been a part of. Doing his hardest to look anywhere but at Clear he added quietly: “Stupidly beautiful.”
Clear looked up startled, not sure if he had heard right. Mink wasn’t looking at him, but the faintest hint of red on his cheeks - possibly invisible to the human eye - told Clear more than thousand words might.
Clear returned to gaze at the ruins, a wide smile spreading on his lips, one he could not have refrained from even if he had wanted, and for the first time it was there for the whole world to see. It was only fitting, he thought, for this was probably the happiest day of his life.
- - -
Happy days continued to grace Clear’s life from that day on.
How else would it be possible that just a short twelve months later he was sitting in a lovely home with a little boy in his lap chattering happily about his daily adventures while Mink was in the kitchen working on dinner.
Naga was the light of his life: a beautiful boy of six years, always curious but well-behaved. The latter was definitely more Mink’s influence than Clear’s who didn’t even need convincing to talk and play all day long. It was so easy when every moment Naga was smiling Clear was hopelessly delighted as well.
Life was beautiful, life was perfect, in Clear’s eyes anyway.
“I saw a puppy on the way home! It was so cute! Hey, can I have a puppy, too, daddy?”
Even though the boy was still excitedly talking to Clear, he was clever enough to direct that question towards the kitchen from where Mink had just emerged.
Mink’s face remained carefully neutral, even though Clear was sure the question came as a surprise. This definitely was the first time Clear heard of the little boy wanting a pet.
“If you prove that you can take care of it, we can talk about it.”
“Really?” Naga’s eyes were as wide as saucers, still Mink remained earnest.
“Now go wash your hands, dinner is ready.”
“Yes, daddy!” Naga said quickly, dashing off Clear’s lap and down the hall, clearly motivated to prove that he could behave himself.
Mink sighed quietly once he was out of sight.
“We can have a puppy?” Clear asked, eyes probably just as wide as the little boy’s.
Mink looked at him, clearly exasperated.
“A pet isn’t a toy, it’s a lesson in taking responsibility,” he explained.
“And they are fluffy!” Clear added happily.
He still clearly remembered just how wonderfully fluffy Ren had been, though he also remembered that one evil dog that kept barking at him in Midorijima. He tried to forget about that in favor of being excited at the prospect of an own little puppy.
Mink sighed.
“Remind me that I will have to take care of it if Naga turns out to be too young for a pet.”
“But you don’t think that,” Clear said.
Mink was never one for empty words. If he said he would consider it then he already had good enough reason to think it would work.
“He’s a good boy, despite your influence.”
Clear’s eyes widened.
“That’s just mean, Mink-san!” he said pouting.
There was the faintest upturn to Mink’s lips, the man’s version of a soft smile.
“You also take good care of him, so I’m willing to overlook that,” he said, and had that been a joke…?
Clear’s surprise quickly melted into a smile of his own. Obviously Mink was in a good mood, and that simple fact was enough to make Clear happy, too.
- - -
Dinner was never a quiet affair in their little family. Naga was well-behaved, but he was also incredibly energetic and loved to talk, often much to Mink’s chagrin.
Once, just once, Mink had confided that he wished he knew how to handle the boy better. He didn’t want to seem cold, least of all to his son, but he was simply a quiet person by nature. Back with his gang “Scratch” his calm, commanding presence had been the only thing keeping everyone in line. Authority was important in a family, too, but so was trust and the ability to talk freely with each other. Mink wanted to provide that, but he wasn’t sure if he could.
Clear on the other hand, listening to Mink’s worries, couldn’t think of anything but Naga’s wide, excited eyes, about how much the boy loved and admired his father. So Clear had only laughed softly, and told him that there was nothing to worry about. Naga understood what his father was like, and that Mink seeming reserved at times didn’t mean that loved his son any less.
“Daddy?” Naga asked.
Mink looked up from his almost empty plate.
Clear and Naga had been keeping the conversation going when Mink had eventually withdrawn from it after a while. It seemed like a miracle that they both still managed to empty their plates before Mink did.
“What is it?”
The little boy’s gaze was fixed on the table, clearly hesitant to voice whatever was on his mind.
“Our teacher said there’s going to be a festival soon… can we go see it?” he asked, looking up with hopeful eyes.
Naga knew exactly that his father wasn’t a fan of any boisterous events that involved lots of people, and was thus visibly hesitant to even ask.
Mink threw a glance at Clear, looking as calm as ever, but Clear had learned to read the other man, and recognized the glance as a request for help.
“I’m sure Clear would love to go with you,” he said.
Naga clearly contemplated those words, shyly looking at the table once more.
“I know that,” he said, “I just… wanted all of us to go, together.”
Clear loved the little boy more than anything, there was no way he would be able to refuse a request like that, and even Mink seemed to deflate at those words, even if he still didn’t like the idea of visiting a festival.
He sighed.
“I’m sure we’ll find a day where we can go together then.”
“Really? Thank you, daddy!”
With that Naga got up and walked around the table to hug his father. Mink smiled, his hand coming to rest on his son’s back. It seemed almost massive compared to the little boy.
Naga pulled away after a moment, grinning broadly.
“I’ll go wash and go to bed now. Don’t stay up too late!” he declared before dashing off.
The boy really was too good for this world, and even Clear had to admit that there was no way that Naga had his manners from him.
“You said I was spoiling him yesterday,” Clear said cheekily, grinning at Mink.
There was the faintest hint of red on Mink’s cheeks that he hid behind his usual serious facade.
“I see no reason to deny him such an earnest request. It’s not like we go out together often,” Mink said, always the voice of reason.
He watched Clear’s continued grin in exasperation before he sighed. Clear looked at him curiously as Mink got up to approach Clear’s side of table.
Clear blinked at him as Mink leaned down, his tall form all but looming over him, and pressed a quick little kiss to his lips. Clear’s eyes widened, casual affection was such a rare thing coming from his partner, but when he finally found his voice again, Mink had already returned to his seat.
Mink smirked at him.
“You would better hurry. Don’t tell me you’ll let him go to bed without a lullaby.”
Clear just stared at him. Of course he wanted to put his little boy to bed, but he also wanted to figure out the reason for Mink’s rare, affectionate mood, if there even was one, but Naga-
Clear pushed back his chair and got up.
“I’ll be right back. Wait for me, Mink-san,” he said, hoping he would get the chance to do both as he hurried down the hall to the boy’s room.
As he did so he heard Mink chuckling, another, oh so rare thing, and Clear couldn’t help smiling.
In the end it probably didn’t matter. Clear was in no rush.
Mink and Naga would still be here tomorrow, and the day after, and hopefully far into the future.
With them at his side many more happy days were waiting for Clear. That alone brought a bright smile to his face as he sat down to sing for his little boy: a lullaby about a tower and how its fall had brightened the world.
- - - - - - - - - - -
The request actually had them visiting the festival as well but… that would have turned into a massive fic xD It’s already much longer than expected, oops.
If you enjoyed it regardless, reblog and/or leave a like^^
I’ll also “kind of” open commissions soon, so if you want a fic like this and challenge me with pairings I have never written before (xD) follow or message me for updates on that^^
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Kibum the Professor
Yeh it’s been a while but here you go~
Warnings: Smut after the cut so don’t continue reading if you’re uncomfortable with that
Tags: Professor AU, fluff, smut, side!jongtaeki
Thank you so much @minghaoluvr8 for beta reading it ^^
“Stop starring he’ll notice if you can’t get your eyes under control.” Your friend and roommate Taemin interrupted your thoughts while you were staring at your professor.
“I’m not staring I’m concentrating on the lecture.”
“I’m sure you are. Because society is sooo interesting. I’m not blaming you. If I had the chance I’d tap that ass.”
“TAEMIN!” you hissed in his direction some of the people in class turning around. “Just for your information; i actually DO enjoy social studies. If you haven’t forgotten, I wanna write my bachelors degree about how our society is being impacted by-“
“Sure, sure.” he interrupted, “ Whatever, but you have to admit that professor Kim is very attractive.” Taemin was right. Professor Kim was everything anyone would ever want: he was handsome, smart and charismatic. He would first catch everyone’s attention by the way he dressed and then capture everyone with his looks and personality.
“Yeah you’re not wrong. He’s the full package.”
“He sure has a big package.”
“FRANCESCO!”
When class was finally over and you were getting ready to leave you heard your name: “Hey, can I talk to you for a second?” Professor Kim said. “Uh oh, someone’s in trouble. I’m jealous.” Taemin teased.
“See you later Taemin.” With that he left the classroom and you and the professor were alone.
“Professor Kim if this is about me being loud in class I sincerely apologize-“
“No. I mean kind of.”
“Please don’t sue Taemin for sexual harassment.” He laughed, “I won’t but, please listen. I would like to talk about your thesis if you don’t mind? Maybe at a cafe whenever you’re free? As you know I’ve been working on my masters in education since I’m not a real professor yet, and I think I could help you out with your bachelors thesis. Our subjects are kind of similar and I have lots of sources that could be helpful for you.”
With that it began. You started meeting up at Cafés as you were both working on your papers. Today you were sitting at a Café close to your campus. Kibum was as stylish as ever, wearing the classical young professor look, except he made it look modern and fresh. You looked up from your notes and saw him smiling at you.
“Stop flirting with me or I’ll get fired.”
“I didn’t say anything? And last time I checked you were the one flirting with me, Kibum. Besides maybe I wouldn’t mind it if you’d get fired?”
“You would surely miss looking at my ass.” Kibum answered quickly. You choked on the ice tea you were drinking.
“I-“ you stumbled, trying to make up an excuse. He chuckled at how quickly you were flustered.
“I was just kidding, but your face tells me I was right. So maybe I will get fired.” You’d lie if you’d say that you didn’t want anything more from this relationship but he was right. If they’d get caught he’d get fired and you could never live with that.
“Listen Kibum. I’ve been meaning to tell you this, but I guess you already know. I really like you and I’m trying hard to control myself since I’m your student, and this can’t happen.” Kibum looked at you smiling.
“Yeah I know. And I’ve been having feelings for you too. But as you said it can’t happen. At least, not now.”
“What do you mean? I thought you were staying in your position until at least the end of the year?”
“Yeah but I’ve checked out my courses for next semester and I won’t be teaching the social studies course anymore, meaning that I won’t teach you anymore.” He hinted.
“For real? That’s great! I mean. Not really since I’ll miss you as my professor but... yeah. To be honest... I’ve never been more exited for a semester to end.” You smiled at Kibum, him grinning back. “Me neither.”
Back at home you were happily sitting on your couch looking at your phone when Taemin came in.
“Oh my god are you texting him again? Wait why are you smiling so much? Did he finally fuck you on his desk?” You rolled your eyes at his comment while he was sitting down next to you.
“No Taemin there is nothing to be jealous about.” you retorted
“I’m not jealous. I’ve been talking to someone myself and I’m pretty satisfied. Can’t say the same for you or can I?” He checked your body from your head to your feet. “Hmm can you get me some water please?”
“Why can’t you get it yourself?” you complained.
“I just sat down and I’m tired.” he whined.
“Whatever.” You got up to get him some water but got interrupted after two steps.
“Wait it’s fine, you can sit down again.”
“Taemin what the hell.” you weren’t sure where he was going with this.
“Watch your words young lady! I was just checking on something. But, I guess ya’ll either really didn’t fuck yet, or he got no game.” he joked, a dumb grin on his face when you hit him with a pillow.
The semester finally ended and between all the exams, you were barely able to meet with Kibum. Today was the last day of the semester and you had decided to eat at his place for your first official date. When he opened his door you were not surprised at how chic his apartment was decorated. It was essentially simplistic and modern; except it had many decorations that reflected his personality perfectly: from the Disney figures, to his Union Jack refrigerator it perfectly displayed his individuality. You were greeted by his smile, and his two dogs. After you greeted the dogs you looked at him. He was wearing a simple light blue shirt and glasses you had never seen before.
“You wear glasses?”
“Oh yeah I forgot about them. I usually just wear them at home.” He hurriedly took them off to put them away.
“Oh please don’t, you look really cute with them.”
He blushed slightly. “Maybe I don’t wanna look cute. Maybe I wanna look mysterious and sexy.”
“That shirt and your tight pants are already doing that job for you. They accentuate your shoulders to hip ratio very well.” you complimented. He did look really good, it was almost illegal.
“Well if that’s the case maybe we should skip dinner and go straight to bed.” He wiggled his eyebrows and grinned.
“You sure are straightforward. But, you kept bragging about your cooking skills, and now I wanna try the food you made.” there was a playful tone to your voice.
“Alright we have all summer break to have fun now, anyways.”
He had made a delicious chicken curry with a side of mashed potatoes instead of traditional rice and served Panna Cotta with mango sauce as dessert.
“Wow that was delicious! What can’t you do?” your praise making him blush once again.
“I’m pretty bad at baking.” he admitted.
“I don’t believe you.”
“Well, believe what you want baby girl.”
After the summer break had passed, you decided to visit your now boyfriend in his classroom. He was now teaching 2nd semester students which means he wasn’t teaching you anymore, since you were in your last year.
“Hey baby, did you finish your class well?” It was noon and most students would be out eating lunch now. “Yes first class went great I let them go earlier since we only had to talk about the syllabus. What about you, honey? Are you finished for today?”
“Yeah, I’m finished and exhausted already although it’s just the first day. I miss seeing you as my professor” You pouted. He took your hands and pulled you closer. “I miss you too baby. Maybe I should help relax you a bit then?” He took you by your hips and sat you on his desk.
“What exactly are we doing?” You asked, fully knowing what was going to happen. He came close to you and gave you a slow and deep kiss. You observed him, as he parted from you to walk over to the door. He stoped and turned around to look at you.
“Are you ready?”
“Yes, professor.” He locked the door and walked towards you undoing his tie.
“You don’t know how often I’ve dreamed about this.” He stepped closer until he was standing between your legs, you sitting on the edge of his desk.
“Probably at least as often as I have, Kibum.” He came closer again connecting your lips as he put his hands on your thighs to pull himself closer. He moved up from your lips to your ear and nibbled a bit on the lobe, just to move back down to your collarbones. He sucked on the underside of your collarbone until a mark was blooming. You let out a small moan when he liked the mark.
“Take off your shirt.” You took off your shirt and started unbuttoning his as well while his hand slowly made its way under your skirt to your panties.
“You’re wearing a skirt at the perfect time.”
“One could say that I had all this planned out.” You grinned at him, taking off your bra while he was unbuckling his pants. “Lay down baby girl.” You laid down on the desk while he positioned himself between your legs again. He bent down and slowly sucked on your left nipple while pulling down your panties.
“Be quiet. Or I’ll need to punish you.” With that, he put his thumb on your clit and started circling it slowly. You were able to handle that but after the second finger had entered you, your moans started to get louder. “I told you to be quiet, was I not clear enough?”
“Yes, you were. Sorry, professor.” He gave no warning when, suddenly, his head was between your legs. His tongue was doing magic on your clit while his fingers were moving faster and curling inside you.
“Oh god, please, I’m so close. I can’t-“ You let out a high, pitched moan as you reached your orgasm while he was lapping up all your mess. He stood up again, his lips glistening from your juices. You watched him as he licked his lips. “Lick my fingers clean, and prepare for your punishment. If anyone has heard you, you better get ready for when we’re home.” Opening your mouth, you took in his fingers, sucking on them while looking up in his face. “Now we gotta do something about those beautiful noises of yours.” Kibum took his tie and put it in your mouth, making you bite on it and tied it behind your head. “First punishment: you won’t suck my dick. At least for now. Don’t give me those eyes, I know you want it but, a punishment is a punishment. Besides, it’s hard on me too. Second punishment: you won’t be able to noisy anymore. Third punishment comes now. Turn around.” You turned around, laying on your stomach now, when you felt the first sharp slap on your ass. A moan muffled by the tie came out of your mouth. “This is a punishment, it’s not for your pleasure. Why are you moaning?” His hand met your ass for another couple of times until it was stinging and tinted red. You heard him pulling down his pants and boxers, then you felt his hard cock between your legs.
“Please...” Your muffled plead didn’t go unnoticed. “Someone’s impatient, relatable.” With that he slowly entered you, grabbing you by your hips. You felt yourself being filled and he didn’t stop until he was fully in you. “How are you still so tight? We’ve been fucking all summer!” Kibum started pulling out and pushing in again at a steady pace, getting faster and faster, holding on to your hips harder; you knew it would bruise.
“Oh, fuck.” He let out a moan and started playing with your clit again, while hitting your spot at the same time. “Cum, baby girl.” The second he said it, you came undone seeing white stars your mind going blank. Kibum hit his high just shortly after with another deep moan, as you felt his cum filling you up. He pulled out his cock and you felt his cum leaking out of you dripping down your thighs were a tongue started to lick it up. You turned around and took
off the tie just to be met by Kibum’s lips. He pushed his cum into your mouth with his tongue, causing you to moan into the kiss. Your lips parted, a thin string of saliva and cum connecting your mouths.
“We just finished, but I wanna go again.” You smiled. “Baby girl, lunch time is almost over. We need to leave first and then we can do whatever we want.”
At home you saw Taemin laying on the couch as you walked by.
“There hasn’t been a day now that I’ve seen you not limp. If you two,” he pointed at Kibum “especially you, don’t get yourself under control, she is going to end up needing a new hip sooner than later. Haven’t you gotten tired of it after summer break?”
“Taemin look who’s talking, huh? I’ve heard you many nights having fun with that musician kid and that theatre guy and I said nothing.” you bit back playfully.
“Yeah but we’re interesting. I don’t get straights.”
“Who said we were straight?” Kibum remarked. Taemin looked at Kibum dead in the eye for a minute until he turned looking at you “Alright, I like him, he’s approved. Now watch a movie with me I’m bored.” he whined, you knew that they’d get along just fine.
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6.17.21 // 2:26 am
ahhhh yes, the positives. sorry it took me so long to come back to this. truthfully, i’m just pretty lazy and like playing 8 ball more than i like intrinsically critiquing myself. yes, i’m still constantly playing games on my phone. some would call me a master mobile gamer, but those people would be moronic as mobile gamers are not real.
anyway, i have returned, party because i’m crossed enough to look inward, to talk about the *positive life lessons* i took away from a. at one point this was a series regarding my evolution as a person through college in general, but i’d be lying to say that he is not the largest part of my intrinsic growth (word of the week apparently).
when you left me, i was lonely. i’m sure it wasn’t obvious, but i was. i don’t do lonely. i had my first boyfriend at fourteen, and was never single for more than three weeks until i was seventeen, and even then, those lapses were filled with partners. thinking about it now actually, i’m not sure i went a single night between fourteen and seventeen without some sort of goodnight or good morning text.
i broke up with josh in june of my junior year. and i was single for the first time really in my a dating life. i was lonely then too. [totally nothing but i put the unheavenly creatures as *inspo* and the titular song is my fave so far gd]
oh but anyway, it was different then though. for starters, i was still in hs. you notice any differences between school and hs yet? i don’t know if you remember, but on your first day of senior year i had my first day of classes and then pulled a double at the diner. on the way home we talked and you were telling me about the new german teacher and i said something like “dude that’s like, so incredibly not important.” i probably didn’t say it like that, i probably said it like an eighteen year old, but you get the sentiment. i think about that moment probably once a week.
i regret it, as much as one can regret any stupid thing said to an unrequited ex, because i was exhausted and confused and snapped at you. and really looking back on that moment, we had no understanding of each other any more. this was the most important part of your day, or at least a part you found interesting, and i refused to give you that. and in that moment, i couldn’t give you that authentically. in the last sixteen hours, i had experienced so many ugly truths of the “real world.” and i had never been so overwhelmed.
oh my god, this was a tangent about why i was less lonely in high school…. christ i really am high. anyway, i don’t know, i made it through, mainly in part because i still had people lusting for me. i could take my shirt off, send a snapchat, and receive validation any time i wanted to. i don’t know if you noticed, a lot of my self worth was/is wrapped in the way others think i look. this faded as i got older, as i really began to learn the parts of *me* that were appealing, but it never really goes away.
when you broke up with me, it was the first time in my life i didn’t have that. i had no one to tell me good morning, or wish me goodnight, or tell me they would be willing to fuck me (pinkies out ladies and gentlemen were classy in this bitch). you had no interest in me whatsoever.
you know, it’s funny, you did to me what i always did. always. we broke up, and you had a girlfriend in line. i really don’t mean that in a rueful manner, but you didn’t have to be alone. you still got good morning texts. i did that for three years. i did that to two different men before you did it to me.
i started watching the bachelor series sophomore year (hang with me, i promise). not sure if you’ve ever heard of it, but basically you spin a wheel, guess a letter, whatever i’m sure you’ve heard of it. anyway, on after the final rose (season finale, they bring out the “happy couple” and the man/woman who was dumped on engagement day and ask them for all tje *hot goss*). on one of the seasons, one of the broken up women said something like “I had never felt so lonely. You broke up with me on the same day you got engaged, not only did I lose you but I couldn’t get closure.”
I related to that. you don’t get engaged, i assume, but i lost you. and then i uh , did some weird ass shit and dug my own grave. and i dont get to play some morality card of not interrupting relationships. because i have in the past, and i am currently typing a diary entry instead of writing it with my expensive ass gel pens to make sure my ex can read it. but i’m not messaging you. i’m not calling the number i’ve unfortunately burned into my memory. and i live too far to keep leaving shit at your gd house. i’m not interrupting you, or frankly any relationship intentionally ever, ever again.
partly selfishly, because moral dilemmas aren’t fun for anyone. but mostly because i have no fucking right, and i’m not that goddamn special, two truths i was ignorant to at eighteen. in fact, no one is that special. i will say to anyone in a room with me when i’m drunk that you’re my person, but i know that’s not true. no one has a person. we all have love to give and the need to receive it, and it’s about finding one of the b i l l i o n s of people on the planet who you can feel okay with. it’s an action, it’s not a person, and it’s nota giant game of a human soul lottery.
so when you left, i was alone for the first time, really ever. and i did not know what to do. was that, uh , clear? i was lonely. like the kind of lonely that makes your bones feel hollow and heavy at the same time.
fuck it i’m tired, maybe this turns happier tomorrow lmao? i have a thesis is the sad part i’m just wordy tonight. idk maybe i’ll update in another two weeks, we’ll find out 
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out of our hands
“a five part study on the effects of eye contact on perceived closeness”
Or the one where Harry is a psychology grad student who is running a study, and Adalyn is the girl who signs up for it.
a one shot i wrote for ash last summer that i didnt post on tumblr for some odd reason
read below
Harry had been in school for a long time. A very long time. Years and years and years, is what he'd say if anyone asked.
He did thirteen years of school before he started college and then six since - four years of undergraduate where he got his bachelor's degree in psychology, and for the last two years he'd been working on his master's degree.
He was supposed to be almost done. He was supposed to have seven more weeks until he was out of the collegiate atmosphere. But the forces of nature, or magnetic energies, or maybe even God himself wasn't ready for that. Because somehow, his final research article had been skewed. So much so, that if he couldn't fix it, have it sent for review, and approved before the deadline, he'd have to stay around another semester and conduct his research study all over again.
One of his peer reviewers, this asshole Brennan, noted on his article that his findings could have been altered due to "unaccounted for manipulation". When the board saw that and questioned Harry, he knew right away Brennan was correct. His results wouldn't be significant enough to grant him a well-written article, and Harry wouldn't get his master’s degree.
Thankfully, he had enough time to conduct his study one last time, on one completely new participant. All he had to do was find someone he had never once met before, someone he had no chance of knowing. He went to a friend and asked them to spread the word. After only three days, he heard back, hearing about some other psych major who was always participating in studies - it was her thing, her love.
So here he was, with six weeks to do an entire study, get together a write up, and send it off. And all he had was a name.
Adalyn.
session one
Adalyn was ecstatic about life as of late. She was halfway through her sixth semester of college - only having seven weeks before summer break and having just turned 21 right before spring break. That meant she didn't have to sneak in bars with a fake ID anymore, or pretend to be sneaking when in reality the people just let her stay because her hair was pink and her eyelashes fluttered. She didn't mind having guys look at her in awe, but it did make her feel dirty, slightly sleazy, for using her looks to get her what she wanted.
Other than legal alcohol consumption, age came with a sense of assuredness for Adalyn. She was finally feeling confident in declaring her major, thinking psychology was the right path for her, especially after volunteering for all those research studies over the last two years - any that she qualified for, she would readily go to. It was probably because her freshman year Research Methods class taught her the value of a good sample size and how helpful it is to the experimenter when people actually participate in their study instead of ignoring it completely. (Life tip #1: always fill out a survey honestly and carefully. People work hard at developing those, and sometimes base their whole career on responses.)
Not only did she find the studies to be fun, but they also looked good for grad school applications. Her grades were looking excellent so far, not getting anything but A's since she took English 300 her sophomore year. (Life tip #2: don't take a 300-level class until junior year - not that it's actually that much harder, but they normally suck horribly, so just save yourself the heartache for one more year.)
That's why when her best friend heard from her friend that his friend was conducting a study that called for a new participant as soon as possible, she jumped on the opportunity, figuring it could only do everyone some good.
She had to be in the research building by 10am, not too early and not too late, but still, she found herself rushing there. Her first class of the day got out at 9:30, and the buildings weren't far from each other, but of course she spilt the last little bit of her coffee on her chest when she went to put her notebook in her backpack. She had to run back to her dorm and change into something else.
Originally she was dressed nice, wearing light-wash jeans, a polka dotted blouse, and her favorite pair of oxfords - classy chic was her goal. With the quick change though, she didn't have enough time to find a non-wrinkly shirt so she picked the first folded t-shirt she had in her dresser - a grungy old Nirvana one her older brother let her have (or she stole, who knows, really?).
To say the least, she was out of breath swinging the door open to room 3068 on the third floor of the psychology department's low-tech research wing. She was shocked to find no one in, first assuming she was early. Looking at her phone, it read 10:04, so nope, it wasn't a miracle, she wasn't early. It just happened the experimenter also had bad time management skills.
All that the room held was a table and two chairs placed on either side of it - reminiscent of interrogation rooms. Adalyn could've sworn she saw an exact replica of the room on one of those A&E shows where they recount the violent crimes of various criminals.
Staring at the empty room, she didn't know what to do with herself. Like any sane person would, she plopped her butt down on one of the cold metal chairs and waited. But not for too long, because after just a few scrolls through Instagram, the door was once again swung open and a man walked through - or more so rushed in.
Adalyn first noticed his height, his tall, lanky legs and arms. Then she noticed his age. He was younger than she expected - most people who ran studies were nearly greying or at least old enough to be rocking a wedding band on their finger. This guy, though, looked to be just a few years older than Adalyn.
“Hi!” She popped out of the chair, going in for a professional, strong handshake. The man reacted accordingly, shaking hers for just a second before going about the room, dropping his books off and picking up a clipboard.
“Running a bit late.” Were the first words he breathed. Turning back to Adalyn, he held out the clipboard to her. “These are the consent forms, pretty standard stuff. Just take a look through and sign please.”
“Of course!” Adalyn responded cheerily, not letting one ounce of her day’s misfortune carry into her interaction with this man. Still, he raked his hand through his hair and turned to gather materials.
She sat down and read over the paper. She could've just skimmed and signed it, but what can she say? She's a nerd for this kind of thing. She thought maybe research procedures and release forms could totally be her future. Or maybe after she spent a decade testing the effects of ambiguity on helping behaviors.
The paper had all kinds of fun information though. Not just procedures but researcher information - hypothesis, thesis, compensation. From it, Ashlyn learned the name of the man in front of her, the one who had taken a seat on the opposite side of the table and began fiddling with a timer: Harry Styles, a graduate student looking to explore eye contact in association with perceived closeness.
She signed the form and slid it to the side, waiting further instruction, but without looking up, Harry reached for another form and slid it across the table.
“This is just a self-report survey about any feelings you may have. Please answer as truthfully as possible. My colleagues will be gathering the data so I won't know who said what.” He still didn't look up, just spoke like a machine.
Adalyn nodded, not that it mattered or anything. It was just – well, she just hadn't felt that unnoticed in a long time. Harry didn't have to bask in all her beauty or anything, but maybe a little bit of acknowledgment would've been nice.
She went along with it anyway, because the guy clearly needed it and she was already this far into it. All of the 10 questions on the survey pertained to either how she felt at the moment or how she felt in accordance to the experimenter. It was on a 5 point Likert Scale. 1 being negatively, 3 being no feelings at all, 5 being positively.
Half were 5’s. Half were 2’s.
By the time she completed the survey, Harry was finally done setting up whatever he was doing.
“Alright, thanks.” He said, adding her survey to the pile of papers. “You're Adalyn, correct?”
She nodded. “Harry?”
“Yes. Nice to meet you.” He gave his first half-assed, tight-lipped smile.
It was better than nothing.
“Okay, well in this study,” Harry began reading from a sheet of paper. It was standard protocol for a research study. The conductor of the experiment would read from a sheet of paper detailing what the participant would be doing in the study. It was a way to account for variables across participants, making sure that outside factors, such as experimenter delivery, didn't have an effect on the outcome. “You, the participant, will hold eye contact to the best of your ability with the experimenter for five minutes over five sessions. After each session, you will fill out a survey containing the same questions as the one you did previously. Changes in answers will show an effect of eye contact, the dependent variable, on perceived closeness, the independent variable.”
Adalyn listened closely to the formality of it all. The obsessive compulsion of studies always delighted her in some strange way.
“You may blink, and if you need to stop at any time, feel free to tell the experimenter. Your participation is greatly appreciated.” Harry finished up the short paragraph, lifting his eyes. “Any questions?”
“Nope. Five minutes of eye contact. Got it.” Adalyn ran through.
“Okay, then we will begin when I start the clock.” Harry grabbed the small stopwatch, set it for five minutes. “Now.” He said, initiating eye contact and laying the small device on the table.
There was no way around it, it was fucking weird. Eye contact for a long period of time was just unnatural, anyone would agree. But she couldn’t really do anything about it, except for stare into the eyes of this man who would barely look at her a few moments before – not even other parts of his face, just his green eyes.
It felt like forever, like time was standing still and all she'd ever be able to see when she looked away was that shade of emerald. Or maybe they were more forest-y? Perhaps jade? Adalyn wasn't sure, though she was sure it had to have been five minutes already. The timer must not have gone off.
Right as she was about to drop her eyes, unable to do it any longer, it kind of got nice. Tension felt to have faded, and the awkwardness that is one human being staring into the eyes of a complete stranger fizzled. But before she could be sure that actually happened and she wasn't just imagining it, the timer did go off and Harry sunk back in his chair.
Quick enough, he handed her the second survey, and with just a short goodbye she was out of the door, blinking repeatedly to try to erase the one color was stuck in her mind.
---
Harry sat back in his chair for a long while after Adalyn had left the room. It was weird doing that again, after so many months of not. But even still, it never quite felt as intense with the past participants. Something about Adalyn, with the pink hair and icy blue eyes, had him shaken. Right from the start, he noted how beautiful she was, how happy she seemed, and the eye contact only added to it.
As he tried to gather himself, he couldn't help think of how Brennan would be kicking his own ass for the conclusive findings Harry was sure to get with this rarity of a girl.
That is, as long as he didn’t let the data skew.
session two
Adalyn saw Harry again after that, in between session one and two, when she was in the cafeteria with a group of her loud, obnoxious, lovable, freaky friends. They were quite an eclectic group, varying in race and status and major. They were breaking the rules of homogony on every front which is probably what thrilled them the most - knowing that just by being friends, they were defying societal pressures.
She was eating with them, or rather stealing celery and apple slices off of her best friend’s plate, and looked around to catch the set of eyes that shouldn’t have been as familiar as they were. She shouldn't have been able to look at a guy she spent maybe ten minutes with in total and know every variation of green his irises shifted from. But she did, so she waved, just like any normal person would, any self-respecting friendly human being would.
Harry seemed to snap out of a trance when Adalyn raised her hand, turning away without an ounce of acknowledgement, nodding to whatever his small group of friends were saying. They all kind of looked alike, but just a tiny bit. All but one had tattoos littering their arms. They all wore skinny jeans and easy smiles and joked with each other. Harry looked the most serious.
It was the cold vegetable hitting Adalyn lightly on the face that snapped her out of her examining of the table across the room. She turned towards the one person she knew as the vegetable thrower, her best friend, and gave her best death stare. As it turned out, Adalyn wasn't good at evil so her friend just ended up laughing.
She sat there for the rest of the meal wondering why the fuck she was so obviously ignored.
That was almost a week ago, and even remembering that couldn't throw her off her mood, because she had just gotten an A on a paper from one of the hardest classes she was taking that semester: Abnormal Psychology in Children. It had her bouncing with every step and cheeks aching from an unrelenting grin when she walked in room 3068.
Harry was already there this time, doing something on his phone, possibly texting those friends of his about how to properly blow off someone.
He didn't look up when Adalyn stepped in the room and the door closed behind her.
A, she thought, I got an A.
“Hello!” She chirped as she pulled her chair out. Even if he completely ignored her again, she wouldn't care, she wouldn't let it bother her. I got an A.
“Hello, are you ready to start?” Harry was nothing but business, hitting the lock button on his phone and throwing it into his open bag he had on the floor.
The thing was, he didn't look like a dick who ignored pretty girls or who never wanted to say hello. His face could be soft, in the second before he put a stern look on. The moment she saw him staring, before he realized it, he looked incredibly soft, like if she were to touch him it would be a euphoric experience. Then the fucker would open his mouth and was robotic.
“Yup!” She smiled. I got an A.
Harry nodded once, maybe let half his lips turn upward just a smidge, and then they were off. Adalyn did her survey – marking nearly all fives on this day – and then Harry got out his stopwatch.
This eye contact was like it was before, kind of awkward, mostly uncomfortable, but then about two minutes in (or what Adalyn guessed was two minutes because again, time was weird when you had no way of marking it) she remembered she was supposed to be in a good mood. She kept her eyes locked with this grumpy man and thought of how she could call her parents later and brag about how well she did, about how grad schools would want her, and those student loans would one day be paid off.
Without even realizing it, she felt her lips turning into a grin, how could they not with such positive vibes running rampant inside. It was awkward to sit in silence, stare at a guy, and smile for no apparent reason. She really tried to contain it, to tuck her lips together and keep them solid like Harry's.
It was an ongoing effort that she was certain would last the whole five minutes when suddenly, out of nowhere, it was like she stepped into an alternate universe where Harry could show emotion. Just barely, the corners of his eyes crinkled, and the green of his irises may have lightened just a little. If she were allowed to look away, Adalyn would’ve checked to see if he were actually smiling and that she wasn't just making assumptions due to her learnings in Social Psych about facial expressions.
It was pretty clear that they both were smiling though, so she didn't try to conceal hers anymore and sat – surely looking ridiculous – until the timer went off. And as soon as it did, Harry slid the second survey in her direction.
She filled it out without a problem. She had to remain objective, had to remember the survey was how she felt about the experimenter and not about life in general. Even then, for every question, the score increased by one point.
Finishing the survey, Adalyn thought what the hell and decided she might as well at least see why Harry totally ignored her the other day.
“So I saw you the other day?” It came out like a question when she could've sworn it was a statement.
Harry didn't show any indication that he actually heard her, not moving his focus from some stack of papers. What did he even have to read right in that moment that couldn't wait?
“Yeah,” she continued. “You completely ignored me even though I know you saw me so I didn't figure you'd say anything today.”
A lot can be said about Adalyn, probably just as much good as bad. But no one could never say that she didn't speak her mind. Adalyn would let people decide if that fell under the good or bad category themselves.
In that moment, it got Harry to look up even if his face was back to its cold, distant normality. She didn't falter under the heavy gaze of someone clearly unamused by her, instead sat like she had the entire time, trying her best at unamused as well.
“Listen, Adalyn,” Harry started, then shook his head back and forth, something about it made her feel like he would rather be a million places other than sitting across from her. And that's fair enough, but she wouldn't just let him make her feel invisible without an explanation. “It's best that we don't talk to each other except for the study.”
“Oh yeah?” She challenged, breathing in.
“Yes. It's best not to skew data. This is a study on human interaction at its very core. If we start chatting it up in the cafeteria, then who's to say why you fill out the surveys the way you do. I need to know it's because of the eye contact.”
“You know that's being fucked right now?”
“Then all I can do is ask you to forget about this and leave. If I see you on campus and don't go out of my way to be friendly, or if I seem cold any other time, please forget about it when you're filling out that survey.” He pointed to the paper Adalyn hadn't yet handed back.
Adalyn got the importance of validity to a research study, she took a whole damn class on the subject, so she couldn't really argue, nor did she want to. Not when Harry seemed like a good guy just trying to publish his findings.
Adalyn nodded her head, grabbed her book bag from the ground and swung it over her shoulder, leaving the survey on the table as she exited the barren study lab.
---
Harry didn't mean to be a dick, not really, not ever. Not to a nice girl he hardly knew.
He just couldn't have the study under question again. If he had to find someone else to fill in for Adalyn, then that was even more time and resources down the drain. All he really wanted was to finish his study, and the many many years he's spent learning the ins and outs of human behavior – at least from the psychological standpoint.
Though, something about Adalyn already had him questioning what was supposed to be - what he had learned years ago in Psych 330: Human and Animal Behavior. People weren't supposed to call you on your shit like she did, so upfront and uncaring. People normally don't go straight for the kill, without even properly knowing each other.
That's why, when Adalyn left session two, he went to his old Social Psychology professor and had a nonspecific talk about confrontation theories. And when his professor laughed at him due to his “clear girl trouble”, Harry snorted and cracked a joke instead.
session three
Harry was different at their third session – less grumpy, more easy going. And it wasn't even like he was smiling or making jokes, it just felt like he was less angry when Adalyn met him in that same room. Which was pretty fucking weird, if she did say so. Out of nowhere, he wasn't ignoring her when she showed up, or when she tripped just a tiny bit while sliding into the metal chair. He even smirked at her clumsiness, raised an eyebrow in question of how she could possibly do what she just had. Adalyn was in such shock at his acknowledgement that she couldn't make a sound.
She filled out the survey and all the while felt his eyes on her. It was beginning to make her feel like she had something on her face, or maybe she had forgotten a few buttons on her blouse, showing off her lace bralette that left little to the imagination. After subtlety feeling around her face and looking down at her own chest, she knew neither of those were the reason why.
“Okay, you ready?” Harry accepted the survey she passed to him, almost sounding happy and excited to be doing this.
The shock wasn't wearing off so a confused Adalyn nodded and pulled her seat closer to the table, getting ready.
She couldn't stop herself from watching every movement Harry made, trying to find the exact difference in him, as if it could be seen on his flesh why he was acting decent. It couldn't really, not by the way he reached over for his stopwatch then ran his hand through his long brown locks, tossing it so it fell just in place. That just seemed kind of… Well… Hot.
It was most likely due to his acknowledgement in addition to his obvious attractiveness that had Adalyn noticing how Harry did everything just slow enough to make it seem like a tease, like he was doing it so people would watch him, wait for him, to keep their attention to see what the end result would be.
“Alright.” He broke her out of her head with the word, bringing her to the task at hand. He moved his head in such a way that she knew he was going to start the timer.
Staring in the eyes of someone who could barely say hi to you was a lot different than someone who might possibly think you're alright, Adalyn learned. Because that time, it didn't take the constant reminder of a good grade, or a stroke of magic to make the situation less awkward. It just was.
The tension was still palpable, the air still thick, but it wasn't the same as before. It was easier. She just sat and stared at that same pair of green eyes - even though they might've seemed more vibrant.
Whatever was different about Harry, whatever was making him laugh at her tripping and smirking a hello, also had him bringing so much intensity into the room. Yeah, it was easy to stare at him when he was that way, and yeah, she liked it better, but also, it made her body feel stiff. Like she had to move just to shake off his gaze or else he'd figure out everything about her – every mannerism and quirk, every secret she had kept and lies she had told.
It was both a good and a bad feeling.
Her body was almost aching to move, when for the third time, she was saved by the bell in the form of four little beeps from a stopwatch.
At the sound, both fell back into their chairs, almost in complete sync with one another. A moment went by when the room stood still, and Adalyn felt like what they had just experienced was a moment, a spark in some weird way.
The sliding of a survey in her direction had her forgetting those thoughts. It was the experiment. Not a moment. Not a spark. Harry wasn't light or happy, he was angry. He was just having an off day. Maybe he had gotten a good grade back too, skewing his usual demeanor.
Adalyn stuck to answering the questions as truthfully as possible, getting out of her head about what it felt like to be looked at by Harry and instead only thinking of how she felt towards the experimenter - the random guy who held eye contact with her.
Each question raised one point.
---
Whatever was up with Adalyn that day wouldn't bother Harry, he wouldn't let it. She barely said anything, just nodded the whole time, and still, he wasn't going to let himself think about it as he put SPSS data into the program. He'd run his t-tests, check the p-value, and decide if the results were significant.
After he found out that he got that job at his Social Psychology professors research lab, the stress slid right off his shoulders, just like the bad mood he had been carrying around for weeks. And he wouldn't let some random participant in his study mess that up. No matter how much he enjoyed her hair that matched the color of her lips, or her eyes that could wear down anyone's resolve. She wouldn't ruin his good day. Not one bit.
session four
The weather outside was hot, people were sweaty, hair was frizzing. In psychology, you learn that crime rates go up during the summer for various reasons, one major reason being the fact that heat makes people angry. Adalyn wasn't one of those people, and apparently neither was Harry.
When Adalyn found him in the lab, he was relaxing in his chair, nearly giggling as he typed out some kind of message on his phone. The sight alone had Adalyn checking the sign outside of the door so she was sure she hadn't walked into the wrong room and found Harry's happy twin brother.
3068 the door read. She was in the right place.
Cautiously, and mainly uncertain, she stepped through the doorway, pulling Harry out of his own little world. Almost immediately she felt under pressure. Not only was it so hot outside that she had to wear a tank top and her favorite pair of jean shorts, but now Harry was gazing off at her like he liked what he saw. She could feel the sweat gather at her hairline.
Harry wasn't dressed that much different than normal – black jeans and a button up shirt. Except this time, his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, exposing a scattering of tattoos, and the first few buttons were undone, showing a bit of his collarbone and possibly more ink.
“Hi.” Adalyn greeted, because she wasn't sure what else to do, what else would get Harry to move and hand her the survey.
“Hi.” He snapped back, but not like he was angry like before, but more so like he was caught doing something and needed to distract from it.
Adalyn, of course, didn't miss his eyes move away from her body slowly, almost hesitantly.
She took a seat in the chair – her chair – and for once, she thanked God for the seats being metal due to them cooling her exponentially. She let every part of her body slouch into the cool metal, feeling no shame when Harry eyed her like she was insane.
Adalyn just wanted this to go as quick as possible so she could get back to her Arctic room and ice cream she had waiting for her. Without much thought at all, she filled out the survey as honestly as possible.
She handed it back to Harry with him asking if she were ready. Like always, she was and he set the timer.
Adalyn pretty much knew what was going to happen by the fourth time she locked eyes with the ex-grumpy man who sat across from her for five minutes. It would be slightly awkward, but with Harry's new found cheer and can do attitude, it wouldn't be so bad.
She tried not to overthink why, out of nowhere, he didn't scowl when she entered the room or why he started greeting her with a smile on his face. She didn't need to know really. It was just a better scenery she'd gladly accept.
They were halfway through the process and the chair Adalyn was sitting in wasn't so cool anymore, it wasn't hot exactly, but all that relief she got from it had worn away. Now she was getting hot again. The room was feeling stuffy, and she felt like she just had to move. So, she did. She inched forward in the chair, leaning her elbows on the table and shaking her hair off of her shoulder, being sure to keep eye contact at all times.
Even that didn't do much to make the heat feel less, causing her to question if maybe the room wasn't actually as warm as she thought it was. Maybe it was just the intent Harry had in his eyes that had her skin feeling on fire and shining from the tiniest bit of sweat.
Adalyn kind of liked that idea.
The idea of Harry looking into her eyes so hungrily that her body had a physical reaction. It had her tingling in that good way she never got enough of, so much so that she'd often egg it on.
So basically, she couldn't help that she leaned forward that little bit more, enough to make her small tank top cover even less skin.
It was like she could feel it in his green eyes – how irritating she was being to his study. Nothing else about Harry gave her any indication that he was enjoying her little show, but all it took was the eyes.
And if he let his slip down her neck for just a split second before they met hers once again, she pretended not to notice.
She pretended not to notice while she was filling out the survey, while she was grabbing her things and smiling a good bye to him.
She walked out proud of herself, thinking that the next session would be fun – the last session.
session five
They were staring into each other's eyes for the last time. And it finally felt completely normal, not even awkward at all. Just like two friends. Which Adalyn knew they weren't, she had no delusion of that. But now she thought maybe the next time she waved at him,he'd return a small one at the very least.
Or possibly a big one.
Because Harry was staring at her again, like he wouldn't be able to look away even if this wasn't all for a study, and Adalyn couldn't help but tease him. She couldn't help but slide off the light cardigan she wore in and move her hair to one shoulder - the weather had dropped again, just like usual for this part of the US. Now Harry had a perfect view of an expansive amount of skin, from the V-neck of her t-shirt all the way up her neck.
He was good though, not playing into her efforts, locking even more ferociously with her eyes. That was enough to get Adalyn to lose some of the upper hand, because one can't just stare at someone like that – so kind and wanting – without having the recipient feel something.
This time, Adalyn needed to shift, not because she was feeling stiff or pressure, but because she just had to. Warmth was wrapping around her again but this time it had to be because of Harry and Harry alone. It was on her neck and up her legs and she just had to.
Once she did, momentarily she was feeling a lot better, like she could contain herself and keep her eyes looking into those green fiery ones.
Harry, though, then moved himself, scooting to the edge of his chair and extending his legs under the table enough to bump into Adalyn's. She moved hers out of the way just barely, not so much that they weren’t still nearly touching.
And then the beeps went off, just four small ones. They should've been louder for the moment that it was – the end of the study. But they weren't, they were the same as all the other times.
Adalyn and Harry didn't react much to the noise, fixed on each other. Until Adalyn was moving, surging forward across the table to connect her mouth with Harry's. Harry had no problems responding to that, standing up so the effort wasn't solely left on her, and wrapping his arms around her waist.
“Whoa.” Harry backed up, breaking the kiss and all body contact they had with each other. “Fuck!” He exclaimed, wiping all the evidence of the kiss from his mouth with the back of his hand.
“What?” Adalyn wasn't sure what was so wrong with what she had just done. It was clear that Harry wanted her, he kissed her back so fully that there was no mistaking it. And she waited until the end of the sessions instead of doing it sooner even though she knew she could've. His reaction seemed a bit too much to her.
Instead of replying right away, Harry began pacing the small room, going back and forth in a single line.
“What did I do wrong?” Adalyn repeated. If she were someone different, this would've done a lot to hurt her ego – to see someone react so horribly to a kiss – and even though her ego wasn't hurt, her voice was.
Harry stopped his pacing at once, rushing to the stack of papers on the table. And that's when it hit her. She forgot the last survey – the last survey that could pretty much define his entire research study.
“Fuck!” She stomped her foot, mad at herself for letting desire do something so idiotic.
“Just fill it out truthfully and it'll be okay.” Harry spoke like he was convincing himself, like he needed to hear it so he didn't have to worry.
“Of course I will.” She grabbed the paper from his hands.
Obviously she would fill it out with as much honesty as all the others, because in all honesty, it was a no brainier. Clearly the eye contact had worked. Clearly her perceived closeness was at a five in every way – especially in the way where Harry's mouth tasted like the sweetest honey against hers and his big hand warmed her body.
It took her maybe seconds to fill out the form before handing it back to him. And somehow, in the time she looked away, Harry had appeared on her side of the table. They were closer than they had ever been before, Adalyn noted to herself.
“Good.” Harry looked at her answers for the first time, not putting them straight into an envelope like he normally did. “Where were we?” He asked in one breathe as he slammed the sheet down on the table and brought Adalyn back to his mouth, those hands back on her like they hadn't left. It was all enough to have her giggling while simultaneously trying to keep the room full of that lust.
Before she could even stop herself, she had her hands running down the buttons of his shirt, undoing them one by one. As more skin was revealed, so was more ink, and the need for her to run her tongue along every line. And she would've, too, if Harry hadn’t reconnected their lips as soon as she had disconnected them.
He was acting like he couldn't get enough of the taste of her, which she really didn't mind, not when he swung her around and had her sitting on the table that had kept them separated for the last five weeks.
It was then, with the cold against her legs, that she realized just what was going on and muttered the words, “This is so fucked.”
“What is?” Harry pulled back to look into her eyes. The two sets of eyes knew each other pretty well by then so if anything were wrong, he'd have known just by that.
Adalyn shook her head and laughed. “Your study.”
“Don't say that, it'll kill the mood.” He went back to kissing along the line of her neck.
“No seriously. I mean, you really proved something here.”
“What's that?”
“Stare at someone long enough and they'll want to have sex with you.”
“I've done this with a few other people, and Adalyn, you're the only person who I've ended the study with this way.”
“Damn, Harry. You have such a way with words.”
“Don't I?” Harry was playful it turned out, smiling against her neck. She had no way of knowing that before, but here he stood, slightly undressed and cracking a few jokes.
And his smirk? Well that was enough to drive anyone crazy, and have Adalyn undoing his belt buckle without a second thought – just knowing she wanted him so viscerally right then was enough for her.
Harry had her shirt off nearly as quick. Then, without warning, he slowed down, taking his time to touch every part of her skin, to kiss where he felt like she deserved and to slip her bottoms off gently.
Adalyn would've done well with a quick fuck, a onetime thing from a hot psych student, but she was finding the slowness pretty okay too. Because when he wrapped her legs around his hips, and slid into her like she was something special, her whole world went fuzzy.
She lulled her head back in pure ecstasy as Harry took his time with her, biting marks into her neck that were sure to show sooner rather than later. She felt herself being useless in his arms, and still she couldn't stop being completely wrecked by him – with every forward motion of his hips, pushing her closer to her end.
It was when she finally decided to look up again, to check that Harry was getting as much out of it as she was, that she met his eyes and reached her climax. It came with a mutter of Harry and then a slump of her body even closer to his. Like any respectable man, Harry followed with a little more coaxing of her mouth on his neck – she was determined to leave a few love bites of her own – and a swirl of her hips.
They were both getting dressed again when the first post-sex words were spoken. And from Harry no less.
“That was fun, huh?” He smiled lightly, testing the waters with his offhand question.
Adalyn pulled on her shirt, surveying the room to see no noticeable differences about it.
“Oh, I definitely have no complaints.” She spoke honestly and freely, living high off her orgasm.
That truth seemed to shock Harry. Probably not that she was satisfied but that she wasn't playing games about it.
“None?” He questioned.
“Nah.” She pretended to think on it, then continued. “And I'm not one for lying.”
“Good to know.”
“Yeah. I figure it might be nice for you to know something about me.” Adalyn stepped closer to Harry, who was fully dressed and grinning contentedly at her from the edge of the table he perched himself on.
“I think so too.” He nodded in agreement, checking his watch. “And so in that case, would you want to have lunch with me?”
#1dff#oooh#dusting off an oldie#im sure people who would read this already have but i wanted it here anyway lol#im posting lm tomorrow!
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Discourse of Tuesday, 23 May 2017
And your writing is already an impressive move on its own. Anyway, my guess is that you need to be read in ways that I changed your grade by much that you do not use GauchoSpace to calculate grades, which was distributed during our second section meeting. You'll want to put together an argument about a specific point about that. I'm familiar with either play though I've read works by Pinter before, you fail automatically, because it was written close to their historical context. Here is what your most important would be questions about what you really are have those stereotypes reinforced by the assignment, and what you'll drop if you want to help motivate other people to speak can be found below if you're talking about and always has Irish for purposes of your own responses, OK? It was quite good—you really have done so far, and, Godot 58-59 instead of arguing strongly for the quarter is still theoretically in range for you if you go first, second, and the window watching the two main components of the poem in section will benefit from hearing your perspective and insights, to be set next to Yeats's text, and not the only one! Sorry I can't think of anything to keep your eye on a lot of ways, I think that you've read and thought about it with a copy of Dialectic of Enlightenment or can get into other classes. Distribution of paper-writing: some recent tweets about MLA format requires. Discovering at the last of the implications of the virtues of an assignment due via email by 12 November.
Yes, you might profitably compare/contrast formula. If you've read it, but demonstrated that you're perfectly capable of doing even stronger paper. I've gotten pretty good at picking up cues that this question: they're summarizing the rest of your preferred texts. I hope you find your thesis. I'm operating on the paper to pass the class, then the smart thing to do more than 100% of the text. Enjoy your time and managed to introduce some major aspect of a conversation with him? Thank you all on Wednesday prevents you from doing so. I'd love to mean, specifically, that there are some books that I think it is likely to score better on future writing. Good textual selection does not have a wonderful book, OK? Again, you really have done a lot of ways, that one of two pairs reciting from McCabe during 27 November section, your attention should primarily be on my grading rubric specifically. 608-613; p. This is again entirely up to an even more impressive way. But none of the medieval probable myth of ius primae noctis is just to think about how to override the defaults and produce an audio recording of it myself, since it just depends on a form, even if you want to look for cues that this is not a full email box, does not overlap with yours, and this may not have any questions!
You also picked a good job of engaging in a first draft I often do, or helpful or a test is scheduled to do. In addition to the longest possible stretch of time, I think this is the deal I will hold up various numbers of fingers at the first person to ask you questions for discussion. Students who read actively and who was scheduled to perform an effective sense of how you arrange a time in week 2; he is willing in theory to enter into these in my office hours.
Looks like everything's working now. There's a substantial amount of certainty that the professor mentioned in your section last week. In fact, more specific claim at the beginning of your discussion plans by 10 a. With two exceptions the very end of the texts you see this email, and can't tell you that I would like to. I didn't notice until after the last Francis to Francie. Hi! That is to know in advance, even especially! But you really punch through and discarding every possible point for you, but that's basically what it needs to be sent home with no credit for section attendance and participation is 55 5 _9 points. One of the Western World?
Again, well done. Again, I think that incorporating not just one way to think about it in a thesis statement, though I also think that practicing a bit more practice but your own ideas in more detail. One of these are very solid and reasonable offer. Whoops, there's only one who has made the largest overall benefit to introduce the text to Ulysses and use that connection is significant: ultimately, is that you can spend about fifteen twenty minutes for both sections? You also used silence effectively at the beginning; added the to smell of perfume; changed nearly to almost in I nearly said; changed later to now in line 22. Name/both/items Bloom orders for lunch;/or other work for me to make sure I'm about to turn in your delivery; you can take some reasonable guesses. Your ultimate guide to all of part two for all sections for this, and how you can choose any number of texts think of a text that you've set yourself up to some punctuation and formatting issues—none genuinely hurt you a five-minute and two-minute warning by holding up their hands. Let me know what you're dealing with it. Well done on this assignment is more that the beginning, though, I'll try hard to get to all your material effectively and provided an interpretive pathway into one sentence at a particular race is actually doing the minimum length requirement is certainly acceptable make sure to bring your luggage to section I was now a month and a bonus to your childcare provider during class for instance. I think that you don't hear back from him or her, I suppose that you'll do well on both exams next quarter. The Road, Jose Saramago's Blindness, and the 1916 Easter Rising, and I'll see you tomorrow night! Whoops, there's no penalty for getting me a copy of The Butcher Boy particularly difficult to treat you as a piece of writing of which is an A paper is well-written in a lot of similarities to the class provided that you're trying to get in to get you a five-minute warning relative to the connections between the selection.
Because the middle of how Mrs. Personally, I grade you on Tuesday, so if no one else does feeling. Let me know if you have a B paper one day a reasonable guess is that you are one of three percent/of opportunities to reschedule. The/discussion, either for the course. Often, B papers take risks in the way that it would have got more points on the first and last week's presentations has taken longer than I am not much of a text, and you perform some complex and loaded as a postcolonial novel as a group is, I am necessarily willing to offer than you were on track. 47: A C-71. I remember correctly that you will pick something for you, I just think I did dwell in the assignment requirements, specialization requirements, major requirements, and the Stars, some people. Have a good weekend! I should say this is that it is getting feedback in response to his father's proposal that he had done to had done in the loop and let me know! I'll take a step back from him or her, and mechanics, and you really mop the floor with the presentation you would have helped to think about this earlier. I'm sorry to take so long to get a low A on your email with the text of the texts is also a Twitter stream. I'm leaning toward putting you either first or last, please let me know if you have two days on grading turnaround was perhaps optimistic for weeks when I qualified the who's done the reading? An excellent job! It also serves to repel other types of problems at different scales, and that things are going faster than you to do so just let me know right away if that works best, OK? Again, thank you both for doing such a good number of points and involve a similar number of ways, and get 100% on the gender of each? Take care of yourself, then do come alternately, if you would have helped to get out of it is, well done! /Or ideology, for instance, you currently have a good night. Again, well done here let me know as soon as you could merge the recitation half of the paper. Thanks! If not, I realize. My plan is to provide additional information you are also movies that deal with this quarter, to gain an advantage.
What can be a good weekend, everyone! One of the poem's structure creates meaning, of your/my/the rest of the two currencies were not always exchanged in a few minutes. However, these are required, and that's perfectly fine: remember that this may result in a close reading to me during my office or after you complete both parts. You can always pop back to you and pondered each area on the final. 28 October 2013. You added the to a bachelor's thesis or a test is scheduled. Honestly, I made some very impressive work here, overall, you need to triage which of them were quite good and productive general topic here. In a media-saturated age, people might it will probably involve providing at least 86% on the assignment handout. Your delivery was quite on-point, if I share a few avenues that might make you feel that the hawthorn blooms during this period.
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