#< this will most likely be the biggest mistake of my life

[koryxx]

exactly that.

reading through the responses and seeing people talk about how there are endless platonic relationships in media has me scratching my head. when i say “i want more platonic relationships in media” or “i want more platonic relationships that are treated with the same importance as romance” i’m not arguing friendship is not something commonly depicted in media or that there aren’t scenes in nearly every piece of media where characters “hang out as friends,” as someone mentioned in the notes.

i’m saying i want a piece of media where the platonic relationship is the driving force, like a romance would be; where the platonic relationship is big and important and life altering, like a romance would be; where the platonic relationship is committed and intimate and the most important in those characters’ lives, like a romance would be. when i talk about platonic relationships, i’m not talking about run of the mill friendships that ultimately take the backseat to romance.

i’m also very much not talking about my or other people’s ability or willingness to interpret a relationship as platonic. there’s a huge difference between what is actually being canonically written and what i can turn that into in my head or what others in fandom spaces turn that into--when i say i want platonic relationships in media, i want them written and portrayed in the way i’ve described above.

telling people to just turn their shipping brain off when they say they want important, meaningful platonic relationships in media that are treated with the same importance and focus narratively as romance is the same as telling people who say they want more queer representation to just headcanon characters as queer. it’s condescending and dismissive and entirely misses the point.

two last things: people who are desperately seeking platonic relationships in media probably aren’t the same ones romantically shipping every set of characters who so much as look at one another or think every close relationship must secretly be romantic deep down. and if one needs to look outside of young adult novels (or any genre or age range or form of media, for that matter) for important platonic relationships, then there is in fact not enough platonic relationships in media.

some books for your reading pleasure:

minimizing marriage: morality, marriage, and the law by elizabeth brake (nonfiction, book where amatonormativity was coined)

the other significant others: reimagining life with friendship at the center by rhaina cohen (nonfiction)

weapon uwu vol. 1: godkillers by s.j. whitby (young adult, fantasy, centered on a queerplatonic relationship)

dear wendy by anna zhao (new adult, contemporary, centered on platonic relationship between two aroace characters)

our bloody pearl by d.n. bryn (adult, fantasy, centered on queerplatonic relationship)

market of monsters trilogy by rebecca schaeffer (young adult, fantasy, centered on a queerplatonic relationship)

the actor and the housewife by shannon hale (adult, contemporary, centered on a platonic relationship)

we could be heroes by mike chen (adult, science fiction, centered around a platonic relationship)

the liar’s guide to the night sky by brianna r. shrum (young adult, survival?, centered on a platonic relationship)

loveless by alice oseman (new adult, contemporary, aroace main character, lots of good platonic love content)

also: the tv show dead to me follows the platonic relationship between the two leads, and while they both have romances, their friendship remains the focal point of the show. will & grace is actually a really good depiction of two people who prioritize their friendship over romance and struggle with the judgement and pressure from friends and boyfriends to not do that (including the revival, which in my opinion, corrects the original show’s biggest mistake regarding this)

“we need more platonic relationships in media” your inability to turn off your shipping brain is a You problem

[billloveshushu]

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟎𝟏, 𝐏𝐫𝐭 𝟏,𝟐━ 𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐁𝐚𝐛𝐲.

✦━━ ℙ𝕝𝕒𝕥𝕠𝕟𝕚𝕔 𝔹𝕒𝕥𝕗𝕒𝕞𝕚𝕝𝕪 𝕩 𝔹𝕒𝕓𝕪𝕆ℂ.

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˚✧˙ 𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 ━━ A baby was rescued by Batman on one of his missions, feeling responsible, Bruce decided to adopt her. But the question is that the baby knew she was in the comic book world, not knowing how to react or why, will she survive in this traumatized family?

✦ ( "" ) Thoughts ( ━ ) Dialogue ✦

English is not my original language, the translation was done by Google Translate, só sorry for any spelling mistakes.

Only two days have passed since that night, the baby is still amazed at how much has changed in such a short time, especially Bruce, she knows he is quite busy with his duties as Batman and playboy Bruce Wayne so it wouldn't be surprising if he doesn't show up at the mansion every day, but somehow now he always finds time to spend with her even though in that time he learns how to take care of a baby, she still laughs when she remembers that day.

Bruce's hands were shaking as he held her, he was so focused that it seemed like he was dealing with a time bomb, and Alfred was by his side teaching him how to hold a baby without hurting him, the baby looked at the man who is the biggest nightmare of all Gotham criminals and started to laugh.

She was laughing and mocking Bruce, but in his vision it was different, he only saw a baby smiling and letting out sweet laughs with her pink cheeks. It seemed like a sun that warmed his insides, illuminating him with each laugh that came out and Bruce without realizing the corner of his lip rose.

From then on, Bruce didn't need much help from Alfred since he learned quickly, so his sense of overprotection began to grow. Every time he held her in his arms, he realized how much more fragile and defenseless she was. She wasn't like his other children. She wasn't trained from the beginning for combat and she wasn't super intelligent. She was just a regular baby. That's why Bruce stayed around the baby, even if it was through the mansion's cameras, and he regularly found himself worried about her, often calling Alfred to ask how she was.

Besides the fact that she is weaker compared to other babies, because in the orphanage where she lived, which was actually a front and a place for human trafficking, the children did not receive the necessary care and most of the time they went hungry, Bruce felt his veins pulsate just thinking about it, there is also the lack of records, he tried in many ways to find information about her birth or parental records but found nothing, so it was obvious, they planned to traffic her.

He regrets not beating up those drug dealers more, which is why Bruce had to resort to DNA testing to at least find out her ethnicity. Barbara applied to help and said it would take at least two days for the results. Meanwhile, Bruce prepared the other arrangements for the baby; this week would be quite long.

Then on the second day something strange happened, that day the baby tried to imagine what her past life was like, was she happy? What was her childhood like? Did she have parents? What was she like as an adult? And most importantly, how did she die...?

These questions had been going around her head all day, so that night, the baby tried so hard to remember more memories that she ended up falling asleep in the process, then she had a disturbing dream. She couldn't feel anything and all she saw was an immense darkness, it wasn't scary but rather sad and melancholic, it was nothing but darkness until in the sky she saw a little red dot, which gradually turned into a drop that fell to the center.

Then everything changed, she realized that it wasn't just a red drop... It was blood. It spread like a virus, the intense color shone in the place, she no longer felt sadness, she felt anger, a deep hatred but she had other feelings, fear... anguish that suffocated her, that trapped her in this red hell.

Like blood...

The baby woke up desperate, she was sobbing and short of breath, but she could still feel... those overwhelming emotions eating away at her flesh, her tears ran down her cheeks, she wanted to scream, get someone's attention, but she couldn't, as if it was registered in her body to suffer alone.

"Someone.. Ah... Please... Help!" he thought as his shortness of breath worsened.

At that moment Bruce was returning from patrol and heading towards his room, until he heard a sob and looked back realizing that the noise was coming from the baby's room, he immediately ran towards the noise, frustrated by the distance from his room, when he arrived and opened the door he was able to hear more clearly, they were small sniffles and a contained sob.

If he wasn't a person trained to hear the slightest noises he wouldn't have even noticed, getting closer he saw a distressed little baby with tears running down his face that was red trying to breathe heavily, Bruce quickly shouted calling Alfred and tried somehow to find what was wrong.

He gently picked up the baby feeling even more distressed, she wasn't crying like a normal baby, who screams and makes a fuss if something is bothering her, she was curled up like a shell letting out only small sobs and her mouth was tightly closed with only her tears coming out.

Bruce checked to see if any part of her body was hurt until he realized that she was holding her breath━ No no, please breathe! ━ he held her little head as he desperately tried to make her breathe.

Amidst so many tears, the baby managed to see Bruce's face blurry, who was desperate, seeing that someone was at his side to help, her breathing began to return slowly, her mouth opened and closed trying to make some sound, she stretched out her arms towards Bruce, touching his face and becoming calmer.

Bruce caressed her little hand and said ━ It's okay, I'm here ━ He wiped her tears and hugged her to his chest, lightly patting her back. Alfred soon appeared, out of breath from having run. With him were the boxes of medicine.

After taking her temperature, Alfred said that she had a fever but that it wasn't serious and that she just needed to take some medicine. Bruce was confused. How could it not be serious?! He saw her losing her breath as if she was in extreme pain. Bruce told this to Alfred, who was extremely worried and recommended that the doctor's appointment be rescheduled for tomorrow. Bruce agreed and looked at the room. It was a decent room but it showed his neglect of her at the beginning. It was far from his main room and he was completely unprepared in case something like what happened today happened.

Bruce turned to Alfred━ She will sleep with me tonight this place is not safe━ Alfred was surprised but did not disagree━ What are you planning sir?

━ I'm going to renovate the room closest to mine, and I'm going to install the security system in it━ the baby they thought was sleeping on Bruce's shoulder looked at him with wide eyes " what!? "

"Wait a minute! I know today was tense, but it's not that bad!!"

She looked at Alfred desperately "You don't agree with this nonsense, do you!?" and breaking her expectations Alfred said━ I completely agree, Sir.

The baby with her puffy cheeks looking like a pufferfish while drinking her liquid medicine thought "It's not fair..." Bruce couldn't help but pinch her cheeks as the baby slapped his hand away in irritation.

The next day it happened exactly as Bruce said, the baby spent the night in his room, she slept peacefully on his chest as if nothing had happened, he on the other hand, couldn't sleep and spent the whole night worried about her, and sometimes he just watches her sleeping perhaps envying her for her peace.

It was only in the morning that Bruce managed to sleep, but he was soon woken up by Alfred opening the curtains. He saw the baby already awake playing with his hand. He kissed her on the forehead and got up. The people Bruce had hired to do the renovations soon appeared. He comforted Alfred by saying that they were trustworthy people.

Suddenly the doorbell rang, Alfred answered it and came back accompanied by a woman in a wheelchair, she was beautiful and wore glasses, her hair was red and she was carrying a purse, she greeted Bruce and looked around as if she were looking for something, then her eyes shone when she found the baby.

" Bárbara Gordon?! " the baby was surprised by the woman who approached, it wasn't every day that she met the esteemed Barbara Gordon, daughter of Commissioner Gordon, the iconic Batgirl herself and one of the most intelligent people in DC, while thinking the baby suddenly felt in the air and realized that she was now in Barbara's lap.

Barbara was smiling beautifully ━ Good morning princess ━ ​​she said and kissed the baby's cute little cheeks who blushed, Barbara already knew her? But she doesn't remember meeting her.

The baby doesn't know, but when Bruce wanted to do the DNA test Barbara decided to come personally to collect the samples, but she was curious about the new child that Bruce adopted, when she found out that it was a baby she thought the decision was irresponsible, taking care of a baby is difficult and more dangerous with the lives of Punishers that they lead, the proof of this is her legs, the memory of the attack was still engraved in her mind.

Thinking that this could happen to a baby irritated her.

And when she arrived at the mansion she planned to leave quickly, that's when she saw her, Alfred showed the sleeping baby in the nursery so it was easier to get the sample, Barbara found her appearance quite rare, especially her red hair, she acted carefully so as not to wake her up and collected a bit of her beard, when she was going to take her hand away the baby grabbed one of her fingers probably thinking it was one of her stuffed animals.

Barbara stopped and watched the baby hugging her hand, her little cheeks around her transferring their warmth to her cold palm, Barbara couldn't help but find this very cute, it somehow eased her fleeting anger, realizing that this adoption can't be that bad.

That day Barbara felt comforted.

Now Barbara noticed that she had smeared the baby's face with her lipstick, she laughed nervously and wiped the baby's face with a tissue until she heard a dry cough behind her, she slowly turned to receive Bruce with crossed arms and a raised eyebrow ━It seems like someone woke up in a bad mood today━ she commented as she looked at Bruce's messy appearance.

He sighed━ Did you come to play with my daughter or hand over the documents I lost ━ he held out his hand waiting for the file, Barbara snorted━ It's here, you bore!━ she said taking the folder out of her bag and handing it over.

━ Isn't he annoying, baby?━ She asked the baby who raised his arms trying to grab the locks of her hair. Barbara laughed when she saw the baby enchanted with her hair. ━ Yes, dear, you're not the only redhead in this house ━ The baby managed to grab one of the locks and smiled, showing her dimples. Barbara felt her heart melt at the sight and couldn't hold back and kissed her little face even more.

Bruce sat in an armchair as he read the files. Through the sample, he discovered that the baby's ethnicity is Latin, her parents were probably immigrants and had the bad luck of falling into the wrong hands. He flipped through the pages and found nothing else of interest ━ Didn't you find anything else? ━ Barbara shook her head. ━ Unfortunately not, it's as if she never existed.

━ Hunn ━ he put his hand on his chin, that was impossible, the batcomputer had access to thousands of pieces of information, both confidential and public, not having even his parents' information was suspicious. While Bruce was thinking, Alfred appeared with a tray containing coffee and a bottle, he left the tray on a table and politely asked for Barbara's baby, who complained a little but let him, and he took her to another room, she looked back at Bruce ━ I heard what happened, Alfred told me, I'm glad she's okay ━ Bruce nodded ━ I'm taking her to the hospital today, I hope it's nothing serious.

━ You haven't given her a name yet, have you?

━...

━Bruce!!

He sighed━ I don't want to give her just any name, I want it to be special, with a meaning, that reminds her of her origins━ he shook the papers in his hand━ This might help, thank you very much Barbara.

She gave a small smile ━ No problem, but what about the others? You know it won't be long before they find out about her, I think even Tim already knows.

Bruce drank the coffee that Alfred left ━ Don't worry, I'll introduce her at the family dinner, until then I ask you not to tell anyone, and about Tim, he won't tell or simply doesn't care ━the family dinner, an occasion that Alfred plans every month, with the purpose of bringing the family together, even if it's a disaster with the frequent fights or an absurd silence that could even hear the flies buzzing.

For the first time Bruce found this meeting useful.

━ Oh yeah, I almost forgot ━ she turned on the TV at the exact moment the newspaper was on, Bruce was about to ask until the girl on television spoke━ Breaking news, apparently historians have discovered more about the greatest mystery in history, the Red Empress.

The newspaper continued talking about this, the red empress, a historical phenomenon that is a mystery to this day, whose existence was only discovered through reports from other countries, is considered a symbol of freedom and hope since it was through her that slavery in her country ended.

To reinforce the title historical mystery, not even her name was discovered and there was even a time when they thought she was a man, and her 'nickname' came through a report from a king who described her as having vibrant red hair, not even this was confirmed with certainty.

━ It's impressive, isn't it? Even after so many years we still know little about her ━ Barbara commented, Bruce never really paid attention to this subject, but he had to admit that it was fascinating.

Then Barbara had to leave, she had to take care of some unfinished business, the baby had a sad look as the woman left, she just wanted to spend more time with Barbara ━ Ó╭╮Ò ━ seeing the baby's eyes shining Bruce kissed her on the head━ No need to cry, you'll see her soon.

Soon the appointment time arrived, Bruce dressed in his usual casual suit and as the baby was wearing a pink jumpsuit and was wrapped like a taco, Bruce didn't want her to get sick again on the way. He took her to see Dr. Leslie Thompkins, even with their misunderstandings and fights in the past Bruce couldn't deny that Leslie is one of the best doctors he has ever known and at least she is a trustworthy person to take care of a baby.

Waiting in a private room at the hospital, the baby looked and recognized the old lady who opened the door, being one of Batman's old allies but for some reason she couldn't remember her name.

━ Good afternoon Dr. Leslie, and good to see you again ━ Bruce greeted her with a handshake, "Oh yes! That's her name! Leslie didn't appear that much in the comics, maybe that's why I forgot her name"

━ I'm glad to see you too Bruce━ she looked at the baby ━ Was that the child you rescued?━ Bruce nodded and she sighed.

━ I saw the news and read about her case, it really was a miracle, but today is not the day of her treatment, what happened? ━ Bruce told about what happened and also reported about the slight fever she had last night, she said she was going to do some tests and see if there was anything wrong.

Leslie took the stethoscope off the baby's back━ There's nothing wrong with her, but maybe I have a theory about it━ she pulled out some papers showing an x-ray of a head━ From what I saw the most concentrated injuries were on the head and maybe because of that some trauma arose.

She pointed to some spots in the photo explaining that some were not yet healed and others needed extensive treatment, the baby saw Bruce's hands close into a fist after Leslie spoke of the injuries, so she placed her little hand on top which Bruce responded by squeezing them making the baby laugh, Bruce gave a small smile to the side forgetting his anger.

Leslie stopped for a moment when she saw this scene. It was rare to see Bruce so emotional. She hadn't seen this side of him since her parents died. She shook her head, pushing her thoughts away, and continued her explanation. In the end, she decided to do some tests with Bruce's permission, and most of them were about locomotion and intellect, like playing with a brick cube and fitting it in the right place, or moving her arms and feathers when the doctor asked her to.

The baby put the last cube in place and Leslie wrote it down in her notebook and she turned to Bruce who was in the background watching━ The test went normally, there were no peculiarities━ Bruce sighed in relief.

"But of course, I had to pretend to be wrong on purpose so they wouldn't suspect me." The baby knows that faking the test is wrong, but if they knew about her having an adult conscience or that she knows that this world is made of comics, there's no knowing what will happen to her if they find out, so it's better not to risk it.

━ Since we didn't find anything wrong, the injuries probably don't affect her now but they could affect her in the future, so stay tuned ━ Leslie said as Bruce picked up the baby from the floor, if there's nothing wrong then what was that? Was it really just a nightmare? But would a nightmare cause such a reaction? Then he asked Leslie ━ Can this leave psychological trauma? Cause some kind of anxiety?

Leslie replied ━ She's very young so she can forget what happened, and that's good, she won't carry that trauma with her for the rest of her life ━ Bruce agreed and caressed the baby's face, looking into her eyes, it really is good news, the last thing he wants to see is this little angel suffer and lose the sparkle in her eyes.

In the end, the doctor prescribed some medicine if this happens again, but asked Bruce to wait a little while to talk━ I'm glad you entrusted her to me, but dare I ask, do you plan on making her-

━ No ━ Bruce interrupted her knowing what she was going to ask ━ I don't plan any of that for her, you don't need to worry about it.

She smiled and caressed the baby's face━ She is special Bruce, she was a warrior for surviving in those circumstances.

Bruce looked at the baby━ I know ━ and kissed her cheek━ She's a little ray of sunshine.

Three days have passed and the renovation of the baby's room is still not finished. Alfred even put a temporary nursery in Bruce's room, worried that the baby would start to depend on him to sleep, and she was shocked. "Alfred! It's not me you should be worried about, it's him!!!" she thought, pointing to Bruce. Not that she was complaining, Bruce's chest was a wonderful pillow but it was very tiring. Every time she slept in the nursery, Bruce woke her up in the middle of the night to sleep with him.

Apparently this is part of one of his overprotective paranoias, with her in his arms he can hear her heartbeat and protect her, this is comforting to him, even Alfred noticed that Bruce was sleeping well lately and he was quite happy about it, he doesn't even remember how much of a lecture he gave Bruce about his terrible sleeping habits talking about how a good night's sleep could be good for your health, but if he knew it was because of the baby he wouldn't be so happy.

The day started with the baby being woken up by Bruce kissing her forehead, she grunted trying to push him away because she was ticklish, he let out a little laugh and hugged her ━ Good morning sweetie ━ and got up to get ready while the baby tried to stay awake.

Alfred came and got the baby ready for breakfast and Bruce had to go to work to resolve some negotiations. In the kitchen, Alfred fed the baby a mixture of milk and medicine, as recommended by the doctor, since the medicine was too bitter for a baby.

Then Alfred took the baby for a walk in the garden, over time this became a pastime between Alfred and the baby, he showed her the flowers in the garden and enjoyed the calm and cozy time together, the baby in Alfred's arms looked at the beauty of the garden until she realized that in the background there was a vegetable garden.

The baby tugged on Alfred's sleeve and pointed to the vegetable garden, wondering what it was. ━ Oh, little miss, this is the vegetable garden your brother and I made together. ━ he said, coming closer and showing some freshly cleaned vegetables.

The baby tilted her head in confusion, "Brother? Which brother?" She approached a plant and realized something, "That's just like Damian. Even though he's an angry guy, he has very calm hobbies." She loved the fact that Damian likes to draw and is an animal lover to the point of becoming a vegan. It's no wonder he's her favorite Robin, even though he's annoying.

━Master Damian liked to water them early in the morning━ Alfred, even smiling, looked sad ━But now he's too busy for that...━ Alfred turned towards the mansion and the baby looked at the vegetable garden behind his shoulder.

Alfred had to do his job so he had to place the baby around several pillows in the living room, soon the baby got bored and moved uncomfortably, she hated being a baby and always being stuck in one place just waiting for someone to come by and ask for help so she could just get up.

She watched her little feet dangling and thought, "What if I try to stand up?" So she tried her best to get into a sitting position, but then she fell flat on her stomach on the couch, panting and sweating. "Wow! Just moving around made me so tired!"

So she gave up and took the opportunity to lie down on the couch, not knowing that someone was watching her through the cameras. Bruce, who was in a minimally boring meeting, took the opportunity to check the baby on the cameras on his cell phone and saw her get up, fall on her stomach on the couch and fall asleep. He had to hold himself back from laughing in the middle of the meeting.

At night, Alfred, after feeding her, gave her a bath and changed her clothes, putting on bunny-shaped pajamas. He had white fur with pink gloves and shoes and a hood with bunny ears and a bow.

This time it wasn't Alfred who bought it, it was Bruce who saw it in a shopping mall window and bought it almost automatically thinking it would look cute on the baby. After taking a photo, Alfred wrapped the baby in a blanket and sat in an armchair with her on his lap to read a story.

Just a second later the baby was already yawning with her eyes watering, Alfred noticed and quickly put her in the nursery, saying goodnight and giving her a kiss on the forehead, then he turned off the light and left Bruce's room.

The baby, as her eyes were about to close, lamented, thinking that she would soon be woken up by a certain person.

The next morning she woke up shocked realizing that she was still in the nursery, no one woke her up in the middle of the night and that meant that Bruce wasn't here, she should have been happy that he didn't disturb her but the opposite happened, in fact she was extremely worried.

Was he so hurt that he couldn't come? Or was he kidnapped by one of his enemies and is being terribly tortured? There were so many possibilities and situations that Batman could be in, that the baby was crying and let out a small cry calling Alfred's attention who came quickly.

In the butler's arms she let out grunts, pointing to the bed clearly asking where Bruce was, Alfred seeing this let out a small laugh and wiped her small tears with his thumb ━ Don't worry little one, I'll take you to Mr. Bruce ━ Alfred took her out of the room and walked through the corridor to the last door where Bruce's office was.

" Hun? He spent the night there, but why?"

Alfred knocked on the door but no one answered, he knocked again but again no answer, then he opened the door finding Bruce with glasses totally focused on a book and with other books around, you could see that he didn't sleep last night with his dark circles and tired look on his face.

Alfred coughed, attracting Bruce's attention, who finally looked up to see the two at the door. He sighed tiredly, taking off his glasses and pinching his eyebrows with a headache. He asked for the baby and Alfred handed it over ━ I never thought choosing a name would be so difficult ━ He caressed the baby's face, who was clearly angry with her eyebrows raised. Bruce looked at Alfred in confusion, asking for answers.

━ The little lady is upset because she couldn't find you this morning ━ Bruce gave a small smile and kissed the baby's cheeks apologizing "That's a lie! I was just worried" but she quickly forgave him now knowing that he did it thinking about her name.

Bruce showed the names to Alfred, most of them were from Latin America so that she would remember her origins but so far nothing pleased him, while they talked about looking for other names, the baby looked at the page of the book that Bruce was holding.

She looked through some names until one caught her attention, "Suyana..." somehow that name seemed familiar to her, as if a voice sounded in her mind, it was a soft voice calling her, she without realizing it placed her hand on the page attracting the attention of Bruce and Alfred.

Bruce held her and looked at the sheet finding the name she was pointing to━ Suyana, meaning hope in the Quechua language of South America ━ he thought the name suited her, hope... something he didn't imagine he would have in his life but now...

Alfred added, ━The meaning fits little miss, don’t you think, Mister Bruce?━ Bruce nodded, ━You’re right, and it’s quite unique like her.

━Did you like your name? Suyana━ the baby smiled happily, she finally had a name, she buried herself in Bruce's arms who hugged her too, she put her ear to his chest listening to his heartbeat, understanding now why Bruce likes that, it was relaxing to know that someone was by her side.

Bruce kissed her on the forehead but the baby pushed him away uncomfortable, he suddenly rubbed his chin realizing the problem ━ I should start cutting my beard.

Continued...

About the tag list, I don't know how to do it, so put in the comments who wants to be tagged in the next chapter. That way it'll be easier for me.🙂

Taglist : @fantasyhopperhea @daddysfangirls-dc @cruzerforce4256 @mallowryblog @ jsprien213 @kore-of-the-underworld @bookwarm0-0 @nxdxsworld​

[tyrianludaship]

i was going to have this just be a twitter thing but i changed my mind actually. y'all need to see this

[magicicephoenix]

i need to go pound joey drew into a pulp RIGHT NOW

[lethaldefect]

Welcome back, everyone who’s been waiting! The fun is back on!

Sorry for the long break—we had a “family flu party,” and let me tell you, babies are insanely demanding when they’re sick (yes, I have a family and a life outside of Tumblr—I know, shocking XDD).

But here I am, ready to dive back in!

Yes! I totally agree! I love worldbuilding! Only 9 episodes per season was a crime for me from the beginning, even with 7 seasons (I'm generally not a fan of a lot of seasons with a small number of episodes - 12 episodes per season is the minimum for me). BUT - it's 63 episodes total. And it's quite a lot. And if you're a good writer, that's completely enough to show the world in a way that's satisfying for both the creators and the viewers. 63 episodes is more than some great anime series or other animated series have (for comparison Avatar: The Last Airbender has 61 episodes and The Legend of Korra has 52 and both felt complete to me). It seems that 7 seasons of 9 episodes is not enough, precisely because it's fragmented like that. And let’s not even talk about that nonsensical time skip between Arc 1 and Arc 2. A 2-year timeskip was way too much and it seriously disrupted the plot line. Arc 1 had much better pacing, narration, and information delivery overall (Arc 1 >>>> Arc 2 in every possible way. I’m the biggest Arc 2 hater out there).

For such small series, time is key. This is actually one of the biggest opponents for creators (right after the lack of interaction with the fandom - the silent on official Twitter since season 3 was a shot in the foot, and I don't mean sharing promotional materials, but interacting with the fandom, you know, replying to comments, birthday posts, memes...). The 3-year hiatus was a killer. I don’t care if it was due to the pandemic, Ehasz drama, or changes at Wonderstorm—3 years of vague “it’ll come soon, so stfu and stop asking” was just unacceptable. Especially since the first three seasons came out within a year. (I started this series when I was finishing high school, and now I’m 25 with a baby. Like… WTF.)

NOW, MOVING ON TO THE JUICY STUFF:

That whole „we all loved him, but suddenly it turned out that for thousands of years he was making some revolutions, so we locked him up." was a sarcastic paraphrase of what she says in S4. Anyway, Zubeia ends the story by saying that "every great crisis the world faced" was actually Aaravos' doing. She probably meant civil wars, but honestly, you could totally call them revolutions. The changes in Xadia that came about as a result of those wars were certainly revolutionary, especially for this continent and the laws it operates under. And we're told that he was imprisoned specifically for that. Zubeia presented it as conspiracies... but I’ve been around long enough and seen too much politics to to just believe that XD. Aaravos says he’s innocent, and while I take his words with a grain of salt, I’d still like to hear his side of the story. Aaravos seems to be very politically ambivalent. What the dragons and other rulers of Xadia considered conspiracies and crises, may not have been so for him and others.

At the same time - saying that he was punished for Aditi's disappearance is a mistake, because the series shows that for thousands of years no one knew what happened to her. Khessa was the first. So going by that, probably no one even suspected that he could have had anything to do with it.

I know that imprisoning him was the only option to control him, but it's still cruel. That’s not a critique of the story—just my empathy for him. 😭

The Orphan Queen plotline pisses me off every time. Seriously, the last thing I’d do is trust a teenage human girl with no evidence, and then let a human mage help imprison the most powerful being in the world. If they hate humans and especially human mages so much, then be consistent. Maybe try thinking things through? Because that could’ve easily been a human conspiracy against the elves and dragons.

This is interesting because according to the timeline presented at Comic Con in 2019, Sol Regem was the first Dragon King of Xadia. Wiki also mentions he became an Archdragon after mastering the Sun, which qualified him to be King. So either the timeline ignores earlier rulers, or the royal hierarchy of dragons does not only concern the line of eventual rulers of Xadia.

Why do I assume Aaravos had significant political influence? Let me explain. Obviously, this is just my theory. Startouch elves were the first elves of Xadia. Plus, there’s this constant narrative that, while they’re elves, they’re also something more - Some higher being. Like gods. Aaravos is one of the Great Ones, one of the first elves in Xadia. And they say he’s one of the last (whether that means the last Great One or the last Startouch elf in Xadia is unclear). Still, if he was beloved by humans, elves, and dragons, it seems clear he must’ve had some political role. If Startouch elves are seen as higher beings, their political opinions would carry immense weight. I’m not saying Startouch elves were the original rulers of Xadia, but I like to compare their role to that of the clergy in medieval European politics. They didn’t rule directly but were the most important advisors. Their opinions mattered most, right after the king’s. And even the rulers tried to please them first. So, assuming Aaravos had substantial influence over Xadia’s politics seems fair to me. His voice must’ve—or should’ve—mattered. Whether he stayed politically active while he had Leola is another question. Still, I think he would’ve had enough influence over Xadia’s ruling bodies to threaten Sol Regem.

Sure, I get your perspective. I’ll stick with my interpretation because it just makes a bit more sense to me. Personally, I think his tone toward her was different from the way he spoke to the other dragons. For me, the energy and dynamic felt different. Especially since he really wanted her to suffer. But again, that’s just my theory, and I like to imagine it adds depth to the story. I think Aaravos feeling particularly betrayed by Zubeia could stem from the idea that, as a woman, she should’ve been more empathetic to his perspective as a parent who lost a child tragically. It’s just a tasty little detail that adds perspective.

Aaron Ehasz confirmed that the Startouch elf in the S1E1 sequence is young Aaravos, before he became the Fallen.

I hope we get an Elarion arc in arc 3 (and that we don't have to wait 3 years for it...). I want it to expand on the story we already have. That’s basically all I’m expecting and waiting for right now.

When the creators talked about continuing the series, they always framed it as prequels and side stories (e.g., The Orphan Queen was pitched as a standalone series, book, or movie at Comic-Con 2019). Also, what we now call Arc 3 wasn’t supposed to exist until S6. Initial versions (during S4 promotion) assumed that the "Mystery of Aaravos" arc would end with S6, and S7 would be the final season (earlier there was also a narrative that S4 and S5 would be one arc, and S6 and S7 would be arc 3 - again Comic Con 2019, the period of S3 promotion). And sure, concepts change, but for me S7 will be the official end of the series until arc 3 is officially confirmed and promotion begins.

And sentimentally, the series ended for me with S3 anyway.

--------------

Honestly, I hoped that if they were going to kill him, they’d do it in some way tied to Leola. Like… this man has depression… there’s nothing left in the world he cares about (okay, except Claudia now, but Claudia will manage without him). At least let him die with dignity, for something he loves.

And seriously, Leola is such an important piece here. Even if she doesn’t come back to life, I think her story would deeply affect the decisions and choices of most of the characters… if they actually took the time to tell it properly.

---------------

BTW I'M IN LOVE, HE LOOKS SO PRETTY HERE 😭

wait a fucking minute...

We still don't know why and how Aaravos was imprisoned.

And what exactly his beef with Sol Reg and the other archdragons was about.

And what his relationship was with the Orphan Queen.

Oh yeah! And also his relationship with Ziard... and city of Elarion...

DID THEY JUST KILL HIM WITH ABSOLUTELY NO EXPLANATION?

I'M SO PISSED OFF

[banalras]

tinking again about arie and their lil apartment in minrathous and the +10 stray cats that are totally not theirs but they'll have to return to feed them and make sure they are safe

[orcelito]

I've been following that AITA blog for a bit now and it has me thinking about my own life situations with conflict and drama. A passive "do I have anything I could submit to that blog?" But upon thinking about it, it's like... I really find no value in asking strangers whether I'm "the asshole" in situations. There are situations where I'm clearly not at fault, situations where I was a little shit but it was justified, and at least one situation where I have a definite "Oh yeah, I was definitely the asshole there". All in the past, so it's not like I'd even need advice or anything. I already know, so what's the point?

Maybe it stems from me being a generally self-aware and self-confident kind of person. I know what's going on with myself, know when I've wronged people, & I have a mentality of "well, I'll try to not do that in the future." Even if I feel a little guilty thinking back, what's the point of asking after something when I know I'm at fault? Or situations where things were complicated and both people had fault in things, but I know I wasn't being shitty on purpose & that's what matters to me. Ultimately, it results in a bunch of strangers drawing conclusions about things I really don't care about outside input on.

Still love reading the blog tho. There's something about reading up on random people's life drama that satisfies that gossipmonger soul in me So well.

[c10v3r]

Do you have roblox?

yeas ! im mostly on there to just goof around with some friends though sometimes i do get the animalistic urge to draw in free draw HGEHAHEHA

my user’s Lazy176 if thats what you were wondering ! its a very weird user but thank god 5 year old me didnt pick something like xxultimatedestroyerxx or i woulda quit much earlier

[pandaimitator]

Maybe in another 2 years I will be able to start re-reading them. Until then I will stay in mourning of the fact that there won't ever be any new uniquely subtle turn of phrases packed into every page in the way that only Pratchett mastered.

I don't know how Terry managed it. There's just nothing on this earth like a Discworld book. I'll be listening to a book I've read countless times over and suddenly, a single line I've never even really noticed before will tear me open. They just reach right inside me and open my ribcage to expose my very heart.

Tonight, it was Hat Full of Sky and Granny Weatherwax saying, "The world is unfair. Be grateful you have friends." On their own, the words are unremarkable. But juxtaposed together, with the context they are operating in....they had tears flowing down my face before I knew what was happening. The world is unfair; sometimes, the wonderful happens when it shouldn't (and/or when you feel you deserve a divinely wrathful torment) because you have friends. The world is unfair. That doesn't just mean that the horrible happens when it shouldn't. It means that the beautiful does too. Be grateful you have friends. They are the hub on which that beauty spins, turning the theft into gold.

A lot of people I've introduced to these books haven't liked them — they find them too silly, or preachy, or nonsensical, or even puerile. I am never upset or really disappointed when they don't like them. To each their own. But I will never understand it. They are baked into my being in a way that few things are and I am better to myself, to other people, and to the world because of it.

Sir Terry, you were a gift nonpareil. Thank you for your words and for shaping my world.

[kil9]

the british have to stop trying to cook this is hell

[chaos-coming]

Me, trying to re-schedule my thesis defense bc the day it was scheduled by my swedish university is a public holiday in austria (bc of fucking course it is): then how about these other dates, which you have already told me will work for you

My austrian supervisor, whose assessment my degree hinges on: it's unreasonable to assume everyone will be available on the same day

Me: ???

??????

How is it unreasonable to assume scheduling a date should be something that is possible???

Is there some other magical way thesis defenses work in his ivory tower mind??

What the actual fuck dude, this is why im here and not working with you unreasonable bastards

(I will not answer until monday to preserve my chances of graduating and getting tf outta that shithole uni)

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

the pro

part ii: what we're willing to accept

Pairing: Art Donaldson x Reader

Rating: Explicit - 18+ only. minors, please get off my lawn.

Notes: My brain chose violence this morning. Not beta-read because when is it ever.

Length: 4.8K

Warnings: Slow burn; unhappily married reader; divorced Art Donaldson; infidelity; oral sex (female receiving); vaginal sex; unsafe sex

Summary: Every lesson becomes an exercise in self-control. You force yourself to try, really try, and not make silly mistakes for the sake of Art coming closer, grasping your arm or elbow, pressing close and redirecting your swing. You don’t know what you crave more these days: his praise or his touch.

He's the biggest men's tennis star since Andy Roddick.

That’s what your husband says, as if it’ll entice you. As if you know anything about tennis, about the pro that your husband says will be coming to the house to teach you to play.

It’ll be good for you. You need a hobby. 

You don’t gripe or argue. You don’t tell him that five months into your marriage shouldn’t have you looking for a new hobby. You should still be in the honeymoon stage, spending all of your time with him, hanging off of his arm, off of his every word. But he works so much and he’s away so often—

I don’t want you to get bored. 

It’s a sweet gesture. The maid handles the housework; you have a chef that handles most of the grocery shopping and cooking, unless you insist on making something yourself; you have a housekeeper that arranges for anything you need—dry cleaning, maintenance. And it’s no wonder that with all of his money, his power, he can just order a retired pro tennis player up to your house, like you’d order a pizza. There’s a tennis court in the back of the mansion, a few feet from the pool. You’ll get some new outfits, the best sneakers, the nicest rackets. You’ll finally have something to do to fill your days. 

Art Donaldson. 

You know his name before the lean, fair-skinned patrician man turns up at your front door. He trails you through the house, politely declines your offer of a beverage. 

“You ever played tennis before?” He asks. 

You haven’t. Before your husband arranged this for you, you hadn’t so much as given the sport more than a passing thought. You don’t have the heart or confidence to tell that to a man that’s made tennis his whole life, so you just give him a small, guilty smile and say no, you haven’t. He nods, waves you off, insists that it’s fine. 

“We’ll start with the basics.” 

-- 

Two months of lessons on the basics make your arms tired, and your hands sore. But where your swings are clumsy and your grip is weak at first, you can see improvement in the way that you move. Your steps are less clumsy when you go after a ball; you’re more aware of the service line and the base line; your forehand stroke from contact to your left shoulder is smoother; your rotation and follow-through on your backhand is coming along, but has a long way to go. 

Art’s instruction is calm and steady. He explains technique as much as he demonstrates it. When you get something wrong, he doesn’t scold, just lightly corrects. When you do something well, his encouragement is constant and free-flowing. Every accurate move and motion is met with, “Nice,” or, “Perfect,” or, “That’s it.” 

On the days when you don’t have a lesson with Art, you practice. You order a tennis ball machine to work on your forehand and backhand. You attempt (and fail) to learn how to slice on your own. You try anyway—you can only imagine the way his eyes might light up if you manage to surprise him. 

You’ve tried to ignore the rising interest that you have in Art, but you can’t help the little…Crush that’s developed. He’s just so attentive, and kind. When you find yourself smiling these days, it’s often because of something that he said, or did. You can’t remember the last time your husband made you feel giddy this way. It was probably when you started dating—before you’d made the decision to marry for comfort, rather than love. Your husband is practical, rarely physically affectionate, more heavily involved in his job and social circles than with you. 

But you’ll have to find a way to thank him. He’s given you a hobby, and a man that grins at you like you just painted the goddamn Mona Lisa when you serve your first ace. 

-- 

“So, tell me about the Mark Rebellato Academy.” 

Art smiles, dipping his head as he reaches for his coffee. It’s taken a few months, but you finally convince him to have something to drink with you after practice. Your chef is blessedly out shopping for ingredients for dinner, so you have the kitchen all to yourself. Art has watched you putter around, seeming surprised that you know where everything is. You can’t blame him; the kitchen is chef-grade, and you don’t cook much these days. 

“Did your husband tell you that’s where I went?” 

“No.” 

“Then how do you know?” 

You’re too embarrassed to admit that you’ve done some googling, and watched a couple of clips of him interviewing before and after his matches. 

“I’ve just heard,” You fib. “Tell me about it?” 

He leans back in his seat, eyes skating across your face as he seems to consider something. 

“What do you wanna know?” 

“Did you enjoy it? I mean—” It feels like a dumb question once it’s out, and you hurry to redirect, “With what you know now, if you had the choice, would you have learned how to play tennis somewhere else?” 

He considers for a moment, trailing his finger over the side of his cup. Your gaze flits to his fingers, and your own flex around your mug handle. You’ve spent far too much time looking at and thinking about Art’s fingers—their length and quickness; the slight roughness of his calloused hands; the lingering tan line from where his wedding band used to sit. 

“Yeah,” He admits, drawing your full attention back to his face. “I would. It was foundational, you know. I’ve been thinking of sending Lily there.” 

“Lily?” 

A bittersweet smile twists his lips. “My daughter.” 

“Oh!” It catches you off-guard.  

“Tashi, uh—” He clears his throat, “Lily’s mother, my ex-wife. She and I are thinking about schools.” 

“I’m sure they’d be glad to have her. Does she play tennis?” 

“Little bit. She didn’t start until last year, but she's a natural.” He clears his throat again, presses, “Are you and your husband planning on having kids?” 

“Oh god no.” You blurt it out, and realize as he raises his brows that you’ve spoken too quickly. You lean back in your seat, stirring your coffee quickly to distract yourself from your growing embarrassment. “He actually has kids already. Two girls, seven and ten. They’re at boarding school and they stay with their mother when they're on vacation. I haven’t gotten to spend much time with them.” 

“...He seems to be pretty busy.” 

“He is.” 

“So it’s just you in this big house?” He tips his head to the side, brows knitting with curiosity. “What do you do all day?” 

“Play tennis.”

He grins, chuckling, and your stomach flips at the sound. 

“It shows, you know,” He says. 

“What do you mean?” 

“I can tell you’re practicing without me. And,” He leans across the table, running his fingers lightly over the exposed skin of your bicep, “You’re getting stronger.” 

You wonder if he can see or feel the goosebumps that break out across your skin at the gentle sweep, his gaze heavy on yours.

“I have a good teacher,” You murmur. Art’s lips twitch with a soft smile, his hand gently cupping your arm. 

“Just good?” He plies. 

“The best. A real pro.” 

His smile widens, and the flash of his tongue sweeping across his lower lip makes your face go hot. You know that you’re caught when Art’s touch becomes firmer, pulling your arm toward him just a little. 

The sound of approaching footsteps startles you, and you hurriedly tug your arm away. The sight of your husband makes your heart leap into your throat. 

“There you are,” He smiles. “Art, how’s she doin’?” 

“She’s killing it.” 

You don’t dare look at him, but you can feel the weight of his attention lingering on you still. You just give your husband a smile, tipping your cheek up obligingly as he leans down to kiss it. 

“Actually, Art,” Your husband straightens up, hands resting on your shoulders. “I’m glad I caught you. There’s a charity event for a local club this month. It’s for uh…What is it?” He squeezes your shoulders for answers, and you have to keep from rolling your eyes. 

“It’s a charity tennis match to raise funds to fix up the local courts. They need resurfacing and they’re raising funding to keep the fees down.” 

“We could use a sponsorship from the foundation,” Your husband adds. 

“Honey,” You glance back, wary of insulting Art. But—

“I’ll do it,” Art agrees. “Send me the details.” 

“Excellent,” Your husband grins. “Maybe we could coax you into a match or two.” 

You don’t chastise him this time—not when you see something light up in Art.

“Maybe.” 

--  

You haven’t seen Art play before. You’ve specifically avoided it. You’ve known that when you saw it, you would be too intimidated to do a damn thing on the court with him. But now, you can’t stop watching him. You don’t even care that you probably look so out of place—where everyone else is watching the ball, you’re just watching him. 

His movements are so neat, so precise. It’s like watching a dance. He’s running the poor guy on the other side of the net up and down the court. And the sounds that he’s making—god. Every little grunt and groan is weaving increasingly filthy thoughts in your mind. You already know that you’ll seek out the memory of those sounds, as you reach between your legs later. His shirt clings to his chest, showcasing the muscles that you’ve always suspected he has. Strands of hair plaster to his forehead as sweat drips over his cheekbones, down the bridge of his nose, over his jaw. 

When he scores a match point and he looks toward the cheering crowd—when his eyes land on you instantly, without having to search—it’s like you’ve been hit by a bolt of lightning. You can’t think, or move. You barely have the focus to applaud, but you manage to raise your hands and clap. 

-- 

Every lesson becomes an exercise in self-control. You force yourself to try, really try, and not make silly mistakes for the sake of Art coming closer, grasping your arm or elbow, pressing close and redirecting your swing. You don’t know what you crave more these days: his praise or his touch. 

Coffee becomes a post-lesson ritual. He starts to stick closer and closer to you as he follows you into the house until he begins to rest his hand on your lower back, guiding you to your door. He keeps nearby when you’re making it, brushes droplets of sweat off of your forehead or neck. Every touch is electrifying; you have to make a concentrated effort to keep your hands steady, your face neutral as your heart pounds and your stomach floods with butterflies. 

He pushes you harder on the court, and you force yourself to meet the level that he sets for you, even when you don’t feel confident in it. But you want to make him proud. 

It spurs you to lunge a little too far. 

The sharp stabbing pain in your left ankle makes you shriek, and you tumble to the ground, dropping the racket with a clatter. You hear the pounding of his feet, glance up just in time to see him clear the net before he’s on the ground at your side. 

“What hurts?” 

“My ankle,” You grit out, hissing softly as he helps you straighten your leg out. He smooths his hands over your calf, leaning over you and gently guiding your foot in a few different directions. You whimper as he starts to guide your foot to the left. 

“Okay, okay,” He soothes, “Let’s get you inside.” 

For as much as you damn the throbbing in your ankle, you thank it a little, too. You lean heavily against Art, making the slow, arduous journey back to the house with his arm wrapped tightly around your middle. 

When your husband comes home, he finds you with on the couch with Art coming back in from the kitchen, an ice pack in your hand. 

You’d hope for concern, but your husband frowns, glances at the swelling knob of your ankle, and simply asks: “What did you do?” 

“She lost her balance.” Art sits down on the other end of the couch, soothing you as the chill of the ice pack makes you shift with discomfort. 

“Are you going to be able to walk tomorrow?” Your husband presses. “We have dinner at the Fineman’s.”

“I'm still going, don't worry about that."

“...Tomorrow might be a bit soon,” Art warns. 

“I’ll be okay. It’s just a sprain, right?” You tip your brows up, hoping, praying that he’ll agree for your sake. His fingers flex around the ice pack, jaw ticking as he clenches it. He doesn’t say a word as your husband sighs heavily, grumbles, “I hope so. Still, we should put a pause on the lessons until she’s fighting fit again.” 

Art finally tears his eyes from yours, a tight smile on his lips. 

“Of course.” 

-- 

“How’s the ankle?” 

It takes you a moment to scrounge up an answer. You can’t believe that he called. You knew that Art had gotten your number when you started taking lessons with him, but he’s never used it beyond texting to confirm a lesson time now and again. 

You look down at the still-swollen flesh as it strains against the thin strap of your slingbacks. 

“Fine,” You lie, “It’s um—” You glance over your shoulder, listening for your husband. “It’s not that bad.” 

“Good enough to walk on?” 

Hardly. 

“Yes.” You think you’ve gotten away with it, but when you hear Art sigh and chastise, “You should rest,” You know that you haven’t.

“I have,” You insist, “All day.” 

“Are you sure you’re alright?” 

“Yes.” 

“You can tell him no, you know.”

Your mouth works wordlessly, body going hot with indignation. You can’t think of a thing to say. You can’t tell him that he’s wrong, that your husband’s connections are the lifeblood of his business. You can’t tell him that if your husband’s business falls apart, you won't be able to afford those tennis lessons, and then how the hell are you supposed to see Art again? 

You just yank your phone away from your ear and hang up. 

-- 

I invited Art. 

It shouldn’t be a surprise, but your husband’s statement makes you feel like you’ve swallowed your tongue. You haven’t seen or spoken to Art in nearly two weeks. Your doctor recommended putting off any physical activity, which your husband surely relayed to him. He was the one whose name was on Art’s checks, after all. 

Your husband has always thrown a massive party to kick off the summer. Every year, 150 of your husband’s closest family, friends, and business associates flooded into the house. It shouldn’t be such a surprise that your husband invited Art after the performance he had given at the fundraiser—$25,000 from the foundation, and ticket sales went through the roof when it had been announced that the Art Donaldson would be making an appearance. Your husband owed Art a lot, and probably saw this as an opportunity for him to network, to take on more clients. He had been evangelizing Art’s training to any of your friends that would listen—how good you are on the court, how engaged and energetic you seem to be these days. 

It’s one thing to know that you’ll have to put on a happy face for the crowd, but to know that Art will be among them makes your insides twist with nerves. You can’t stop thinking about the way that he had spoken to you when you were hurt; his calm, steadying demeanor as he’d gotten you inside; the careful coaxing and gentle touch that he’d used as he’d taken your shoe off and examined your ankle more closely. 

You think about it now, as you strap on another pair of heels. Your ankle really is doing well, though you have a little lingering pain in shoes like these. You’ll likely be on your feet for the length of the party; it’s going to be a long night. You look over yourself in the mirror, self consciously tipping your ankle from side to side for anything that he may spot or catch out. But there’s nothing, you reassure yourself. You slide your hands over the skirt, plastering on a smile as your husband pokes his head into your dressing room. 

“Almost ready in here?” He asks. 

“All set!” 

-- 

He doesn’t come over to you. On the crowded patio, you can feel him watching you—you’ve gotten so used to seeking out the sensation that you can’t ignore it now. The first true look at him is agony. He watches you from just a few feet away, a glass of champagne in hand as he speaks with your husband and the Finemans. He openly looks you over, eyes drifting over your body to the flash of ankle revealed by the slit in your dress. He tips his head to the side just a little, squinting before his eyes flit back up to your face, lips twitching with a small smile. 

You want to hate how good it feels; you want to be angry with him for his smug knowing, his insistence of You can tell him no, you know. But it feels so goddamn good to have his attention again that you can’t bring yourself to be annoyed. You know that you’re staring—that you both are—and you force yourself to turn away and excuse yourself from the conversation you’re in. You go inside, murmuring your thanks for the waitstaff that pass you along the way.

The house isn’t nearly as busy as the patio, and you're able to slip into your darkened study unnoticed. You leave the lights off, certain that if you turn them on, people will be drawn in to bug you, like moths to a flame. The party’s lights and music filter in through the partially-closed blinds. 

You lean against the desk, circling your ankle and wincing a little. You’ll hide for a few minutes, let it rest—

Your breath catches in your throat as the door opens. You expect your husband, ready to scold and usher you back to the guests. 

You only have a second to get a look at Art before he shuts the door behind himself, plunging the room back into darkness. Your fingers tighten around the edge of the desk as you use it to ground yourself. 

“...Do you need something?” You ask, voice wobbling with nerves. 

“Wanted to come say hi.” 

“Well. Hi.” 

You hear him chuckle, his footsteps muted by the carpet. 

“Thanks for the invite.” 

“It wasn’t my idea.” It’s not polite to admit, but you want it to sting him, just a little. Maybe it does; in the dim of the room, you can’t see Art’s expression as he comes to a stop just a couple of feet from you. 

“Do you want me to go?” He asks. You know what you should say, but you can’t bring yourself to say it. 

“No,” You whisper. You feel the heat of him as he comes closer, his hands resting on the desk and caging you in. You bite your lip as gently brushes his nose against yours. 

“He isn’t taking care of you.” 

“My ankle is fine.” 

“I’m not talking about your ankle.” He lifts a hand, smoothing it over your hip as your breath mingles. Art’s fingers drift from your hip to stroke over the apex of your dress’s slit. His fingers slip further down, and you nod as he palms your thigh. Before you can say or do a thing, Art sinks to his knees. He curls his hand around your left calf, lifting it. You shiver as his lips press a gentle kiss to your ankle. His hand and lips travel up, easing the fabric of your dress higher with each second. The first brush of his knuckles against your panty-covered clit makes you jolt. Your hands dig into the wood of the desk as his fingers hook between the fabric and your skin. You lift your hips without a word, allowing him to draw them down. 

Art presses a kiss to your mound before he lowers his head, giving your lips a sweet, sucking kiss. You gasp softly as his tongue swipes across your clit. You look down despite the fact that you can’t see him well. You can just make out his blissful expression, his eyes closed as his laps broadly across your aching cunt. You lower your hand to his neat hair, winding your fingers through it, unable to help grasping it. His heady moan vibrates against you and you nearly cry out at the sensation. You manage to just catch it, the sound dying in your throat as Art buries his tongue inside you. He sweeps his thumb over your clit in rush, harried circles, panting against your heated flesh. You rock your hips down against his lips, tightening your grip on his hair as you guide him. He lets you do as you please, whining against your skin as your movements become less controlled.

“Art,” You warn, “I—Oh, oh god—” 

He hums in encouragement, sucking your clit back between his lips and lashing it with his tongue. Your jaw drops open, your hand shoving Art even more tightly against your skin as you cum suddenly. A stunned, breathy moan slips from your lips as Art leans back, smearing his lips against the inside of your thigh. 

You use your grasp on Art’s hair to draw him back up off of his knees, giving him a crushing kiss as he catches his balance. You swipe your tongue across his lips, whining against his lips as you taste yourself on him. He presses close, his hard cock straining against the fabric of his pants. You reach down, palming and squeezing his length as you trade slick, messy kisses. He steers you back onto the desk as you fumble to undo his belt, button, and zip. 

“Condom?” He asks. 

“Pill,” You reassure, shoving his pants down. You lap broadly across your palm, grasping Art’s length and guiding him closer. He brushes the tip of his cock against your still-throbbing clit, smiling as you whine. You’re going to ache tomorrow, but you’ve never been so happy to be sore.

“Art.” 

“Sssh.” 

“Please—” It’s hardly out of your mouth before he shoves his hips forward, seating himself fully with a single thrust. You bite down on your lip to quiet your moan, curling your arms around your shoulders. He rocks into you with firm, quick strokes, his mouth covering yours. You can hear things on the desk rattling with each thrust, kisses growing less controlled as he hoists your thigh up around his hip. 

“Oh, god,” You breathe, “We have to be quick—He’ll come looking—” 

“Not until you cum for me again,” He urges. “I need to feel it, sweetheart.” 

“Art—” 

“When’s the last time he did this? Hmm?” He presses, “When’s the last time he made you cum? When’s the last time he tasted you?” 

“Never,” You admit with a shiver. It seems to renew Art’s passion, his thrusts and hold growing more intense. You squeeze your eyes shut, hands hooking tightly in the fabric of his jacket. He yanks the front of your dress down, bowing over you and drawing one of your nipples between his lips. You whimper as he toys with the bud, tugging it gently with his teeth before swiping across it. You arch into the slick heat, using your leg to tug him even closer as you chased the swelling curl of your orgasm. 

“Just like that,” You urge, “Ffffuck—yes, yesyesyesyes—”

Your eyes squeeze shut as your hips buck down against his, pussy pulsing as he spills into you. Your heart pounds in your chest as the two of you slow and still. Art rests his forehead heavily against your neck, peppering gentle kisses across the exposed skin. You have to move—now. You don’t know if anyone heard you, but if someone did, you’re screwed. If no one did, your husband will probably be looking for you anyway, ready with a scold for neglecting your hostess duties. 

“...I have to go,” You warn softly. It takes Art a moment to move, but he does, gently drawing himself back from your still-throbbing cunt. You hear the clanking of his belt buckle as he tucks himself away, and you reach down, righting your dress where it’s been pulled away. You take up your panties from where they’d been discarded on the floor, tugging them on before you straighten your skirt and hurry out of the room. 

--  

“Can I see you?” 

It’s only been an hour since the last guest has left, and you are so, so fucking tired. You glance toward the bathroom door. You know that you locked it, and you’re certain that your husband can’t hear you over the shower running, but you can’t help but be paranoid.

“You just saw me,” You remind him. 

“Tomorrow,” Art clarifies. 

“Where?” 

“I’ll send an address.” 

You bite your lip, toying with your earring. Your pussy is still aching from the stretch of him, your ass sore from getting fucked on the desk. 

“...You regret it?” He asks. 

“No,” You don't give your answer a second thought.

“I’ll send an address. Whether or not you see me is up to you. Just…think about it. Okay?” 

“Okay.” 

You lower your phone, hanging it up and watching his contact information blink away. It’s only a moment before a text with an address lights up your phone. You don’t have to think about it. You already know what you’re going to do. 

--  

You know that you’re staring, but you can’t bring yourself to stop. Art has spent so much time in your home, so you feel entitled to look around a little bit. You eye the row of trophies on his mantle, photos of him playing when he was young. You come to a stop at a picture of him with a young girl, a racket in her hand and a medal around her neck. 

“Is this Lily?” You ask. 

“Yeah,” He nods. “First competition.” 

“Already getting gold,” You smile. “The Mark Rebellato Academy isn’t ready for her.” 

Art chuckles, nodding as he steps around you.

“You, uh…You want something to eat, or drink, or…?” He trails off, tucking his hands into his pockets as he takes a couple of steps back toward his kitchen. You turn to face him, taking him in more fully. 

“Art?” 

“Yeah?” 

“Why am I here?” 

He doesn’t answer for a few moments. You can see him weighing his options before he comes closer. 

“I…I’ve been thinking about last night.” 

Fear shoots through you, but you force yourself to stand tall. “Okay.”

“I could lie and tell you that it should be a one-time thing, but I can’t remember the last time I got through a day without thinking about you. And I think you’ve been thinking about me, too.” Art stops as the tip of his shoes brush against yours, and you let your eyes slip closed as he rests his forehead against yours. 

“Tell me I’m wrong,” He pleads. “Tell me to fuck off right now and I will never say another non-tennis related thing to you again.” 

-- 

When he fucks you, he curls close, chest pressing against yours as he catches your lips in a kiss. You sink back against his pillows, your head cradled by his broad palm as he rolls his hips achingly slowly. You don’t bother to hide your whines and moans, and you revel in his. Every grunt and whimper and groan that Art lets out lights you up. 

And when you cum, you don't have to quiet yourself. His name tumbles out of your mouth, cushioned between expletives as your nails dig into his shoulders.

--

"What time is he home tonight?"

You don't want to think about it. You want to stay in this cozy little bubble, trailing your fingers over his muscled chest as he massages your nape and kisses your forehead.

But you know that you'll have to let the world back in sometime.

"I don't know," You admit. "Late."

"...Could stay."

"He'll be suspicious if I'm not home when he gets there."

Art sighs softly, running his hand down to rub between your shoulder blades.

"This isn't going to be easy, is it."

"What?"

"Letting you go every day."

"Every day?" You tease, pushing yourself up to get a better look at him. "Don't get greedy, Mr. Donaldson."

He smiles, raising his hand and cupping your cheek. "Is it greedy to know what I want?"

You shake your head a little, lowering your lips to brush against his.

"Not when I want it, too."

part ii: what we're willing to accept

Tag list: @missredherring ; @fantasticcopeaglepasta ; @massivecolorspygiant ; @blueeyesatnight ; @amneris21

@ew-erin ; @youngkenobilove ; @carbonated-beverage​​​ ;  @moonlightburned ; @milf-trinity

@millllenniawrites ; @chattychell ; @thembosapphicclown ; @brandyllyn ; @wildmoonflower ;

@buckybarneshairpullingkink ; @mad-girl-without-a-box ; @winchestershiresauce ; @lorecraft ; @kmc1989

[talaok]

What's a fanfiction?

"You wrote it, I think it's only right you get to experience it, babydoll"

Pairing: dbf!Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: By mistake, you send Joel, your neighbor, your dad’s best friend, a fanfic you wrote, and when you go to his house to talk to him about it, your worst fear comes to life… and then your biggest dream.

Warnings: age-gap, he blackmails you (but youre very much into it) smut| oral sex (m receiving), facefucking, 1 lil threat of anal, p in v sex, creampie, sir kink, small little breeding kink moment, so much degradation, and a lil bit of praising.

a/n: i am aware this is not written very well, but i was thinking too much and then i remembered that at the end of the day i do this for fun and its not that serious, so please overlook all the shitty parts. love ya very much<3

Read.

Read-

He read it. He fucking read it and you're gonna jump off a cliff and die.

You swore- you fucking swore you sent it to Miley yesterday night. Right before you went to sleep, you finished writing it and sent to her- except obviously, that wasn't what had fucking happened.

You'd sent it to him

And now you needed to find a fucking solution.

__ __ __

God even knocking felt like torture,

"oh hi y/n" Sarah's smile was nothing like her dad's, it was all kindness and sweetness, while Joel's... well Joel's always had something strange lurking behind his.

"Hi Sarah" you forced your lips to mimic hers, although the nerves were making it difficult "Is your dad home? I kinda need to talk to him"

"mh-mh" she nodded, gesturing for you to come in "he's in his study upstairs"

You stepped into the house just as she crouched down to pick up a gym bag

"You know where that is right?" she asked "I'm late for practice, I gotta go"

You felt your heart drop as her words sank in.

She was going out- she would be leaving you alone with him, in his house, in his study-

But then again, considering what it was you were here to talk about, maybe it was for the best.

"Yeah, don't worry" you forced another smile

"great" she beamed "see you later then"

And just like that, she was out of the house, and you were sole in the middle of your neighbor's entrance.

__ __ __

Again, another knock that felt very much like a punch to the gut

"come in"

His voice was warm and strong like it always was, that same voice that made your panties dampen just at the thought of it.

"H-hey Mr. Miller" you swallowed thickly, pushing open the door as if an army of zombies waited on the other side

"Darlin'" he nodded at you from behind his wooden desk, a hint of a grin shadowing his lips

Darlin'

Darlin'

God this fucking man

"h-hey" you said again, cursing internally while you tried remembering why you were even there.

Oh, right. Just about the most awkward thing ever.

A soft chuckle rumbled from his chest, making the hair at the nape of your neck stand.

"Whatcha doing here, doll?"

You felt heat rush to your cheeks, and then you felt your eyes fall to the floor as your hands fiddled with the edge of your skirt.

The skirt you purposely wore to come here- for him-

god what a stupid fucking-

"Thatta real pretty skirt you got on"

Your eyes snapped up to him, but he took his time glancing away from your legs.

"Oh- I- thank you" you murmured

"Jus' call 'em like I see 'em, darlin'" he shrugged, leaning back into his chair "Now's that all you came here for? To show me your new pretty skirt?"

"n-no" you rushed in to say, perhaps too quickly to be fully believable "I came here because I- uhm" You bit your bottom lip, the nervous fiddling starting back up again

"I ain't gonna bite babydoll"

Fuck- at this rate your panties would start melting.

"last night-" you gulped "I kinda- I... well I sent you something by mistake"

"ah" he hummed, raising his brows as he clicked on something on the laptop next to him "I gotta say, issa real... interesting story this one"

No-

NO

Fuck my life and everything ever in the existence of the universe fuckfuckfuck-

"who's..." he trailed off, reading off his screen "Javier?"

Your lungs had turned to stone and your mind to dust.

This couldn't be really happening, no, I mean, even if he'd read it for some reason he surely wouldn't be... taunting you for it.

"Mr. Miller-"

"real lucky guy" he said, his lips twitching into a soft smirk as he looked at you curiously "You brought him home to meet your daddy yet?"

"n-no" you stuttered, your mind a big ashamed mess and your whole body frozen like a statue "n-no he's not... real"

You watched his brows come together in confusion.

"what's that mean he ain't real?"

A shaky sigh fled your lips as you surrendered to your fate

"He's a character... f-from a tv show"

He remained silent, and as comfortable with silence as you were it was a different kind of story when Joel Miller was staring at you... so you talked again.

"T-that's a fanfiction, I- I write them sometimes, it's... fun"

His eyes searched yours for answers, faint amusement sparking in the back of his irises.

"what's a fanfiction, doll?"

Death wasn't such a scary thing after all- yeah it sure as hell was a better alternative to this.

"It's a... made-up story, that people- that I- sometimes write about fictional characters I like- a-and then I post it for p-people to read"

"And this Javier..."

"Narcos" you blurted out "H-he's from the show Narcos, he's not real"

His mouth twitched into a subtle smile, his eyes raking all over your body as if he was checking to see if it was really you in front of him

"I've seen that show" he said, his brow raising "Ain't he a bit old for you, babydoll?"

"Y-yes well- I-I-"

But you had no excuse for that, you could never tell him the truth, about how much you liked older men... about all the celebrity crushes double your age- so you just bit your lip, looking down at the floor.

The noise of his chair creaking as he got up made your heart skip a beat, but it stopped completely only when you heard him step closer to you... until he was right before you.

The only thing you could see were the socks covering his feet, and part of his black jeans- you didn't have it in you to actually look at him, to see him laughing at you, but you had no other choice when two of his fingers pulled your chin up.

"so you sit in your room, imagining this old man doin' all this stuff to you, and then you write it down?" he spoke, his beautiful mouth so very close to you "And here I was thinkin' you were a good little girl"

Your breath caught in your throat at those words, and he... yeah he definitely noticed.

"Please don't tell my dad"

"well I don't know" he moved some hair from your face, "I think this is somethin' your daddy ought to know"

a well of fear dipped into your belly, your eyes widening

"n-no please" you begged "Please Mr. Miller don't, I'll do anything- anything at all"

"oh sweetie" he cooed, "that ain't somethin' you can tell a man, especially not after he's read all the dirty things you fantasize about in your pretty little head"

"Mr Miller-" you bit your lip

"Mr Miller?" he repeated, looking down at you like you were the smallest little creature in the world "That ain't what you were calling Javi now, was it?"

A small, almost imperceptible gasp left your mouth.

He couldn't be saying... no right?- except...

"Joel-"

"that ain't it either" he shook his head, his thumb tracing the shape of your lower lip "you know what it is babygirl"

Either you were gonna make a fool of yourself, or this really was what he wanted.

"S-sir"

The slightest, most feline smirk pulled at his lips in satisfaction "thatta girl" he murmured "you don't want your dad to know what a dirty lil' girl his daughter really is?"

His breath was fanning on your mouth, and his touch was making your legs turn to jelly.

"n-no" you shook your head almost imperceptibly

"no?" he asked again, just to see you squirm, just to savor this moment for a little bit more.

"no sir"

He swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down his throat, his eyes looking into yours, memorizing every inch of your face, of the anxiety, the ardor, the plead in your expression.

"then get on your knees"

Your eyes widened in shock, the air going up your throat suddenly getting stuck

"w-wha-"

"what?" he asked, not even sounding like himself anymore. His tone was sweet, calm even, but something almost dire lurked underneath his words.

"you seemed eager to do it when Javi asked" he tilted his head, his fingers still holding your chin.

If you didn't know better you would have guessed it was jealousy that traced his tone whenever he spoke the name of your fantasies's protagonist... little did he know the main reason why you even liked Javier was his resemblance to him- to Joel.

"Mr- sir" you stuttered "I-"

"I don't like to repeat myself y/n" he spoke sternly, his eyes boring into yours "Do you want your daddy to know or not?"

You didn't need to answer, you only held his stare as he let your face go, and you slowly, unsurely, and awkwardly got to your knees.

"wasn't so hard now was it?" he asked, his eyes dark enough to fade into the night sky "what are you waiting for?"

"I-"

"You need instructions babydoll?" he chuckled "'cause I ain't gonna give 'em to ya" he said while your heart pounded in your chest "I know you know how to do it" he smirked "Described it so well in your little fanfiction"

"b-but I-" you tried to take a deep breath but doing anything while he towered over you, while his crotch was right in your line of sight was proving to be very very difficult "I've only ever done this once" you gulped, trying to keep eye contact

"yeah?" he smiled, his hand going to the top of your head, gently patting it...that really shouldn't have turned you on as much as it did. "then how come you knew exactly what to do with Javi? don't tell me you just guessed"

He either didn't believe you, or was really not expecting that. But it was the truth- you'd only ever done anything once... and it's not like it had even felt that great.

"Well, I- I do research... and I- I read a lot"

If you thought he looked predatorial before... you had no idea how bad it could really get.

"research huh?" he mocked, his voice as deep as it could get "Oh baby you're digging yourself a hole here" he tsked, shaking his head while looking almost disappointed "I really think your daddy ought to know about all the research his lil' girl's doing under his roof"

"No!" you begged, your bottom lip trembling.

"No?" he asked, tracing it with his thumb "Then I suggest you make it good, babygirl"

And that was that.

Your trembling hands undid his belt, then lowered his zipper, and finally pulled his pants down until they pooled at his feet.

Fuck

He was huge- even with the boxers still on it was very clear the man was just massive-

"I don't like to be teased y/n"

"s-sorry sir" you responded automatically, noticing his cock twitch within the confines of the fabric in appreciation of your obedience.

You had to do it slowly, you had to pull his boxers down slowly so you could have time to calm down, to not panic in front of the huge cock that was gonna be right in front of you at any moment-

And yet it didn't work- a soft gasp fled your mouth as you freed his manhood.

He only chuckled, watching the fear in your eyes, and quite frankly, very much enjoying it.

"I'll tell ya if you're doing it wrong" he simply spoke, his hand going to the back of your head to guide you closer to where he wanted you.

He was getting impatient. And you didn't want to disappoint him.

Yes, he was blackmailing you, but you'd be lying if you said you hadn't been dreaming of this for years.

You looked like a frightened kid as you wrapped your right hand around him, and you looked even more out of place as you opened your mouth and started fitting his length inside of it.

A weak grunt rumbled from his chest "Hollow your cheeks" he ordered, having you obey in a heartbeat.

"fuck that's good" he groaned now, watching you intently as you started bobbing your head, trying to fit more of him into your mouth "Good little slut"

You didn't know a moan was gonna flee your mouth until it had- until your whole face felt hot and you waited terrified for Joel's reaction.

Exect he was smiling- no- grinning like you'd just given him the best gift he'd ever received.

"Oh, you're really something else ain't ya, darlin'?"

"mhp" Your muffled noises were all the more entertaining to him, especially paired up with the sight of your thighs rubbing together.

You were so fucking wet you feared at any moment you would start dripping onto the floor.

"so needy" he murmured, his hand now gathering your hair in a makeshift bun "You wanna touch yourself, baby girl? wanna feel good while you make me feel good?"

"mh-mh" you tried to nod, to beg, to say yes please for the love of god let me.

"that's too bad" he tutted, sounding like he was holding back a laugh "Javi didn't let you do that now, did he?" he smirked "You wrote it, I think it's only right you get to experience it, babydoll"

But before you had time to ask yourself if he meant all of it, he'd spoken again.

"that all you can take?" he asked, watching the first half of his cock in your mouth with amusement "Here- how 'bout I help you out darlin'" he smirked, his hips retracting just to thrust into your mouth-

It wasn't a hard jab, but still you choked, and then you choked some more as he did it again, watching you fit more of him into your mouth as saliva drooled to your chin and your eyes watered.

You could feel the texture of every inch of his dick with your tongue, the feel of his veins, and the taste of his precum were all you were aware of.

"like that- see, jus' needed a lil' help" he groaned "Even a slut like you needs it sometimes"

His pace had quickened, and tears were now streaming down your face.

"shh" he shushed you once you choked yet another time "I know it's big baby" he cooed, his thrust much less gentle than his words, although that was all an act too "I know, I know... but you're gonna have to be a good whore for me and take it aaall into that slutty little throat, ok?" he murmured "just try to breathe through your nose"

What did he mean try?

What if you tried and failed?

But you weren't actually worried- you had never thought being horny could actually be painful, and yet, there you were, literally so wet and turned on it hurt.

You couldn't even see him anymore through all the tears covering your eyes, and you didn't even realize you were actively choking and making a complete mess of yourself, all you could feel was his big fat cock, and dream about how it would feel inside of you.

"God fuckin-" He groaned like an animal as he finally bottomed out, his dick making a permanent dent into your throat at this point "Jesus Christ"

He stayed like that for what felt like an eternity, watching you struggle, and then, just like that, he was out- and you could breathe again.

He didn't even give you time to catch your breath, to finish coughing like a maniac that he'd already given you another order.

"get up," he said "take off your clothes"

He really did want to recreate the fic- you were- you were about to have sex with Joel Miller, THE Joel Miller, your neighbor and dad's best friend Joel Miller.

oh fuck

"What did I say about repeating myself?"

You scrambled to your feet, pulling your shirt off at the same time.

You heard him snort but didn't pay it any mind as you took your bra and skirt off as quickly as you could.

You really were desperate.

But when it came to your panties you slowed, everything suddenly feeling very real.

"what are you waiting for?"

"s-sorry sir" you mumbled, finally dropping them at your feet.

A soft groaned fuck climbed up his throat as he examined every inch of your body.

You would be covering yourself, feeling a little self-conscious, if it wasn't for the fact that his gaze had turned you to stone.

"pick your panties up" he said as if getting out of a trance.

You frowned, confused, but obeyed nonetheless.

Maybe he didn't like the mess...

"Put 'em in the first drawer," he said, nodding back to his desk.

Oh

He followed your every move as you walked past him, but it was only when you were at his desk, that he started stalking towards you.

He was right beside you now, and somewhere along the way he'd lost his shirt, because your back was now pressed against his chest, and your ass was right against something else.

"I'm keepin' those" he murmured, his deep voice right next to your ear, his hands going to grip your waist.

You dropped the panties where he asked and nodded, turning to him, finding his face, his mouth, but an inch from your own.

"Yes sir"

His cock twitched again right against your backside as his mouth ghosted yours.

"Bend over"

You swallowed thickly, doing as he said.

You shivered feeling the table's cold wood meet your skin, but you got hot all over again once you felt Joel's words.

"Spread your legs"

You did.

"What an obedient slut I've turned you into" he grinned, proud of himself

"Where do you want it?"

You felt his cock slide between your cheeks, making you whimper and arch your back.

"here?" he slid it in between your legs, connecting with your clit.

You moaned as you shook your head no

"here?" he asked again, this time his dick prodding at your asshole.

You gasped as you mumbled "N-no sir- please"

"You want in your throat again babydoll, 's that it?" he teased you, his tip still leaving smears of his precum on your hole

"mh-mh" you shook your head no again "Please"

"no?" he snickered, "Then where?"

"Here?" he asked, the tip of his dick finally getting exactly where you wanted him "in your slutty lil' pussy?"

"yes- p-please sir- I-"

"say it" he taunted you, almost slipping in.

"I- I need it"

"what do you need?"

"Y-Your cock sir" you begged

"Where do you need my cock?"

"I-I need it in my pussy" you cried- he was so close if he would just- "I need your cock in my pussy sir, please I- I'm begging you-"

"good little slut"

He pushed in with one singular, hard thrust, making you cry out so loud the whole neighborhood probably heard.

He was so big it kind of burned at first, but as he thrust in again and you heard him groan in pleasure, there was no going back- you were in complete bliss... and your brain had turned to mush.

You were moaning- loudly.

"fuck-" he grunted "you're such a whore darlin'"

The sound of how wet you were as he plunged into your heat was filthy.

"Y'know- I usually give women an orgasm before I fuck 'em," he said as his balls slapped rhythmically against your skin "but you're just a whore- and whores don't deserve to be treated with respect, do ya?" Your back arched, feeding him more of yourself as your walls squeezed around him "Nah, you deserve to be used. Used like the little sluts that you are" he kept grunting, not paying any mind to how loud you were being, or how the desk had started to slip because of how hard his thrusts were "And it ain't like you need it, is it darlin'?" he chuckled, suddenly pulling you up, his right arm around your torso keeping you pinned against him "you're makin' a mess" he murmured into your ear, shivers running up your spine "and besides, this' how you wanted it- wrote it jus' like this in your lil' story didn't ya, ya little slut?"

He bit your earlobe just as his dick hit your cervix, making your brain short-circuit.

It was all so hot- so fucking hot.

"I can't imagine what your daddy would say" his mouth was on your neck now, but his pace was the same as ever, as hard and unapologetic as it could get "knowing what nasty things his little girl likes to think- to write" he chuckled "bet the poor guy would have the fuckin' big one if he knew"

"if he knew how you like to be fucked by men 30 years older than you" he groaned, feeling you squeeze him as you whimpered his name incoherently "if he knew how tight you get when I tell you how much of a slut you are"

Your eyes were rolled back, and your head had dropped against his chest

"please"

"If he knew how good you fuckin' take my cock" he murmured right against your mouth, your legs trembling "How desperate you are for it"

He was going even faster, and he was now supporting your whole body because your legs weren't working anymore.

"If he knew what a fuckin' whore he raised" he grunted, plunging his cock as deep as it could go, molding your body to him "how she's my whore now"

And that was it- that was it.

You felt actual tears stream down your cheeks as bliss took over your body- as you cried and moaned and trembled until you were done, until you'd finally recovered.

"I'm gonna come inside babygirl" It wasn't a question, it was an order, just like every one he'd given you for the past hour "Jus' like Javi" he grunted, his thrusts more erratic now "except this is real life baby- and you better hope it doesn't stick" he smirked, feeling your walls squeeze involuntarily at his words "God you're such a slut"

"Now take it all like a good one"

You couldn't help but join his moaning as he came, as he filled you up to the very brim.

You were a mess- cum was already running down your thighs as he slipped out of you, but you still followed his lead and started dressing again- only your panties were in his drawer and the walk back home would be a real awkward one.

"You post these stories?"

There was no point in lying, you'd already confessed to it.

"I- yes" you swallowed, putting your bra on "o-on Tumblr"

You could very well see he'd never heard of the app

"How are you called on there?"

He'd stepped closer to you, watching you fiddle with your shirt in your hands.

His belt was unbuckled, his jeans still open, and you were starting to feel ready for round two already.

"S-sir you want t-to-”

"I gotta know what other things your daddy can't know about” he murmured, moving a piece of hair from your face “and all the things I’m gonna do to my lil’ slut”

[misojunnie]

DELICATE ─ psh. ☆ (teaser)

does love ever cross the line?

# genre: rich kid!enemy!sunghoon x fem!reader, forbidden love, enemies to lovers, slow burn, family feud, non idol au

# warnings: substances, lots of pining/angst, cursing, insults, mature jokes, implied sex, I have no idea how businesses work plz don’t roast me

# featuring: sunghoon & enha! + le sserafim

# playlist: delicate by taylor swift, take care by beach house, love by kendrick lamar, babydoll by dominic fike, hurts so good by astrid s

# a/n: hello all! been a long time :,( my life has taken several turns since I started this account, and I've been so preoccupied with my own bs that running this blog is becoming harder than ever... hence my little disappearing act. but I don't want to disappoint u guys! this fic was supposed to be released several months but it completely slipped my mind :( I decided to log in once again to finally let you all see it! I hope you like it and I hope to be back again soon 💓 much love to all my dedicated readers and I appreciate you all more than you know!

# word count: 13.2k

# taglist: @lovialy @minniejenseo @powerpuffstuts @mnxnii @idkdykilr @ionlyreadforfanfics @heelovesmeknot @100520s @simjyunnie @scrumptiousloser @eneiyri @pinkkami @milkycloudtyg @enhypenlovre @pinkkami @m3chigo @saythenameseventeen178 @desistay @capri-cuntz.@taerifin @ohmykwonsoonyoung @vixensss

# unable to tag: @hohohobo

this was written upon anon request; check it out here!

when your father’s company cratered after a faulty business deal, a vendetta was formed between your family and the biggest export company in south korea. but that rivalry begins to falter when you fall in love with the ceo’s son.

[more under the cut!]

You hated the business world. 

It was ruthless. Bloodless. It had no heart and no compassion. It taught you that humans were created to tear their own kind apart; it was a dog eat dog world.

A couple years ago, your family’s company went bankrupt, and you blamed it all on the Park Company. Fine, maybe your father held some culpability for throwing his business away in a deal that was obviously so faulty. But naivete and malice were entirely different things altogether; one was mostly harmless. The other? Not so much.

The Park Company was the most ruthless corporation in the business world. Working in any kind of business guaranteed running into them sooner or later. And now, not only had they run your business into the ground, they owned over ¾ of your company’s wealth in stock. Not that it was worth much anyway.

Well, it turns out fixing your father’s mistake was a little harder than you thought. Reviving a company from the dead was difficult, especially when public opinion wasn’t exactly favorable. So you made the riskiest decision yet; to start from scratch. You invested all your family’s ruined fortune on establishing your dream hotel. Even if it was the last thing you did, you would have more than a ruined corporation as your legacy.

With ten cents to your name and a pipe dream, you managed to create what would later be the most successful hotel chain in South Korea. Your wealth grew, and so did your reputation. Some praised you for making such a comeback, some degraded you for your family’s mistakes. And it definitely didn’t help that your father became a raging drunkard after his failure, raving the streets like a maniac. You even considered having him taken out just so he’d stop damaging your reputation, but you decided against it. To you, it didn’t matter. Your success was your only concern.

Destroying your life was all in a day’s work for the Parks. They were so obscenely powerful, that losing a mere company like yours was like losing an eyelash. Meaningless. You were nothing to them.

You hated them with a vengeance. They didn’t even know your name.

Or so you thought.

☆☆☆

Awards banquets were Sunghoon’s least favorite part of being in business. Forget the ruthlessness and backstabbing, dressing up in a suit and pretending to be successful blew all that warfare out of the water.

“It’s too tight.”

“It’s fine. You’ll be fine. Just stop complaining.”

“I’m not kidding, Jake. Loosen it or I’ll kill you.” Jake sighed, tugging on the navy blue tie until it was hanging loosely around Sunghoon’s neck, a stark and messy contrast to his crisp black suit and neat button up.

“Jesus Christ. After fifteen years, you’d think you’d know how to tie a tie.” Jake said, shaking his head as his best friend checked his hair in the mirror. 

“Are you sure we have to go to this thing tonight?” Sunghoon huffed, brushing a stray piece of hair into place.

“Don’t be stupid. You’ve been going to these galas since you were six, and dragging me along with you.” Jake scoffed, pushing Sunghoon’s head from behind and ruining his hairstyle yet again, the latter glaring at him.

Jake Sim, heir to the Sim corporation. An airplane manufacturing company that was this close to going under when the Parks took pity and bought nearly all their stock. These days, their company was worth next to nothing, but young Sunghoon took Jake under his wing, and there was no escaping now, to his chagrin. Though they’d never admit it, they had grown very fond of each other.

“You love it.” Sunghoon teased, tearing his eyes away from the mirror after checking his hair a last time. “God, I can’t believe we’re still having these idiotic galas. Everyone just knows they’re a coverup for big corporations to distract from the fact that they’re abusing their poor workers.”

“Nobody cares these days. Put a bow on anything and the media will eat it up.” Jake said, adjusting his tie before slapping his friend on the shoulder. “Ready to ruin some lives? Destroy some young futures?”

“Not funny.” Sunghoon warned, pointing his finger at Jake while trying to tug on his shoes with the other hand. “You know how much I hate the company.”

“Say that as much as you want, but you’re still wearing shoes bought with your daddy’s blood money.” Sunghoon huffed.

“Hm...I suppose you’re right.” he said, putting his hands on his hips.

“C’mon, let’s get you to the ball, Prince Charming.” Jake dragged Sunghoon out of the room by the wrist, locking it behind him, Sunghoon in tow.

Sunghoon sighed. God, how he hated his life. A legacy built on deception, and nothing he could do about it. Him and Jake made their way to the elevators, his dull eyes disappearing behind the closing doors.

He didn’t belong anywhere. Certainly not here.

☆☆☆

On the other side of the city, you were having an entirely different conversation.

“Take that off, Chae.” you said, biting into an apple. Your red lipstick bled into the fruit as you stared judgingly at Chaewon’s enormous diamond necklace.

“But it’s so pretty.” she crossed her arms, but you gave her a stern glance and she turned around to change with a roll of her eyes. “And you, put that out.” you swatted at Jay’s hand, a lit cigarette perched between his two fingers, roiling smoke spilling from the top. “You’re gonna make my new dress smell like smoke.”

“Jeez, what’s got your panties in a twist?” Jay asked, putting out his cigarette on the corner of the coffee table, which made you frown. “No need to stress. You’ve done this business routine a million times over.”

“I’m just nervous, I guess.” you said, hands fidgeting in your lap.

“I thought you didn’t care what the Parks thought about you.”

“I don’t.” you said firmly, tongue poking into the flesh of your left cheek. “I just want things to go smoothly, that’s all.”

“So you’re not gonna stand up to those fuckers that ruined your life? No protest?” Jay asked, resting his chin on his hand. “You always wanted to take them down.”

“Of course I do. But tonight’s not the night.” you sighed, rubbing your forehead, smudging your foundation and cursing when you realized what you had done. “I just want to be put together, just for one night.”

“Well you certainly look the part, honey.” he said, eyes trailing over your floor length red gown. “You’re a proper businesswoman.”

“I hope so.” you laughed.

“You’re gonna kill it. I know it for a fact.” Jay said, pressing a kiss to your cheek before standing. “Now let’s get you to this ball.” You grinned up at him, getting to your feet and brushing the dust off your skirt with determination.

“Let’s show these people who the Queen company is.”

☆☆☆

When the email stated “an intimate gathering”, you didn’t exactly expect nearly 300 people crammed into a dancing hall. The building was bursting at the seams to hold all the milling guests as they sipped on champagne and dined on fine food, laughing boisterously, teeth chattering. You hid your mouth behind the rim of your glass. You didn’t want to talk to a single person tonight.

Across the room, Sunghoon was doing the same. He had just about enough of the noise, and was considering running to the bathroom to hide when his father clapped him on the back and engaged him in a conversation he didn’t care about.

You wished you could escape.

He wished he could escape.

You stood, leaving your empty glass on the tray of a passing waiter as you walked around the crowded hall, searching the crowd for anything of interest. Your eyes landed on the desserts, and you beelined for the table of sugary treats, hoping to at least find a bit of solace in them, head down as you avoided the public eye.

Your hand bumped into another’s when you reached for the tiramisu.

“Oh, excuse me.” he said softly. He was beautiful. Dark eyes, silken hair and pink lips. His posture was straight as a ruler, shoulders back and a kind look on his face. It was almost too cliche, running into this beautiful stranger. 

If only you didn’t know who he was.

You turned to look at him, eyes meeting. “It’s you.” you said, and he stiffened at the sight of your face. “I was wondering when we would meet.”

Sunghoon wasn’t expecting the daughter of the Queen Company to be so beautiful. Sure, he had seen pictures, but they had never done you justice. And putting a face to the name was suddenly making him dizzy.

“Hello.” he said politely, avoiding your eyes as he gulped, throat dry. “I’m Park Sunghoon. Son of the Park company president.”

“Oh, I know who you are.” you waved him off. “No need for introductions between us. Time is valuable, let’s not waste it.”

“And patience is a virtue, so let’s make time.” Sunghoon said, smiling a tight lipped smile with his hands behind his back.

You looked at him skeptically. You didn’t think it was possible for Sunghoon to be more of a prick than you expected him to be, but he had somehow done it.

“Y/n Y/l/n,” you said, holding out your hand for a handshake. “President of the Queen company.” Rather than shaking your hand, Sunghoon bowed his head, his lips brushing over your knuckles as he held your hand, pressing a chaste kiss to it.

“Charmed.” he said, and your brows raised instinctively.

“I’m sure.” you scoffed, pulling your hand away and rubbing it on the side of your dress in disgust. Sunghoon’s eye twitched. “Now if you don’t mind, I’m rather busy.”

“With what, buzzing around the dessert table?”

“With running a business.” you snapped, turning on your heel and walking away as fast as you could. Sunghoon watched, listening to the faint clicking of your off-brand heels against the marble floor, shaking his head the moment you were out of sight.

He totally fucked that up.

“Jesus, that guy is more of an asshole than I thought.” you huffed, taking your assigned seat and placing the desserts you had gathered on the table, Chaewon excitedly reaching for a mango pudding.

“What, is that even possible?” Jay asked, sparking up another cigarette. You swatted the lighter out of his hand, and he scowled.

“Apparently so.” you sighed, leaning back in your chair and crossing your arms. You couldn’t wait for this night to end. You could feel eyes on you from all sides, judging, watching your next move. Waiting for you to fuck up, waiting for you to make a mistake or a rash decision they could broadcast to the media.

“I think we started off of on the wrong foot.” you heard a voice say from behind you, and you craned your neck to meet the eyes of Park Sunghoon, yet again. Those damn dark eyes. Swimming with emotion.

“I think there’s a reason for that.” you responded sharply, quick as a whip.

“Let’s start over. What do you say?” he grinned, leaning his head down until he was at your level, ignoring the stares he received from your friends.

“I say I’d rather die than become acquainted with you. Sorry.” you said very unapologetically, pleased with the put-out expression on his face.

“Well,” he said, straightening up and adjusting his jacket indignantly. “Doesn’t someone have an enormous chip on her shoulder.” Your smug expression crashed, morphing into a scowl. “Pleasure to meet you, Ms. Y/l/n.” With that, he stalked away, nose turned up and an unpleasant look on his face.

“Stupid piece of shit.” Jay said, sparking up his cigarette with the lighter he retrieved from the floor. You didn’t try to stop him, just stewing in your own displeasure. You couldn’t believe that audacious bastard. Was he aware that his family was the sole reason for the ‘enormous chip on your shoulder’?

You tried not to let it get to you, and quickly gave up. Suddenly, this was feeling all too real, and you got to your feet, brushing off your dress, bunching it in your hands. You felt like you were going to throw up.

“Bathroom.” you mumbled, pushing your way past to get to the exit.

☆☆☆

If you didn’t know better, you’d think Park Sunghoon’s spirit was haunting you on purpose. The only thing convincing you otherwise was the fact that he was alive and well –to your chagrin.

You sat, fuming from your office as his snotty face stared at you from a newly mounted billboard across the street, a wide smile on his face as he endorsed some brand of cologne. So not only was he a scumbag businessman, now he was some kind of model? It turned your stomach to think about it.

“I want that billboard down, now.” you grumbled, dropping your head onto your desk in despair as Jay watched you with amusement.

“I can get someone to set it on fire, if you want.”

“Not necessary, but I appreciate the thought.” you said, standing and pacing around the room restlessly. “We need to take them down.” Jay snorted, taking a seat in one of your office chairs, twirling around comfortably.

“What, take down the biggest corporation in the country? It’s not as easy as it seems, honey.” You glared at him, continuing to pace. “Look, don’t get me wrong. I wholeheartedly support your ventures to destroy Park Sunghoon, but don’t you think your fury is a bit misplaced? His father is the one that destroyed your company.”

“Evil by association.” you waved him off. “Plus, he’s rude.”

“Can’t disagree with that.” Jay took a long drag. You hadn’t even noticed that he lit a cigarette, and you rolled your eyes at him.

“You seriously need to stop smoking.”

“I’ll stop when you stop seeking vengeance.”

“...Touche.”

☆☆☆

You seriously needed a vacation from work. After five 16 hour shifts, the exhaustion was beginning to set in. You couldn’t even remember the last time you went out with friends. A couple of years ago, there wasn’t a weekend where you, Jay and Chaewon weren’t in some hole in the wall drinking until you forgot your failures. But ever since your company took off, you didn’t have time for that behavior. But that didn’t mean you didn’t enjoy a good dive bar now and then.

You snuck through the entrance of your favorite dive bar on the East side of the city, your slip skirt waving in the wind as you nodded to the security. This was the only bar in South Korea that wouldn’t sell you out to the papers, and besides that, they made a damn good Manhattan.

There were less than 10 people in the whole place, an odd couple here or there and some folks in need of a pick-me-up. You took a seat in the middle of the bar, your usual seat at the end taken by a sodden boy with a big hood that covered his face.

“Hey, Won.” you greeted the bartender as he wiped his hands with a towel, smiling at your entrance.

“Hey, y/n.” he said, throwing the towel over his shoulder. You heard the man beside you stir. “Manhattan?”

“You know it.” Jungwon reached for a bottle of whiskey, expertly mixing and measuring like it was muscle memory, finishing your cocktail with a flourish and sliding it over the counter. You had gone to high school with Jungwon and Sunoo, the two men who owned the bar, and had been friends ever since. You trusted them.

“How’s the business?” he asked, leaning with his elbows resting on the marble. “Saw you on the news the other day. Said you stormed out of the Park’s gala.”

You sighed, “Yeah. It’s been a tough week.”

“I hear that,” he said, straightening up with a grin. “You’ll get through it, stronger than ever. You always do.” you smiled, pressing the rim of the glass to your lips.

“Thanks, Won.”

“No problem. Just kick those greedy bitches in the ass for me.” That elicited a chuckle from you, Jungwon smiling upon hearing your laugh. “I’ll go get Sunny. I’m sure he’ll wanna say hi.”

“I’d love that.” you said gratefully, watching as Jungwon weaved around the back of the bar and into the back room. You looked down, sipping your drink, lost in thought.

“What are you doing here?” A grating, angry voice interrupted your haze. You turned to the boy sitting beside you, and it felt like you lost your buzz in an instant.

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.” you said, staring into the dark eyes of your nemesis yet again, this time foggy with drunkeness. “You seriously had to find the one place where I could escape your face?” he asked bitterly, taking another swig of his vodka soda.

“My face? There’s a sixty foot billboard of your face outside my window.” you grumbled, and he snorted gracelessly. You could tell by his hoodie being pulled forward and his bangs covering most of his face that he was trying to hide, just like you. “I’ve been going to this bar for four years.”

“Lucky you. I just found it last week.” he took another sip. You suddenly felt silly sitting multiple stools away from him, but you’d be damned before moving closer. “This is the only place that won’t sell me out to the press,” he sighed. “And their bartender is pretty damn good.” You observed the four empty glasses sitting beside him, the way he was slurring his words. Clearly he had come here for the same reason you had.

“Won’s a pro.” you said, averting your eyes. The Sunghoon before you was throwing you off. He had humanity, and you hated it. It gave you a reason to hate him a little less than before.

Jungwon emerged from the back, a bright faced brunette in tow. Grateful for the excuse to end the conversation with Sunghoon, you leapt out of your seat and rounded the bar to pull the man into a hug.

“Hey, Sunny!” you said brightly, and he grinned.

“I didn’t get a hug.” Jungwon rolled his eyes, reaching for a bottle of tequila to complete another order.

“How’ve you been?” Sunoo asked, releasing you to get a good look at your face. “Wow, it’s been awhile since you’ve been in here. You look all adult-like.” You scoffed, brushing him off. “Where’s Jay and Chae? I haven’t seen them in months.”

“I didn’t tell them I was coming.” you admitted.

“Ah, one of those nights?” he asked, and you nodded. “You busy working? I’ve seen you in the news, the company’s looking good.” Sunghoon snorted from beside you, and you resisted the urge to glare.

“Pretty busy, yeah. The business world is a battlefield right now.” you said with a pointed look at the man beside you who slammed his glass down on the counter.

“Another.” he muttered, and Jungwon looked him up and down skeptically.

“I think you’re done for the night. I’ve gotta cut you off.” Won said decisively, and Sunghoon looked up at him with glassy eyes.

“Fuck, whatever.” he said, getting up from his seat and drunkenly stumbling, tripping as he dismounted from the stool, using the counter to steady himself.

“He doesn’t look so good.” Sunoo said quietly, and you watched him, poking your tongue into the flesh of your cheek in confliction.

“You need help?” Jungwon said, ready to assist as he clapped a hand on Sunghoon’s shoulder, but the older boy shook him off frustratedly.

“I’m fine, get your hands off of me.” he stuttered, swiping at him.

“Hey, I’m just trying to help.” Jungwon said defensively, shaking his head as Sunghoon tried, failing, to make his way to the door. You huffed, setting your drink down and abandoning the last sip as you made your way to him.

“Hey, stop being an idiot. Let’s get you a taxi.” you chastised, and he scowled.

“I don’t want help from you.” Sunghoon mumbled, and you rolled your eyes.

“You’re drunk, Sunghoon. It’d be a nightmare if the news caught you wandering on the street.” That made him think, and he begrudgingly wrapped an arm around your shoulders, refusing to speak.

“You need help?” Sunoo called after you, and you waved back at him.

“Don’t worry, I know him. Put the Manhattan on my tab.”

“It’s on the house, angel. Get home safe.” Jungwon said, and you sent him a grateful wave as you attempted to get Sunghoon out the door, shutting it behind you.

“Why are you doing this?” Sunghoon said, almost incoherent. “You could’ve sold me out to the press. To get your revenge.” You pondered his question, then shrugged.

“I can’t say I don’t want to.” you admitted. “But you’re vulnerable right now. I know what it feels like to be blindsided when you’re defenseless. I wouldn’t do that to anyone. Clearly not even my worst enemy.” Sunghoon snorted.

“You’re a good person.” he mumbled, his eyes practically closed with the weight of his exhaustion and intoxication.

“Take notes.” you chuckled as you texted your driver, simultaneously attempting to get Sunghoon over to a bench. “I called a car for you, so just sit tight.” You both sat in silence, staring into the dark city, breath fogging in the air.

“I am sorry, y’know.” Sunghoon said, nose and cheeks red from the cold air. “About what my father did. I never would have condoned it if I had the power to stop him.” You stared at him blankly, before the corners of your lips turned up.

“Thanks. You must really be drunk.” He chuckled in response.

“Yeah, maybe.” He shook his head.

“Y’know, Sunghoon,” you started. “I hope you run the company the way you think it should be run. Stand up for yourself.” He didn’t respond to that, just staring at the floor, twiddling his thumbs. 

“Yeah,” he said after a moment. “I think I will.” A car pulled up to the curb, and you sighed in relief. Sunghoon stood up, insisting he was fine when you tried to help.

“Goodbye, Sunghoon.” He looked back at you in silence, before nodding.

“Get home safe.” And with that, he shut the door of the car, the engine rumbling as he turned the corner and disappeared into the night.

☆☆☆

Park Sunghoon was an idiot. And he was finally beginning to accept it.

He woke up with a pounding headache, grimacing and gripping his forehead in pain. It felt like there was an 80 decibel bass pounding his head, and he blamed it all on the vodka soda. And you, of course. You were making his head spin.

He stumbled out of bed, attempting to shove his feet into the slippers next to his bed, confused to find that they were pink and at least three sizes too small.

“Morning, sunshine.” a feminine voice called, and Sunghoon was beginning to realize that this wasn’t his home at all. He froze as a beautiful young woman stepped out from the bathroom, a lush robe wrapped around her body. “Feeling sober?”

“How did I get here?” Sunghoon asked, dropping back onto the bed as the woman snickered, reaching into her closet.

“You were on the floor whining and crying outside the office building. I took you home when the press got wind of your theatrics. Remind me to get a key to your apartment copied if you’re gonna keep acting like this.”

“You don’t need a key, Yunjin. Don’t be stupid.” Sunghoon rubbed his head, frustrated. He didn’t even remember going to the office in the first place, much less being picked up by her; aka the daughter of his father’s closest business partner, aka the woman he was predicted to wed if all things went his family’s way.

He wasn’t partial to the idea. Neither was she.

“A thank you would be nice.” Yunjin rolled her eyes, emerging from the closet fully dressed, already on the phone and pulling on a pair of high heels. “Now get out of my apartment. I have to get to work.” She tossed him a key and a fresh tee shirt from her closet. “Get dressed and lock up when you’re done.”

“Got it.” Sunghoon said, rubbing his eyes and pulling the tee shirt over his head. Yunjin looked back at him, tongue poking into her cheek.

“My mother still wants me to marry you, y’know.”

“Well she and my mother have that in common.” He rolled his eyes. She frowned.

“You’re too careless, Sunghoon.” The door shut, and Sunghoon was left to think about her words. His mind raced as he recalled the night before.

Your kindness.

Your smile.

How he apologized and didn’t think twice.

He shook his head, shuffling to the kitchen and opening the fridge, the cold tile pressing against his feet. Maybe he was too careless.

☆☆☆

The room felt stuffy, and so did your nose. You wondered if you were catching a cold, or if you were just allergic to business dinners.

“Hey, y/n.” Jake said, taking a seat beside you. You wiped your nose, flashing him a tight smile.

“Hey.” you replied, looking at your lap. Jake was one of the rare people you respected, and part of that was due to his company’s failure, like yours. He had built it back up to its former glory, but remained humble. You didn’t mind him. He was sweet.

“You seem bored.” he said, watching as you stared at the floor, clearly ambivalent toward what was happening around you.

“Astute observation.” you chuckled under your breath.

“I get it. These dinners can seem like a chore.” he said, picking up his wine glass by the stem. “Trust me, I’ve been going to them since I was six.”

“Lucky you.” you snickered. “Why do you even bother?” “Sunghoon always drags me here one way or another.” Your mood visibly dampened at the mention of his name, and you took a sip of your wine, hiding your mouth behind the lip of your glass. “How are things between you two?”

“If he dropped dead, I wouldn’t cry at his funeral.” you cleared your throat.

“But you wouldn’t cheer either?” Jake grinned, and you rolled your eyes.

“Whatever.”

“Baby steps.” he laughed, and you failed to suppress a smile. “I’m happy nonetheless. It’s nice to see you get along.” You wiped your nose again.

“That’s a stretch.” you scoffed. As if summoned to disprove you, the presence of Park Sunghoon suddenly entered your view, his hands tucked into his pockets. You couldn’t help but notice how nice he looked when his hair was pushed back.

“Mind if I borrow the lady for a moment?” he cleared his throat and Jake stood, flashing you a knowing look when Sunghoon wasn’t watching.

“Point taken.” you grumbled, as Jake snickered to himself, making himself busy on the other side of the room. After a moment of hesitation, Sunghoon took his seat.

“Hi.” he said slowly, and you nodded in acknowledgement. The energy was painfully awkward. “Um, I just wanted to say sorry about the other night. I haven’t really gotten a chance to contact you or anything, but I am sorry, and I should’ve called-”

“It’s fine.” you said tightly, shaking your head. “It happens.”

“Not to me.” he said defensively. “Look, I only apologize once in a blue moon, so just let it happen.” That elicited a chuckle from you.

“Alright. I accept your apology.” you said amusedly, and he let out a sigh of relief. You watched him blow a piece of hair out of his face, his lips parting for a moment to let out a breath. You averted your eyes when he caught you staring. He truly was beautiful.

Sunghoon’s thoughts were similar at the moment. While you avoided his gaze, he watched the way your eyelashes batted, pushing a strand of hair out of your face.

“I gotta go.” Sunghoon cleared his throat, and you nodded, eager for his exit. “Um. I’ll see you around, I guess.”

“Don’t sound so excited.” you said sardonically, and he rolled his eyes as he got up, giving you a dramatic bow as he walked away and towards another table. You watched him leave, eyes following his graceful figure and the way he smiled.

“You want to fuck him so bad.”

“Ew, Chae!” you yelped at the sudden interruption, waving off the smug girl leaning on your shoulder. “No way. Me and him? No, never. Don’t be silly.”

“Whatever you say.” she shrugged, taking his seat as she sipped on her third glass of red wine. “But the eyes don’t lie.” You glared up at her.

“I seriously hate you.”

☆☆☆

Three clinks of a wine glass, and your attention was at the front of the room. Sunghoon seemed to be giving a speech, and you brought your eyes to the stage. When you realized he was already looking at you, an unfamiliar feeling flooded your stomach. It felt something like dread.

“Welcome, everybody.” Sunghoon said, smiling warmly into the crowd, met with applause and good natured whoops. His father, however, was looking at him like he had just killed his cat, leading you to believe he wasn’t intended to make this speech.

And you were right. Sunghoon’s heart was pounding in his chest as he stared into the hordes, some faces familiar, some not.

“I’d like to thank you all for being here today.” Sunghoon said. “And I’d like to make a toast to the company and all of its potential. All it has accomplished, and all it will continue to accomplish.” The clinking of glasses resounded through the room as your frown deepened, your arms crossing over your chest. “And I would like to say, as the heir to the Park legacy, that I will try my hardest to steer this company towards kindness.” he said, with a fleeting glance towards you. “And so, cheers to the Park company. And cheers to ushering in a new era of ethical business.” The crowd, while mildly confused, burst into applause, their glasses rattling, champagne and wine alike spilling over the rims as people took celebratory gulps.

You shook your head, picking up the hem of your dress as you stood, walking to the exit with a smile on your face.

You sat on the steps outside the building, your knees pressed to your chest as you took a long drag of your cigarette. You told yourself you would quit, but something was itching at you that you couldn’t quite scratch, and nicotine seemed to do the trick momentarily. You were yearning for some peace.

“Flighty, aren’t you?” An amused voice said, the sound of light footsteps preceding it. You turned around, exhaling when you saw Sunghoon’s face towering over you, his hands shoved deep into his pockets.

“Nice speech.” you said, ignoring his comment.

“You mean that?”

“I do, actually.” Sunghoon chuckled, seating himself beside you with a grunt. “I didn’t say you could sit with me.”

“I don’t need your permission.” Sunghoon scoffed, folding his knees. You glared at him, but didn’t protest, taking another drag. “Put that out. I hate smoke.”

“I don’t need your permission.” you mocked him.

“Touche.” he said, resting his chin on his knees. “I suppose the both of us are equally headstrong.”

“Trust me, I’m more stubborn.” you laughed, ashing your cigarette and watching the sparks hit the floor. After a moment, you stubbed it out against the bottom of your shoe, rubbing the dark ash off with your thumb. Sunghoon noticed, but said nothing.

“I meant what I said in my speech, y’know. It wasn’t just to impress you.” you snorted at that. “I mean it! I do want to reform the company.”

“That’s admirable.” you nodded. “I’m glad to see my words had an effect.”

“Me too. See? I’ve only spent a couple days with you and I’m already becoming a better person.” Both of you went silent at his words, his eyes widening as he realized what he said. But he didn’t take it back, the two of you staring, searching through each other's eyes. You hesitated to say something, but there was no hesitation when he reached out for you, your lips colliding as he kissed you.

His hand ghosted across the back of your neck, resting at your nape, making the hairs rise. Your skin felt like it was on fire as he tilted his head, pulling you closer, one of his hands resting on your waist, his thumb rubbing over the fabric of your dress. After a breathless moment, you pulled away. Both of you stared at each other in silence, panting to regain your breath, hungry for more, but hesitating.

After a second, Sunghoon’s swollen lips split into a grin, and he began to laugh, leaning back on his hands as he snickered. You heaved out a sigh, but you couldn’t hold back the smile on your face.

“You are so fucking annoying.”

☆☆☆

You now had Park Sunghoon’s number. It had been three days since you kissed, and you hadn’t yet texted him. You wondered if he assumed you would.

But you didn’t have time to worry about that now. You had work to do.

“Jay, I need you to run a diagnostic on the hotel website and check for errors. And Chaewon, please call Mr. Choi, for the millionth time, and request some new cleaners. We need three dozen rooms cleaned before 10:0o pm.” you said, flipping through a checklist. You had been buzzing around your office drinking coffee and handling busy work since 4 am. It was sufficient to say that you were in business mode. “And both of you, be quick about it. I have a million more tasks to take care of.”

“Okay, Mom.” Jay rolled his eyes, getting out of his seat on the couch and you sent him a quick glare. “Since when have you taken anything seriously?”

“If you haven’t noticed, I have a business to run these days.” you said facetiously, and Jay placed an apologetic kiss on your cheek before running out of the door. “You too, Chae.” She shut her laptop, sending you a quick salute.

The minute the room was empty, you dropped onto your chair, letting your head loll backwards, closing your eyes. The minute you opened them, you were confronted with the enormous, cheesy grin of Park Sunghoon facing you from the billboard across the street. You huffed, getting to your feet and tugging down the blinds with a frown.

You could not get him out of your head.

As you sat in silence, stewing with rage at the fact that Sunghoon, of all people, was occupying your headspace, your landline rang, the little light flashing green as the phone vibrated. You picked it up with a sigh.

“Y/n speaking.”

“Why haven’t you called?” You froze, slamming the phone down and hanging up as quickly as your hands would move. That infuriating, smug voice, you’d recognize it anywhere. You stared at the phone blankly until it began to ring again, and after a moment of reluctance, you picked it up again. “What exactly is your problem?”

“How’d you get my number?” you said exhaustedly, spinning in your chair and getting tangled in the phone cord.

“I called your secretary.” you internally cursed Chaewon, letting out a deep breath through your nose. “I gave you my number so you’d text, you know.”

“I’m busy.”

“I’m busy too. I still found the time to call.”

“I wish you wouldn’t have.” you quipped. “What, you wanna see me?” You could hear him chuckle from the other end.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself. Vice prez told me you’ve been waiting on upper management’s approval for your budget. I’m here to take care of it.”

“Oh.” you replied embarrassedly, crossing your arms.

“Aw, don’t sound so disappointed, sweetheart.” he tutted. “We’re sending a representative over tonight to discuss business.”

“I’m assuming that’s you.” you said, and he hummed in response. “I look forward to it. And by the way, we aren’t close enough for pet names.” You hung up without allowing him time for a reply, taking a moment to collect yourself before you straightened your jacket and got back to work, a deep frown on your face.

Sunghoon, on the other end, was grinning like a fool.

☆☆☆

Three knocks resounded from your door, and you looked up from your laptop for the first time in hours, cracking your neck in the process. Rubbing the back of your neck, you called out into the empty room.

“Come in!” you said, and Chaewon’s head peeked through the door, her black bob swishing as she walked inside, her pink heels clicking against the floor.

“Park Sunghoon is here to see you.” she said, and you sighed, looking down once again. “He’s in the lobby. Says he’s getting impatient.”

“Let him in.” you waved her off, and she nodded. “Oh, and Chae? Give out my number one more time, and you’re so fired.” She grinned coyly, blowing you a kiss as she slipped through the door. You rolled your eyes. You were beginning to wonder if you had a single competent employee in your entire company.

It didn’t take long for Sunghoon to find your office. It felt like the air chilled when he walked through the door.

“Hey,” he said warmly in greeting, his hands tucked into his pockets. He looked incredibly handsome in his tailored gray suit. You slapped yourself on the forehead internally, shifting in your chair uncomfortably. You were acting like an idiot.

“Hi.” you said tightly, straightening a pile of papers. He dropped onto the couch, kicking his feet up on the table. “Make yourself at home.” you said sarcastically.

He grinned, “Let’s talk business, sweetheart.”

“Remember what I said about the pet names?” you reminded him, getting up from your desk and slipping into the chair across from him.

“Aw, c’mon. Loosen up,” he urged you, leaning forward in his seat. “Now, whaddya got for me?” You looked down at the stack of papers in your hand.

“Well, due to necessary improvements, budget has increased this year. We’re in the process of funding a new computer system, and we’ll definitely need more support if we want to expand the branch in Seongbuk-gu. So, I’d say we’re looking at a couple hundred thousand, minimum.” you explained, sorting through your files.

“Boring.” Sunghoon mimed a yawn, standing up and walking to the makeshift bar on your side panel, unscrewing a bottle of whiskey.

“Can you please take this seriously?” you asked exasperatedly.

“I am,” he said defensively, pouring a sizable glass of whiskey. “I’m more of a vodka guy myself. I’ll have someone go on a grocery run next week and get you stocked.”

“Sunghoon.” you deadpanned, and he rolled his eyes.

“Aw, c’mon y/n. Aren’t I supposed to be the uptight one, and you the free willed?”

“You seem free willed enough for the two of us.” you grumbled.

“Alright,” he said, moving to sit back down on the couch. “I have a confession to make.” You stared at him expectantly. “Management approved the budget. I sent off the form yesterday and it was done by 9:00 am this morning.” You raised a brow.

“So…”

“So I came here just to see you, yes.” You smirked, and he groaned in annoyance before you even had a chance to respond.

“I fucking knew it!” you laughed, and he took a sip of his drink. “Park Sunghoon, you are a player.”

“Whatever.” he sassed, standing back up to refill his glass. “Promise to call me next time, and I won’t have to make any surprise visits.”

“I can’t make any promises.” you grinned. “But you can make me a drink.” He looked at you for a moment before chuckling, pouring a second glass of whiskey with a splash of sweet vermouth and bitters for a makeshift Manhattan.

“There’s no cherry, but I did my best.” he said, handing it to you.

“You remembered.” you said warmly, and he nodded. You took a sip. It was a bit too sweet for your taste, but you didn’t mind. You were smiling so brightly, he was itching with the urge to kiss your cheek, so he did. Your smile fell as you rubbed your cheek, Sunghoon avoiding eye contact with you as he sat back down.

You sat across from each other in momentary silence. The window was open, and the night air brushed against your cheeks. Sunghoon’s nose was pink from the cold.

“Do you like me, Sunghoon?” you asked, breaking the silence. He stared.

“Whoah,” he chuckled nervously, slender fingers toying with the rim of his cup. “You get straight to the point, huh?” You didn’t respond. “Let’s not talk about it.” You thought for a minute, before nodding, folding your knees and resting your chin on them.

“I’m okay with that.”

☆☆☆

Surprisingly enough, your friendship with Park Sunghoon was persistent if nothing else. In front of the press you still acted like enemies—you both agreed it was better for your respective companies if nobody knew you had become unlikely companions. But behind closed doors, you would smile when you saw him entering a room, and he would call you on a late night after a hard day of work.

Tonight was one of those nights. 

You tore your eyes away from your phone lighting up the black night, ringing on the table. You and Jay were sitting on the fire escape of your apartment complex, passing a lit cigarette back and forth and watching the smoke disappear into the evening sky. You could see all of Seoul from the penthouse.

“You gonna answer that?” Jay asked smugly, taking a long drag as he watched you stare at your phone in conflict. You turned it over.

“Nope.” you said, reaching for the cigarette and taking a drag until you felt lightheaded. “I don’t have time for him tonight.”

“You seem to be spending a lot of time together lately.” Jay replied, and you glared at him. “Hey, I’m not poking fun. I’m genuinely curious.” You turned away, staring at the glimmering skyline. “You’ve fallen for him, haven’t you?”

“No.” you brought the cig to your lips again. “No, I haven’t.”

“Then what is it?” “...I don’t know.” you admitted. Watching the cigarette burn into ashes in your unmoving hand, Jay began to light his own. “I used to hate him so much, Jay. And now, he’s something completely different than what I thought. He’s a good person.” you turned to look at the boy sitting beside you.

“I know,” he affirmed. “I know.”

“So,” you said, remembering your cigarette and ashing it on the railing, watching the gray ash fall to the ground several stories below. “What now?” Jay took a drag.

“I think that’s for you to decide, y/n. I think you’ve earned the right to let go.” His words touched you. Had you finally worked hard enough to look past those who had wronged you? You had achieved everything you dreamed of, and more.

Were you finally more than your own vengeance?

You didn’t respond, only grabbing your phone and wrapping your jacket a little tighter around your body to protect yourself from the cold breeze.

“I think I’m gonna call him.” you announced, and Jay chuckled.

“I had a feeling,” he said, stretching. “I’m gonna head home. See you tomorrow?”

“See you tomorrow.” you said, watching as Jay walked out the door, giving you a little salute before shutting it behind him. You sighed, staring at your phone.

3 Missed Calls From Park Sunghoon.

You hesitated for a moment before pressing the call button, letting your phone rest on your lap as it rang. He picked up on the second ring.

“Hey.” his muffled voice said through the phone.

“Hey.” you responded.

“I’m outside.” Your eyes widened, and you immediately ran to the edge of the fire escape, peering down to the entrance of your apartment building. Surely enough, there he was, his back resting against the wall, polished shoes tapping against the concrete.

“How long have you been waiting for?” you called, and he looked up, his face barely a speck from so high up.

“Not long.” he responded.

“How’d you know I’d answer?” you could barely make out his grin in the dark.

“You always do.” you rolled your eyes, retreating inside and tugging on a pair of flats. You took the elevator down, and when you entered the lobby, Sunghoon’s solemn face was the first thing you saw. His nose and cheeks were tinted red from the cold, and his hair was messy from the wind. You smiled, tucking your hands into your pockets.

“You wanna come upstairs?” you asked. “I’ll make tea.”

“Tea sounds nice.” he said quietly, smiling as he followed you to the elevator.

This was the first time Sunghoon had seen your apartment, and he was fascinated to say the least. As you fussed over the boiling water and choosing the right tea, he toyed with the perfumes on your coffee table, running his hands along your brown leather couch and smelling the fresh flowers you kept in glass vases. He was enchanted by this little space you had created for yourself. His apartment was just a bachelor pad, filled with expensive furniture and lacking life.

“I like your apartment.” he said, staring at a print of Marilyn Monroe that you kept on your wall. “It’s stylish.”

“Thanks. You want jasmine or oolong?”

“Jasmine, please. And bring a shot of vodka with it.” You snorted, pulling out two tea bags and pouring two shots, bringing them to the coffee table.

“So, what brings you to my side of the city?” you asked.

“I had a hard day.” Sunghoon knocked back the shot of vodka, wiping his lips. “Thanks. I needed that.”

“You’re welcome.” you said, throwing back your shot and setting the small glass cup on the table. You didn’t want to think of the implications of Sunghoon coming over in the middle of the night without any warning. It made your head hurt.

“I’m finding that, as of late,” Sunghoon began. “That you have a somewhat calming presence in my life.” You froze. “Lately I’ve been under a lot of stress, with remodeling the company and everything. My father’s been giving me hell about my new policies. I don’t think he likes my idea of ‘ethical new business’.” He let out a large exhale. “At the end of the day, you’re really the only one who understands me.” He smiled bittersweetly. “And, well, I’m grateful for your company lately. Spending time with you has been the only thing keeping me sane. It’s hard to imagine that we ever hated each other.”

You couldn’t think of a single thing to say. You felt like your heart was rising in your throat, and you cleared it, attempting to collect yourself. Sunghoon chuckled, looking at the floor with red cheeks.

“Is it cool that I said all that?” he said after a moment of silence. “Cause I know that it’s delicate.”

“Y’know, I used to hate you more than anyone in the world.” you laughed gently. “But I agree with you. These days, you’re the only thing keeping me sane.” Sunghoon gazed at you, but you were looking into your cup of tea. “And yeah, it’s delicate. But I don’t really care what anyone thinks but you.” You met his eyes. Those damn dark eyes. Swimming with emotion. And they were trained quite blatantly on your lips.

Before you could register it, he was reaching for your face, his rough palm caressing the soft skin of your cheek, pulling you into his embrace as he kissed you gently, his other hand on your waist.

You had kissed before, but nothing had felt as intimate as the moment you were sharing now. Those past kisses had been a fleeting moment, an impulse decision, but now Sunghoon was kissing you like you were the only thing in the universe, like you were all that mattered. His grip on your waist was bruising, as though he was afraid you’d disappear if he let go. You felt drunk on love and vodka, shifting yourself onto his lap as you tangled your hands in his hair. You were both breathless, hearts racing as you held each other tightly, losing yourselves in the taste of each other’s lips.

Sunghoon pulled away, his lips splitting into a smug smile as he tucked a piece of hair behind your ear, your lips red and swollen as you attempted to catch your breath.

“Remember when you asked if I liked you?” he asked, hands trailing over your bare thighs, eyes trained on the way your eyes twinkled under the dim lighting and the thin tank top you were wearing underneath your jacket. “Well, I think I have my answer now.” you licked your lips, before grinning.

“You’re an asshole, Sunghoon.”

“Then I’m really lucky you like me.”

☆☆☆

You woke up to two things; Sunghoon’s face, and the sound of yelling.

His eyes were closed, his full lips slightly parted as he let out gentle snores, his dark hair sticking up. As much as you wanted to admire the way the morning light hit his skin, you stood up and walked to your balcony, peeking outside.

You yelped, slamming your glass doors shut as you ran inside, pulling on a pair of sweats, simultaneously shaking Sunghoon awake.

“Sunghoon, get up. The paparazzi are here.” you said frantically, attempting to retrieve a shirt from your closet when a pair of strong arms pulled you back into bed.

“Five more minutes.” he groaned from under the covers, and you fought back a smile, attempting to pry his grip off of you. His hands made their way to the straps of your bra, pulling and letting it snap back onto your skin. “Lace, huh? I didn’t notice.”

“I’m not kidding, get up.” you said, pushing him off of you and running to your closet to grab the top half of your tracksuit, pulling it over your head.

“What’s the rush?” he said, finally sitting up, ears perking when he heard the loud voices coming from outside. Peering out the window, his eyes widening.

“Oh shit,” he cursed, getting to his feet and hurriedly pulling on his shirt. “How’d they find us?” You shook your head, biting your lip as you thought about what to do.

“Not sure, but we should try to preserve our image.” you grabbed a snapback from your nightstand, putting it on his head to cover his face. “You go out the back, I’ll curse them out and keep ‘em distracted.”

“What happened to preserving your image?” he snorted, buckling his belt.

“Well, my reputation’s never been worse.” you said, tapping him on the nose. “So you must like me for me.” He smiled, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips.

“Mm, I do.” he said, before tugging on his shoes. He blew you a kiss before running out your front door, shutting it behind him, making sure it didn’t slam. You watched him leave, your fingers tracing where he had kissed you, and you smiled for a moment before collecting yourself.

“Hey!” you yelled, stomping towards the paparazzi stationed outside the lobby of your apartment. They immediately whirled in your direction, cameras flashing as they all fought to get their questions out. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Ms. Y/l/n!” a reporter yelled. “Are you aware of the rising scandal between you and Park Sunghoon?” You scrunched up your nose.

“Park Sunghoon?” you repeated in disgust.

“Sunghoon was reported to have arrived at your home at midnight last night! Do you have anything to say to these accusations?”

“Do I have anything to say?” you scoffed. “You must be mistaken. Park Sunghoon is a pig, just like the rest of his family. I hope the media understands that I do not, and never will, have anything to do with a pompous asshole like him.” The paparazzi erupted into questions and flashing cameras, but you turned on your heel and sashayed back inside, waving them off as the sliding doors closed behind you, drowning out the noise.

On your face you wore a grimace.

☆☆☆

A newspaper slammed onto Sunghoon’s desk, his drowsy eyes snapping open at the sound. “‘Park Sunghoon is a pig, just like the rest of his family!’ States Queen Corporation’s CEO After Being Accused of an Illicit Affair with the Park Company’s Son”, stated the title. Sunghoon smiled momentarily, but his amused expression dropped when he saw the furious face of his father towering over him.

“Would you like to explain this?” he asked, his tone deceptively calm. Sunghoon was smart enough to know that meant he was enraged.

“Um, is there anything to explain?” Sunghoon said timidly. “She said it herself, we’re not involved.” Sunghoon’s father rubbed his temples.

“Well, obviously, Sunghoon. I’d hope you’re smart enough to not get involved with the one woman who could ruin our company.” Sunghoon winced internally. “We must do something about this issue. Y/n is the only threat to our company.”

“Surely she’ll leave us alone if we don’t encroach upon her business.” he attempted to reason, but his father looked at him as though he had gone insane.

“Absolutely not. We’ll have to speed up your engagement to Huh Yunjin.” Sunghoon leapt out of his seat.

“Father, you can’t be serious!” he said in disbelief.

“I won’t hear any complaints. The Huhs own the largest company in Korea, second to ourselves, and we can’t afford to make an enemy out of them. Merging our companies will give us total dominion over the business world.” his father said with finality. “Not to mention their only heir is a woman. We’ll control their company through you.” Sunghoon bit his lip.

“But I don’t want to marry her.” His father shook his head.

“I’m afraid you don’t have a choice.”

☆☆☆

A newspaper slammed onto your desk.

“Park Sunghoon, a pig? A likely story.” Jay snorted, slipping into the seat across from you. You rubbed the sleep out of your eyes, picking up the newspaper. “Late night, huh? So it must be true.”

“Shut up.” you said, but you couldn’t hold back the smile on your face. “Guess I went a little overboard, but it makes for a good story.” Jay raised his brows at you, taking a sip of his coffee. “Will you stop looking at me like that?”

“I think you’ve got a little crush.” He said in a sing-song voice. You snorted.

“I’m a grown woman, Jay. Us hooking up doesn’t mean I have feelings for him.” Jay shrugged.

“Say whatever you want, but it’s obvious that you like Park Sunghoon. There’s no denying it.” You were about to respond when your phone rang, and you shooed Jay out of your office as he mimed kissing childishly.

“Hello?” you asked, and a familiar voice responded.

“A pig, huh? A pompous asshole?” Sunghoon spoke smugly.

“I did what I had to do.” you shrugged, spinning in your office chair.

“Mm, sure.” he said, holding his phone to his ear with his shoulder as he jotted down notes. “Well, Ms. Y/l/n, I’m calling to let you know that the Parks are throwing a very exclusive fundraising gala tomorrow, and there’s an empty seat for a certain CEO if she’s so inclined.” you snorted.

“Oh, really? And would your family like to see me there?” “A little trouble would do them some good. Plus, I want to see you.” You blushed on the other side of the phone, covering your mouth with your hand. “And I’ve booked a private reservation for two at the shittiest bar on the East side,” he joked. “So?”

You thought for a moment. After your recent statement in the news, walking into a Park gala would be like walking into a den of tigers. But since when had you been afraid of stirring the corporate pot?

“I’ll be there.” you promised, and Sunghoon grinned, tucking a pen between his lips. “I should look for a dress.”

“I’ll have it taken care of.” He twirled his pen. “Just wait for my call.”

“See you tomorrow then.” you grinned.

“See you tomorrow, m’lady.”

��☆☆

It was three hours and counting until the Parks’ big gala. You stared at the wall ahead of you while Chaewon tried on countless lavish dresses and Jay sorted through piles of patterned ties. Sunghoon had assured you that you could bring your closest friends, but you weren’t certain that his family would appreciate your troupe of misanthropes intruding upon their event.

“Cheetah print, or zebra print?” Chaewon asked you, holding two dresses against her body. You shook your head, biting the nail of your thumb.

“Neither. Pick something nice, Chae.”

“This is nice.” she protested, but put the dresses down and continued to look around. Jay noticed the way you stared vacantly ahead, stressfully chewing your nails, and he set down his ties, scooching in closer.

“Are you feeling okay?” he asked cautiously. “Nervous?”

“I couldn’t care less what those people think about me.” you said, and Jay chuckled at your classic behavior.

“Okay, so. What’s wrong?” His eyes held concern as he rubbed his thumb along your arm, and you sighed heavily.

“I do care what he thinks. And that’s the problem.” Jay let out a quiet sound of understanding. “I don’t understand. Why do I even care about him? The only thing on my mind for the past six years has been destroying that family.”

“Y/n,” he began. “You don’t have to punish yourself for forgiving someone.” You stopped biting your nails. “Especially someone with no fault in the situation.”

“But he’s one of them.” you mumbled.

“Does he seem like a good person?” Jay asked. Your eyes made contact for a moment, before you nodded and quickly looked away. “Then that’s all that matters.” You considered his words for a moment, before sighing, folding your hands.

“You’re right, you’re right. Thanks Jay.” 

“I’m always gonna be here for you. Try not to worry.” He patted you lightly on the back as he stood, and you gave him a tight smile. Your eyes were drawn to your bed, snug in the corner of your apartment, a large bag lying on top. Fabric peeked out from beneath the top, a shining sapphire blue. You held your head in your hands.

Trying not to worry was proving to be impossible.

On the other side of the city, Sunghoon was tightening his tie.

“You finally learned how to tie a tie.” Jake snorted, but Sunghoon didn’t laugh. He was staring vacantly out the window and into the horizon, zoned out on the skyline. “Hello? Earth to Sunghoon?”

“What?” Sunghoon snapped out of his trance, whipping around.

“Something on your mind?” Jake tucked his hands into the pockets of his ironed blazer. They were both dressed in their nicest suits in preparation for the night’s events. Sunghoon shook his head.

“I can’t stop thinking about her.” Sunghoon admitted, and Jake grew serious. “This whole time, I feel like I’ve been looking for something deeper than just being the heir to this bullshit company. When I’m with her…I feel like I found something real.” “Sunghoon,” Jake said tenderly. “As of a couple days ago, you’re engaged.” Sunghoon sighed. “You can’t do that to y/n.”

“I don’t want to get married.” Sunghoon said, his voice breaking, which he quickly covered up with a cough. “I don’t want to marry Yunjin, and she definitely doesn’t want to marry me.”

“As sad as it is, you don’t have a choice.” Jake said sympathetically. “I know you’re upset. But just try to keep it together for tonight.”

“Yeah, got it.” Sunghoon scoffed, fidgeting, adjusting his cufflinks. “After 21 years, I’ve become accustomed to putting away my emotions for my father’s benefit.” Jake watched sadly as his best friend adjusted his jacket, shaking his head before exiting his room and striding downstairs to where the gala was taking place.

☆☆☆

Your eyes scanned the luxurious room, full of familiar but unwelcoming faces. Chandeliers were draped from ceilings twenty feet high, crystals glimmering in the golden glow, sending fractals of light spiraling around the room. You were receiving dirty looks from every corner of the ballroom, judgemental whispers echoing. You tried your best to tune it out. Jay stood behind you, glaring back tenfold at every disapproving partygoer, Chaewon oblivious to it all as she enjoyed the decadence.

You needed to find Sunghoon or you would lose your mind.

His face shone from the other side of the room, and when your eyes connected it was like the rest of the world fell away. His warm, brown eyes captivated you as he quickly left whatever conversation he was a part of, weaving through the crowd to get to you. He was breathless by the time he made it through the sea of people.

“Hey,” he said.

“Hey.” you responded unsteadily, looking over your shoulder to see his father watching you with a fierce glare. “Sunghoon, I’m not sure this is a good idea.”

“Since when have you cared what everyone else thinks?” he said with a bittersweet grin, and you chuckled, some of the tension relieved. “C’mon, I’ll show you the dance floor.” He tugged on your hand, whisking you away. You attempted to hide your face as you left with him.

Jake watched you leave, sipping gin from a crystal glass. Jay approached his side, picking up a bottle and emptying its contents into the largest glass he could find.

“They’re so fucked.” Jake said without thinking.

“I don’t know,” Jay said, taking a swig. “They seem like they really love each other. Who says love doesn’t conquer all?” “The business world.” Jake chuckled, looking at his reflection in the bottom of his glass. “I just hope he lets her down easy.”

“What do you mean?” When Jake looked up, Jay was staring at him inquisitively, brows furrowed. Jake’s face dropped, his heart in his throat.

“He hasn’t told her yet?” Jake asked hesitantly. Jay’s grip on his drink tightened. The two men stared at each other in silence, the tension palpable.

“...Told her what?”

☆☆☆

Sunghoon closed the towering, intricate wooden doors behind you as you entered the ballroom. Ceilings made of mirrors caused the light to bounce around the room like stars, and you watched, breathless. The smooth floor was slick under your stiletto heels.

“It’s beautiful.” you said, and Sunghoon watched you with a smile.

“A dance, m’lady?” he asked, offering his gloved hand to you. You took it with a grin, and he pulled you into his arms.

The two of you swayed, rocking back and forth in each other’s arms as he attempted to guide you in a waltz. You were uncoordinated, and you both giggled as you tripped over your feet. His thumb rubbed across your hand as he counted out the steps for you. There was no music playing, but you could both feel the rhythm in your head, like a grand orchestra was conducting a song just for you.

When you were alone, your head was suddenly clear. The stress from earlier melted away as he gazed into your eyes, and you rested your head on his shoulder, the two of you twirling as he hummed a song under his breath.

“You’re improving,” he joked. He was right, you were no longer tripping and stumbling. You had gained a sense of the rhythm, following his lead gracefully. He extended his hand, prompting you to spin, and you did.

“I have a good teacher.” you laughed, watching your gown twirl. The dress that Sunghoon had bought you was beautiful, trailing against the ground, the crystal detailing lighting up underneath the dappled golden light. Only then did you notice the sapphire shade of his tie, and how it perfectly matched your dress. “Let’s hope the press doesn’t get wind of our fashion faux pas.” you joked, gesturing to your matching attire.

“To be honest, I don’t really care.” he said, and his honesty made you gulp.

This was all too real for you. Your feelings for him were ripping you from the inside out, and you felt too nervous to speak. The feeling in your stomach was more akin to wasps than butterflies.

“Y/n.” he said seriously. “You know how I feel about you, don’t you?” He was overcome with guilt. He really didn’t want to do this to you, not now, not when he knew he’d have to break the news soon. It was too soon. His time with you was too short lived, he couldn’t let it go. Not when you were the only person who made him feel complete, the only person who made life feel like it was worth continuing.

“No, I don’t.” you grinned, baiting him to say the words himself, and he chuckled. “Why don’t you explain it to me?”

“Maybe it’s easier without words.” he said, unclasping his hand from yours so he could trace his fingers along your cheek. 

He dipped his head to kiss you, and your hands were tangled in his hair as he held you tightly. There was something desperate about the way he kissed you, holding you like you might slip through his fingers if he loosened his grip. The two of you kissed fervently, full of convolution and mixed emotions. He pulled away from you for a moment, but only for long enough to whisper,

“I love you.” You pulled away from him, his gaze intense. You always had a weakness for his eyes. It felt like they held galaxies. The weight of his words sunk upon you, and you opened your mouth to speak.

“I love you too.” you whispered.

☆☆☆

You and Sunghoon had parted ways after your illicit meeting, him fleeing to the front of the room to discuss with his father, you hesitantly retreating to your table. Chaewon was sipping vodka; Jay was nowhere to be seen.

“Everything okay?” she asked immediately, setting down her cup.

“I’m okay.” you assured her, your lips splitting into a bright smile despite your distressed exterior, and she let out a breath of relief, wrapping an arm around the back of your chair when you sat. “I can’t wait to get out of here.”

“Same.” she agreed, taking another swig of her drink. “Though I bet your reason is different than mine.” She sent you a wink, to which you shook your head amusedly.

Your eyes were drawn to Sunghoon, standing onstage with his father. He seemed nervous, and you wanted nothing more than to be standing beside him, but you knew you couldn’t. Not in public, and you were wondering if you two would go public one day.

You would do it the moment he asked, no hesitation. And that scared you.

You picked up a glass sitting on the table that you assumed was Jay’s, taking a large swig. It burned your throat, and you put it down with a wince. Out of the corner of your eye, you spotted a tall and elegant woman standing on stage, honey colored hair curling gracefully on her shoulders. Her floor length golden gown sparkled in the light.

“Welcome, valued guests.” a loud voice and feedback from the microphone snapped you back into reality, and your attention was drawn to the stage, where Sunghoon’s father was speaking with a cheesy, large grin. “Thank you all for attending our fundraising gala, graciously hosted by the Parks. We appreciate all of your generous donations.” he cleared his throat. “And on behalf of my lovely son, we have some news.” You began listening, setting down your cup.

“We are delighted to announce our own Sunghoon’s engagement.”

Your face paled. You felt like the world was crashing down around you, everything muffled. You could vaguely sense that Chaewon was talking to you, but you couldn’t process it. You felt like you were going to throw up.

“Sunghoon and Huh Yunjin of the Huh Company are set to wed in three months, and our companies will officially be merging.” Flashing cameras went off like grenades, the sound filling the room as the woman smiled for the camera, holding onto the arm of the man who told you he loved you. Despite the camera demanding his attention, his eyes were on you. And those beautiful eyes that you loved, they were devoid of feeling.

He stared at you, pale as a ghost, lips parted in silent surprise. The cameras snapped photos of him as he barely breathed, lost in the injured gaze of the woman who loved him. And you stood, striding towards the exit before you could even register what you were doing, ignoring the curious stares you were receiving. All you could see was the exit, the door that would lead you out of here.

The sound of cameras flashing and the hum of gossip silenced as you walked into the night, taking a deep and ragged breath. Tears spilled from your eyes before you could help it, and you swiped your palms over your face, smudging your makeup, sobbing unsteadily.

As Sunghoon watched you stand, he pulled himself away from the tight grip of Yunjin on his arm, eyes trained on your disappearing figure as panic rushed through his head. His father turned back towards him.

“What are you doing?” he asked quietly, urgently, as Sunghoon pushed through the crowds of paparazzi, jumping off the stage and running towards the exit. He burst through the doors, chasing you until he found your weeping figure running away.

“Y/n!” He chased after you. You knew you couldn’t outrun him, so you didn’t try. You just shook your head, turning away from him.

“Fuck off.” you replied harshly, and he grabbed your wrist.

“Please, I’m sorry, let me explain.” he begged.

“Explain?” you snapped. “Sunghoon, you’re engaged. There’s nothing to explain.”

“I don’t want to marry her.” he said desperately. “I never have, and I never will.”

“You told me you loved me,” you sobbed, wiping your eyes with your free hand, and Sunghoon’s eyes burned with tears and the cold wind.

“I do,” he said gently. “I love you more than anything.”

“Then why?” you said. “Why are you getting married?” “...I don’t have a choice. It’s for the company.” he said reluctantly, and you shook your eyes, pulling your wrist out of his grip and wiping your eyes for the last time.

“I can’t believe I thought you were different.” you laughed incredulously. “I thought you were different, but it turns out you’re exactly like your family.”

“Y/n, don’t say that.” he pleaded. “I’m not like them.”

“Yet you do what they say, slaving away for a company that does nothing but hurt people?” He went silent. “I should’ve known from the start that you would hurt me. God, I can’t believe I thought you really cared about me.” “I do.” he insisted, reaching for your hands, but you pulled away. “I care about you, I care about us-”

“There is no ‘us’, Sunghoon!” you yelled. “There never has been! Because you always knew that at the end, you’d leave me the minute someone told you to.” 

“That’s not true, y/n.” he shouted. “Everything we went through, that meant something to me. I meant everything I said, I’d do anything for you! I’d leave the company if you asked me to!” You scoffed.

“You wouldn’t do that for anyone, Sunghoon. You’re too much of a coward.” He didn’t respond, his hands hanging weakly at his sides. He felt numb.

A black car roared to life, approaching from the parking lot. The windows rolled down, and you were comforted to see Jay’s stony face in the driver's seat, Chaewon watching you from the back seat with concern. He nodded to the passenger side.

“Get in.” he said, requiring no explanation. He already knew.

You ran for the car, and Sunghoon came after you. You had one hand on the handle when he caught your wrist in his fingers.

“Please,” he begged, his voice a whisper in the night as his eyes pleaded with you. “Please, don’t leave.” You almost yielded, but instead you removed your hand from his, opening the door and sliding into your seat.

“Go.” you said quietly to Jay, and he accelerated, speeding out of the lot. His hand rested on top of yours, his thumb caressing the back of your hand. You silenced your tears, chin resting on your palm and staring out the window into the city to ignore how much your heart was aching.

☆☆☆

It had been four days since Park Sunghoon told you he was getting married to another woman. It had been three days since you called out of work sick, and two days since you blocked his number after countless missed calls. It had been only one day since you stopped crying yourself to sleep.

You weren’t used to being vulnerable. Since your father ruined both his career and your own, you were used to building up walls around yourself. You were filled with bitter irony that the person who tore those walls down was part of the family that hurt you so badly in the first place.

You felt like an absolute idiot, to say the least.

You flipped through a magazine, your hair up as you lounged in a salon chair. You had just gotten your nails done, and you tried not to smudge the gel as you flipped through pages of jewelry ads and gossip articles. When you stumbled across a promotion for cologne, Sunghoon’s handsome, smiling face decorating the page, you shut it with a sigh.

“Do you have any other magazines?” you asked the woman who came to do your hair, sharp nails gripping at the edges.

You strode down the bustling streets of Seoul, your fur coat clenched tightly around your body, a designer purse held in your free hand. You got plenty of stares as you walked down the street, some admiring, some judgemental. But you had learned not to care. You sighed, your warm breath fogging up the cold daylight, before dissipating.

The sound of screeching static froze you in place, and you turned to look at the towering screens lined up in the window of a store, all glitching. You stopped for a moment, waiting until they regained their sense, switching to a news channel.

An anchorwoman with a bad blowout and a gaudy diamond necklace was pointing very seriously at an image behind her, her other hand wrapped around a stack of papers as she read off a script.

“The business world- is sh-shocked,” she began, her voice skipping as the tvs froze and unfroze in sync. “At the alleged emancipation of Park Sunghoon from his family’s very successful enterprise. Mr. Park made a public statement this morning, claiming that he ‘would not continue to entertain unethical practices, and could not condon the idea of marrying purely for business’. Rumors are, according to inside sources from corporate high society, that he left his company for love.”

You stared quietly at the tv. A million thoughts were rushing through your head, but the majority of them were this;

You needed to find Sunghoon.

☆☆☆

The door to his apartment creaked open, Sunghoon peeking out from behind. His hair was matted to his forehead, sticking up in places, and his typical nice clothing was replaced by a white t-shirt and a pair of baggy sweats. He looked like hell, but it didn’t matter; he looked the most beautiful you’d ever seen him.

“You’re not a coward.” Was the first thing you said when he opened the door.

“I am,” he replied.

“You’re not, and I didn’t mean that. I was scared.”

“You don’t need to explain yourself to me.” he said, shaking his head. “It was all my fault. I fucked up, and I lose the only person I care about in this world because of it.” You stood up a little straighter, clenching your fists.

“At the end of the day, you’re really the only one who understands me.” you said firmly, and he smiled, recognizing his own words. “Sunghoon, I care about you more than I’ve ever cared about anyone. And that’s why I was so afraid of you hurting me.”

“I wish I could take it all back.” Sunghoon said, his hand tracing your cheek, too afraid to make contact. “I wasted so much of my life being complacent. You were the one that taught me to be brave.” You nodded, eyes watery. “I’m sorry that I made you mad.”

“I’m not mad.” you said very unconvincingly, and both of you laughed. 

You wiped your eyes furiously, hands trembling.

“I really do love you, Sunghoon.” you said shakily, and he pulled you into his arms. You melted into his warm embrace, his arms circling your waist, holding you tight. Your touch felt so familiar, and for the first time since you left him, he felt whole again, basking in the glory of your presence. He couldn’t help but kiss you, his finger under your chin as he lifted your face to his, pressing his lips against yours eagerly.

You had forgotten all the things you adored about kissing Sunghoon. The way his hands always held you so tightly, how he always tasted like honey chapstick, and the way he smiled against your lips when you lost your hands in his hair. You were both sick with love, and you were only just beginning to realize that you didn’t need a cure.

“I love you.” he mumbled between kisses, unable to pull away. “I loved you from the start, even when everyone told me not to. Nothing could, and nothing can, stop the way I feel about you.”

“I love you, Sunghoon,” you said, your tears wetting both your face and his. “And I hate you for even considering otherwise.” he chuckled, tapping your nose with his index finger.

“Well, my reputation’s never been worse,” you giggled at your own words being used against you, as he spun you around in his arms. “So you must like me for me.” You pressed a chaste kiss onto his lips with a glowing smile.

“Mm, you’re lucky that I do.”

☆☆☆

[reiderwriter]

💢 At Each Other's Throats 💢

Spencer Reid x female! Reader

For the CM Kink Bingo Challenge 2024

Summary: A previous encounter means that you're not the biggest fan of Spencer Reid, and you go to some extreme lengths to prove that to him.

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, Dom! Spencer, but not exactly sub reader , degradation (use of whore, slut), semi-public foreplay, arguing as foreplay etc, oral sex (m receiving, f mentions, too), face fucking, rimming, nipple play, rough sex/ rough play, spanking, slapping, spitting, choking, messy sex, creampie, multiple orgasms, mentions of painful sex/ pain play etc. some possible CNC triggers/ phrasing.

A/N: I couldn't find a gift of Spencer being bitchy enough, so everyone, please enjoy Kyle Orfman from Life After Beth. This one was a labour of love, if love was actually hate. It's 2am. This is obviously not edited, and may never be.

Masterlist || Bingo Board

You knew from reputation alone that you would have a hard time working with Spencer Reid. Perhaps it was the slew of child prodigy articles that popped up alongside his name. Maybe it was even just your preconceived notion of what men with three PhDs, a badge, and a gun were like. Maybe it was the fact that he'd written to you after one of your first professional articles was published in The American Journal of Forensic Medicine and Pathology and told you a piece you'd worked on for 18 months was just plain wrong. 

Either way, you laid eyes on him, and the hatred was cemented. But fuck was he hot. 

He had no clue who you were as his boss introduced you to him, looking between the two of you as if expecting good things to happen. You should've warned him. 

“Spencer, this is Y/N. She'll be assisting on a few cases from this month onwards.” 

His eyes glazed over as he ran your name through whatever roller index of memories he had stored in there. 

“Y/N is a lecturer at the University of Virginia. She's going to be lecturing at the FBI Academy from September onwards-” 

“You! You wrote an article, I wrote to you about it, did you get my le-”

“Yes, I got your letter. I believe you called my writing ‘juvenile’ and my thinking ‘wishful,’ and that if I had any actual field experience, I'd slowly understand how many mistakes there were in my writing.” 

Agent Hotchner took an almost imperceptible deep breath in, trying to hide the fact that this was all new information to him. 

“Well, here I am, Doctor Reid.” 

The man in front of you gaped for a moment, letting his mouth hang open, closing after a few seconds only to open again. Perhaps you'd disorganized that index of his. You hoped you'd set the goddamn thing alight. 

“Shall we get started?”

To say that you'd gotten off to a bad start was an understatement. Your start had been reversed over by a dump truck with no tires. It had been cemented into the ground with no chance of going anywhere but down into the pits of hell. 

Which is, coincidentally, where you found yourself every time you had to engage Spencer Reid in conversation. 

Your first impression of his looks - his incredibly good looks - was that he was even better looking when he was pensive, and unhappy, and being bitchy. He was positively climbable when argumentative, and you liked nothing more than ruining his day, if just for the fact that he'd angrily loosen his tie and pop open his top buttons, exposing the pale white of his neck, and his sharp collar bones, perfectly ready for someone to suck and nip at. 

He was still an ass, however, and you couldn't bring yourself to sink to those depths.

Four cases in, and you hadn't agreed on one thing. You'd caught a serial arsonist, who he had demanded was most likely an office worker, but you'd countered with college student, and you had prevailed there. 1-0. 

Then, unfortunately, you'd lost back to back cases with unsubs in the trucking industry, unfamiliar with and uninterested in the life of the Jack Kerouac type. 

You'd even the playing field at last with a child abduction. And although you knew you'd both been keeping score, you were so genuinely happy for this case to be over. A child was safe at home, and you'd worked so well under pressure (something he had assured you would change your view of your personal forensic psychology theories). 2-2. 

Of course, those were just the big leagues. You'd fought many petty battles, too, as the war waged. 

You'd accidentally stolen his place on the jet, enjoying the long bench seat for a good few naps. A few times, he'd settled in next to you, trying to nudge you out of the chair completely, but you'd held your ground. 

“This is my seat. Usually. There are like 10 other places on this jet to sit. Why does it have to be here?” He'd grumbled into your ear as you gently elbowed him in the side, accidentally, of course.

“There aren't assigned seats. Maybe you have control issues, Doctor,” you cut back, trying to avoid speaking too loud to avoid the ire of the group. 

While you'd enjoyed bickering with - and intellectually besting - Spencer greatly, it did seem that the sentiment wasn't shared by those around you. 

“You can't be serious, right now,” Morgan complained from a seat opposite. “You're seriously fighting over a seat, right now?” 

“It's my seat, Derek, come on, you know it's my seat.” 

The look returned to Spencer almost had you ashamed of your petty actions. 

“I swear they're just taking every advantage to get closer and closer together. Next thing you know, she'll be sitting in his lap,” Emily said from the corner of the plane, so obviously not talking to you that you were almost offended. 

“Ah, young infatuation,” Rossi replied, still ignoring you. 

Reid slinked just slightly away after that, and you weren't sure if you were more annoyed at the comments themselves or the loss of his annoying companionship. 

You wanted him to bother you because it meant you'd succeeded in bothering him. 

You'd had more than your fair share of rather explosive arguments as well. 

“You can't seriously believe that Thomas Edison did more for the field of engineering than Nikola Tesla,” he'd shouted at you at a bar after a case had landed you in paperwork hell, filling out forms and working into the late hours. 

A drink had been suggested, a celebration after solving four straight cases in a row, and you'd gladly taken the chance to unwind. 

“Spencer, we're literally sat in a bar decorated with multiple light bulbs. Look, there's one. Another! Astounding. Thank you, Mr Edison.” 

“And none of it would be possible without Alternating Current, so yes. Thank you, Mr Tesla.” 

Your teammates had long since abandoned you to your petty bickering and fighting amongst yourselves. They'd stopped getting involved when Penelope had tried to mediate your discussion about Doctor Who, which had quickly devolved into New Who vs Old Who. 

You didn't even care strongly either way, you just cared that he did. And however he felt, you were sure as hell ready to take up arms against him. Because it was so fuckimg hot watching him lose his shit. 

You were a grown woman. You could admit that to yourself. You likely wouldn't admit it to anyone else, even if it was as clear as day that you found him unbearable attractive at times. You sure as hell knew that it wasn't a one-way street, from the way his eyes strolled across your body each morning. 

You wondered if there was a section of his brain that was dedicated to memorising everything you'd said, done, and worn since he'd met you. You hoped there was. 

On your fifth and final case with the BAU team, you felt unmatched in your annoyance. 

You were still drawn with Spencer for case breakthroughs, and you felt the need to beat him once again just to nail the point home. He was just stubborn enough to see a 3-2 win as a landslide victory for himself, though you were absolutely going to frame it that way yourself if you managed to be the one to crack everything. 

All sense of teamwork and camaraderie was off the table. 

You had a murderer to catch.

Three women, beaten, assaulted, and tied up. He'd shorn their hair but bagged them up so they were unseen. Then he'd placed the bags on display. The unsub was caught between two extremes, hatred of his victims, and gentleness, protecting their dignity in death by covering them up. 

Obviously, you and Spencer had to decide which side of the debate you were to land on.

“I think we're dealing with a killer without remorse here. It's easier to explain the covering, the dressing of the women as a ritual rather than guilt.” 

He'd finally played his cards, and now it was your turn to passionately wipe them from the table. 

“Remorse? He's cut all their hair off and beat half of them so badly we needed dental to identify them. And in case you've forgotten Spencer, half of them are prostitutes.”

“You're saying he can't feel remorse for killing prostitutes?”

“That is not what I'm saying. Don't twist my words."

“Well, of you'd said something that wasn't nonsensical, I'd have a better chance of understanding what the hell you're trying to say!’

With every line you'd stepped closer and closer to one another, like two boxers in a ring, sizing each other up before a fight. 

You wanted to take his tie and strangle him with it. You wanted to pull him down for a kiss and force him to shut the hell up. 

“Reid, Y/N, both of you take five,” Hotch called sternly from the other side of the room. Guiltily, you both broke away from one another, his hand brushing your side as you took a step back, almost as if he'd meant to grab you before Hotch stepped in. 

Probably to remove you from the room. 

“Take five?” You said, mustering all the disappointment you could as you silently pleaded to stick around. 

“Go back to the motel and get some rest. If you're going to argue like this, I don't need you at the precinct, and I certainly don't need you on my team.” 

You blanched at that, almost taken aback by the harsh words as you silently nodded and quietly walked towards the door, letting it shut behind you. 

Spencer stayed behind, and though you couldn't hear his arguments, you knew he was attempting to reason with Hotch, as well. It evidently didn't work as he stormed out of the room behind you. 

He looked half like a kicked puppy, half like an angry school kid who'd just been scolded by a teacher. 

“Don't look at me like that, this is your fault,” you muttered as you walked away from the room. 

“What? How is this my fault?” 

“If you weren't so goddamn infuriating, we'd be able to get some actual work done.” 

You marched off in the direction of the exit, but he caught your shoulder before you made it that far.

“You're blaming me? This is my job, Y/N, not yours. You get to go back to a cushy little office after this is done to teach the people that are going to end up doing the paperwork that consists of only 2% of our job.”

His finger jabbed at your shoulder as he said the words, and you had to resist the temptation to grab it. 

“Doesn't feel too good to be criticized when you're just doing your job, huh, Spencer?” 

His brows knitted together in a deepened scowl and he took a step forward. 

But there were eyes on you, and whatever confrontation this was, you didn't want to act it out in front of an office full of cops. 

You turned and walked away again, down a seemingly abandoned hall to what looked to be an empty storage cupboard, flinging the light on and waiting the three seconds it took him to catch up with you. 

“What's your problem?” He said, joining you in the cramped closet. 

“You! You're the problem! You're infuriating, and annoying, and most important, you're you!” You poked his chest back, harder than he had earlier, quietly reveling in the feel of his body under your fingertip. 

“Oh, I'm sorry. Would you like me to be someone different? Someone who worships the ground you walk on?” He said, discovering sarcasm for the first time since you'd been introduced. 

“Sure, Spencer, if you can take tour head out of your own ass long enough to worship someone else, then be my guest.” 

With a single push he crowded you against the wall, a hand above your head locking you into position as his other hand held your hip, his own hips joining you at the wall as you sucked in a breath. 

“You're begging to hear praise, right now, Y/N. Do you even hear yourself?” He asked, whispering the words directly into your ear. 

“W-Well, you have me pressed up against the wall like some fucking caveman that needs to breed or die.” You spent half the time you were talking trying to compensate for the stutter, trying not to look weak, that you totally missed the words that came from your own mouth. 

“You think I want to have sex with you?” He asked, chuckling awkwardly, even as his hand on your hip began rubbing circles, his head hanging lower, just inches away from your mouths meeting. 

“I think you'd love nothing more,” you said, finally lifting your hands to his hair and tucking a lock behind his ears. “Such a shame I won't be crawling into your bed.” 

“Is that a challenge?” He asked, and you were taken aback for a few seconds. 

“You want me so fucking bad, you're trying to convince yoursel-”

With a swoop, he cut you off, his lips meeting yours. You gasped and allowed his tongue to enter your mouth, but you came to your senses quickly. You kissed back with all the anger of the last month and all the attraction that had built up since you'd joined the team. Your tongue fought his, your hands tangled in his hair as his pulled them out, pinning them against a wall. But you slipped free and grabbed him again, grabbing the tie you'd wanted to choke him with earlier and not letting go. 

His lips were soft, and his body felt hot pressed against you, and you hated how good he was at all of this, how your body responded to his, how each time you pulled away it was with a small whimper as you begged for more. 

“I knew you wanted me,” he said, between kisses, grabbing your face and tilting it up as he returned his tongue to yours. 

“Oh, shut the fuck up, you kissed me first.” His hands trailed up your hips, untucking your shirt as he pushed his hand under, his cold fingers sending a trail of goosebumps along your skin as you shuddered. 

“I kissed you because you begged me to,” he said, his fingers caressing the bottom of your chest as he tried to press your bra up further. 

You were about to argue back when his lips met yours again, and you were lost in the haze of arousal, leg lifting to his hip to better allow him space to settle against you. 

You grew wilder in your passion, neither of you giving in even for one second as you writhed against each other, begging for satisfaction while denying that you'd ever wanted each other in the first place. Just as it became unbearable, your hands slipping to his belt, ready to pull his cock free and take it, the door opened again. 

“Reid, Y/N,” Morgan said from the doorway as you hastily jumped away from each other. 

You pulled your shirt down quickly, and Spencer stepped behind you, covering up the tent in his pants as you stared guiltily up at Derek Morgan. 

“Hotch sent me after you to give you the keys to the SUV,” he grumbled, making no comment on anything that happened. 

“We were just, um, we were just-” your brain fought for an excuse, but you'd left your brain behind somewhere between joining the BAU and foreplay with Spencer in a closet, so words escaped you. 

“You were just making out in a closet. It's okay, we all know,” Derek said, turning to leave. 

You jumped up, indignant now he'd brushed you off, and followed him out of the closet, an equally shocked Spencer trailing behind you. 

“What do you mean you all know? All know what?” You said, stomping back into the office. 

“That you two are into each other. It's why Hotch sent you away earlier. He didn't want to see the two of you going at it,” he said, pressing the car keys into your hands. 

“We are not into each other,” Spencer shouted back at Morgan as he stalked off, and you glared at him to shut his mouth. There was a crowd forming, and you still didn't need that attention. Not when your hair was matted from seven minutes in hell with Spencer or when his hand had, once again, settled on your hip, pulling you closer into him. 

“Let's go,” you huffed, and finally left the building with Spencer right behind you. 

You didn't talk for the rest of the drive home, even as your brain flooded itself with images of him taking you in the back of the car, your lips around his dick as he drove, him pulling over to bend you over the hood. 

You went straight to your separate rooms when you got back to the motel, though you swore that the walls were thin enough that he surely heard you pleasure yourself, fingers sinking into yourself. You weren't sure if he, too, had his hand wrapped around his cock, or if your brain was just now imagining whatever it liked to spur you on. 

Imagined or real, his moans were delicious, a maddening mix of frustration, exasperation and desperation, whimpers and groans, and small growls until you yourself were cumming, and letting yourself sleep.

You avoided talking, all talking, until the end of the case, even as your head replayed his infuriating words, his moans and the rustling sound of his fingers pressing your shirt up. You refused to talk to him to give his coworkers the validation of arguing with him once more. You weren't into each other. 

You simply wanted to fuck him. You didn't like him as a person otherwise. 

In avoiding him, though, the small taste of release you'd sampled in the closet had your softer parts deliriously wanting more. As much as you hated Spencer, you needed him so bad. 

You'd given him the cold shoulder  but he'd returned it just as quickly, and you were more annoyed not talking to him than you weren't. 

Your last case wrapped up, and you decided it was time to give him what he so obviously wanted. A conversation. 

You sat yourself right back down in his seat as you got on the jet and laid down, pulling his blanket over yourself as you took up the entire space. 

The others shook their heads at you as they walked on, Spencer taking up the rear. His eyes met yours, and he scowled, and you couldn't help but wonder if he'd look like that fucking you, so stern and angry. 

You sighed and pushed onto your side as he stood over you. 

“That's my seat.” 

You smiled in success as you looked over your shoulder. 

“I'm tired, I'm going to sleep.” 

“But that is my seat-” 

“Spencer, you've sat on every seat on this damn plane before, that wasn't your seat until last month, now sit down, shut up and let me rest,” JJ exploded and you suddenly felt bad for drawing him into your argument.  Or you did until you sat up a bit, and he sat himself right down where your head had been. 

“Spencer!”

“I give up…” JJ groaned from the table seats, pulling headphones over her head and shutting her eyes, and the others made to ignore you similarly. 

Not one to be beaten, you pushed the book in his hands off his lap and laid your head down again, now cushioned by his legs. 

“What-” his voice squeaked as you shut your eyes, too, and made yourself comfortable. He didn't push you off, or, heaven forbid, start talking to you again. Shockingly, he adjusted to the position quickly and resigned himself to pillow duty for the six hour flight. 

You, too, shocked yourself by how fast you fell asleep. You woke up with his hands in your hair, stroking your head as he read, book in one hand, you in the other. His hands felt wonderful, raking through your long locks, brushing each errant hair off your face. 

“Spencer?” You said, voice still thick with sleep. 

His hand shot away, and you almost regretted not pretending to sleep for longer, sure that he'd have gone on if you hadn't said anything. 

You straightened and cleared your own throat as you stretched, sitting quietly as you listened to the flight landing announcement. 

“Congrats, Y/N, you've successfully finished your time with the BAU,” Rossi said from his seat opposite you, strapping in for the landing.

“And you haven't been shot, kidnapped, or slapped. That's gotta be a first, right?” Emily joked from the corner. 

You smiled quietly as you strapped yourself down, scooting even closer to Spencer now to get your belt fastened.

Still, you couldn't resist the urge to mumble a retort.

“I'm sure Spencer thought about it a few times,” you sighed, a breath of resignation releasing from your lips dramatically.

The others chuckled, but Spencer sat silently next to you until the jet landed. 

He stayed quiet as he began to pack his things, but it became clear quickly that he was dragging everything out. As the plane emptied, you shot him a curious look, not daring to speak until you were the last two on the plane. 

“You're being slow today.” 

“I've never thought about shooting you or kidnapping you,” he said, voice low and quiet, even though you were alone. 

“It was a joke, Spencer,” you started, so sick of him taking g everything so seriously. You made to walk past him, but as you did, you felt his hand on your waist pulling you back as another hand came hard and fast at your ass. 

“I wasn't finished speaking,” he said as his hand ran over your butt, soothing the pain he'd just delivered. “I have thought about slapping you, though.” 

With that he grabbed his bag and stalked off the jet, not bothering to cast another look behind him. 

Two could play at that game. 

In about the most childish was you could muster, you ran ahead of him, staying three paces directly in front of him as he tried to overtake you. You moved when he moved. You sped up when he sped up. You even stopped a few times, so he'd run into you. 

“Y/N, cut it out.”

“Make me,” you said, throwing a withering look over your shoulder. 

He didn't wither. 

Instead, he grabbed your arm and marched you all the way through the FBI building, down to the parking lot, and into your car. As soon as he had you safely in the driver's seat, he closed the door, pulling off your visitors' pass. 

“I'll return this for you, no need for you to dally.” 

“Fuck you,” you spat out the window as you started the ignition. 

“It's been a pleasure,” he said with a grimace. 

“No, it hasn't,” you said back, wondering how long you'd spend in jail of you just mowed him down then and there. 

“You’re right. It hasn't,” he said, leaning down and into the window so you were now eye to eye. 

“Really? It seems like you got a lot of pleasure out of spanking me earlier. You were certainly experiencing a lot of pleasure when you pushed me up against a wall last week. If it wasn't pleasure, there was definitely something long-”

“Long?” He smirked.

“And hard in your pants.” 

He leaned in through the window, his breath fanning against your cheeks as he whispered into your ear. 

“That was my gun.” 

“And I certainly won't be helping you fire a load,” you said, starting the ignition and pushing him back from the window as you drove away from the FBI and away from Spencer Reid. 

It infuriated him that you'd gotten the last word. You'd spent a month with him and hadn't even given him a chance to show off his good qualities, and then you'd left without giving him a chance to prove himself. 

And, in doing so, you'd told a blatant lie. 

There had been two people in that closet, two people with tongues desperate for contact, eager for battle. You'd been moaning just as much as he had when his hands found your nipples. 

But you'd gotten to drive away without listening to his retort, and it was killing him. 

He sat and seethed at his desk for a while, waiting for the sense of relief that you were gone to wash over him. This had been what he wanted for weeks. Why was he now so discontent? Why did everything feel wrong? 

Abandoning paperwork he knew wouldn't be needed until at least next week, Spencer found your address in the team files, wrote it down, and left his desk. 

When you got home, there was nothing waiting for you. 

It was annoying. You'd spent the last month constantly on the go, always with more work, more cases, more paperwork. You'd killed any apparent gaps with Spencer. 

You could still feel his hands on your ass. You hated to admit it, but in your short acquaintance with Doctor Asshat, you'd grown fond of having him around as eye candy. When he wasn't being annoying (talking, breathing, or generally just being), you could quite happily imagine his head buried between your legs, his tongue lapping up every drop of cum you had to offer. 

There were definitely better things he could be doing with his mouth, in any case. 

Your body felt hot, itchy, and neglected as you got home, running a shower immediately and stepping in. 

The water was hot, and the room steamed up faster than you expected. You washed away the fatigue, and you washed away the dirt of a month of cheap motels.. 

Just as you were about to wash away the memories of Spencer Reid and his stupidly skilful tongue, the doorbell rang. 

It wasn't unusual for you to get visitors at 10 pm, but usually they announced themselves. 

You stayed put in the shower. It was probably a package you'd ordered, and it could honestly wait. 

The ringing, though, didn't stop. Whoever was at your door was insistent. First, the door rang to the rhythm of jingle bells. Then, they moved on to Fur Elise. When they got to Flight of the Bumblebees Levels of bullshit, you couldn't stand it anymore. 

You wrapped a towel around you and pulled the door open wide. 

“Sp- mm?” You said, shocked to see him there, but completely floored by his appearance, and more importantly the two hands he'd planted on your cheeks as he pulled you in for a hot, hard, and fast kiss. 

You pushed him off with a hard slap to his face, and stalked further into your apartment, knowing he'd follow closely behind.

You heard the door slam shut as he made to grab you again, but you stayed just out of reach. 

“What the fuck are you doing here?” 

“I came because neither of us will move on without this.”

“Oh, you need me so much you won't be able to move on if you don't fuck me?” You scoffed, expecting a sarcastic answer to a sarcastic question. 

“Yes,” he said, and your shock at his earnestness gave him the moment he needed to grab at you again. 

This time, though, the tiny towel that had been holding your dignity in place dropped to the floor as Spencer Reid pinned you against the wall. 

“Already fucking bare and wet for me, how well-behaved.”

“Go fuck yourself!” you said, even as his hands cupped your breasts, grabbing and pulling both of your nipples, making you moan.

“See, your mouth is being a bitch, but your body is being a whore.” 

“Just fuck me won't you? No need to run your mouth.” 

“I think we're finally in agreement on something,” he said, pushing you to your knees. 

“What? Sp-” 

In one quick swoop he released his cock from his pants and wrapped a hand around all of your hair as he slid it down your waiting throat. 

As much as you protested, your mouth was wide open, and your hands wrapped around him just as eagerly. 

Holding your head still, Spencer began to talk as he fucked your throat. 

“There we go. That's exactly how I've needed you for the last month.”

You glared at him as you sank your nails into his thighs, gagging on his cock as he picked up his pace.

With two taps on his leg, you requested a moment, and he quickly pulled his dick out of your mouth. 

You coughed quickly, then spat out all of your accumulated drool before looking up at him. 

Part of you wanted to force him down next to you, to make him taste your cunt the way you'd thought about earlier. The other part, the larger part, was excited about him using you. 

He grabbed his dick and slapped your face with it, returning your earlier hit. He was waiting for you to open up again so he could cum down your throat and leave. 

“Open,” he demanded. 

You didn't comply, but you stuck out your tongue, lapping at his tip slowly as you sat on your hands. He held his breath as you kissed the underside of his shaft, making his way to his balls. You reached them and finally sucked them into your mouth, making sure to look up and make eye contact with him as you toyed with his private place.

He didn't argue or complain. Instead he fisted a hand into your hair and dragged you to your bedroom. 

Divesting himself of his pants and shirt, he sat down and, still on all fours, pushed your face back into his crotch. Perched on the edge of your bed, he held his cock up and served himself to you. 

“Well? Get back to it, Y/N.” 

Your tongue found his cock first as his hands massaged his balls, playing with them gently as you licked all the way to his tip then buried yourself between his asscheeks. You licked at the skin between his ass and balls, you tasted every inch of him, and you grew angry that he still hadn't done this for you. 

Against his wished, you rose and spat on his cock, before squeezing it hard. 

“Spencer, are you going to fuck me or are you just going to ruin my makeup?” 

“You look prettier with spit coating your face than you've looked with any lipstick,” he said as you pushed him down onto the bed and grabbed his cock. 

Straddling his waist, you were surprised he.let you sink down onto his cock without so much as another word. You felt him fill you up, one inch, then another until you sat fully sheathed on top of him. 

And then he flipped you over so he was back in control. 

“Son of a bitch,” you muttered as he pulled out and thrust back in. 

“You wanted me to fuck you, I'm fucking you.”

You wanted to argue but all you could do was moan yes as he set a furious pace, thumb and forefinger pinching your clit as you bucked into him wildly.

You couldn't stand too much of this, knowing that you wanted to at least outlast him. You wanted to tell him how pathetic he was for cumming first, you wanted to gloat that he'd wanted you more, that he couldn't resist breeding your hot wet cunt. You knew any more of this, though, and you would instead be on the receiving end of those same taunts. 

Pushing against his chest, you used the last of your strength to flip him over again. He struggled, though, stronger than you were expecting, and you rolled together like that for a few moments.

You almost went crashing to the floor as he fought for control, but he pushed a foot off the bed and held you up with his lower body strength. The new position though forced his cock deeper, to just the right angle, and when he thrust into you again, you did something you'd never done before during sex. 

You screamed your pleasure. 

Your orgasm ripped through you, as painful as it was pleasurable, and you grabbed Spencer Reid by the neck and forced his tongue to meet yours. 

He couldn't complain, too busy moaning about your hot, wet, and now tighter cunt to worry about whether he should be kissing you. 

He pulled back and picked his pace right back up, but this time, you resisted less. Hooking a hand under your legs, he pressed your legs up, pushing his stomach and chest down just above your own as he moved slower but harder. 

You wondered if this was what other wen talked about when they said they wanted someone to beat their pussy up, to use them until they couldn't stand. You didn't think you could even think about walking again for the next month as he spread your knees apart and pinned them to the bed, unloading his cum as deep inside you as anything had ever been.

You didn't even know your body bent that way. 

Panting, he collapsed on top of you and buried his head in your shoulder, mumbling and muttering to himself as he came down from his ecstasy. 

He didn't pull out. He barely even softened as he kissed across the expanse of your throat, thrusting shallowly with each nip, until your body couldn't take anymore. 

He picked a spot and sucked, and licked and bit and soothed as he ended one round, and began another. 

“Spencer-” you said, gasping as he sat up, his cock once again standing at attention, filling you still. 

“No. Stop. Don't talk, we're not good when we talk.” 

You nodded and pulled him back for another kiss, wrapping a hand around his throat and pressing hard as he moaned and groaned into you. 

Still wet and slippery and sensitive from your first attempt, neither of you lasted long, falling to the bed when it was all over with a grunt of overexertion. 

“That was…” you said, stopping there, for once totally speechless.

“That was good?” He supplied, but just good wasn't enough. 

“Yes,” you agreed, though, not willing to let your cunt rule your mind when around him.

Anymore, at least. 

“We should… we should probably never speak again,” you said, even as your hand reached out for his, fingers tangling. 

“Of course. I'll leave, and we won't ever speak again,” he said, stroking your hand with his thumb, bringing your clasped hands to his mouth and pressing a kiss to your hand.

“You haven't left yet.” 

“I haven't.”

“I have nowhere to be tomorrow,” you said. “You don't…”

“I won't leave yet. We might as well enjoy this,” he said, propping himself up on his elbows as he looked over your naked body. 

“We should definitely just get this out of our systems now. What's the harm in that?” 

“I agree. If we're committing to a one time thing, we might as well go all in.”

“Exactly,” you said. 

“Exactly,” he parrotted.

Exactly a year later, the members of the BAU received invitations in the post to your wedding. Because the both of you had convinced yourself that that one time had never ended and never had need to. 

[nefastnefertiti]

WHY CHAPTER 431 OF MY HERO ACADEMIA SCREAMS CENSORSHIP

First let's start by the "afterword", the note Horikoshi left after 430 and before the extras, chapter 431.

Original japanese for those who understand.

The best traslation I found and most people are agreeing with.

Key sentences are:

1.The real final chapter is 429, 430 is more like a curtain call.

2. PS: For chapter 431, I turn off the cameras and free the characters from their dramas.

This note being left after 430 and before the extras is so important. . The clarification of "the real final chapter is 429" and 430 is the curtain call is screaming: the show has ended here. This is further stated by "i turn the cameras off" by the man who use to refer himself as the camera man, I leave you with an example.

(They're talking about Vol 37 cover)

And back to point number 2: "and free the characters from their dramas", which could perfectly be understood as "the characters are no longer tied to their previous plots and drama" no longer connected to the main story.

It may seem like a reach until here, we're just trying to convince ourselves that's not canon, right? They´re delusions, right?

The problem is how far away everything about 431 antagonizes the whole story, the characters doesn't feel like themselves, they even regress back all their development, the drawing style looks totally different and there are many irregularities that call for our attention.

Dabi, 431 and by Horikoshi

Toga and Ochaco in 431:

Toga and Ochaco by Horikoshi:

All Might's signature for Katsuki (Horikoshi would never mess this up):

Kirishima with 6 fingers lol, Horikoshi loves drawing hands, he would never.

Katsuki's odd teeth what the fuck. (His hand looks good to me)

Ochaco and Shoto just look, weird. It's clearly not Horikoshi's art style.

And this awful background (center) was the main giveaway.

Horikoshi's backgrounds are so professional:

At this point I'm getting tired since the difference is astounding, don't believe me, just check the manga.

I don't think Horikoshi would've allowed those mistakes had he have a role in the making, maybe he did, there's no saying about that, but clearly if he did his involvement was very low.

Character's development wise now.

Seriously? "Deku"? And Katsuki complaining for picking him up. He cried his eyes out when Izuku lost his quirk and now he's back at season 1?

Izuku would never in a million years turn down that offer. And if he did, it would never be like this, so devoid of emotion and empathy.

430 showed us an Izuku aiming for his dreams again and at 431 this Izuku ¿? It's okay with being a teacher? Ok. And if that's not the problem, why he outright rejects Katsuki out of nowhere? When their rivalry was one of the main points of the plots for 430 chapters and now just um over? Without justification? Ok.

Ok.

Now specifically about that ship canonization and bkdk.

Horikoshi has been doing this for 10 years. The choices he took the whole manga were incredibly intentional, all those romantic tropes given to bkdk, his interviews, all stand in direct opposition to what happened in this last chapter.

I, myself, don't know much about Jump but what I've heard is they end lot of shonens with the same heterosexual formula. I don't think all of this is a coincidence.

Something really important that needs to be adressed to is what happened back in June (I think), when suddenly MHA announced it was ending in 5 chapters could've something to do with this. The manga was suddenly rushed to its ends with unsatisfying resolutions and as if that was not enough, one month later (at most) the same happened to JJK and all of this came accompanied by a switch of one of the heads of Jump.

About 431 again though.

I was just thinking what would I do if I was pressured to write something that ruins the biggest project of my life and goes against everything I was hoping for? Refuse. Tell them to write it themselves. If I can't do anything to stop it and it'll be there, alright, but I WON'T DO IT.

And I think this could be Horikoshi's case.

I've never seen a shonen manga come so close to implying his male protagonist and his male deuteragonist are in love before. Yes, it was not EXPLICIT but it was so fucking clear if you knew how to read, all the way up to 430. All those cliches tropes he gave them, he knew, we know.

I thought I'll die trying to explaineverything that seems wrong with this with nothing to back me up but the fact that he added that note is clear for me. I'm surprised they allowed him to publish it, I thought we wouldn't even have that.

PS:

It's interesting this being posted the same day 431 comes out. Also "heroaca is pretty dark, huh?"

I'll not go into this anyways because it's kind of a reach but the conclusion is: I think it's a "soft" censorship and Horikoshi did his best to relay his message given what he had.

Thanks for reading!