#i’m i. a mood right now idk guys

[snzluv3r]

all i’ve done today is sneeze and having to stifle over and over has given me the worst headache it’s so hard being sexy 😔💔

[lesbiradshaw]

I absolutely ate up your latest top gun fics!!!! Your hangman pov was perfect!!! I seriously can’t read anything else because I’m so obsessed with your writing style and characterisation. are you still writing the college au👀??? Or if not, what are you working on??

the college au is still in its planning stages (everyone PRAY it makes it out…) but i started working on a silly canonverse halloween fic in the meantime :D i love them sooooo bad.

[fingertipsmp3]

Btw I’ve never talked to an actual medical doctor about my mental health issues so I have no idea how to go about it. Lol

[apathyfairy]

i’m not even kidding everytime i experience any sort of joy whatsoever something bad happens it’s like in friends when phoebe was killing people everytime she went to the dentist but for real

[nereidprinc3ss]

do you believe me now? | 8

it's the morning after. spencer reid suspects you’re left with some doubts after losing your virginity to him. he has to figure out why—which is hard when you're keeping secrets.

series masterlist

this series is 18+ warnings/tags: fem!reader, blood related to losing virginity (dramatized for the drama duh), super vague allusions to the BAU being hungover, mild blasphemy if anyone even cares, pondering god bc am I really a fanfic writer if I don’t get a little religious w it, emily AND hotch are here and nobody knows why pls don't pay attention to that bc we are imagining like season 11/12 spencer and I'm inconsistent w who is unit chief in this series apparently, spencer slut lore, spencer emotional wounds lore, Spencer is a traumatic situationship survivor a/n: DADDYS HOMEEEEE (me and dybmn not spencer) anyway missed these little guys and am happy to be writing for them again!! idk what my upload schedule will becoming back to this but pls lmk what u think of this part, I have no idea how you will respond but I'm being brave and ily

Friday morning Spencer comes into the office fifteen minutes late (he tried his best), in yesterday’s suit (everything in his go-bag had been too wrinkled), hair messy (no doubt from your fingers), coffee cold (he’s exhausted) and overall, in an excellent mood.

The rest of the team isn’t faring quite as well—Spencer gathers they stayed at the bar celebrating Derek’s birthday a lot later than he had. It shows through sallow skin and dark circles and the grimaces he receives on the way to his desk that are probably supposed to approximate good morning’s. 

Honestly, he doesn’t mind the dull mood—he doesn’t need the teasing and the prying questions that would be sure to come if his co-workers were at peak performance and were able to put together his unusually perky demeanor and disheveled appearance. At least Prentiss doesn’t appear to be paying him any mind. She’s always the one who can read him like an open book and has no shame in doing so aloud. Echoes from years of, ‘so who was the lucky girl, last night, Reid?’ Still ring through his mind and it’s like he can feel her finger prodding at his side. 

The Emily of it all makes him smile, though the rest of the memory leaves a metal tang in his mouth. Back in those days, there were sometimes a lot of girls, but even then he was consciously aware he wasn’t necessarily doing something he enjoyed. He spent a lot of time, actually, staring at his bedroom ceiling, psychoanalyzing himself. Repetition compulsion. The insatiable desire to repeat or reenact emotionally painful experiences. Maybe he thought if he could teach himself to subsist off of emotionless hookups, he could in some way heal from his experience with Elle. Though, he’s hesitant to think of it now as healing—it’s not like he didn’t know what he was doing when a few nights after she said I don’t feel the same I’m sorry he opened up his front door for her. It’s not like he didn’t know what he was doing every time after that. So, maybe heal isn’t the right word, when one doesn’t have the right to be injured. Or when the injuries are, in a manner of speaking, self-inflicted. At the very least he could tell himself that this time around, meaningless sex was a choice he was making for himself. Spencer hates when things just happen to him. 

But you—you’re different. You were a complete surprise. At first, a cute and unexpected complication. After a few painful and short-lived attempts at real relationships, Spencer decided he was simply not to be trusted with emotional intimacy of any kind, including that which inevitably develops from physical intimacy, and would resign himself to a life of celibacy. He tried not to like you, but you were just so damn likable. Magnetic, to use a trite and perfectly honest turn of phrase. All that to say: he doesn’t regret you at all. There is no filter of putrid shame or anguish over his memories of last night. 

Just you. Perfect. Starlit. Glowing softly around the edges like you’re not even real. 

I love you I love you I love you. A hymn with no melody. You, always reminding him exactly why he is decidedly not a man of faith. At least, not in the typical sense of the word. 

How God became the idol and not Mary is lost on him. That’s why, Spencer supposes, tapping an eraser on his desk, marriage and sex were forbidden for so many ecclesiastics. After all, if they knew what it was to love a woman, specifically to love��you, he doubts they’d feel like spending much time in the pulpit. Love. Humans had that long before they had any gods. It’s primeval. It’s the most natural manifestation of devotion and worship. It will always have come first. Isn’t it a better kind of religion when a man realizes he can kneel in front of a woman rather than an altar?

A heavy hand falling on his shoulder jolts him from his theological musings—which are in all practicality useless. What’s that saying about blasphemous thinking on the FBI’s dime? Right. There isn’t one. 

“I’m scared to ask,” Morgan says as Spencer jumps slightly in his chair. 

“What?” He mumbles, looking up from the document he’d only sort of been reading.

Morgan just looks at him, strong brows furrowed and a ditch between them, angles his head and glances to the side as if Spencer is missing the obvious. He almost follows Derek’s eye-line. When that doesn’t work, Derek just says your name. Like your status is somehow in question. 

“Did you two work things out, or not? It looked pretty bad when you guys were leaving last night.”

People often misunderstand an eidetic memory. It’s not like things can’t slip his mind—Spencer can actually be quite forgetful. It’s made worse by the fact that last night at the bar feels like months ago. For a moment, he has no idea what Derek is referring to. 

“Oh. Oh! Right, we—right. Yeah, we, uh—we worked it out.” Before Derek has a chance to read his face, no doubt as incriminating as his fumbled speech and an ill-timed throat clearing, he turns back to his paperwork. “Thanks for keeping an eye on her at the bar. I appreciate that.”

It’s quiet for a moment, and Spencer’s lips twist as he can feel the incoming inappropriate comment. 

“Is that the same suit you were wearing last night?” Morgan quips, his wide grin audible. Spencer can practically hear the cartoon gleam of his friend’s bleached teeth. 

“No.”

“You dog.” Derek is still smiling as he claps Spencer’s shoulder again. “What did you say to her that worked so well?”

Spencer clears his throat again and tries to look extremely involved in logging onto his computer, speaking quickly as if he’s beyond disinterested and can’t wait for the exchange to be over. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m actually trying to work so if you wouldn’t mind going back to your desk that would be great.” 

“Uh-huh. I’ll let you work. But I see you, pretty boy.”

Spencer tries not to blush like a teenager as he refuses to look up. 

Naturally the rest of the day is a slow descent into dread and madness as all those good feelings with which Spencer had started his morning begin to harden into something much worse, chilled by your lack of response to the text he sent you earlier. Which was essentially a rehashing of the note he left on your bedside table. 

Maybe it was too much. It should’ve been one or the other, but not both. He’s overwhelmed you. 

Okay, so maybe this is what religion is for. A last ditch effort when you can’t talk to your girlfriend so you have to try talking to God. 

But Spencer knows you, and he knows something is wrong. You wouldn’t just ice him out so blatantly if everything was okay. He catches himself glancing up toward Hotch’s window to see if the blinds are drawn, and considers faking an illness to get out of work early and go check on you. But he powers through the remaining hour and a half that he is obligated to stay at work, he bounces a pencil between his fingers, drums at his desk, and gets nothing else done. As soon as 4:59 rolls around, he’s out. 

Spencer can hear shuffling on the other side of your door as he stands in the hallway. A pot clatters. The walls hum with the rush of water through the pipes to your sink. He knocks, relieved that you’re okay and at the same time struggling with that weight on his chest—something cold that leans over his shoulders and whispers into his ear—so she just didn’t want to talk to you. 

Suddenly all sound from inside your unit ceases. For a few long seconds, Spencer’s confusion only grows exponentially. 

“Who is it?” You finally call, voice wavering. Also odd. Usually you just open the door. 

“Um… Spencer?”

“As in my boyfriend Spencer?”

He frowns, bottom lip jutting out ever so slightly as he tries to decipher your sudden paranoia. “I hope so?”

The click and jingle of several locks precipitates your much-anticipated reveal. 

“Come in,” you say breathlessly, more harried than usual and not giving him the tender greeting he’s selfishly become accustomed to—barely even giving him a second to look at you. But he steps inside, watching on in concern as you do up every single lock—the one on the knob, the deadbolt, even the chain. Is this really all because of his little comment last night about anyone being able to get in? He certainly hopes not. He didn’t mean to terrify you. 

When you finally turn, he takes stock of your appearance. Big hoodie, pajama pants patterned in little hearts. Hair pulled back hastily. Your skin is sort of dull where you normally glow. But you’re beautiful, like always. It always aches just a little bit to look at you. Spencer’s always been like that. Going breathless at a particularly good piece of art or pretty girl. Like yourself. Mostly you. 

You quickly turn to hurry back into the kitchen. “I was trying to make dinner, I—”

“Hold on,” he interrupts, stopping you with a hand on your stomach that is so non-demanding it’s really mostly a suggestion. He tries to clear his head, though you make it hard. “You didn’t talk to me all day. Not that you have to, but… I was worried.”

You glance at the floor and mumble, “I lost my phone,” with so much embarrassment he believes you’re telling the truth. “Did you, um—did you text me?”

Insecurity. Spencer knows well what it looks like on you. He softens. You weren’t ignoring him—but you’d been left in a vulnerable state without any ability to contact him or anyone. That couldn’t have been comfortable. 

“Of course I did.” He pauses to observe you. Still anxious. Still prepared to run at any second. Something, and he’s not sure what, did a number on you today. Maybe it’s sheer exhaustion, maybe it was the anxiety of not having your phone. But he has to figure out what it is so he can undo it. “What? What’s wrong?”

He watches your breathing pause—watches your eyes gloss over with tears and a frown contort your features. Oh, god. He’s done something terribly wrong. It’s been thirty seconds and he’s done something wrong. 

“Can we sit down? I don’t feel very good.”

“Yeah. Yeah, we can. Whatever you need.”

You cast a baleful look at him and now he has to wonder what that means. Spencer sets his bag on a pulled out dining chair and follows you to the couch where you settle on opposite sides—you’re curled up in the far corner, hugging a pillow to your chest with your legs folded in front of you. Spencer’s heart is beating fast. He doesn’t know what’s going on with you and he can’t figure it out just by looking and you don’t seem eager to tell him. 

He’s exhausted all his typical ways of collecting information, and now he’s at a loss. 

Eventually, the anxiety comes bubbling up. 

“Please talk to me,” he pleads. And you do. Almost instantly, like he stepped on some sort of landmine. 

“I know it’s my own fault for not having my phone on me and not being able to see your texts, but it really sucks that I had to find out from my creepy neighbor that you snuck out in the middle of the night without saying goodbye.”

The whiplash is so strong it’s almost a broken neck. Spencer reels, frowning deeply as he tries to process your impromptu speech, the sudden confrontation. What creepy neighbor?

“I… didn’t. I went to grab my stuff from the car around one, but I came right back. I left at 7:30. You don’t remember me saying goodbye?”

Your brow furrows, and your eyes dart over the design on the rug like you’re watching memories go by. He sees it in your eyes when you recall some hazy image of him holding your face, kissing your cheek more times than was necessary and whispering sweet things against your lips before he had to go. You shrink into the couch, clearly struggling under the combined weight of relief and embarrassment. 

“I forgot. I thought… he said…”

A moment passes and it’s clear you’ve abandoned the sentence. Spencer is concerned about this shadowy male figure who put malicious untruths into your head. He slides his hand under yours and twines your fingers together. Finally, finally you meet his gaze. 

“Someone made you believe I left without saying goodbye.”

And he almost wishes you weren’t looking at him as more tears pool before falling down your cheeks. You nod, and don’t make a sound. 

“No, honey. I didn’t do that. I’m sorry that’s what you’ve been thinking all day.”

“I was worried that you… or that I wasn’t…”

His chest aches. You’d woken up alone, no recollection of his goodbye, and without the comfort of even a text. 

“You didn’t see my note?”

The way you look at him then is heartbreaking. Eyes wide and wet and sad, lip trembling. 

“You left a note?”

Murphy’s Law. Anything that can go wrong, will. 

It must’ve fallen off the bedside table, or maybe he just hadn’t positioned it obviously enough. 

A lost phone, a missed note, and not even a memory of his departure. While none of these things are verifiably Spencer’s fault, he feels so, so guilty. 

“I did,” Spencer says gently, scooting closer and pulling you into him, head pressed to his shoulder as you try not to cry, and he rubs your back slowly. 

Your sulky words are muffled by his shirt. “I didn’t see it. What did it say?”

“A lot of very nice things about you,” he whispers. Spencer thought maybe he could get away with giving you all the sincere compliments you can’t accept face to face through a note you could read while he wasn’t around. That way you couldn’t refute them or stop him. It was a good plan. 

He feels the sigh of relief leaving your body against his neck. 

“I didn’t know.”

“I know. I’m sorry. That’s not… I should’ve just stayed. This is my fault.”

You keep your cheek pressed to his shoulder as you speak. 

“It’s not. You have a job. A really important job. You can’t just call out whenever I want you around.”

Logically he knows you’re right, but he doesn’t always think logically around you. 

“I could’ve made it work. I could’ve come in late, or the team could’ve called me if there was a case, which there wasn’t—”

“Spencer, it’s okay. It’s not your fault. Don’t worry about it.”

He pulls back slightly, frowning at your tone. You do look relieved, much less plagued than you’d been when he arrived minutes ago, but something heavy still weighs you down. The burden of it darkens your eyes and dulls your expression. When he cups your cheek, you glance up at him, and then away once more. 

He speaks softly. “Is that all you wanted to tell me?” 

Again he earns a moment of your eye contact, but it’s fleeting. He watches the words spin around your head as you try to figure out what to do with them—and then choose to remain silent. 

There is in fact something you’re keeping from him. 

Spencer hates to use work tactics on you, but he doesn’t speak either, hoping that you’ll feel compelled to fill the silence with the truth. Knowing how you’re not entirely comfortable with quiet. 

And you try, lips parting and the sound delayed as you wrestle with something you clearly don’t know how to talk about. 

“I… my neighbor,” you say, frowning like you don’t quite know why you’re speaking. “The one who told me he saw you leaving in the middle of the night. He also—he said…”

Spencer brushes hair away from your cheek with a thumb, stroking the high point in gentle passes as your words taper off. Now that he’s thinking about it, he did encounter a man in a dumpy robe standing in the courtyard and smoking a cigarette when he left you tangled in sheets and dozing contentedly to get his bag from the car. In fact, they rode back up to your floor in the elevator in mostly awkward silence. Spencer was sure his outfit told a story—shirt untucked and hastily buttoned only partway, no belt, shoes barely tied, duffel slung over his shoulder—he wasn’t really expecting to run into anyone at such an hour, to be honest, but he hadn’t particularly cared what this man thought of him, so it didn’t cross his mind again.

Now he remembers. 

Long night, huh? I remember those days. 

It was an inappropriate comment, but given his job he’s used to ignoring those. Mostly his mind had been preoccupied with the idea of returning to you, who gave him such a warm and sleepy welcome when he climbed carefully back into your arms several minutes later that it was like he’d never known anyone else at all. 

Now he resents that he hadn’t said anything, he hates the idea that you spoke to this man and he said something to upset you and Spencer wasn’t there. Usually he tries not a judge a book by its cover (metaphorically, of course) but he’s been around enough bad men to know when he’s looking at one. Last night he hadn’t even been cognizant enough to realize they got off on the same floor. 

“What did he say, angel?” Spencer whispers, incapable of being anything but soft with you at the moment. Even though he senses something a lot like a tide of preemptive anger rising in his chest, painted over with layers of anxiety and guilt. He should’ve found a way to stay with you this morning. 

You sniffle and let your head fall again, forehead resting against his collar. Instinctively his hand slides to the back of your neck and even at the awkward angle he finds a way to press his lips to yours hair. “Can we talk about it later? I don’t feel good.”

If it’s making you this uncomfortable, Spencer really wants to know what passed between you and this neighbor. In fact, he’d be willing to bet a lot of your strange behavior this evening stems from something that occurred which you don’t feel comfortable telling him yet. But he manages to bite back anymore questions. He doesn’t want to make you feel interrogated. 

“Yeah, you mentioned that,” he says eventually, kindly, hand tracing down the length of your back and up again. “Why don’t you feel good?”

He doesn’t miss the way you reach up to discreetly wipe your cheek. But he won’t make you talk about anything you don’t want to talk about until you’re ready, and it seems like you’re already having a rough day. Which is not what he wanted. This is so far from what he wanted for you. He’s cursing himself for how he handled this whole situation. 

“Um, I just… I don’t know. I feel… bad. I’m sorry I’m being so weird.”

“You’re not being weird, honey. You had a hard day. You’re having a normal reaction to an abnormal set of circumstances.”

You sit up, sniffing and wiping your tears like you can just make the whole thing go away. 

“No, I am. I am. It’s all okay now, right? So I don’t know why I feel like this. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

He watches helplessly. “Nothing is wrong with you. We’ve… it’s been a big couple of days. Mostly good, but I think you’re probably really tired. Emotionally and physically.” 

You bury your face in your hands and nod silently. He still feels like he’s shooting in the dark, but you’re not entirely comforted yet, and it’s killing him. 

“Whatever you’re feeling is okay. If this is… about last night, or this morning, or something entirely different—regardless of what it’s about, you’re not going to be… in trouble with me if you’re having complicated feelings. And you can talk to me. But it doesn’t have to be right now. We don’t have to figure it out all at once, okay?”

You press the heels of your palms into your eyes, and for a moment, his words sink into silence. When you do raise your head, nodding, the evidence of your discomfort is all over your face—reddened eyes, cheeks polished with wiped tears. But you take a deep breath and try to project whatever it is you think he wants to see. 

The back of your hand is soft under his thumb as he sweeps it, as if he could draw forth more information that way. People speak when they’re ready.

“Is there anything I can do?” He tries, all ramped brow and soft spoken. 

You’re looking at where he’s tracing swirls on your hand as you swallow and blink the last of your tears away. 

“Um… you can say no, but—do you think it would be okay for you to maybe stay again tonight?”

Spencer sucks in a breath, painfully aware that he’s about to let you down. 

“I… I haven’t been home in a week. I’ve been wearing this suit for two days straight and I don’t think I would want to share a bed with me again until I shower.” He watches you wilt and lifts a hand to stroke your hair. “But I do want to spend time with you… do you maybe want to come stay with me instead? No pressure—”

“Okay. Yes. Is that okay?”

Spencer’s brow knits. You seem even more enthused about the idea of going to his apartment, like now that the opportunity has presented itself you can’t wait to get out. Maybe you have some sort of black mold problem. 

“Of course. Do you wanna grab a few things and then we can go?”

“Um—I also haven’t showered today. Do you mind waiting?”

“Sure. Or you could use mine. With supervision, this time.”

Spencer is attempting to make a joke about your unplanned (and unmoderated) stay at his apartment last week after he left—but looking at your face now he’s wondering if he touched a nerve. 

“Like… one at a time? Or…”

He thought maybe you’d be more comfortable around him after last night—and it’s not like he hadn’t seen you naked before then, either.

“Do you wanna do it one at a time?” He asks gently. 

There’s this sparkly sort of longing in your eyes that he’s seen before, but you tamp it down like always. You’re so cautious. About everything. Even the things you’re curious about. It’s sweet and a little sad. 

“I’ve never… showered with anyone.”

The corner of Spencer’s mouth twitches as he pushes hair over your shoulder. “I know. You don’t have to. We could save like 100 gallons of water depending on how long your showers typically last, but—”

“Spencer—”

“Sorry, sorry—I didn’t—I didn’t mean it like that. I’m not trying to pressure you. You absolutely can take your own shower. You can go first so you get the hot water.”

“No,” you laugh, and it’s like a sparkling cloud of gold has settled around you, fractals bouncing off the shine of your cheeks and eyes—the sound of your laughter, the look of it, is such beautiful relief he can’t believe how good it feels, but it fades from you quickly. “It sounds… I think I want to, I just… I don’t wanna, like… do… anything.”

For a split second your veiled language mystifies him and then he realizes what you’re trying to say without saying. Something has changed since yesterday, when you brazenly referred to it as fucking, and today, when you can’t even say sex. He’s gotten as far as it being something your creepy neighbor said. Maybe. He needs to know what. 

But that’s not the topic at hand. 

“We don’t have to. I didn’t mean to imply that we would do anything like that. I don’t expect anything from you.”

You swallow. 

“Okay. I wasn’t sure.”

About what?

He says your name. No response. 

“Can you look at me, please?”

It takes you a moment, and your head raises like you might need some oil in your hinges, but eventually you manage. Spencer hopes the way he’s rubbing your leg is comforting. 

“You know I’m never, ever going to make you do anything you don’t want to do, right?”

To his horror, your answer isn’t an immediate and resounding yes. Instead you look back down and cover his hand with your own, fiddling nervously with his fingers. 

Eventually, you reply, “Yeah… I know. I just thought… I’m not sure. Maybe it’s supposed to be different now.”

“It doesn’t have to be. Nothing has to be different. We’re still doing everything on your schedule, okay? And as for the next few days, at least—I think it might be a good idea to take sex off the table altogether.”

Your eyes narrow and you hesitate. “Why?”

“Because I don’t want you worrying about it. And I don’t think it would feel good for you right now. I think there are things we need to talk about, but… we’ve probably tried enough for a while, hm?”

You give him a shy nod and hum your agreement. For a moment he lets his hand linger on your leg and then pulls it back. 

“Okay. Do you want my help packing a bag, or should I wait out here?”

“You can wait. It should only take a minute.” You pause, halfway up to look pensive. “Um, Spencer—do you think it would be okay if maybe I… if I stayed tonight and tomorrow? I just—I wanna get out of here, for a bit.”

He frowns but doesn’t hesitate. “Of course. Can I ask why?”

“It’s just… suffocating sometimes,” you call as you turn and hurry down the hallway to the bedroom. “Feels like my neighbors are on top of me, like they’re… breathing down my neck, half the time.”

Sure, bigger apartments exist—but it’s not like you’re in a studio. And you’ve never mentioned feeling that way before. That bad feeling is starting to come back—like you’re not telling him something he needs to know. But is it worse to let you deal with it yourself until you’re ready to talk or to force it from you?

A few minutes later you return, a duffel of your own over your shoulder and full to bursting. 

“So I’m an idiot. My phone was literally in the pocket of my jeans on the floor.” You drop the bag as you bend down by the door to pull on your favorite slippers. “Oh—I think I forgot my charger, can you grab it? It’s by my bed.”

Spencer of course obliges, and is secretly pleased to be in your room again, in the light this time, so he can see better. It’s sweet. The pictures on the walls, the plants and the knickknacks and the sticky notes scrawled with messy reminders on every surface and the sweater hanging over the back of a chair—the one you’d been wearing at the cafe all those months ago—it all feels so you. He wonders why the two of you don’t spend more time here. 

He lets himself linger for only a minute before remembering his task, but as he reaches down to unplug your charger, whatever dopey smile he’d been wearing evaporates. The sheets have been stripped from your bed, and he can see why—there’s a striking stain of dried blood, and several surrounding dots, soaked into the mattress. Not much, but enough to make him feel horrendously guilty. He cringes, imagining what it must’ve been like to wake up all alone to nothing but your own blood. Poor girl. Of course he’d noticed some, last night when he was doing his best at cleaning you up, but it had been dark, and he was exhausted, and he hadn’t done enough. 

“Where’d your sheets go, baby?” He asks once back by the front door with his own bag on his shoulder, setting a gentle hand on your lower back and holding out your charger for you. You jump slightly, and he makes circles on your back, wishing there was something he could do to settle you. 

“Oh! They—they got ruined. I threw them out. It’s fine. I have others.”

So you didn’t have enough energy this morning to walk a few feet to your shower, but stripping your bed, getting dressed, and walking down to the trash chute at the end of the hall had been top of your priority list. 

You swallow as he undoes the locks and holds the door open for you, and pretend like you’re not doing surveillance to either side as you stand in the hallway, locking your door again like you can’t get out of here fast enough. 

Spencer casts a sidelong glance at you and wonders if you’re intentionally avoiding eye contact. He tries not to think like a profiler. He tries not to assign meaning to your actions, but he can’t help it. He can’t not notice. 

He can’t not worry. 

And he can’t not wonder what you’re not telling him. 

-

part nine

[rafecameronssl4t]

Can I please get smth with rafe x thorton!reader where shes confronted by topper’s ex girlfriend or something bc she got cheated on

Ruined Heels || Rafe Cameron x Thorton!reader

A/n: kinda sorta dislike this but thank you for the request!!

Warnings: vomiting? swearing idk what else lmk

Word count: 952

MASTERLIST (rafe x thornton!reader au masterlist)

Divider by @yoonitos

mood board “You ain't never had the feds investigate you. You ain't never had the bad hoes wanna date you.”

Your heeled foot taps rhythmically on the polished wooden floor, perfectly in sync with the pounding beat of the music that fills the house, the bass reverberating through every room.

“And then she started a hissy fit like she always does,” Sarah says, rolling her eyes dramatically as she recounts Kiara’s latest outburst. Her voice carries a mix of exasperation and amusement, a combination that makes you snort with laughter. You tilt your head back, letting the cool liquid slide down your throat before setting the empty glass on the table beside you.

“Hey,” Rafe’s voice cuts through the chatter and music, drawing your attention. He strides over with a confident smirk, “Wanna go upstairs?” He asks, his fingers drumming lightly on your crossed knee, sending a shiver up your spine as you look up at him.

“Gross,” Sarah mutters under her breath, clearly unimpressed with Rafe’s suggestion. You glance at her, “Will you be okay?” you ask, concern lacing your voice as you prepare to stand. Rafe reaches out to help you, his hands gentle yet firm as they grasp your waist, pulling you to your feet. His fingers brush against your dress, tugging it back into place as it rides up slightly.

“Yeah, I think I saw Kaycee in the kitchen,” Sarah replies with a sigh, her expression softening as she gets up from the sofa. She gives you a reassuring nod, her eyes briefly meeting yours before she turns towards the kitchen.

You nod back as Rafe leads you away. His hand remains on the small of your back, as you both weave through the crowd to get to the stairs. Just as you’re about to step onto the first stair, a blonde girl suddenly grabs your arm, pulling you back with unexpected force.

“Excuse me?” you say, furrowing your brow at the girl, your confusion evident. Rafe pulls you protectively against him, his grip tightening as his anger flares. “What the hell is your problem?” he demands, his voice sharp and furious.

The girl stands before you, her appearance a stark contrast to her fury. Tears stream down her face, her hair a tangled mess, and her lipstick smeared across her chin. Her hands tremble as she points a finger accusingly at you. “Your brother is the biggest fucking douche I’ve ever met!” she shouts, her voice cracking with emotion.

You and Rafe exchange incredulous glances, both stunned by her outburst. The disbelief in your eyes mirrors Rafe’s as you struggle to process the situation. “I’m sorry, who exactly are you?” you ask, raising an eyebrow. She scoffs, “Caroline, your brother’s girlfriend! Or ex-girlfriend now, since he just dumped me for someone else!” she yells furiously.

You never supported your brother’s behavior of sleeping around and breaking up with girls left and right, but practically everyone on the island knew what kind of person he was. Topper was notorious for his inability to maintain a relationship for any length of time.

“What’s that got to do with me?” you ask, shrugging nonchalantly as her eye twitches in frustration. Rafe stands behind you, his hand resting on your hip, watching the scene unfold with amusement. “He’s—” Caroline begins, her voice rising in anger, but you cut her off sharply, “You knew what kind of guy my brother was, so why did you even bother?”

Caroline stands there in silence, her eyes darting around as the partygoers watch. She takes a hesitant step forward, and you raise an eyebrow, curious about her next move. Suddenly, her face contorts with a pained expression. She brings the back of her hand to her mouth, but it’s too late. She bends over, vomiting on the floor, causing a collective gasp from the crowd.

“Oh my god,” you mutter, stepping back quickly to avoid the spreading mess. Rafe, standing behind you, looks like he’s about to gag, his hand covering his mouth. You instinctively reach out and pat Caroline’s back, offering what little comfort you can as she remains hunched over.

“What’s going on here?” Topper’s voice booms as he pushes through the crowd. He reaches you, his eyes scanning the scene before landing on Caroline. He sighs loudly, fingers pressing into his temples as if to ward off a headache. “Shit,” he mutters under his breath.

Caroline slowly lifts her head, her eyes meeting Topper’s with a mix of anger and embarrassment. Without warning, she swats your hand away, straightens up, and runs off, disappearing into the crowd of partygoers. The crowd parts for her, whispering amongst themselves, while you and Rafe exchange a bewildered glance.

Topper stands there, rubbing his forehead, clearly frustrated. “Great, just great,” he mumbles. “Did you really have to break it off tonight?” You mutter, giving your brother an annoyed look as he rolls his eyes “Oh, I’m sorry, Princess. Did she ruin your shoes or something?” Topper lifts his hands up in mock surrender, his tone sarcastic. “Get fucked, Topper,” You scoff, “let’s go,” You pull Rafe with you.

"Good to see you, Top," Rafe pats his shoulder, a smile gracing his lips before he lets you walk him upstairs (walk him like a dog sis).

[twstowo]

Hello!! Idk if ur doing requests but ahem cld i maybe request like a clingy yuu/reader with the second years and malleus?? like the reader is constantly following them around, and stuff,, like a small Floyd typa reader ^_^ i really love ur writing and i wld rlly love to see this dbsnsn if it's not a problem ofc!! :D

♡︎For context, Bestie Anon sent this ask on 20th of february and I’m only answering now, I would like to apologize for this, no like fr, ANON I will buy you cake if you want, LIKE FR what I did is criminal

⋆⋅☆Malleus:

Who gave you permission to be this adorable? Malleus loves you so much. He loves the attention you give him, the fact that you want to spend YOUR TIME WITH HIM AND THAT YOU CLINGE TO HIM?! He is in love. No, you don’t understand, he is IN LOVE. You make him feel so soft, and he will fight anyone for you. He wants nothing more than to spend the whole day with you and talk for hours and he isn’t ashamed to show it. He will literally teleport next to you as soon as he remotely starts missing you.

──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

⋆⋅☆Riddle:

He is flustered with your clinginess. You are always way too close for his own liking but he doesn’t have the guts to tell you anything you make his heart go BUM. The type of guy that when you two are alone he will also be clingy, not right away in the beginning of the relationship, but if he sees that you are clingy and that you are fine with being close to him he will start thinking that maybe it’s also fine fro him to open up and be like that with you too.

──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

⋆⋅☆Ruggie:

He is also into it, he is the type of guy that if you hug him he will joke about you being so clingy but then he is the last person to let go of the hug, if you don’t let go of him he will just stay there in your arms for the rest of the day. Enjoys your company so much to the point he will feel weird if he doesn’t see you for a whole day. Show up at your dorm with food, that he buyed with Leona’s money, and spends the rest of the day cuddling with you.

──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

⋆⋅☆Azul:

I’m a firm believer that he is also really clingy BUT he has this image that he must maintain for his business. Politely pats your back if you too are in front of people and tells you to meet him back at the VIP room later, when he arrives to the VIP room he literally won’t leave you, he would stay the whole day attached to you if it wasn’t for his work. Floyd once took a picture of Azul laying on your lap while you patted his head on the VIP sofa, up to this day Floyd keeps on blackmailing Azul with it.

──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

⋆⋅☆Jade:

He will just do that “Oya?” and laugh at your antics. Maybe he plays around with your hair while finding your clinginess endearing. I do see Jade as someone who tends to feel lonely since he doesn’t have many people to talk to or join him in his hobbies. So if you give him all that attention that he never had, he will probably want to return it by giving you his full attention whenever you speak about your interests. He is still a bit of a tease, but he can’t deny that he enjoys all the attention you give him.

──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

⋆⋅☆Floyd:

If this guy is in a good mood, he will be so annoying, with annoying I mean you two are going to be clingy with each other, and if you want to leave him, because you need to go to class, you won’t. He won’t allow it, you aren’t going anywhere anymore. His arms are your new home, you don’t need anything else. Type of guy that will spot you and just hugs you and just lift you up and takes you whenever he feels like going at the moment, you two will now be going on a date.

──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

⋆⋅☆Kalim:

You guys legit made Jamil throw up. The two of you are so clingy, when Kalim sees you he literally never lets go of you, as soon as he spots you you will be spending the rest of the day with him, and he keeps on hugging you, giving you little check kisses or hold your hand and YOU you just retrieve all of his affection tenfold.

──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

⋆⋅☆Jamil:

Oh no. He isn’t found of public displays of affection as I have stated before, but once you two are behind closed doors he is fine with it, he doesn’t mind you dotting on him that much, the hugs and kisses and all the attention that you give him, quite the oposite he actually really craves all of that. He will have a hard time retrieving the affection through, but give him some time and he will slowly start open up about all of those sappy interactions.

──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

⋆⋅☆Silver:

I’m a firm believer that Silver is an extreme soft boy that loves affection and YOU CAN’T CHANGE MY MIND. Of course that his image of affection was different than yours, type of guy that does lots of acts of service, whatever you need, call him and he will be there, so when you start being clingy with him that open a door that he had never really though about and he loves it. He won’t be as clingy as you are but he will always try to retrive you affection even if in small gestures, you hug him? He gives you a small kiss on top of your head. You hold his hand? He kisses your wrist.

[moonstruckme]

hii! I was wondering if you could write something about James meeting reader for the first time when he finds her crying at a party or something? and just takes the time to comfort her and get to know her?

Idk that idea just came to me and I think it’s so sweet and adorable 😭🙏🏼

Thank you for requesting lovely!

cw: alcohol

James Potter x fem!reader ♡ 1.2k words

You thought you came in here to be alone, but it’s just like a boy to come and ruin your plans. And just like James Potter to be drawn to the sound of your weeping like a superhero towards sirens. 

“Hello?” You cover your mouth with a hand as the bedroom door creaks open. “Is someone in here?” 

You recognize the voice even robbed of its usual levity, cautiously softened for your benefit. Your stilted breaths continue puffing out of your nose despite your attempts to be quiet, and James’ footsteps come closer to your hiding spot. 

“Hey,” he says, crouching in front of you, “you alright?” 

“Mm-hm,” you hum pitchily. Your shoulders shake silently as tears continue gushing out of you. 

James’ forehead creases. “What’s wrong, love?” 

Your bottom lip wobbles at his concern, but you stay strong. “Nothing.” You wipe your cheek with the butt of your palm. “M’fine.” 

“Well, that’s good to hear.” He offers you a smile. The effect, you know, is dizzying when you’re sober, so you’re not too frightened when it works the same now. “Would you like a tissue?” 

You nod, and James reaches for the nightstand behind you. He pulls open the top drawer, one hand protecting your head from bumping into it, and procures a box of tissues. You take it from him, holding it in your lap. 

“How did you know where to find that?” 

“This is my best mate’s room,” he says. “Sirius. I’m James, by the way.” 

You blow your nose. “I know. I know who Sirius is, too.” 

“Yeah?” James grins. You fold the tissue and start wiping under your eyes. It does nothing to erase the mascara tracks already running down to your chin, but James doesn’t think telling you that will help anything. “He’ll be happy to hear that. I know you, too, though I don’t think we’ve had the chance to speak before.” 

“Sorry,” you say, patting the floor beside you for your drink. James subtly moves it beneath the bed. “I’m usually better to be around, I think.” 

“I don’t know,” he replies, “I’m having a good time hanging out with you.” 

You snort. “You must have a low bar.” 

James’ eyebrows raise, surprised mingled with amusement. “Can I ask you something?” 

You’re feeling for your drink again, not having processed its absence. “Um, sure.” 

“How’d you end up in here?” 

Immediately, your doleful mood returns. “Kayla’s mad at me.” 

“Kayla Chapman?” James tries to catch your gaze again as you nod at the floor. “Why’s that, darling?” 

“Sh—she—” Your lip wobbles again. When you don’t take a new tissue yourself James does it for you, pressing it into your hand. “We were together, and she was talking to this guy, and then she just disappeared,” you say while blowing your nose. “And she’d been drinking, so I was worried, you know?” 

You look to James for approval, and he nods. 

“Right, you didn’t want her to get taken advantage of.” 

“Exactly! So I had to look for her forever, I was totally panicking, and when I found her I tried to ask if she was okay and she said—” your voice cracks “—I embarrassed her. She was s—so angry with me.” 

“Oh, sweetheart.” James’ hand lands on your shoulder as you hunch over your lap. He rubs it consolingly. “I’m sure she’ll feel differently tomorrow. You were only trying to look out for her.” 

“She won’t,” you cry, having long forgotten your reservations about doing so in front of James Potter. “And she was the only person I knew here, so now I’m all alone.” 

“Well, that’s not true, is it?” He continues rubbing your shoulder steadily, as if comforting drunk girls at parties is something he does every night. It might be, you don’t know. “You know me.” 

You sniffle. “I meant my only friend.” 

“What, you don’t think of us as friends?” James sounds appalled. “I’m wounded, sweetheart. I thought we were getting in some quality bonding here.” 

You miss the humor in his voice completely, looking up at him through still-glossy eyes. “Are we friends?” 

“I’d like to be.” 

“Why?” 

James' expression does something funny. “Do you ask everyone who wants to be your friend that?” You tilt your head, unsure how to answer, but he goes on. “I like you. You try to keep your friends from being assaulted and you’re clearly conscious of your use of paper products—” You follow his gaze as he glances pointedly at the two tissues you’ve been folding to use over and over again “—what other qualities does a person need?” 

Your lips quirk just a little. James’ smile blooms all over again for seeing it. “You’re really nice,” you tell him. “I mean, I knew you were, s’what everyone says, but it’s still good in person.” 

A little laugh sputters out of him, but James doesn’t quite know how to respond to that. 

“I’m tiresome,” you warn him gravely. “You’ll get sick of me.” 

“I know we’ve only just met,” he replies, still smiling in that always-sunny way of his, “but I don’t really see that happening. I’ll be sure to let you know if it does.” He regards you for a moment. Your face is a mostly dried-up watershed of makeup and snot, collecting to a point around your chin, but James is happy to note no fresh tears seem prepared to spill. “Would it make you feel any better if we cleaned your face up a bit?” 

You blink and touch your fingertips to your face, brow scrunching when they come away sooty. “Oh,” you say. “That would be nice.” 

“I’ll be right back.” 

James takes your drink with him, grateful you don’t seem to notice as he dumps what remains in Sirius’ sink and tosses the cup in the bin. When he returns with a washcloth dampened with warm water, you’ve leaned your head against the side of the mattress and are staring into the middle distance. You still look heart-wrenchingly sad. James wonders if your friend is anywhere near as inebriated as you, and whether she realized that by leaving with that guy she was leaving you like this. Whether it was really you who needed to be looking out for her or the other way around. 

“Back.” His voice comes out quieter than he intends, reduced to nearly a whisper at the sight of your pensive state, but your eyes lift to his anyway. You raise your head as one corner of your mouth tilts upwards. It’s a greeting and, in James’ opinion, a decided improvement. 

He squats in front of you, palming one side of your face. “Close your eyes.” 

James has always made fun of Sirius for his “angsty towels,” but he sees their true purpose now; your makeup hardly shows on the dark material. He swipes it over your skin gently, extra careful around your eyes. 

“This is really nice of you,” you say. James decides not to let you know you’ve already expressed this sentiment. “This is, like, best friend level of niceness.” 

“Best friend,” he repeats, delighted. “Well, if I’d known I was going for the promotion, I would’ve gone above and beyond. Lavender oils on the washcloth and everything.” 

“Mm, you earned it on your own, though.” 

James grins. Your eyes are closed, but you’re smiling too.

[starringthesturniolos]

The triplets are on stream and y/n is just laying on Matt’s bed (probably reading idk idk) and the whole chat explodes and begs for Matt to bring her to the stream.

He pulls her into his lap, wrapping his arm around her stomach and they’re being all cute for the rest of stream. That is until what happens after….

“come on y/n, we have to give the people what they want” he smirks but you just curl further into his comforter. your not one of those people that like being on camera and never have been. you’d kinda been in a mood the whole day anyway, and to your embarrassment, it was because you are so incredibly horny. matt has been so busy this week that you guys have almost had no time this week to do it. to make matters worse, today was supposed to be his free day, a day to spend just you and him, but him and his brothers insisted they do a suprise stream for the fans. so to say you could care less about what the fans want right now is an understatement.

“tell the fans i’m tired of their bullshit, matt.” you roll your eyes. “and im getting tired of yours too.” you roll over so your back is facing him and wrap his comforter over your head. he’s probably going to be a couple of hours, might as well take a nap.

you go to close your eyes when your phone pings with a notification from matt. you turn your neck to look at him, confused why he’s texting you when your in the room with him, but he’s just facing his pc. you turn back around and click on the message.

loose the attitude and behave.

then i might just give you what you want baby.

your thighs squeeze together at the thought of matt giving you exactly what you want. your practically drooling at the thought. when you go to respond to him, theres an image waiting for you already. its a picture of matts hard buldge encased in his sweatpants. his veiny hand rest right beside it and you want nothing more than to replace his hand with yours. all hatred for the stream aside, you practically skip to matt. he smirks and grabs your waist. he slides his chair out to give you room and you see his boner for the second time today. he gives you a knowing look and pulls you onto his lap right on top of it. with both your legs now straddling his hips, he thrust his hips up, and to the fans it probably look like he’s just trying to get comfortable, but you both knew it was just way to get you more worked up. at this point your so wet, it has to be leaving a stain on his pants, and he is loving every second.

“here she is.” he coos and the fans blow up the chat. you rest your head on his chest and prepare to relax because you know he’s still going to be a while. you sigh at the thought and he kisses your head in response. he mutes his mic for a second and he pulls his head down so his lips meet your ear. “being such a good girl, so patient for me. gonna take such good care of you.” you whine at his words and he grabs your hips to stop the onslaught of movement he knew you were about to make.

seeing how riled up you are makes him even more desperate to have you ride him into oblivion, so he relents. “hey guys, its been cool but i think i’m going to log off right now. see you guys next week, have fun with nick and chris” he says and immediately ends the stream. not even a second after he ends it, his mouth is on yours. the kiss is hot and passionate, matt bites your lips slightly and you allow him access into your mouth. you reach both hands up into his brown hair and tug slightly and he groans into your mouth. he pulls back and holds eye contact with you while moving your hips against him. the eye contact made everything more intimate and you loved it. with both of your mouths agape, he starts grinding you down on him harder and thrusting up slightly. your panties are ruined and you can hear the slooshing sound it makes against him. “are you ready for me baby? i can hear how wet you are” he whispers in the husky tone you loved so much. “yes, matt” you moan back in response. his pupils dialate and he picks you up and places you on the bed. he gently pulls your pants and panties down before rubbing your slit. you writhe against his hand and his breathing gets heavier watching your body move. “tell me how much you want it” matt mutters in a trance. “please matt, i want you inside me. i need you” you say batting your eyes at him the way you know drives him insane.

he groans and pulls his pants down, lining his huge dick to your opening. “who am i to say no to my baby?” he says as he slides into you. both of you let out a pornographic moan. he ruts into you at a fast pace, wasting no time and you can feel your cunt start to tighten around him. “jesus, keep squeezing me like that and im going to fucking lose it” he says breathlessly. he leans his head into the crook of your neck and inhales your perfume. he groans into your ear and you whine at the overwhelmingness of it all. his body on yours, his pretty blue eyes watching you, and his cock deep inside you. then all of sudden he pulls out of you. “matt- what?” you say tears starting to form in your eyes. you were in your submissive state and matt felt bad because he knew you needed him. so he wasted no time telling you what to do.

“don’t worry, im still going to take care of you sweetheart. just want you to ride me until your cumming and screaming my name.” he strokes yoir hair and places a light kiss on your cheek like he hadn’t just said the dirtiest thing he could think of. “that sound good to you?” he whispers with your faces inches apart. “yes, matt please” you say desperately as he lays down. he taps your thigh and you swing it over his hip. he helps guide you down on his dick and holds your hips there so he can get a hold of himself. once he lets go, you take that as a sign to move and you begin to bounce up and down on him. your tits bounce with you and your face gives off the pleasure your feeling as you bounce harder and faster. “so pretty, baby. i love seeing you like this” he groans and you sit all the way down on him. you start to whine on his dick and he whimpers which means he’s close. “cum with me, pretty” he grips your hips harder and moves you faster against him. with your clit rubbing against his stomach and his dick deep inside of you, its enough to push you over the edge. “matt- mm- fuck matt.” you moan louder than you have the whole night. “thats it baby. thats it” he coos as he fills you up and helps you ride out your orgasm.

after both of you wind down, you flop down next to him. he chuckles and pushes your hair out of your face. “what happened to you, kid. looks like you just got ran over” he jokes kissing you before grabbing a towel to clean you up with. he climbs back into bed with you, spooning you and placing soft kisses all over your neck. you look over and see his phone lighting up.

“nick’s calling” you say while giving him his phone. matt puts it on speaker and nick starts yelling immediately.

“YOU NASTY FUCKS, YOU DO REALIZE THE WALLS ARENT SOUNDPROOF, ME AND CHRIS COULD HEAR EVERYTHING. CHRIS LITERALLY LEFT BECAUSE OF IT, YOU GUYS SHOULD BE ASHAMED” he yells without pause

you and matt break out laughing and nick continues to yell at you guys for being nasty.

this is the good life

A/n- thank you for the request, loved it! if you want me to write something else im down, love yall

@bbernard-03

@sturnthepot

@hoeformatt

@sturtriple16

@faygo-frog

@sturniol0s

@katie-tibo

@l34n

@sturnslimited

@chrissv4mp

[xbellaxcarolinax]

Futile Devices

Miguel O'Hara x civilian f!reader

Summary: The deal was explicitly no strings attached. You were finding it harder to keep up your end of the bargain. 

Word Count: 8.2k (A behemoth of a fic, I'm so sorry guys)

Warnings: FWB, language, angst, reader is totally in love with Miguel, Miguel being a bit of an ass, probably a tad toxic? SMUT, p in v (no protection), cum play, low-key breeding kink? Like super low-key. Oral (f receiving). Miguel climbing through windows. Idk why I'm obsessed with that thought lmfao I make him climb through windows every chance I get. Idiots in love. Probably a rushed ending, sorry!

Thanks to @whatthefishh for beta-reading. Partly inspired by this.

Also, this is mega ultra cliche, we all know they're gonna end up together, so just enjoy the ride! It's not the destination, it's the journey 😌 Hope you guys enjoy, and if you do, pls let me know what you think! I love reading your comments!

MDNI pls.

...

It was always a mission getting to Miguel's office.

Headquarters wasn't built to accommodate civilians, the winding pathways and corridors a danger if one wasn't too careful.

You had to be extra careful. 

You hurried toward Miguel's office, heels clicking against clean tiled floors as you dodged a fuck ton of spider people and the inescapable attention of one annoying Peter Parker.

"Come on," Peter Parker number two hundred tried his luck again, "just one date. I’ll take you anywhere you wanna go." 

"No." You rolled your eyes, swatting him with the manilla folder in your hands like you would a fly. 

“Look, all I’m saying is you should give me a shot. I’m funny.”

“So is every other Peter Parker I’ve encountered.”

“I’m different.”

“I doubt it.” 

He deflated, keeping up with your quick steps. “Who doesn’t like funny guys?”

“Me.”

“Sure,” he stretched the word out, unconvinced, "so if not funny guys then what? The ones with sticks up their asses, like Miguel?" He snorted with a shake of his head. You knew it was a sort of rhetorical question but you couldn’t help swallowing thickly, your hands gripping the folder a little too tightly. 

Yeah. Something like that.

You felt your heart drop to your stomach when Peter Parker two hundred raised his brows at your silence. So maybe he did want an answer.

"Nah, there's no way. I'll try again tomorrow." He smiled, shooting a web out in some random direction and swinging off toward the floor above. 

Fuck. That was close.

You breathed a sigh of relief, loosening your fingers over the folder before quickly hurrying toward your destination. 

You pressed your watch against the sensor outside of Miguel's office, waiting for the metal door to slide open. It didn't. You tried again. Still nothing. Again. It wouldn't budge.

"Ugh, come on, Miguel!" You banged the door with a tiny fist as if that would make a difference, "open up!" 

Lyla appeared suddenly, her sprite-like form circling your head once before she faced you.

"You probably shouldn't go in there," she warned, "he's in a…mood." 

"He’s always in a mood," your hands were on your hips now, the manilla folder crinkling further in your hand, "I need to report a couple of grievances—"

"Mmmmmm, I'm sure that's the last thing he wants to hear right now, Miss HR." God you hated when they called you that. You rolled your eyes, swatting her away with the folder which did nothing, of course, and pressed your watch against the sensor. 

"That's not gonna work, honey."

"So let me in." 

"Promise to be nice?"

"To who?" You snorted, "You or Miguel?" 

"Me," Lyla grinned, adjusting her heart-shaped glasses, "forget Miguel." 

You sighed, cracking a smile, "Lyla, would you please let me into Miguel's office?" The Ai made a noise of approval, comically saluting you before granting you access.

"Don't say I didn't warn ya." She sang, disappearing from your sight. 

You sighed. Miguel's shifting moods were nothing new to you—not anymore. Back when you both worked at Alchemax, he was passive and less quick to anger. But that seemed a lifetime ago. 

Life progresses. People change.

“Mig?” You called out, peering up toward his solitary platform. You could hear the soft hisses of machinery, the yellow glow of Miguel’s holo screens illuminating the area above like a radiant star.

He didn’t answer. 

“Miguel,” you tried again, “we have some things to discuss.” You slapped the manilla folder against your hand as if he’d recognize the sound of formal complaints filed within the last week. 

The platform began to descend after a moment, and you breathed a sigh of relief as his figure came into view. His shoulders were stiff, his body rigid as he swiped through the yellow screens.

“I told Lyla not to let anyone in.” His voice was cold, frigid even. He didn’t bother to face you, his eyes pinned to his screens as he leaned forward, the muscles of his back flexing through his suit. 

You couldn’t see what he was looking at but you could hear it: the soft giggles of a little girl, the cheers of a soccer game, the chuckles of a man now broken. It wasn’t the first time you’d heard the sounds of Miguel’s past. It probably wouldn’t be the last either.

“I-uh, got some reports to share with you.” You felt foolish. Lyla was right. HR complaints were the last thing on Miguel’s mind. 

“Reports of the anomaly on Earth 9811?” Your brows pinched in irritation. He knew those weren’t the reports you had. You were fucking HR, not on active duty, let alone a spider person. 

"No, you'd have to ask Jess or Gwen about that, but you need to listen—"

“I don’t want to hear it.” He grunted. You saw his hands form fists at his sides, the same hands that’d fisted your sheets in the throes of pleasure just days ago. 

You shook your head. It was not the time for that kind of thought. 

You carefully opened the crinkled folder, pulling out the paperwork you’d printed from your antique printer to read aloud from it.

“Peter Parker of Earth 5431-02 has formally filed a complaint,” you began, your eyes scanning the black text before releasing an exasperated sigh, “he’s saying you threw a chair at him?” Miguel grunted, the holo screens shutting off at his (Lyla’s) command.

“He’s an idiot.” Miguel snapped, finally turning to face you, his sharp features shadowed by the lack of light. He regarded you carefully, red eyes tracing your figure. You’ve grown used to the way his eyes lingered over you, especially when you were under him, his body pressed against yours, but sometimes you couldn’t help but squirm under his more severe gaze.

“Well, yeah,” you reluctantly agreed with a tilt of your head, “but a chair, Miguel?”

“It’s not like it hurt him...badly.”

“That's not the point."

“The point is that I got my point across.” Miguel snorted. 

"It's the principle. You don't go around throwing fucking chairs at the people who work for you!" 

"Mhm." 

"You're their boss! What kind of behavior is that?"

"Uh-huh." 

You were about ready to strangle him but knew your fingers couldn’t even go around his throat properly. You’ve tried before, under very different circumstances. You settled for pinching the bridge of your nose, as he often did, taking a breath to calm yourself before you completely lost your shit. "Listen to me."

"I'm listening, HR."

"Ugh, look," you pointed a finger up toward him, your brows knitted in obvious irritation, "annoying or not, he's still a member of the Spider Society, therefore, he has every right—”

“—to file a grievance under any circumstance as a result of an injustice, discrimination, or harmful behavior, and is to be given the respect to which every spider person is due as a valued member of the society. I know.” Miguel finished the legal jargon for you, hopping off the platform with an ease that’d always surprised you.

He stepped into your space, his large body casting a long shadow over you as he snatched the crinkled paperwork from your hands. 

“I’ll speak with him.” He grunted. You pursed your lips, watching as his eyes scanned over the page.

"Make it right, Mig. Apologize. Formally. Or informally. It doesn’t matter— there’s nothing normal about this place anyway.” You placed your hands on your hips as you leaned forward, aware of how he was suddenly gazing down at you. “Just be nice, okay? Compensate him with, I dunno, a minor mission. He always wants to get involved, so let him.” 

Miguel rolled his eyes, heaving a great sigh while running his hand through his hair. “Fine.”

“And no more throwing chairs to make a point.”

“Uh-huh, fine, anything else?” God, you wanted to smack him. You opted for snatching back the paperwork from his hand, smoothing out the wrinkles over your skirt-clad thighs before searching for the proper page.

“Yeah," you brought a finger down on the page, "the spiders are getting bored of the cafeteria food.” That was enough for Miguel's face to pinch in displeasure.

“What’s wrong with empanadas and churros?” He scoffed, waving his hand to dismiss the complaint, “And that stupid blue burger with my face on it?” He paused, eyes squinting for a moment, “You know what? That can go. Get rid of it.”

“Fine. Do I have permission to organize a survey?”

“For food?” 

“Yes, for food. They want options.” 

“Aye, por Dios,” Miguel grunted, waving his hand again, “Fine.” 

“Fine.” 

“Anything else?” 

“Nope.” You organized the documents back into the manila folder before handing it over to him.

“You know you could just send this electronically, right?” He looked down at the folder, his eyes tracing your neat cursive in black ink.

“I’m old-fashioned.” You shrugged, turning on your heels. You heard him snort out a laugh, a tiny thing that made you smile. He has a nice laugh.

“One more thing,” Miguel called out, demandingly. You looked over your shoulder at him as he regarded you with heavy eyes.

“What is it?” 

He boarded the platform once again, the machinery coming to life and slowly elevating him back to his preferred height. He tossed the folder somewhere over the desk, to be forgotten. It was the least of his worries at that moment.

You watched Miguel ascend above you like some kind of heavenly being, the yellow light of the holo screens illuminating his tan skin till he glowed molten gold. You waited on him with bated breath, his response sinking straight to your core.

“Keep your window unlocked tonight.” 

…

He loves it when you ride him. 

His large hands were glued to your hips as you bounced on him expertly, your cunt soaking him in your sticky juices. 

Most nights began this way—with Miguel's cock buried deep in your pussy after a long day of enduring his insufferable attitude. You'd fuck the stress out of him—fuck the astronomical weight of the multiverse off his shoulders if only for a few short hours.

"Been thinking about this all day." He groaned under you, throwing his head back over your pillow when he felt your walls grip his length viciously, fighting to keep him in.

"Yeah?" You gasped, your hands firmly planted on his bare chest as you made work of your hips, rotating them in delicious circles—the way he liked—your thighs spread wide to accommodate his massive size. "W-wasn't enough to curb that a-attitude though, huh?" 

Even amid the utmost pleasure—of Miguel's length hitting a spot that had you trembling—you found the strength to taunt him, your hazy eyes catching a glimpse of the twitch in his brow. That meant trouble.

Within seconds Miguel had you on your back, his imposing body trapping you against your mattress. His cock slipped out for a moment but he had no problem finding his way back into your slippery channel, snapping his hips strategically to reach as deep as he could.

You cried out, your hands scrambling to find purchase over his shoulders, your pretty manicured nails digging into his perfectly golden skin.

"F-fuck! Miguel!"

"Wanna say that again?" He growled, his face hovering mere centimeters from yours, "Go ahead, say it again." You did nothing but whimper as he pounded into you mercilessly, his cock stretching you open. 

"That's what I thought." Miguel chuckled smugly, delighting in your little chokes and stutters, egging him to keep pounding you relentlessly. You tried speaking—tried to articulate your words to him, but you couldn't, too cock drunk to focus on anything else but his gorgeous face twisted up in pleasure and his thick cock kissing the secret place within you.

He had you coming soon after, stars exploding behind your lids as you trembled in his arms. Your cunt squeezed him just right and he came, panting in your ear as he filled you to the brim. 

His spend stained your sheets when he pulled out, and as always, he watched it dribble out from your swollen cunt with lidded eyes. He wasted no time in taking his fingers and stuffing the mess back in.

“Keep me in there.” He muttered, swiping through your puffy folds one final time before he ripped himself from you. You immediately soured, keeping your gaze on him as he quickly cleaned himself off with a cloth you left for him on your nightstand. 

You admired his figure: the ripple of his muscles as he moved, the broadness of his shoulders, the glow of his skin in the dim lighting of your bedroom. 

Miguel was gorgeous. You’ve always thought so.

His suit glitched before coming to life, covering his sculpted body in the usual blue and red you've come to know. 

“Did…you want to eat before you go?” Dinner was on the stove, cold but still good. You sat up against your headboard, more of his spend leaking out as you fiddled with your fingers over the soiled sheets. 

Miguel shook his head, sighing as he closed his eyes for a moment.

“I have to go.” He said, stepping forward, grabbing your hand, and placing a chaste kiss over your knuckles. It was the only form of affection he’d allowed himself to give you. He’d never kissed you before. Probably never will. It wasn't part of the deal.

Your heart sunk, your skin searing where his lips had lingered. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Most nights ended this way—with your aching cunt full of his seed and your eyes wet with unshed tears as you watched him leave through your window, disappearing into the night.

…

A few days later, Peter B. Parker landed in your office. Quite literally. 

He plopped down on the seat in front of yours from seemingly nowhere, a messily packed diaper bag hanging loosely from his shoulder. He had his daughter snuggly pressed against his chest in her carrier, her chubby arms and legs flailing over his pink robe.

You yelped, dropping the pen in your hand, clutching your chest in freight. 

“Jesus! Where the hell did you just come from?!”

“Up there.” Peter pointed up. You followed his line of vision, noting the door to the air vent busted open, barely hanging from its hinges. “Sorry about the vent.” He offered sheepishly, taking a large bite of a slice of pizza he'd pulled from a greased-up brown paper bag. 

"You could've just taken the elevator!"

"Takes too long to get to the basement.” He said between a mouthful of pizza, “Why'd Miguel give you an office down here anyway?" 

"I'm scared of heights." You reminded him, watching Mayday struggle to release herself from her carrier prison. Peter snorted out a laugh, dropping the diaper bag on the floor while simultaneously taking another bite of his pizza.

“Doesn’t make sense to work in a place like this.”

“It was the deal I made when Miguel asked me to work for him. Chew with your mouth closed.”

“Have you tried the cafeteria pizza?" He asked suddenly, ignoring your demand and speaking with another mouth full of the greasy treat, "It's the new thing. Everyone's going crazy."

You smiled smugly. "I know. You’re welcome."

“Ah, I should've known Miss HR was behind this!” You rolled your eyes at the nickname, rummaging through your drawer before tossing him a few napkins.

“What can I do for you, Peter?” 

Mayday whined, crawling out of the carrier and over her father’s thighs. She hopped on your desk, scattering some of your paperwork. You quickly caught her before she tumbled off the edge, cooing at her before placing her in your lap. You squeezed her in your arms and she let out a scream of delight before squirming, reaching out in wonder at the different knick-knacks on your desk. 

“Right, almost forgot." Peter took the last bite of his pizza, wiping his face and fingers with the napkins you provided before his face morphed into something serious. "Is this guy bothering you?” He pulled out a yellow holo pad, one presumably given to him by Miguel, revealing a video of you and Peter Parker two hundred from the other day. 

You blinked, your eyes tracing the moving image carefully.

”Oh. Not really,” you finally said, ripping your gaze away from the screen, “Nothing I can't handle. Why?” 

“Miguel asked me to investigate the situation discreetly.” 

"Asked?"

"Well, demanded, you know Miguel," Peter shrugged, reaching down into the diaper bag and procuring a lollipop when Mayday began to whine, “he’s concerned. I figured it’d be easier to just ask you about it.” 

You frowned, grasping the sweet when he handed it over to you, pulling off the wrapper and placing it in Mayday's chubby hand, “That’s hardly discreet.”

“I didn’t wanna follow the guy around!” 

“He's making you do that?”

“‘Of course he is. Doesn't like the guy. He barely tolerates me!” 

You snorted. “Why does Miguel even care?”

"You know him better than any of us do. If anyone would know, it’s you." 

Well, that was true.

You knew Miguel before he created the Spider Society, before he was ever Spider-Man. You knew him before his addiction to Rapture, before he experienced fatherhood, before he lost Gabriella. 

Back when, to the world, he was just some guy in a white lab coat. 

But he was never just some guy to you. 

You’ve loved Miguel for years. You’d loved him in your early days at Alchemax, when he was fresh out of college and eager to begin his shaky career, back when you were hanging on to the corporation by a measly thread of an unpaid internship. You were a pair, stuck to each other like glue.

A few years later, when you both decided to take it a step further and mess around, well, that only ignited your feelings further. Miguel was an attentive lover. He knew your needs and fulfilled them, taking you to the heights of pleasure before humbling you just as smoothly with his strict rules about your agreement. 

He didn’t have time to cater to someone's feelings—didn’t have time for a romantic relationship when he had too much on his plate. But his sexual appetite demanded attention—and why not with someone he’s called a friend for years? 

You were just a friend. And that’s all you’d ever be. 

It was just sex. That's all it'd ever be.

“You okay?” Peter ripped you away from your thoughts, his brows furrowed in concern.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” You answered with a sigh, gently resting your chin over Mayday’s soft curls. “Is Miguel worried?” 

“You’re the closest thing he has to a friend, of course he’s worried about you. Those were his words, not mine.” Peter shrugged, putting his holo pad away, “so is there a cause for concern?” The thought alone almost made you smile. Almost. Instead, you scoffed, shaking your head.

“I’m usually the one that handles these situations, you know.”

“And who’s supposed to help you?”

“I don’t need help.” 

“Right.” He didn’t seem convinced. “Miguel doesn't seem to think so. You sure?”

“Very.”

“Alright, I did my part!” He clapped his hands as if he’d successfully completed a mission, “Time to go, Mayday!” He stood, grabbing the babbling baby from you and placing her back in the carrier.

"She's precious." You said, gently pinching Mayday's drool-covered cheek as she teethed over her lollipop.

"Takes after her dad." Peter grinned, snatching up the diaper bag, "Listen, if you ever need any help—"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, get outta here, Parker." You shooed him away, quickly organizing your wrinkled paperwork together. You could still feel his eyes on you as you kept your hands busy, and when you finally looked at him he had a silly smile on his face.

"What?"

“You guys are idiots." He was still grinning.

"What?"

"Nothin'," he said, pressing a kiss to Mayday's red curls, "Just do me a favor. Don't mention any of this to Miguel, alright?" 

You crossed your arms, leaning back against your swivel chair. "Sure."

...

"So you think I need help?"

Miguel's hands immediately stilled on your hips as you stirred the boiling pasta over your electric stove. 

You didn't hear him come in, but you had a feeling he’d show up. It had been a couple of days since he’d fucked you, and there were many stressful days between then and now.

So you’d left your window unlocked just in case.

"What are you talking about?" He muttered, his fingers lightly dancing on your waist before pulling away completely.  

"Nothing." You huffed to yourself, cutting off the heat and getting on your toes to reach for the pasta strainer on the shelf above. After a second of watching you struggle, Miguel put a hand on your shoulder to stop you, reaching forward to grab it for you.

"Doesn’t sound like ‘nothing’.” He finally said, observing you strain the pasta over the sink, the steam from the hot water engulfing you both in what felt like a thick cloud of tension. You peered over your shoulder at him, your eyes raking over his solid form.

“You know, Peter Parker two hundred?” You asked, witnessing his face contort from passive to extreme annoyance.

He sucked his teeth, pinching the bridge of his nose. He leaned back against your counter, looking so out of place in your tiny kitchen, his broad shoulders almost the entire width of your cupboard. “I told Peter to be discreet.”

“He said you’re worried about your only friend.” You continued to tease him, emphasizing the word as you lifted the lid to a pot where a homemade Pomodoro sauce was bubbling. 

“I said that?” Miguel muttered, feigning innocence, watching you take a spoon and scoop some of the red sauce for a quick taste. You could feel his gaze on you, his eyes tracing the way your tongue licked off the remnants of sauce. 

You hummed in approval before scooping up some more and turning to offer Miguel a taste. You lifted the spoon toward him, and after a moment of contemplation, he hunched forward with arms crossed over his toned chest, mouth opening slightly to allow you to press the spoon past his lips. 

His eyes fluttered as he savored the rich taste, humming his own tune of approval. 

"Is it good?" 

“Mhm.”

You beamed, eyeing how he licked his lips like a satisfied cat, his fangs protruding slightly when he ran his tongue over them. The same fangs you’ve felt over your delicate skin from time to time. 

Miguel was a biter. You didn’t mind.

Miguel grunted, using his thumb to wipe off a bit of sauce that lingered near the corner of your lips. You inhaled a shaky breath, your eyes fluttering from the heat of his touch.

"What else did he say?" He murmured, looming over you, his hand now gently cradling the back of your neck, thumb caressing your skin. 

"T-that you're worried about me?" You breathed. Miguel pulled you closer suddenly, the faintest noise of surprise escaping you. His suit always felt strange under your fingers, the digitized fabric almost slippery, like fine silk. It was ridiculous how perfect you felt wrapped up in his arms. You sometimes wished he'd show up in civilian clothes. You missed his lazy outfits when he'd throw on an old t-shirt and a pair of sweats. 

You couldn't remember the last time you'd seen him in anything other than his suit (and his naked form, of course). It meant he was always on the clock, devoting all his precious time to the multiverse. 

It meant that whenever he was alone with you, he considered it work.

And yet, the suit made you feel secure and safe—like nothing in the world could harm you. And there was truth to that, though the only thing harming you these days was Miguel himself. But that was your fault too.

The deal was explicitly no strings attached. You were finding it harder to keep up your end of the bargain. 

You gazed at his full lips. You desperately wanted to taste them, to know how soft and warm they would feel molded against yours. If you were brave enough you might have stolen a taste, might have felt those sharp canines for yourself on your tongue.

Miguel’s thick fingers trailed into your hair, gripping the roots with just a hint of pressure, his lidded eyes taking in every part of your face: your brows, your eyes, the bridge of your nose, and your supple lips—wet and swollen from biting them so damn much.

"Maybe just a little," he finally answered, his shoulders shifting in a slight shrug. You could feel his length press against your hip, hot and throbbing, demanding attention. 

It filled you with pride knowing your proximity was enough to get him excited. It shouldn't though. It was only arousal. Basic primal instincts. 

You shouldn’t be feeling pride for any of this. You had to remind yourself of that.

You closed your eyes, willing your heartbeat to slow down just a bit. Could you really be this love-sick? So hung up on a man who was emotionally unavailable? If you hadn’t fallen before, then you knew you were plummeting now, so far gone that you’d let Miguel do anything to you.

So when he whisked you away to your bedroom, dinner long forgotten, you didn’t put up a fight.

He fucked you from behind. 

It was a tight stretch, your wet cunt fighting him as he tried pressing his swollen tip in with little luck. 

"Gotta let me in," he grunted, spreading your cheeks wide to gaze down at your twitching holes, "you're too tight. Let me in." 

"I'm trying," you panted, tears in your eyes as you buried your face into the sheets, "i-it's been a while." 

"It's okay," his large hands caressed the globes of your ass in comfort, "it's my fault. Haven't been fucking you enough, hm? S'my fault." Miguel rubbed his cock through your soaked folds a few times, the obscene noises of your sopping cunt causing him to grunt. 

"Goddamn, so fuckin' wet." He muttered before lining himself up and carefully pushing in again. You cried out, fisting the sheets when he successfully got the tip in. He groaned, the guttural sound masking your tiny mewls as he pushed on, your wet cunt coating him entirely in your sticky essence, easing his entry just a bit.

"Fuck, Miguel, it h-hurts." You whined, the stretch of him both painful and pleasurable as he bullied his way in, his girthy cock plunging through your fluttering walls. 

"Shh, I know." He rarely cooed as he did now, reassuring you with gentle noises and tender touches as he eased into you, balls deep in your core, “Look how good you’re doing for me. S’good.” A fresh wave of arousal dripped from you at his praise, your fluttering cunt allowing him to push and pull as he pleased.

He began a steady rhythm, holding your hips tightly to work you over his length, muttering to himself all the while as he watched how your creamy juices clung to his cock and covered his skin.

The pain quickly subsided into blinding pleasure. Miguel had you mewling into your mattress, your eyes rolling and drool slipping past your lips, your back impossibly arched, and your swollen cunt wetter than it’s ever been. The slapslapslap of his hips against your ass was loud in the quiet of your bedroom, your moans even louder when he skillfully hit something inside you that made you see stars every single time. 

You loved the feel of him, loved the stretch of his cock, loved how your cunt would ache for days after as if to remember him. 

“Coño,” Miguel growled, keeping a large hand on your lower back to keep you steady in your arched position, “you sound so pretty when I fuck you.” He suddenly gripped your hair, pulling you up as he curved over you, continuing to spill filth into your ears.

It was too much. 

“M-Miguel, I’m g-gonna—”

“Cum for me.” 

That was it. The dam burst within you, your eyes rolling back as you cried out, cunt spasming and gushing all over him.

“That’s it,” he muttered, sloppily thrusting into your tightening core, “good girl.”

“Miguel,” you continued to whine, grinding against him, “Fuuuck, I love you.” 

You didn’t even realize what you said until it was too late, so wrapped up in the bliss of it all that your mouth worked faster than your brain could think.

You froze when you felt him still above you. He released your hair, bringing his hand back to your hips before gripping them viciously, chasing his own release. He rammed into you faster, slamming his hips against your ass one final time before letting out a guttural groan deep from within the confines of his chest. You could only imagine how he looked: tan skin glistening, chocolate hair plastered against his brow and head tossed back in pleasure. 

Miguel said nothing as he gently removed his cock from your aching sex, letting his seed dribble out from you and soak into the sheets.

As soon as you turned around he was already in his suit, pushing a few buttons on his watch before he brought his wine-colored eyes to you. 

"I have to go."

“Mig?” You whispered his name softly, your naked body burning with embarrassment, “I-I’m sorry I—”

"I’ll see you tomorrow.” It was the same thing he always said, but it hurt twice as much. It was as if he were on autopilot, disconnected from what just happened. 

You felt your heart plummet into your stomach as you watched Miguel leave through your window with a speed he usually reserved for missions.

His spend caked your thighs. There was so much of it coming out of you, more so than usual, his cum ruining your sheets enough that you’d need to change them before bed. 

You sniffled, eyes watering, tears threatening to fall. He didn’t even kiss your hand goodbye.

You ripped yourself away from the soiled sheets, stomping over to your window as his cum leaked down your inner thighs before slamming it closed, locking it for good.

...

“You made this?” Miles exclaimed with a mouth full of spaghetti, clumsily twirling another forkful over his paper plate. You were handing out some of the spiders' leftover Pomodoro pasta from the previous night. You’d lost your appetite. It’d be a shame if you let it all go to waste.

“Yeah, eat up, there’s enough for everyone.” You scooped out more pasta from a Tupperware and onto a paper plate for Gwen. The younger girl’s eyes sparkled as she grabbed the plate, immediately slurping up a bite.

“Oh my god,” she muttered, lips covered in red sauce, “why are you working at the Spider Society when you could be a chef?”

“It’s because Miguel begged her to work here,” Miles quipped, a lone spaghetti hanging from his mouth.

“And who told you that?” You narrowed your eyes at him.

“Uhh,” his eyes flew over to Peter B., who was waiting patiently for his own plate of pasta to be served. You turned and narrowed your eyes at Peter, who chuckled nervously. 

“Listen,” he began, hands thrown up in surrender, “the kid got curious, okay? He was convincing, I mean, look at those eyes.” You huffed, snatching Peter’s plate and loading it up with pasta.

“You guys are annoying,” you muttered with no bite, shifting your gaze toward Hobie, who sat quietly with his legs thrown up on the table, “Hobie, fuck the government and all that, but you need to get your dirty boots off the table if you want some food.” 

Hobie sighed dramatically, letting his boots drop to the ground.

“Fine, boss lady.” 

Satisfied, you handed him a plate.

“So, let’s talk about you being a chef?” Gwen tried again, scrapping the remaining bits off her plate. 

“It’s just pasta,” you shrugged, pulling out a chair and taking a seat, “anyone can make a Pomodoro.”

“My dad can’t.”

“…why?”

“He’s Irish.”

“And a bloody cop,” Hobie interjected, twirling his pasta with a plastic fork, “hate those.”

“Here we go,” Gwen huffed, the beginnings of an argument forming. You chose to ignore them, letting Gwen, Miles, and Hobie bicker between themselves.

You squirmed in your seat, crossing your legs to cure the throbbing within. You could still feel Miguel, the stretch of his cock, and the inevitable ache that lingered afterward. You were still full of him, your cunt wet even hours later, plaguing you with the thought of never feeling him again. 

You drummed your fingers over the messy table littered with paper plates and napkins, your body hunched forward, lost in thought.

“So…” Peter began, adjusting the collar of his pink robe, “you gonna tell me what’s going on or am I gonna have to force it outta you?” You whipped your head to look at him, brows furrowed as you regarded him.

“What makes you think something’s going on?” You whispered, hoping the cafeteria was loud enough so the rest of the table wouldn’t hear.

“Something’s going on or you wouldn’t be whispering,” Peter whispered back, his blue eyes pinned to yours as he searched for answers. 

“It’s nothing.” You answered quickly, continuing to squirm in your seat, fighting to ignore your achy cunt. 

“Did you guys finally smooch?” You froze, your hands gripping the edge of the table with a force that made your knuckles go white. 

“Peter, what the fuck are you talking about?” You hissed, watching him happily eat his Pomodoro.

“You think I don’t know?” He challenged, “It might not be obvious to everyone else but I know what’s going on.” He winked at you, dabbing a napkin messily over his mouth.

Your heart was pounding, ready to beat out your chest, but you schooled your features as best you could. You swallowed thickly, crossing your arms over your chest as if to make yourself smaller. 

“Okay, fine, you know. What of it?” 

“Miguel’s being mopey.”

“Mopey?” You snorted, shaking your head, “He’s always mopey, isn’t he?”

“This is a different kind of mopey,” Peter raised a brow, “it’s actually kind of… frightening.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s got nothing to do with us, for once. Usually one of us pisses him off enough to throw things but he’s on a mission. Said he needed to clear his head. So what happened?” You sighed, shoulders sagging.

“I might have said something I wasn’t supposed to last night.”

“What?”

“We made a deal,” you explained in a whisper, “no feelings, just…you know,” you wiggled your fingers, hoping it would be enough of an explanation. Peter nodded, urging you to continue, “Well, I messed up.”

“How?”

“ItoldhimIlovehim.” You blurted out, your hands flying over your mouth. Peter blinked with a subtle tilt of his head, before a grin stretched over his lips. You groaned, now covering your eyes, “W-what is that, why are you smiling? Stop it.”

“I mean, one of you had to say it first.”

“Peter, you’re killing me here.” He rolled his eyes, inching close enough till your knees brushed against his.

“You don’t think the big guy feels the same way?”

“No!” You squeaked incredulously, “There’s no way. You should’ve seen him yesterday. He could barely look at me!” 

“You caught him off guard.”

“I know that, but he still could’ve said something. Anything.”

“He’s a guy. Guys are stupid.” You groaned, pushing your hair out of your face. You turned to look at the other spiders. You knew they’d been listening given the way they all turned away immediately.

“Someone is stupid,” you muttered to Peter, feeling dejected, “and it’s definitely not him.”

...

You took a deep breath before placing your watch over the sensor.

The door to Miguel’s office didn’t budge, not to your surprise. Lyla must have blocked the systems again.

What were you even doing there? 

You hadn’t seen Miguel in about a week. That was ample time to inform you he wanted nothing to do with you. You couldn't blame him but still, it was…unprofessional. He was your boss at the end of the day. 

Maybe you shouldn’t have started fucking the head of the Spider Society. Your weak heart wouldn’t be in shambles if you didn’t.

It was a stupid move, you knew, telling someone you love them in the throes of passion when they clearly weren’t on the same page, unprovoked or not. He probably hates you. He must. 

You’d given yourself enough time to think it through and given yourself so many pep talks before deciding a professional relationship with Miguel was for the best. No more friends with benefits. 

No more keeping your window unlocked.

You took a breath and tried again. No luck. 

Did he fire you? That couldn’t be right. You were still in the system and able to enter HQ with your keycard just fine. 

“You’re always catching him at a bad time,” Lyla sighed beside you, whipping out her tiny little holographic phone, “he didn’t even want to take a photo! Unbelievable!” The small image on her screen revealed a snarling Miguel, clearly unamused by the bunny filter plastered over his face. It was cute, even if he looked a bit terrifying baring his fangs. 

Lyla shifted to face you, hands on her little hips as she looked you up and down.

“You look niiice,” she quickly snapped a photo of you, “no cute filter needed.”

“Uhh, thanks?”

“Now it’s your turn to say something nice to me.” The Ai grinned when you rolled your eyes. 

“You look…extra yellow today, Lyla.” 

“Thank you! I’m in default mode.”

“Okay, so I’ll just come back later then?” You rushed to leave but Lyla stopped you, zapping in front of you suddenly.

“Nah, I’ll let you in.” You could hear the door to Miguel’s office opening, “Fix him.” 

“What? How am I supposed to do that?” 

Lyla shrugged, “I dunno, I just know you’re the only one that can.” She waved farewell, disappearing in a glimmer of gold. 

You groaned, dropping your head in your hands for a moment to collect your thoughts. Your palms began to sweat—they always did when you were nervous—so you quickly wiped them over your black pencil skirt before facing the office entryway. 

It was dark as usual, the only light illuminating the area was Miguel’s bright yellow screens. They hung above him as he sat slouched in his chair, legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles. His head turned lazily to regard you. 

“I heard you’ve been mopey.” You began, cracking a smile when he snorted. He shook his head, watching you slowly approach him like one would a wounded animal.  He didn’t confirm nor deny the accusation.

“What do you need?” 

“To talk to you.” You said, finding the courage to step into his space, leaning back against his desk and blocking one of the yellow screens.

“About?” 

“Us.” Miguel hummed, running a hand through his messy hair. He sat up in his chair but said nothing else, allowing you the space to speak freely.

“I-I wanted to apologize if I made you feel uncomfortable,” you began to fumble with your fingers, unable to keep eye contact with him for very long, “I know that what I said was…crossing the line—”

“Did you mean it?” He asked abruptly, the question forcing your eyes away from your fingernails and toward his chiseled face. He looked exhausted, eyes heavy but swimming with curiosity.

“W-well, I mean, it was a moment of—”

“Did you mean it?” He repeated, his tone stern as he awaited a proper answer from you. You bit your lip, slowly nodding your head.

“Yeah. I did. Still do.” 

The silence that stretched wasn’t very long but it felt like an eternity. Miguel only stared at you, his jaw tight as he sat forward, his elbows resting on his toned thighs.

You wished you could read his thoughts, take a peek at what ran through his mind. He was always so good at hiding his emotions, never showing an ounce of what he felt. That wasn’t always the case but after Gabriella, he didn’t show much of anything. 

“I think it’s best we don’t see each other anymore,” you finally concluded, crossing your arms, “we should stop.”

“What?” Miguel’s eyes narrowed, “What do you mean stop?” He was towering over you in a matter of seconds, forcing you to crane your neck to look up at him. Your heart was pounding, your hands flying to grip the edge of his desk.

“Mig, we can’t keep doing this.”

“Yes, we can.” He caged you in his arms, bringing his face just a few inches away from yours. He never had much of a problem with eye contact, but you did. You chose to look at his collarbones and the large swoop of his shoulders. It was intimidating and arousing all at once and you weren’t getting anywhere with this speech, were you?

“We can’t. Not when we’re not on the same page.” 

“Who says we’re not?” You felt his fingers graze the side of your face, pushing a lock of your hair behind your ear. You turned away, squeezing your eyes shut, feeling the familiar prick of tears behind your lids.

“Stop playing with me.” You said, pushing him away with little luck. Miguel shifted slightly at your touch, watching you rub at your eyes. 

“I’m not.” 

“Then why have you not said anything for a week?” You hissed, the frustration threatening to boil over, “You’ve left me agonizing over this for a week, Miguel!” You wiped furiously at your cheeks, catching a few stray tears. “I’m such an idiot.” 

Miguel grabbed your wrists in his hands, yanking them away from your face. His concerned eyes met your wet ones, a frown tugging at his lips.

“Stop.” He demanded, taking your flushed face in his hands and wiping the wet streaks away with his thumbs. “Don’t say that about yourself.” You glared, cheeks puffed and swollen from the pressure of fighting away tears.

“Fine,” you snapped, ignoring the way he stroked your cheeks, “you’re the fucking idiot.” 

“I am,” Miguel agreed with a sigh, refusing to release you, “I didn’t know what to say. Thought you might have been lying—don’t look at me like that.” 

“You’re pissing me off.”

“I know, beba.” The endearment startled you for a moment, your glossy eyes peering up at him as a rush of excitement settled in your stomach. He’d never used endearing words with you before. It had you stumped for a second before you remembered yourself, your brows furrowing in irritation

“Why would you think I was lying? Mig, I’ve loved you for years, you buffoon!” Miguel loomed closer with every word before he kissed you, silencing you effectively. Your eyes fluttered, your lips unresponsive at first until he coaxed you into a gentle rhythm. 

Kissing Miguel was so much softer than you imagined. 

You thought he’d be all tongue and teeth, desperate to devour his victim. His kisses were syrupy and deliberate, steady and reassuring. He was taking his time learning the shape of your lips, the plumpness, how perfect they felt molded against his. 

“I’m sorry, beba,” he said between kisses, letting you snake your arms around his neck to pull him closer, “perdoname. I’m an idiot.” You hummed in agreement, continuing to assault his lips sweetly. You couldn’t stop kissing him if you wanted to, sneaking your tongue past the seam of his lips to taste more of him. 

He growled, tightening his hold on you, allowing you to taste at your leisure. He tasted fresh, like the spearmint gum he always had on hand.

“Perdoname,” he repeated, wanting so desperately for you to forgive his transgressions, slotting himself between your legs.

“Yeah? You’re sorry?” you teased, feeling the familiar ache of arousal blooming in your core, “show me how sorry you are.” Another growl ripped from him, animalistic and provoked. He wasted no time, pushing you down so that your back was flat against his desk and your legs were wrapped around his hips. 

He pressed a button beside you and suddenly, the platform began to elevate. 

“Mig,” you sat up in a panic, but Miguel only pushed you back down, lifting your skirt up till it pooled over your waist, “w-why are we moving up?”

“Privacy,” he grunted, spreading your legs, running his thumb over the soaked patch of your panties. Your hands scrambled to find purchase on something over the desk, your heart hammering in your chest as the ceiling seemed to loom closer.

“Y-you know I’m scared of heights!” You squealed when the platform came to a jutting halt, squeezing your eyes shut. You didn’t even want to think about how high up you were.

“It’s okay,” Miguel purred, gently rubbing your clit through the fabric, “you’re safe, you’re with me, beba, no tengas miedo.” 

“M-Mig, please,” you didn’t even know what you were begging for at that point, you just needed something, and whatever that was, he gave to you. You felt him push aside your panties, and you finally spared him a glance, almost choking at the sight of him mesmerized by the sweetness between your legs.

“You’re so fucking wet,” he muttered, slipping a finger through your folds, “you dripping all over my desk.”

“Y-yeah?” 

“Mhm,” he hummed, easily ripping your panties apart before getting on his knees, “smell s’good.” He muttered, licking a stripe up with his fat tongue, scooping whatever mess you made. He moaned at the taste before completely diving in, eyes closed and large hands keeping your trembling thighs spread for him.

As always, you were a whimpering mess for him, mewling with every precise stroke of his tongue. It was the first time he’d done something like this, and god, it was nothing you could have ever dreamed of.  

He moaned into your cunt, the gentle vibrations sending shockwaves through your body. You trembled and whined with every loud slurp of his mouth over your clit, his tongue swiping over your precious bud before working his way down to dip inside your hole. 

“Fuck, Miguel,” your hands flew to his hair, your fingers weaving through the thick strands to keep his head in place. He skillfully nipped and licked the surface, lifting his face away slightly to spit into your cunt, watching it run through your puffy folds with lidded eyes before devouring you again.

“You taste fucking amazing,” he groaned, sucking your clit between his lips.

You threw your head back, letting out the prettiest moans for him. You forgot about everything, about where you were and how high up you were from the ground. You couldn’t care less as long as Miguel continued to eat from you like a madman. 

You could feel the tension in your abdomen, the clear sign that you were close. Miguel continued to drink from you, slurping obscenely at the fresh arousal that dripped into his mouth.

“Close?” He asked, giving you kitten licks, his hands squeezing your thighs encouragingly. 

“God y-yes, so close.” You could feel him smiling against your folds before starting up a vicious rhythm again with his eyes closed. 

With a loud cry, you came into his waiting mouth, your back arching and body withering over the table from the overstimulation. Miguel licked and sucked every inch of you, determined to catch every drop of your orgasm. 

“Oh my god,” you moaned, releasing your grip from his hair and draping an arm over your eyes. Miguel stood, removing your arm and leaning over your fatigued body. He looked down at you with intense red eyes, his mouth and chin completely covered in your slick. You bit your lip when a smile curved at the edges of his lips before he swooped down to kiss you.

You moaned, completely aroused all over again from your own musky taste on his lips. He slipped his tongue in your mouth, allowing you a proper taste. 

“Perdoname.” He begged again over your lips before gently brushing the tip of his nose against yours. You giggled, pushing him away slightly so that you could sit up on your elbows. 

“Mm, I don’t know,” you teased, “you’re gonna have to try again.” Miguel shook his head, tapping a button on his watch, and allowing his suit to vanish. You gasped at his sudden nakedness, your eyes glued to his throbbing erection. Miguel grinned, fangs bared, tapping his cock over your sensitive cunt.

You closed your eyes as he immediately pushed in, moaning as he worked himself into your tight channel. 

In your euphoric state, you barely registered him grabbing your hand and placing a chaste kiss over your knuckles, whispering over your skin. Your ears picked up a few words, some naughty and some sweet, but your heart fluttered and your chest tightened when you caught the last two words before he began pounding into you.

“Te amo.”

[wxxpingangxls]

WET

+synopsis; the hottest criminal solicitor is in town and she’s ready to fight tooth and nail to prove her new clients innocence. I wonder how he’ll thank her…

+content/warnings; black reader but little to no explicit detail, taboo relationships, stalking, peeping tom, death threats, begging, mentions of murder, graphic details, angst, cheating, reader smokes, semi public, oil massage, nasty and messy sex, squirting, brief toe sucking, running from him, pussy drunk Toji, mr munch, ass eating, Toji is grown and got stubble, face sitting, 69, mating press, doggy style, overstimulation

+pairings; Felon Toji x Lawyer!Fem Black Reader

+a/n; ending is rushed idk why 😞😞 but i hope you enjoy lovely’s!!!🩷

“So, Mr Fushi… Uh, so what exactly are we here to discuss today?” you stated, papers on the table and pen in your hand ready to note down.

He raised an eyebrow as his eyes wandered down to the bright diamond ring blinking at him on your finger. You were used to this behaviour. Felons and criminals acting cold and calloused as if you weren’t the one thing between them and their freedom.

“Look, I don’t want to be here either. But we have got to work together. There’s no point in you sitting on your arse, acting as if I don’t have better places to be. I could be on a trip to Barbados right now but I’m stuck here saving your arse-“

“You done?” he interrupted slyly.

“No, I’m not done. You’re wasting everybody’s time. It’s not my fault you decided to kill that guy at the bar. The court appointed me as your attorney and so I’m going to try my best to help you win this case but I can only do so much.” you huffed at the end of the long speech watching his eyes close in annoyance.

“Look lady, I’ve got a child to go back home to, I don’t have time for this. Can you get my case dismissed or not?”

“I was getting to that,” you stated with venom laced on your tongue. “We can always claim self defence. Given your history there’s not much else,” The question of whether he had a mental illness crossed your mind but quite frankly, you weren’t in the mood to converse with this fiend any longer.

“That’s a pretty ring ya got there… You married?” he questioned. His cuffed hands were lying in his lap. This man had stressed you so damn much that you hadn’t realised how, handsome, he was. Despite the ugly and completely unflattering appearance of the orange jumpsuit, you could see the tattoos that encapsulated his large biceps, big enough to crush your skull with. The man you were defending - or rather attempting to - had the meanest mug written all over his face. But you were a woman before you were a lawyer, and your heart was with another.

“Not yet, I’m engaged,” you huffed.

Toji scoffed before turning to face the large mirror. “Is that all Mr Fushiguro? If so, I’ll be on my way,” and without another word, you swiftly left the room, closing the door on the way out. The correctional officer walked out towards you. “Did he tell ya what ‘appened? Ya know with the guy?” You eyed the officer down, observing his hands that were stationed on his belt. “Exuse me? I’m not entitled to disclose that information,” you rolled your eyes as the click clacking of your heels echoed across the hallway.

“Hi baby, how was your day?” your fiancé kissed your temple as you looked down at the plate of food in front of you.

“It was okay,” you shrugged indifferently.

Your fiancé was the executive marketer of a large company. “I’m sorry to here that, I’ll be upstairs if you need me,”

You didn’t say a word as he walked away. In spite of the disturbing scene unfolding in front of your eyes on the TV whilst watching “The Perfection”, you couldn’t help but wonder how Mr Fushiguro was going. Sure he had a nasty mouth and the patience of a toothpick but there was something so intriguing about him. Maybe it’s because you were tired of you boring and plain life. You’ve always been like that.

It wasn’t anything new for you to leave something that was perfectly good to something subpar purely out of boredom and this was no exception.

The next few weeks consisted of you mostly signing papers, talking with your client, viewing crime scene photos and talking to detectives on the case.

The old Bailey loomed large and imposing, its grandeur echoing centuries of justice. Inside, the air was thick with anticipation and tension. You were a sharp and tenacious criminal lawyer, and this was no new information as you adjusted your barrister's wig, your eyes scanning the courtroom. Your reputation for winning impossible cases was well-earned, and today, your skills would be put to the test.

Toji Fushiguro, your client, sat at the defendant’s table. His presence was both magnetic and menacing, a dangerous mix that had everyone on edge. Accused of a brutal murder, his piercing green eyes betrayed no emotion as he watched the proceedings unfold.

Your first meeting had been fraught with silent judgments and unspoken words. You had read his file meticulously, aware of the gravity of the crime he was accused of. A single father found dead in at the bar, after a fight had broke out, all evidence pointing towards Toji. Yet, something about the case felt off to you, an instinct you couldn’t ignore.

You spent countless hours pouring over the evidence, every piece scrutinized under your critical gaze. Late nights at the office became routine, the flickering desk lamp being your only companion. Toji's file lay open before you, his eyes in the mugshot staring back with a challenge and scar in menacing smirk.

The interviews were intense. Toji, ever the enigma, offered little help. His answers were curt, often cloaked in sarcasm. But there was something beneath the surface, a flicker of vulnerability that intrigued you.

A ghost of a smile played on Toji’s lips. “You’re different from the others. They’ve all looked at me like I’m already convicted.”

"So? Why would you think I'm different? Let’s not forget why I’m here,” you stated.

Days turned into weeks, and your professional relationship took on a different hue. There was a dangerous allure in Toji’s defiance, a charisma that drew you in despite your better judgment. You guys would often find yourselves locked in heated debates, the air between you crackling with unspoken tension.

One evening, after a particularly grueling day in court, you found yourself in a dimly lit pub, nursing a bourbon. The door creaked open, and Toji walked in, flanked by the ever-present guards. Their eyes met across the room, a silent understanding passing between them.

“What the hell are you doing here, Fushiguro?,” you said as he approached the table, your voice low.

“I needed a drink,” Toji shrugged, sitting opposite you. The guards stood discreetly nearby, giving them a semblance of privacy.

You arched an eyebrow. “Well then, get your damn drink and leave me be?”

Toji leaned forward, his eyes darkening. “I think you’re the only person who sees me as more than just a murderer.”

“Oh please, that’s my job as a defendant. You’re onto nothing,”

Your heart pounded in your chest. The line between right and wrong blurred, your connection undeniable and perilous. you knew you were treading dangerous waters, but something about Toji made it impossible to walk away.

As the trial progressed, your determination to uncover the truth deepened. You successfully discovered inconsistencies in the evidence, hidden motives that pointed towards another suspect. Each revelation brought you closer, your late-night strategy sessions charged with a mix of frustration and undeniable chemistry.

The day of the verdict arrived, tension palpable in the courtroom. You stood tall, closing arguments a masterclass in legal brilliance. You had laid out the evidence meticulously, casting doubt on the prosecution’s case.

As the jury filed back in, the room held its breath. The foreman stood, the verdict hanging in the balance.

“Not guilty.”

The words echoed, a collective sigh of relief from your team. Toji turned to you, a mixture of gratitude and something deeper in his eyes. You couldn’t show your true feelings, not here, not now. But the promise of something more lingered between the energy in the air.

As the two of you continued to stare, a bright blinding bling brought his attention back to the engagement right adorning your right finger.

A few weeks after the trial, life starts to return to normal. Your fiancé working hard to make you happy, however your client still plagued your mind.

Your routine became his script. He knew when you left for work, the route you took, where you got your morning coffee. You would catch glimpses of him sometimes—at least you think you do—a flash of his face in a crowd, the shape of his shoulders disappearing around a corner.

One evening, as you leave your office, you feel it again—that sensation of being watched. You quickened your pace, glancing over your shoulder, but the street is empty. You told yourself it’s just your imagination, but the fear lingers.

Toji followed at a distance, his footsteps silent. He knows how to blend into the shadows, how to remain unseen. Every time you turn around, he steps just out of sight, watching you with a predatory intensity. His mind races with thoughts of you, dark fantasies that he can't shake.

Despite the ever growing suspicion of a potential stalker, you decide to treat yourself to a massage at your favorite spa, hoping to find some peace. The soft music and dim lighting work their magic as you settle onto the table, your mind beginning to unwind. An all too familiar and soft female voice tickles your ear, “Hey honey, just give me five and I’ll be back to give you the massage of your life,”

“Hurry Tina, my back hurts,”

A few moments pass before the masseur enters. You hear the door close softly and the click of bottles being opened. Hands begin to work on your tense muscles, and you let out a sigh of relief. The touch is skilled, firm yet gentle, but there is something vaguely unfamiliar about it.

A whisper brushes against your ear. “Did you miss me?”

Your eyes snap open in shock. Toji’s voice is unmistakable. Your heart races as you realize the hands on your body belong to him.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” you hiss, trying to keep your voice steady.

Toji’s hands continue their work, his touch sending shivers down your spine. “I needed to see you. To feel you.”

“What the fuck does that even mean, you bastard? I thought you had a kid to go home to. Instead you’re here feeling me up. Have you no shame?” you whisper, torn between fear and a forbidden thrill.

“I know,” he murmurs, his lips grazing your ear. “But I can’t stay away from you. You’re in my blood, Y/N.”

“Bullshit, you bum,” you spit.

His words are intoxicating, and you find yourself caught in a web of desire and danger. Every stroke of his hands ignites a fire within you, a fire you thought you had extinguished.

You know this is wrong, that you should stop him, but your body betrays you, melting under his touch. The line between right and wrong, sanity and madness, blurs once more.

As Toji’s hands explore your body, you realize that you are no longer just in the shadow of doubt. You are in the shadow of obsession, and there is no turning back. Your mean words did nothing but further push him to make you his.

“If you want me to stop, you know the word,” he carefully caresses the skin of your lower back. You weighed out your options. You were going to be married soon, if you were going to live life you’d might as well do it now before it was too late.

You hummed in acknowledgment, before finally agreeing to his lingering touches. It was going to be a one time thing after all. He gently flipped you over so that you were lying on your back. “Just so you know, Toji, this is a one time thing. After all I’m engaged.” he ignored you as he grabbed your thighs so that they were touching your chest.

He watched as your cunt leaked out before he’d even touch you. His hands weren’t even that good. He figured it must’ve been a long while since you’ve been dicked down good.

He wasted no time before sucking on your bud, your moans being loudly ripped from your chest. “Fuck!” you knew it’d been a while since he’d had some pussy, but damn it couldn’t have been that long. He groaned out from your sweet taste. “My God, I didn’t think you’d taste this good…” he whined out.

He spat on your clit making sure his saliva ran down to your puckered hole, ultimately making a mess out of you. ��Oh yes!” you moaned out before cupping your mouth. You had momentarily forgotten you were in public, but the shame of being too loud quickly left your soul as Toji continued to suck on your pussy.

His tongue entered your tight hole, expanding the tight rim. “You ever had your ass ate before?”

“Excuse me?” you sat up utterly shocked.

“N…No? What kind of question is that?”

“Huh…No wonder you’re such a tight ass…Literally…” he scoffed.

He continued his ministrations on your sweet cunt. “If we had some privacy I’d eat your ass out so good,”

You couldn’t even keep your legs up anymore, your orgasm was coming closer. Toji knew this well and started sucking and pulling on your clit. Your face scrunched up in pure bliss. Bliss you hadn’t felt in ages. “Mphm! Toji!”

“Yeah, that’s what I like to hear.” he groaned out in the response.

“Right there Toji! M’ so close!”

A harsh knock interrupted his actions as your abruptly sat up. “Y/N? Oh my Goodness? Are you ok?” Tina asked from the other-side of the door. She shook the door handle multiple times before banging on the door again. “Did you lock the door? Open it please!”

“Did you seriously lock the damn door?” you knocked the upside of Toji’s head.

“I wanted us to have some privacy,” he shrugged indifferently.

You rolled your eyes before groaning, “Hello? Who are you talking to because I know it’s not me,” Tina huffed out annoyed.

“No one, give me a minute I’m coming.” You ushered Toji out to hide behind the cupboard door. The plan was when Tina wasn’t looking, you’d have Toji sneak out then back to the front door. From the minute you met your client you count tell he was a fool. Did you think he was that much of a fool? No. No one could’ve predicted this amount of foolishness. You silently scolded the man as he stood behind the door, waiting for the right moment to sneak out.

One night, after a long bath, you slipped into your favorite silk bathrobe, its softness a comforting embrace. The moonlight filtered through the curtains as you stood by your bedroom window, looking out into the night, wine glass in hand. The city lights twinkled in the distance, but your mind was far away, consumed by thoughts of Toji.

Unbeknownst to you, Toji was there, hidden in the shadows outside your window. His eyes were locked on you, a hunger burning within them. He watched the way the silk clings to your body, every movement a tantalizing tease.

You sighed, running a hand through your damp hair, oblivious to his presence. Toji’s heart raced as he imagined what it would be like to touch you again, to feel your warmth against him. The memory of your pussy haunts him, a forbidden pleasure that he craves more than anything.

He knew this was wrong, that he should stay away, but the pull is irresistible. You were in his blood, an obsession that consumed him. His eyes traced the curve of your neck, the way your robe parts slightly, revealing a glimpse of the cleavage beneath.

Inside, you closed your eyes, lost in thought. Your fiancé was a good man, but he didn’t ignite the same fire in you that Toji does. You tried to push the thoughts away, but they keep returning, relentless and unforgiving.

Toji’s breath hitched as you loosened the belt of your robe, letting it fall open slightly. He gripped the windowsill, fighting the urge to break in, to take what he so desperately desires. His mind raced with dark fantasies, each one more intoxicating than the last.

You stepped away from the window, the cool air brushing against your exposed skin. Toji watched every movement, his body tense with longing. He knew he should leave, but he couldn’t tear himself away. You were his obsession, a forbidden fruit that he was determined to possess.

As you disappeared from view, Toji lingered a moment longer, the image of you burned into his mind. He will find a way to have you, to make you his. In the shadow of obsession, he waits, his desire growing stronger with each passing night.

Your ever growing need for Toji’s mysteriousness pulled you further into a dark pit you knew it’ll be hard to get out of. And if your fiancé was to find out, you’d surely be casted away as a harlot. You had to choose between your pussy and your head, and you had to choose wisely. Will you do the right thing and stay true to your fiance, rejecting Toji’s advances and promises to eat you out so good or will you go behind your husband to be’s back and sleep with the same murderer you helped avoid jail time?

For a minute, one might’ve compared your mental turmoil to that of Hamlets distain and hesitation upon hearing that his father was killed and now he was set to avenge him by killing his uncle but these were two very different situations.

But alas, you believed that you could have many men in your head but as long as you had your true love in your heart then you’re a loyal woman.

That’s exactly how you found yourself with your mouth full of his thick and slimy cock whilst smothering his face with your cunt. Sucks and slurps filled the room as the two of you got on with such harshness of enemies. The gargling of his dick filled the room while he moved his head back momentarily to watch as you clenched on his fingers, holes begging to be filled. He smirked as a glimmer of an idea flicked in his eyes, as they peered up to your winking hole.

His tounge slowly lols out before giving the tight hole a small lick. He let out a boisterous laugh as he watched you shudder and mumble to no avail. His deft fingers moved to your clit as he found a rhythm for his tongue to moaned against your puckered hole. You grind your pussy against his face, moans muffled by his thick cock.

Your clit throbbed as his fingers moved faster, never loosing their grip and his tongue keeping its rhythm. You groaned loudly and clearly this time, his dick was now limp and his cum was scattered all over his thighs and your mouth. You squealed out his name and his onslaught on your slick pussy only got more overwhelming for you and you had no where to move.

Your back arched from the overstimulation and your hands clenched at the pleasure he was feeding you. What you had done to deserve such a treat, you had no idea, but you weren’t complaining. Toji’s hands came down on your cheeks, rubbing and massaging the muscle as he did.

Tears welled up in your eyes and your belly tightened and without a word, he knew you were about to cum. He quickly swapped his tongue and hands, sliding a finger into your asshole and placing his lips around your sweet clit. The spiky stubble of his hair added to your stimulation , adding to your pleasure.

There was no holding back with Toji . He was here to show you how to feel good. “Move,” without warning he turned his head to the side, tapping your arse twice. You blinked your confusion away as his hands guided you so that he was looming over you. You couldn’t say a single thing before you felt that familiar burning of his girth stretching you out. Drool seeped from your mouth as he reached deeper.

“Ah ha ha. Feels good, doesn’t it baby?” he boasted.

Nothing but babbles left your mouth as he gently lulled you to silence. With a firm grip on your hand, and his duck fully sheathed into your deep pussy, he began his rough thrust. Fap. Fap. Fap. Fast paced thrusting in and out, knocking the wind from you. He had rendered you completely speechless which was almost impossible given the type of person you were.

“Lights are on but no one’s home…” he chuckled to himself as he continued to slip in and out.

You whined and squealed as you felt his curved dick rub against your g-spot. It was far too much for you, your cheeks were hot and throbbing, lips bitten and bruised and your throat dry and sore. Tears flew from your eyes and his fast thrusting never faulted but instead intensified as he realised where he was hitting.

“I know you didn’t try to fucking run from me,” he comments sternly. For a second you feel yourself go numb. All you needed was a moment to collect yourself. It was far too much is what you tried telling him, begging for a semblance of a break.

“You ever try that shit on me again, I’ll tie you up,” He flips you over with a firm grip on your hip, pushing your legs up your ears. “Toji? Toji!” you whine in estxasy and his dick reach’s deep. “Wait! Toji, Please!”

“Please what, girl?”

You opened your mouth to speak , but before you could, he started moving again, impaling you on the hefty limb. He watched as your expressions contorted from bliss to shock, upon feeling a wet and slimy tongue between your toes. This man was nasty, downright sick, and you loved every second of it.

A fat thumb lingered down to the small bud, before rubbing vigorously, He watched as your moaning became high pitched and your hips bucked. Your stomach sucked itself in as you tried escaping his grasp, squirming in his nearly painful grips. “Oh my- Toji, Wait! I’m going to to-!”

Your loud plea was interrupted by an obscene squelch and a splashing ad a stream of juices left your sore cunt and aimed right for the mans chest. He jeers as he saw your o-face falling inlove even further. It didn’t take a while for him to pump you full of his thick hot cum, and it certainly didn’t take long for your fiance to get the picture Toji sent of him eating your used up and stuffed cunt out.

It also didn’t take long for Toji to send a video of him stuffing you again in full nelson this time, making you hold the phone.

It also didn’t take long for Toji to get in trouble again with the law. You too hadn’t seen each other since that eventful night and he couldn’t help but be grateful, for if you knew just how nasty he was, you would’ve killed him yourself and he wouldn’t blame you.

After the whole debacle was dealt with, he found himself yet again being arrested, and on the other side of the conjugal line was you. Sitting prettily in your work attire, brand new engagement ring sitting on your finger as you discussed his charges. “I miss you Y/N” he’d say. “I wonder what you’re up to these days,” he’d enquire, knowing full well, if he was free he wouldn’t have to.

And whether Toji turned himself in on purpose after everything he’s done just to see your bright face again, or whether it was a pure coincidence that he’d just so happened to be arrested for something he had gotten away with for so long, you had no idea.

All you knew is that you regretted that night.

Well, not entirely.

[vamp4kaulitz]

BRO OMG I LOVE YOUR MAKEUP SEX WITH TOKIO HOTEL BUT CAN YOU PRETTY PLEASE WRITE THEM (SEPARATE) WITH A READER WHO IS RLLY FUCKING STUBBORN

TOKIO HOTEL W A STUBBORN S/O

no pacific pronouns can be seen as any gender

THANK FOR THIS REQUEST POOKIEEE IDK IF YOU WANTED SMUT OR FLUFF SO I DID SMUT. IF U WANT FLUFF PLS REQUEST AGAIN WHEN REQUESTS ARE OPEN😊

2008 and up

BILL

I heard bill loves people are kinda challenging in the relationship, so he would definitely chuckle at your stubbornness.

He probably wouldn’t admit it but he definitely got turned on at least once by your stubbornness 😭.

Now if he had a bad day and you had something to complain about to him, trust you will be dealt with😭.

“Bill you said you would be home earlier than this. It’s almost fucking 3 are you out of your mind?!”

“Schatz I had a bad day today so I went to drink. I’m still in a bad mood please don’t argue with me right now.”

Of course you are stubborn you would keep pushing his buttons while following him upstairs, trying to prove your point.

“Bill are you serious right now?! You always fucking—“ Your words would be stopped by him pining you to the bed.

“I already fucking told you I had a bad day but no, you wanted to be a fucking brat and push my buttons like you always do.”

This man would pound tf out of you, he would bend you over and push your head into the pillow. You couldn’t even talk any when you would try he would tease you.

“What was that? Hm? I can’t hear you, speak up if you want something.”

Begging him to slow down? Nuh uh aint finna happen.

“Huh? You want me to slow down? Mm, you remember how you were acting like a little brat earlier? Mm, I think I shouldn’t even be fucking you right now, I should leave you to beg me to fuck you.”

TOM

Tom is kinda stubborn himself, he would literally be stubborn back 😭.

He would literally ignore you yelling at him and walk upstairs, pretending to not care and you would follow him while yelling.

“Tom don’t you fucking walk away from me, you do this every time we have a argument! You act like you can’t fucking listen for once, you always walk anyway!”

He’d literally snap at you💔.

“I walk away because your stubborn ass wanna do too much, I get tired and stressed too Y/N! Your not the only one.”

“Me stubborn? I’m being fucking stubborn for bringing up problems YOU caused? Are you fucking kidding me right now?!”

You guys would definitely be huge brats to each other. Stubborn and stubborn arguing isn’t the best, since you both get pretty loud when arguing.

“I’m done arguing with you meine liebe. Now please, leave me alone while I cool down.” He would try to reason out but you being you, you couldn’t let him walk away so easily.

You push at him until he pinned you on the bed, grabbing your chin with two fingers. You would be taken aback but secretly enjoy the lust in his eyes.

“Your such a brat you know? Always yapping about some shit. You should really learn to know your place.”

He would FUCK the stubbornness out of you, face down ass up. He would be a bit rough, pounding into you nonstop. You would beg him to slow down, but would he listen? Nope.

“T-Tom!! Slow down..!” You managed to let out but he ignored you and only increased his pace. You wiggled around making Tom grab your waist.

“No, this is what you get for being such a fucking stubborn person!” He slapped your ass while thrusting into you ruthlessly.

He would pretend to not hear you and purposely push deeper to make it seem like he didn’t hear you whining and begging for him to slow down.

GEORG

Now..

Georg will put you in your place‼️.

He will definitely be a little stubborn back but definitely would also let you have your way. And if you’d be super stubborn about something he will glare at you and you’d shut up.

Georg can handle your stubbornness, but if he’s in a bad mood expect to not get what you want‼️.

Let’s say one day georg came from a afterparty a little drunk, and Georg told you earlier he would come straight home and not go to the afterparty, so your stubbornness kicked in.

“Georg, I thought you said we weren’t gonna go to the afterparty?”

He would look at you a little zoned out but he would answer you. “I’m sorry love, the band wouldn’t listen to me when I said I was gonna go.” You would definitely get a bit heated, but you tried not to just lash out on him because he was tipsy.

“Then why didn’t you tell someone and leave when you got there? Georg it’s literally 4 in the morning. I was fucking worried! And you are out getting drunk like I’m not here??”

“Schatz, I got a little carried away okay? Right now it’s not the time to argue. It’s 4 and everyone in the neighborhood is probably asleep. Let’s talk in the morning.” Georg tried to reason but you weren’t having it.

You kept pushing his buttons but maintaining your voice so you would yell too loud for everyone to hear, while georg got some water to sober up.

Georg got tired of it and put his cup down angrily, his hands showing veins for how hard he was gripping the cup and pinned you onto the couch.

“You know, I always let to have your way, but you like to get carried away. Such a brat, I should punish you for how you’ve been acting towards me.”

He would go SO slow, he would make you beg for him to speed up. He would go slower if you tried to touch yourself or move your hips. He would grip your waist and tell you not to move.

“Such a brat, trying to please yourself? I shouldn’t even be fucking you, I should make you beg for me to pound the fuck out of you.”

He would tease you, and you’d finally give in🤭..he would definitely tease you about giving into him.

“Oh? What’s this? What happened to my bratty Y/N? I wouldn’t expect you to listen to me so easily. Shows how much of a slut you are.”

GUSTAV

Gustav is so sweet omg😭 he’ll give into your stubbornness, and you’d sometimes feel bad because he would always do whatever you say.

I have a feeling like he’s literally angry and rude to people when he’s tired especially after a long day with rehearsals so he would always go shower and sleep.

But one day you just didn’t want to put up with it and you lashed out on him. He didn’t expect it at all.

“Gustav? We need to talk.” You called out to him, sounding it a bit serious in which made him kinda nervous.

“Yes schatz?”

“I feel like we are drifting apart somehow. Like, it’s like you come home and shower, eat, and sleep. We barely talk.”

“I’m sorry love. I’m really tired, can we talk about this later?”

You were so angry. Like he js straight up ignored you trying to communicate with him after weeks.

“Gustav what the fuck? Are you seriously just gonna ignore me after fucking trying to COMMUNICATE with you??”

You’d yell at him while he walked to the room, not caring if the neighbors heard. He’d ignore you but you said something that just pissed him the fuck off.

“The fuck did you just say?” He’s turn around and you’d stop in your tracks. “You fucking heard me. Loud and clear.”

He’d grab you and throw you on the bed but not too hard.

To me Gustav is the type of guy to take out his anger on you in bed😉.

“Oh yeah? Let’s see if you can say that with my fucking cock inside of you, pounding you.”

Gustav is a soft dom, but he can be rough when he wants to🤭. He’d grab your hair while you take him from behind, whispering into your ear.

“You wanted this so bad huh? Look at your little hole taking my cock. It’s begging for more.”

He’d thrust into you faster every time you ask him to slow down, he’d slap your ass while you shake and cum on his cock.

Gustav would definitely go slow, making you beg and whine for more even when he was deep inside.

You’d cry out for him but he would ignore the fuck out of you.

“Gustav please! Go faster!”

“Hmm..nah…I wanna tease you more, see how long you’ll last hm? You think you can last for me? Hm?”

“Fuck, I know I said I was tired but you turned on something inside of me that I can’t turn off, liebe.”

pic credit tokiosaturn0 dm to remove if owner only!

taglist: @bored0writer @saumspam

pls lmk if u wanna be on my tag list 🤗 AND SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG TO DO!! 💔 requests closed rn because I’m finishing up some!

[bangchansgirlsblog]

Ive been imagining this and ik its weird BUT ot8 skz being perv and so obsessed to fem 9th member.. Like they get super jealous and the fem readed being a people pleaser like she cant say no to her friends and cant stand seeing them sad so when the members started to became sexually touchy w her they used that against her and be like "dont u want to see us happy? We've been tired and we just want to relieve some stress.. I thought u can help us.. I guess not" and they pretend to be sad abt it and the reader just felt guilty for not helping her friends so she lets them touch her which led to smut KDNDJFKDJ its weird but idk i die for these kinds of fics

Hands on me?

Warning: Angst, sexual activity, manipulation?

Pairing: polyOT8 x reader.

Summary: Don’t you wanna see us happy baby? They said as they slowly peeled her clothes off.

AUTHORS NOTE: this has been in my requests for a while and I write this when I first started off SO it’s not good at all BUT I’m going to write another one using this same request cause I have another idea AND this was in my drafts for a while so I’m dropping it to clear it.

I hope whoever requested this, enjoys it 🥰

**

"Baby?!" She heard someone call for her from the living room. 

"I'm in here!" She replied. Her hair was up in a pony tail and she was currently wearing shorts and a croptop with no bra on making her look yummy.

She heard a bunch of voices start piling up in the living room meaning that the boys were back home.

A small smile creeped up on her face as she continued to wash up the dishes she had used to cook dinner. She made a big dinner because at the end of the day she was feeding 8 of her boyfriends who were also MEN. 

"Hey love," Han walked into the kitchen. His hair was in a hat and he had his normal hoodie and cargo pants on. "Are you feelings better?" He asked while taking a few steps towards her until he towering her. His breathing was heavy probably from the flight of stairs.

"Mmm, yeah. Just been a long day that's all." She sighed and looked up at him. He had a pout on his face making her coo at how adorable the boy was.

"I missed you," he said in between kisses. 

"Missed you too momo," he rested his head on her shoulder she continued to finish the dishes.Han was always clingy, not more than Felix but it was more than the other boys, that was for sure.

As she finished up she felt His hands slowly wondering around her body then slowly landing on her ass. oh, makes sense. He was horny.

She did love every interaction with her boys, she really did but today she wasn't in the mood at all. She was tired and she had a horrible headache from work. having sex was not on her to-do list but a nap was.

"Do you want me to take care of you?" He whispered in her ear causing shivers to run down her spine. She was sad because she was going to turn him down and she knew how stressed all the boys were, he just wanted have fun.

"Maybe not right now momo, I'm not in the mood," She told him while finishing the last of the dishes and drying her hands. He pouts and lets out a small whimper.

"Have you eaten yet?" She asked him changing the subject.

"Not yet no," he frowned.

"Okay then sit, let me call the other guys to come eat too," She encourage him, "and don't forget to put your dirty clothes in the laundry basket," She tiptoed and gave him a quick kiss before going to the living room to find only Changbin sat while scrolling through his phone.

He was wearing all black and he had his glasses on. His hair was fluffy and curly meaning today he was in the studio all day.

"Binnie?" She walked and sat by him, "what are you doing?"

"Hey baby," he kisses her temple and then her lips, "I was just lacing up my shoes, what about you? How was your day?"

"I'm tired that's all," she pouted, "and my period is coming soon so I'm breaking out!" she exclaimed and crossed her arms causing him to chuckle.

"I mean atleast you look nice," he dropped his shoe and pulled her close to his body, "you look beautiful, pretty, gorgeous, amazing-"

"Okay, okay I get the point," she roll my eyes playfully.

"Hey? Am I not allowed to praise my beautiful girlfriend?" He playfully frowns.

"You are I geuss," she giggled and he couldnt help but pull her onto his lap.

"Then let me praise you huh?" He kisses her cheek and slowly starts moving down her neck. A small moan leaves her mouth.

"B-Binnie, I'm not in the mood, please," she told him.

"Why not? You're always in the mood," he looks confused.

"Not today, just come have lunch yeah?" she give him a peck on the lips and got off him so he could stand up.

"Fine," he huffs. He makes his way to the dining area as she depart6ed and headed to Felix's room

"Felix?" she called while knocking on his door.

"It's open!"

"Hey sunshine, dinner is ready-"

"Hey! no kisses? No hugs?" He frowned and turned around from his desk.

"Oh-" she giggled when she realized and then walked over to him, "Hey lix," she repeated and  gave him a kiss as he automatically pulled her on his lap.

"How's my baby doing?" He asked as his hands wrapped around her waist and he cuddled her body.

"Mm just tired," she sighed.

"Oh my poor baby, should we watch a movie later?" He was craving her. he wanted to spend more time with her because he felt like he had spent so much time with the boys that he was neglecting her.

"Yeah that would be nice but first go get lunch," she forced herself out of his grip but he let out a soft whine due to the lack of touch and well...the bulge that was now very visible through his pants.

"Look what you've done to me," he whined again causing her to laugh at his distraught state.

"Oh oh, you better fix that before you go down,"

"Help me please!" He frowned.

"I'm not in the mood Felix, please."

"Come on pleaseee, it's been a long day. Don't you want to see me happy?"

His eyes were shiny and hungry, it was obvious.

"Fine after dinner," she lied to him so he could get up and he actually believed it.

"Okay okay, I'm running there now!"

He got up from his sit and rushed out the room.

She followed behind him and checked the dining room to see everyone now sitting down including Chan, I.N, Seungmin and leeknow.

She went around to give them quick kisses before returning to her room and changed into just a  huge shirt (that was probably for one of the boys) and underwear.

She turned off all her room lights and entered bed now being able to have a peaceful sleep. A nice, nice qui-

She felt the bed dip and hands wrap around her body. Her eyes open quickly and she saw familiar hands. Chan.

"Channie?"

"Hey babe, I wanted to cuddles," he pouted.

"Fine but no disturbing my sleep," she scolded him and turned so it was easier for him to wrap his arms around her waist.

Her eyes slowly closed once again and she finally thought she was to get some sleep until the door swung wide open and closed quickly, two more people walking in and making themselves comfortable in her bed. Han and I.N. At this point she was so used to it that she just let them stay as they both argued on who was sleeping where.

"Guys if you're going to be in here, you have to be quiet and sleep," She told all of them off. Even if she was getting a little frustrated she scooted up a little so they could all enter the bed.

Not even a few minutes later all the boys were now in her room on her bed piling onto one another under her fluffy blankets. She knew exactly what they wanted when she felt one of their hands massaging her leg.

She let out a sigh, "Such horny dogs!" she groaned.

"Common baby, it's been a long day. Don't you care about us?" Hyunjin teased her in a manipulative manner.

"Just a little fun. Come on please," Han rubbed her leg once more back and forth causing shivered to run down her spine.

"You look good too," Felix complimented her while tugging at her bra strap, "really good." They were basically already peeling her clothes off with their cold ass hands.

She let out a sigh and finally gave in, "F-fine I geuss so," her eyes wonder to Chan who gives her an assuring nod.

//please idk how to write a smut but just imagine the nastiest thing ever happens//

When they were done and the boys were satisfied as Y/n sat on the bed. Her heart was racing from all the action but she was in her own space. Spaced out.

The constant thoughts of the boys using her for their sexual desires made her enter a depressive episode. Yes she enjoyed the sex and the attention but so many emotions were running through her tiny body that she couldn't handle it anymore.

She felt used like a sex toy and the tears in her eyes slowly started to build as she started to breath rapidly. The air in the room getting suddenly thick. Seungmin was in the bathroom running her bath for her after care. The sound of the water falling was the only sort of noise she could hear.

She held her knees against her chest as she tried to calm down. Han's hand wrapped around her waist. As he kissed her temple. "you did so good for us, you know that right babygirl?" he praised but she didnt even notice him in the first place. Her eyes were hazy and completely black and when Han noticed, he gave chan a look. 

"Hey, are you with us?" Chan asked immediately as he pulled up his sweatpants. "Y/n?"

No response.

She was staring at the wall right in-front of her. She felt unloved. She felt tired. She was in pain.

The boys (some of them were still dressing up) all turned to look at her. Her body was still bare and the bruises on her arms were visible.

"Is she going into a trance?" I.N asked panicked. "Chan do something, please,"

"Hey Y/n? Babygirl? It me. Can you hear me?" He walked over to her and grabbed her tiny hands.

"C-channie?" She chocked as She looked up at him. The tears slowly starting to fall.

"Yes my love, it's me. Can you tell me where you are?"

"I'm alone, I'm all alone," she sobbed. "Why am I like this? Why am I so disgusting?" She cried.

"What do you mean Y/n?" He asked shocked.

"I-I want Binnie, I want Binnie now," she said reaching out for him. Changbin did not hesitate. He was right by her side pulling her onto his lap. The rest of the boys understanding what was going on and quickly taking action.

"I'm here princesses, tell me what's wrong," he had no shirt on and the skin to skin was slowly giving her comfort as his body heat was radiating warmth.

"I-do you love me?" She asked. The panic in her voice was clear. She was soon going to get a panic attack. it was building up.

"Ofcourse I love you babydoll, why would you think otherwise?" He questioned while kissing her forehead.

"i- i dont know, please dont be mad at me," She sobbed in his chest. The view was heartbreaking and the boys knew that if they didnt find a way to cheer her up soon it would end up into a full blown panic attack.

"I'm going to make some brownies for her," Felix said because he knew this was the only way he could comfort her on his part. He quickly leaves the room after hesitating for a bit not wanting to leave her.

"I- are you guys using me? For sex?" She cried harder. Her hands held Changbins chest as She struggled to breathe. Their faces were in absolute shock. was this what they made her think? was this all she thought she was to them? 

"Ofcourse not," leeknow knelt down infront of her. He slowly rubbed her thigh. "Jagi, you need to breathe. Can you do that for me?" He asked her. Her body was shaking still. she tried to gasp for air but failed. 

"Listen to me beuatiful, you need to breathe like me....see," he took a deep breathe to demonstrate to her but it was no use. 

"i- i cant breathe," she gasped and let go of changbin to grab her neck. it felt like it was closing up. Her vision was blurry now and the lack of oxygen was getting to her. 

"C-chan?" she gasped as she slowly she started to pass out. Her body giving up on her due to the many emotions.

"come on baby, stay with me," she heard in the distance.

"Guys! call 119,"

***

This is just a fic no one come for me 😔

[ticktockheartstop]

I just find it sooo interesting how Charles chooses to kiss Crystal after the most emotional day in Port Townsend so far. Let’s review:

1. Charles is clearly jealous of Monty and Edwin at the beginning of the episode: “You? Him? Spending a lot of time?” (Whether this is platonic or romantic jealousy, I’ll leave that up to you… though I definitely have thoughts.)

2. Edwin is really trying, for maybe the first time ever, to comfort Charles and get him to open up (because the Devlin case in the previous episode made him realize that Charles has major walls up). Edwin paying, even slightly, is definitely a new, potentially kinda scary thing for Charles.

3. Crystal is really concerned about Charles and not afraid to hide it, and it’s clearly irritating him. So much so that he nearly snaps at her — which he never does to her — and he stops himself, only to say, “As long as I’ve got my best mate and a case to solve, I’m good.” *pause* “I appreciate you. But leave it, yeah?” I just think it’s really significant that Charles didn’t say “as long as I’ve got you guys” or “my mates” or “you and my best mate.” Crystal was a hit of an afterthought, I think.

4. Charles tells Edwin off for not telling him about the Cat King, so much so that Edwin feels the need to say: “I don’t understand why you’re so angry.” Charles is clearly not in the best mood, not thrilled about the case they’re facing, and not thrilled about his “best mate” hiding things from him.

5. Charles nearly watches Crystal jump to her death, and it wasn’t even him who saved her. It was Niko. He looks the most devastated of all of them, and then gives her that big speech of how important it is for her to know that jumping isn’t worth it, because it’s not actually her mom, no matter what it feels like. And she basically tells him he doesn’t know what he’s talking about, because she knows her mom wants to see her.

6. Charles is so jealous, watching Monty flirt with Edwin as he’s stuck digging through a dumpster.

7. Let’s just be clear on one thing: Crystal was the first to “attack” the Night Nurse, even if she tried to do it psychically instead of physically, and no one bats an eye. But then, when Charles gets violent with her after she threatens to take Edwin back to hell and makes him relive all his trauma, all while basically teasing him, everyone FLIPS OUT about him attacking her. It’s honestly kind of unfair, and I’d lose it too if my friends looked at me like that.

8. Charles really loses it for the first time (maybe ever in front of Edwin). He feels like he can’t help Crystal with her problems, and he can’t get Edwin to be honest about what’s going on in his head, so he definitely can’t help him, and it’s heartbreaking. But the real kicker is that the only one who steps up to try to comfort him in that moment is Edwin, because the others are still stunned by his outburst. But Charles flinches away from his touch, because he can’t fathom how anyone could love him or want to be near him in that moment.

8. If that wasn’t enough, as they leave the lighthouse, Crystal is staring at him with major concern. For obvious reasons. But I relate to Charles in the way that that look would drive me CRAZY, and I think it’s so important that later, when offering an understanding ear, Edwin doesn’t let Charles see the scope of his concern for him. That’s why I think Charles responds more politely to his offer to talk to him if he ever needs it.

9. Slightly out of chronological order here, but before going into their respective rooms, Niko says, “I think I’m going to go do something where I don’t have to think now.” And Crystal says, “Yeah, I’m with you.” … and then she goes and makes out with Charles.

10. Idk, it just seems a bit self-destructive of Charles to go make out with a girl right after she says that, and to kiss her for the first time right after she says “I just want something that’s real.” After he spent the whole day being jealous about Edwin spending time with Monty, and keeping a meeting with the Cat King from him, and after Charles lost his mind (understandably). Like, this is not the time to make romantic decisions! This can only end with someone getting hurt.

[saerins]

─── 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒

+ sae x f!reader | wc 3.2k | content: angst, insecurities, death

notes: i’m sorry idk how this came about but i was in a mood :’) i promise i love him okay <3 feedback & reblogs appreciated !!

summary: he’s back home, and you recall the times you’d spoken to him. all the calls you made, then all the calls he made, and then all the times it went to voicemail.

you remember every conversation you’ve had with your boyfriend. the good and the bad, the beautiful and the ugly. it’s hard to quantify into numbers since you’d been together for the last five years.

but there’s a few of them that are prominent, that are burned into your mind, engraved onto your brain. the sound of his laugh, for one, that’s always been precious to you, if only for the fact that he doesn’t laugh often.

sae always said you were the only one who could get that out of him, and you’ve kept it close to your heart since.

to the world, he may have seemed rude and off-putting at times, and despite the countless false reports of sae being an asshole to all his girlfriends in private (because the media can never decide who he’s actually with), he’s always been the same itoshi sae to you—the kind of guy who only ever bothers what you think about him because the other people not involved in your relationship don’t matter.

you remember everything he’s ever done for you.

“you know that one day you’ll be mrs. itoshi, right?”

yeah, you definitely remember.

MARCH 2020; [ sae’s fifth day in spain ]

“you miss me, itoshi sae?”

you can feel him rolling his eyes from the other end. “i should just hang up right now.”

“you could, but then you’d miss me even more.”

sae suppresses a grin, even if there’s no one around to see it. you’re right, but he doesn’t say anything.

it was rare for sae to call you at all. but then again, it is the first time you two had been apart since you got together. maybe it isn’t so weird after all.

“how’d practice go today?”

“it’s fine, nothing i couldn’t handle.” of course he’s fine, he’s the youngest on the team and yet it was as though he’d played the longest.

“of course it was fine, mr genius,” you tease, and he smiles because he knows you’re smiling too.

you can’t really remember how the rest of the conversation went. but you only remember this moment because it was the first time you realised that amidst all the times you’d pester him to go on a date with you, amidst all the times you asked him for a kiss, sae could miss you too.

SEPTEMBER 2020; [ sae comes back to japan soon ]

“hey so i was thinking, i’ll meet you at the airport?”

sae hums, “wanna see me that bad, huh?”

“shut up,” you snap at him, hating his quick tongue that so easily gets you flustered. “so i miss my handsome, successful boyfriend, big deal.”

he missed you too.

“am i just arm candy for you, y/n?”

“what? no—”

“too late. i’m offended. bye.”

then he actually hangs up on you.

it takes you half a second to pull up your message thread with him.

itoshi sae, you wanna die or something?

it takes him the same amount of time to respond to you.

y/n l/n, okay, then maybe i’d get some relief from you.

before you can even be actually offended, your phone vibrates again.

miss you too, stupid. see you tomorrow.

you can’t seem to rub the smile off your face.

FEBRUARY 2021; [ first valentines’ apart ]

it takes him three rings to pick up.

“happy valentines’, lover,” you giggle over the phone.

it’s been a few months since your about-to-go-pro soccer player boyfriend had gone back to spain, doing pro soccer player things. you miss him, especially since it’s the first time you guys are spending the romantic occasion apart.

it sucks that you couldn’t even spend new years with him. it’s okay though, you managed to video call him while you spent time with his family.

“think you got the wrong number.”

“itoshi—”

“open the door, smarty pants.”

“w-wait, what? did you send me something?”

you hurry over to your front door, not knowing what to expect. but you definitely didn’t expect sae to be there, in the flesh, sighing when you finally open your door, a pretty bouquet of flowers in his hand.

“what are you doing here?” you’re still shocked from his mere presence.

sae smirks, and you realise just how much you miss him. “think i got the wrong apartment, i was supposed to deliver these to my other girl—”

but you kiss him to shut him up. he’s full of nonsense, and so, so witty, and he’s here.

sae’s always claimed that it was not soccer stealing him from you, it was more the other way around. and he had been joking at the time he said that, but right now he thinks maybe there’s some truth to it.

if there’s anyone capable of having and getting him to willingly relinquish his attention from soccer, it’s you.

JUNE 2021; [ night of sae’s first PR event ]

“someone looks handsome,” you comment as you watch your boyfriend getting ready over the phone.

he has an entire entourage of people over at his hotel—they must be the makeup crew and stylists. his entire team is getting vip treatment for being champions of the league thanks to last week’s game. now, even more brands are trying to sponsor them and you really shouldn’t be surprised over the amount of girls going crazy over your boyfriend.

“and someone should really sleep,” sae pauses for a moment when the man beside him (presumably his stylist, because he’s double checking sae’s suit) asks a quick that your girlfriend?, to which sae says “yes.”

the man winks at you through the video. “lucky girl,” he comments, eyes back on the fabric he’s touching, “the only time i caught him smiling was while he was texting ya.”

you snicker through the phone as you watch sae’s face go beet red before frowning at you.

“he did not.”

his stylist is laughing at his reaction too. “totally did. i thought he was possessed.”

sae grabs the phone and relegates himself to the bathroom, glaring at you through the screen. he’s not mad at you, he’s just embarrassed and you know that. you’ve known him long enough now to tell his cues.

“i hope you know i hate you.”

he’s always all bark and no bite and you’re still laughing at him.

“aw, i hate you too, mr itoshi.”

“stop with the smart mouth before i find another contender for a mrs itoshi.”

you and sae had been staring at each other through the screen up until that point, when sae realised what he just said and has to look away.

“you… think i could be?”

neither you nor sae have ever broached another about the future, and sae has always been generally avoidant about it, which is why it makes you even more surprised that he’s the one who slipped up about it.

after a moment of silence, he sighs, trying to suppress a smile. it tugs at the edges of his lips, not really there but you can feel it.

“you know that one day you’ll be mrs itoshi, right?”

you don’t know that, he doesn’t know that, not until the day has come. but yeah, you really, really want to be.

OCTOBER 2022; [ sae’s birthday ]

“happy birthday, mr. itoshi,” you greet when he picks up the phone.

things had been rocky lately, admittedly. only because you and sae lived worlds apart.

sae is famous now, in both japan and europe, and it’s no surprise because he’s one of the best midfielders anyone has ever seen. his life is now full of the glitz and glam that you’re not even close to familiar with.

and you; you’re just a simple girl living in tokyo, with a normal life and normal friends and normal everything. except for the fact that sometimes people stalk you online because based on theories, you’re his girlfriend.

he was advised against confirming your identity with the press. for a myriad of reasons, apparently. and you’re fine with it, because yeah, you’re aware there are games to be played when you have his status. and it was fine with you, except for times when it’s not.

like how at his previous PR event he had to appear like he was dating some other celebrity. which was fine, but you’d be lying if you said it didn’t suck having to see your boyfriend appear intimate with someone else. even worse when you hear said someone else mention in multiple interviews that she’s always had a huge crush on him.

“thanks, though it kinda sucks today.”

but it’s fine; you’ve been with him long enough to know that sae isn’t the type to hurt you like that. so even if it’s rocky, it doesn’t stop you from loving him.

“why? i thought the guys were bringing you out drinking tonight.”

sae sighs. “that’s exactly why.”

you smile, thinking how sae is still the same sae you’ve always known. “you’ve been playing with them for more than a year now, i think one night out wouldn’t kill you, babe.”

“but they’re freaks.” and sae says that because they’re rowdy, noisy guys and he doesn’t even want to imagine them drunk.

“we both know they’re going to bother you to no end if you don’t go,” you point out, and sae relents. “and if you need an escape when you’re too tired, you could just use my name.”

you break into a grin because you know for a fact that sae uses you as an excuse to his publicist sometimes to not attend events.

“yeah, maybe i’ll tell ‘em the missus is angry,” he jokes, and you find yourself wishing you could hug him right now.

“have fun tonight, okay?” a little hesitance comes to you before you ultimately open your mouth, “i love you.”

sae chuckles, and he can’t even describe the relief that comes to him each time he hears you say those words.

“i love you too.”

DECEMBER 2022; [ the day you break ]

you don’t pick up his call.

when you saw the picture earlier, it’s like you’ve gone numb. and now everyone in the world will see the picture too. but you don’t really care. the images the paparazzi capture will die down after a while. the rumours will take longer.

right now you’re not even sure if your relationship is dead.

but you love him. you still do. and he’s still calling for what seems like the ninetieth time tonight.

this time you pick up.

“what?”

sae flinches on the other line because he’s not used to this coldness. “can i at least explain?”

you sniffle, gritting your teeth to stop your crying. “sure, why don’t you explain why i had to find out from the fucking news that you kissed someone else on your birthday?”

it’s that girl. the same celebrity you’ve seen ogling him and gushing over him and the one who has PR relations with him.

“i promise, she means nothing,” and you can hear the panic in sae’s voice. he sounds apologetic and manic and scared. “look, i-i was drunk, and she kissed me, and i pushed her off right after—”

“then why didn’t you tell me?” you yell back. because you’re sure that’s what happened. you believe him. but it wasn’t the fact that some other girl was so desperate for him that she’d do that, it was the fact that sae kept it from you.

sae can’t answer. he knows it, but he’s struggling to find the words. “i-i didn’t want you to misunderstand,” is all he can manage.

you pause for a while because you’re crying again, and sae can sense it even if you’re silent. he loves you and he’s killing himself for his stupid decisions.

“sae,” you call him, softly. “is that how much you know me?” because after all this time, you’d think he’d know better. you trusted him. a hundred percent. now? you’re not sure.

“please, y/n, i’m sorry, please just- forgive me?” and sae’s not sure how to do this. sae’s never had anyone he cared about this much other than you. you’re the only one and you forever will be. and he’s stupid and clueless outside of soccer but he’s always had you to hold his hand through this, yet now you feel further away from him than ever.

you’re quiet and he’s not sure what to expect. you’re just sniffling on the other side, not saying anything, and for the first time in his life, sae is afraid.

“babe, i—”

“don’t say it, sae,” you sigh, because you don’t want to think that he’s saying it just to appease you.

sae obeys, because he’s scared that just a little nudge would push you right off the edge. “i’m gonna fix this, okay? i’ll tell everyone that—”

“it’s fine,” you interject, your mind in shambles. you’re tired, and you really don’t know what to do about this when it’s so fresh in your heart. “i need to think things through anyway.”

“no- y/n, please, i—”

and for the first time ever, you’re the one who hangs up abruptly. then you turn off your phone because you know sae’s not going to stop but you really just don’t want to to feel bad about not picking up.

you still love him, but you’re just heartbroken right now.

sae stares at his phone after you hang up. he can hear his heart beating out of his chest and his breathing gets shallow. he tries to call you again but it’s not even ringing.

there’s only one thing he knows: he fucked up.

a stupid, stupid mistake which was grave enough to make you doubt everything and you’re right. this was on him for not opening his stupid mouth and just trusting that you’d understand.

for the first time ever, he heard what you sounded like when you’re hurt and he can’t forgive himself. not if he doesn’t do anything about it.

he gives up on trying to call you and pulls up his club’s coach’s contact instead. “sub someone else in for me tomorrow, i won’t be there.”

“what? what are you talking about? we can’t play without our star midfielder! it’s a big match against our home rivals—”

but everything he’s lecturing sae about falls on deaf ears because sae’s already packing his duffel bag and searching for his passport. he doesn’t even bother acknowledging anything before he hangs up, dialing his assistant’s number instead.

“i need to fly back to tokyo. immediately.”

his assistant’s distraught voice is apparent. “wha- um, you have a game tomorrow—”

“i don’t care. i need to fly now. get me a flight or you’re fired.”

“uh, but- um, the private jet’s not available—”

“then get me tickets on a commercial flight. i don’t fucking care about what kind of plane it is.”

yeah, because he only cares about fixing things with you. no one and nothing else, just you.

his assistant sighs because he knows he’s going to get in trouble for aiding sae. “fine, i’ll send you the details soon.”

JANUARY 2023; [ the present ]

it goes straight to voicemail. you still talk.

“you know, i hate you so much for not having a voicemail recording.”

you pause, the tears streaming down your face. you’re staring at your phone, at his instagram, at his last post. something he posted before his flight.

a picture of the both of you in private, in your room. he’s sitting behind you on the bed, his arms around your neck as he kisses your head and you take the picture.

it’s funny because he was forbidden from sharing any sort of those pictures yet he still did it anyway. you stare at the caption.

i love only you

“itoshi sae, how am i going to hear your voice now, huh?”

you’re already full-on crying now, as you have been for the last month.

“itoshi sae! talk to me, answer me!” you’re screaming but no one will ever hear you.

how can sae hear you? you’re unreasonable for expecting that.

“tell me how to reach you,” you wail into the receiver.

you’re painfully aware of what you’re getting now.

“i love you, mr. itoshi.”

there’s no one on the other line who’ll chuckle now. you can’t hear the same fondness in his voice when he says he loves you too. you can’t ever hear him joking with you again.

no more sighs, no more video calls, no more love. no more you know one day you’ll be mrs. itoshi, right?

you hang up and look at the note in your hand; something sae’s assistant passed to you on the day of his funeral.

a few weeks ago, sae asked me to get this for him. i know he wanted you to have this. before he left for tokyo, he told me to get this done for you at all costs. it was only ready a day after he left. i thought you might still like to have this. i’m sorry you have to go through this.

the gold velvet box sits heavy in your hand. it’s all of sae’s commitment to you, feelings for you—it’s all of his resolution in one tiny package and it’s heavy.

you open it, same as the countless times before.

it’s still beautiful. it’s shiny and four carats and princess cut because you were always his princess. inside the band, he has mrs itoshi engraved.

you know one day you’ll be mrs. itoshi, right?

you bring up his messages and play the last audio he sent to you.

“look, i know i fucked up and it was stupid of me to keep it from you. i’m sorry, okay? and i know you don’t want to speak to me right now but i can’t just sit around and do nothing. i love you, so i’m coming back home, and we’ll talk, and then… i promise you, nothing like this will happen again.”

you remember your last words to him and can’t help but to hate yourself. you should’ve told him one last time before you lost your chance.

if you’d just stayed on the line, he wouldn’t have come back. if he didn’t come back, he wouldn’t have gotten into that cab. if he didn’t get into that cab, he wouldn’t have been in that fatal accident in shibuya.

staring at the ring, calling his number, getting no response, visiting his plot and running into rin. and repeat. that’s all life is now.

sometimes you wear the ring to pretend he’s still here. to pretend he’s already proposed and you’re waiting for him to come back from spain.

you’re probably at voicemail #314 now.

mrs itoshi stares at you until you’re crying all over again.

you’ll never hear his voice again. never hear his laugh. never get to hug him, or pick fights with him. you’ll never get to feel his broad shoulders or his strong arms around your body. you won’t get to go home ever again.

you’ll never be mrs itoshi now.

[catwrites9]

I saw you wanted request. You can choose either Tara or Sam. T or S break up with Reader to protect them during the Ghostface attacks but then they realize it was a mistake and not helping so they try to get R back

It’s A Bad Idea, Right?

Tara Carpenter x Fem!Reader

Warning: Violence, cussing, not proof read, change of pov, a bit of angst but a happy ending, idk what else

W/N: IM BACK GUYS, I’m rn just finishing my old asks and then I’m going to work on new things and get back into writing I’m happy to be back.

Masterlist

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It starts off like any other day, you go to your classes, see your friends but something’s off. Tara’s acting weird the whole time, even when you try to ask her how she is or what’s wrong she just says she’s fine…. It’s now night time in New York and a perfect Thursday night for the weekly horror night. You get dressed and start heading to the apartment. But the whole time you feel like your being watched. The dread fill your stomach like it always use to. Your mom then calls you, this can’t be good.

Tara’s pov

“I just can’t let her be in danger because of me” I said to the group. Ghostface is back and I can’t let just let my girlfriend get hurt because of it.

“Tara this has to be the stupidest idea you’ve ever came up with, she’s been nothing but the best girlfriend to you and I mean she was able to protect herself against the random frat guy I mean come on be a big girl and just tell her what’s happening and give her the choice to leave”Mindy said annoyingly while trying to find a movie

“I just think it’s the best option so that she stays as far away from me” This has to be the best choice right.

“For once I think I’ll have to agree with Mindy even though I was skeptical of your girlfriend at first it’s just going to put her more in risk by leaving her alone” Sam said

“Then what after, after you break her heart you’ll just beat ghost face and go back to her like nothing” I stayed silent at Mindy’s words.

There’s a knock at the door….

Your pov

I knocked and waited for a response as Chad opened it hugging you but as you entered the apartment the air was tense. Something is wrong.

“Hey guys, what movie are we watching?” You said trying to lighten the mood.

“Hey, can I talk to you really quickly?” Tara said, her body language was off.

“Yeah” You walked towards her room with her.

She shut the door”We need to break up”

“What”

“We have to break up, I'm sorry”We both start tearing up.

“What do you mean Tara, why”

“We have to break up it’s for our own good”

“What did I do Tara, what, why why are you doing this”

“IT JUST FOR OUR OWN GOOD”She yelled at you everything getting silent the chatter in the living room stoping.”DAMN IT LISTEN IT'S FOR OUR OWN GOOD”

“why..” I said almost as a whisper, she thought for a moment while crying.

“BECAUSE I DONT LOVE YOU” she yelled. The shock of the moment as even the cars outside went silent. You broke down into tears as you rush out the house everyone having a sympathetic look as Mindy, Sam, and Anika all had the saddest looks and Chad started heading towards Tara’s room.

Tara’s pov

I stayed in my room. why did I say that. I do love her, what’s wrong with me. Chad entered to comfort me but I wasn’t having any of it. I entered the living room just wanting to find my Keyes to leave the house.

“Your not leaving Tara” Sam said while holding up my keys.

“Wtf Tara” Anika said looking back at me from the kitchen table.

“What come on guys I did my plan she’ll be save now and she can’t be hurt by me anymore.”

“Tara that was the stupidest idea even you know you’ll never have her back ever again” Anika yelled getting up from the couch.

“Tara” “Not now Sam” “No you know what I’m done with this gentle parenting thing what the fuck where you thinking I mean she was the best thing for you and even you you break it off now she’s still has a chance of getting chased by ghost face because she was already seen with you Tara”

“No…. She’ll go back home probably to see her mom”

“How do you know that Tara” Sam made the best point how do I know that ghostface will just not follow her.

“It’s a bad idea,right? Right Tara I mean she’s now alone and vonerable to ghost face” I stayed silent as everyone left.

Your pov

You couldn’t understand what you did wrong. She didn’t love me?? You went into your bed and cried. The outfit you wore to her house still on you with the memories with what happend that night forever reambered with what was suppose to be a normal movie night. You cried for what felt like house until your phone rang with a no caller id. fuck… You ansered it know who was going to be on the other line.

“Would you like to play a game it’s called Sam or Tara” The voice you dreaded the most Ghostface. You imideatly got up and ran through your door, knowing you only lived just a block from Tara.

“What do you want from me”

“To Pick Sam or Tara”

“What if I don’t”

“Then they both die, a lose lose. Come on this should be easy for your ex or Sam, such a near and dear friend of yours that knows your secret.” Your heart dropped. How does ghost face know that? You heard cry’s of them both.

“What if I give up Myself”

“It doesn't work like that”

“Think of it you leave Sam and Tara and you get me and that will then lead some people into New York and they’ll fall into your trap”

“Tempting but no” you climbed up the stairs to their house running to their door which is open.

“You have 5 seconds”

5

4

3

2

1

“Times up”

Ghostface stabs Sam, while not realizing you hung up the phone they go for a stab to Tara as you tackled Ghostface. Being able to stun them and you got up and flipped the table on them. You grabbed a pocket knife from Sam and cut her hands and you go for Tara but being tacked back from Ghostface. Sam tries to uncut Tara’s hands and Ghostface punches you multiple times each blow making you more light headed. You grab a book from beside you as you smash it against their head making almost a gunshot like noise. You got up holding your head as your hearing slowly came back. You see the sisters yelling and pointing. At that moment you felt a knife through your shoulder as you looked to your left and saw the ghost face getting up. There’s two of them great.

The second Ghostface digs the knife into you, twisting it. The sharp pain subsides as the adrenaline takes over your body seeing the first ghost face going towards the sisters. You elbow the Ghostface behind you in the ribs as they hunch down in pain as you push all your strength into hitting their head on the wall next to you, knocking them out. You shoulder check the other one over the couch as the sisters help you push it over them. You run out the apartment together as you all run down the stairs into the cops.

Now in the hospital you and Sam are right next to each other, Sam being in worse condition than you, as Tara is sitting on the chair in front of you as the group is outside due to only family being able to come in.

“I’m sorry” it was all Tara said as you looked confused.”I do love you I mean fuck I love you with all my heart I’m so sorry for what I said I was just trying to protect you from this whole situation”

“Tara it’s ok I get it, I’ve done it before, I just wish you told me why so I could have explained everything I already know what was happening.”

“What do you mean” before you could get a word of my mom walks in Sydney Prescott though she isn’t your real mom she stepped in after both your parents were killed from ghost face.

“Mom, you shouldn’t be here Ghostface can get you” You said said while hugging her

“Your moms Sydney Prescott” Tara said while drawing your attention back to her.

“Yes Tara, this is why I wish you would have told me no matter what I would have been included, especially with my mom, and that’s the secret ghost face we were talking about. And yeah Sam already knew because of that whole interrogation she did to me when we first were dating.”

As time passed Sam went in to undergo surgery as it’s only you and Tara left as your mom went to stay with Sam.

“I’m so sorry I should have told you”

“It’s fine Tara really and I mean if your ok with it we can get back together, really I understand what you were thinking I’ve thought the same”

“Really”

“Yes, will you Tara carpenter be my girlfriend”

“Of course” you kissed as if nothing ever happened.

“Does this mean that we have to change our anniversary”

“I don’t know hopefully no I can’t remember dates well”

“Tara, shut up” you said while kissing her again.

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A/N Hope fully you guys liked this give me any feed back and also I’m open to requests from people from my masterlist.