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loveau · 7 months

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Case Closed: Chapter One | Sehun

Genre: slow-burn romance, angst, mystery/crime

Summary: As the only person willing to take on this wild goose chase of a 10-month ongoing missing persons case, you have your head in your hands trying to figure out why 20 girls and counting have suddenly disappeared. You can't give up now that another girl has just joined that number. Good thing that your persistent crime reporter friend Oh Sehun won't let you quit either.

Word Count: 6.4k

T/W: minor violence, kidnapping, crime, uhhh not edited i'm sorry

A/N: I'M SOOOOO SORRY!!!!!! I've been on hiatus for 3 years LOLOLOLOL then i found this in my vault since may 4th, 2020 and i felt so bad that i wrote literally 3.5k words to finish this first chapter so i can just get it out. i have the whole thing fleshed out.......... i'm so sorry 🙈 also i don't really use this blog anymore but i figured i will just to get out everything again HAHAHA i do not expect this to get any traction at all but if you enjoy it then 🥺❤️

It started like any other day, which was a real cliché to put it. You walk into the station with your usual heavy eyelids and even heavier shoulders. Sleep was something you’d given up when you first started working as a detective, but the word was definitely out of your dictionary when you picked up the case. Most of your colleagues wouldn’t pick up the case. Mainly because they knew you’d be the first one to take it. However, after ten months you still haven’t found any new leads. Six months of chasing after ghosts and you always returned emptyhanded.

This morning, you had something into your hands. Flung into them, rather. A coffee and a file, courtesy of Jongin. Normally there’d be a smile gracing his face and a joke soon to follow to lighten up your mood. Instead there was a frown as he motioned down at the file in your hands.

“That’s number 21.”

You’re grim and you know it’s very apparent. How could you not be with the numbers stacked this high? You mumble a thanks and allow Jongin to linger a bit. He wants to say something, and you know it, but you also know he’s conflicted about whether or not he should continue bothering you.

“Jongin, I’m not dropping the case.”

He purses his lips and takes a tactical sip of his own coffee. After a moment to find the right words he sighs. “I know. I wouldn’t dream of trying to rip you away from that.”

A dry chuckle leaves you and you shake your head almost dotingly at your junior. “Of course.” You point a pen towards the office everyone knew too well after getting chewed out at least thrice. “But that doesn’t mean she won’t. She’s been on my ass for a while.” You’ve joked with your peers about the Boa Constrictor keeping you in her hold until you concede, but you’d never been on the receiving end of it until now. Except you definitely weren’t about to let go of this case.

There’s a moment of silence while he tries to come up with something else to say and you busy yourself with the new file. You curse when you look at the girl’s photo and information. “She’s only 15.” Jongin hums and scans over the information with you. He takes her photo out from beneath the paperclip and holds it up to the board where there were faces of 20 other girls on them.

“She doesn’t look like any of the others.”

“Not at all. She’s got some similar features to some, but… there isn’t a type.”

“If they even are getting kidnapped.” You scoff at that before taking the photo and thumbtacking it to the board. “Not that I’m saying you’re on a wild goose chase or anything, but…” He takes another sip of his coffee. You know the mug is empty. “21 girls who don’t have any connection to each other besides living in the same city… It’s really difficult to determine if they’re all being kidnapped or just-”

“Runaways, I know.”

“Look, they’re all around the ages too. Teen angst, wanting to start fresh in another city, eloping with a secret lover.” He sighs wistfully and moves to take another sip until he remembers his empty cup. “21 girls. No relation. Some of them did sports, but it’s a range. Some of them are in the same school district, but they have different schedules. Two of them lived in the same neighborhood, but that’s in a whole block of apartments.”

Your eyes linger at the girl’s face a couple seconds longer. You’ve heard it too many times by all the others to know that Jongin is implying they could be all coincidences. People runaway all the time, it’s true. You’ve definitely closed those sorts of cases and convinced a couple of them to work it out and return home. You just wish you had some concrete proof that this was different.

Jongin turns away, about to leave and continue his own work after getting more coffee. “I’ll get out of your hair now, but I’m just worried about you. You’re losing a lot of sleep for someone who looks like they’re chasing their own tail. Take care of yourself.” He’s off before you can bark a word at him, and you roll your eyes to yourself.

You take a sip of the coffee he’d given to you moments prior, but it had gotten cold since then. It was still a bit of a kickstart to your day anyhow. You had the cases of 21 missing girls all over the city resting on your shoulders. It was a miracle you got any sleep at all. You tried your hand at anything. Possible gang relations or involvements or some group or organization, and yet you found no link. Like you said earlier, there didn’t seem to be a type that was targeted as the girls were mainly different appearance wise. You’d even thought to consider some underground sex ring, but the information you’ve collected about some of them didn’t fit the bill.

There were a couple girls who were taken in their own homes. They had been the ones living alone, except one who was taken while her three roommates were all home. They had chalked it up to her not feeling well and when they decided to check up on her, she was gone. It just didn’t sit right with you that they had done everything according to their routine and yet they supposedly just ran away. Most didn’t seem to have any motive at all to do so according to their friends and family. Even though you knew everybody’s got secrets and skeletons to hide you knew that was the truth. It was a gut feeling, but it wasn’t enough.

A buzzing noise came from your pocket and you whip your phone out to see what notification it was this time. A random message from one of your friends on social media popped up. You wanted to swipe it away, but you decided against it and opened it up. It was a friend from college who had found some old photo of the two of you at some party, dressed up with a lot of skin showing but even more teeth on display. Back then the lack of sleep you had was because of the constant studying and partying, or rather taking some free booze and dipping when you got bored. It was still fun to socialize and watch everyone stumble dumbly, though. You responded back quickly by telling her to forward it to you. Before you pocketed your phone, you retyped your passcode to unlock the phone again and went into your contacts. Thinking about college reminded you of somebody.

The moment you stepped out you heard a familiar “Hello?”

“Hi, Mrs. Kim. Just checking in like I always do.” You could almost hear the smile in the woman’s face. Tension immediately left your shoulders the moment you heard her coo your name softly. It was like it was never there at all.

“I haven’t heard from you in a while. I was just beginning to think you’d never call.” She laughs easily at her tease. She knew you would call. You always did. “I was just thinking about you actually. I heard there was another one…”

A sigh leaves your lips and you pinch the bridge of your nose before you answer. “Yeah, it’s been a rough couple of months hasn’t it?” She hums in response and you can hear her shuffling papers around, most likely sorting through the mail you know she never opens and gets to once a month at least. She pauses and you can hear her set the large pile down.

“Of course. Five months without my baby? She’s supposed to be starting school in a couple months. She was so excited when she got accepted. They have the best music program in the state, you know.” You knew all too well that her daughter was to be going to school at the best music school in the state. You listened to some of her recordings before after her mother had shown you. You like to think that it was just because of a mother’s pride, but you think it was to hear her daughter’s voice again as she talks through the piece and giggles at a small slip up in one of them.

It almost pained you that you couldn’t find her with what you had now. You were still as clueless as you were when she had gone missing five months ago.

“I’ll find her soon. I know I will. The next time you won’t get to see her is when you have to move her into the dorms. I promise you.” It was an unsure promise, to convince the both of you that you’d get it done. And soon. The shift from a lighthearted conversation had gotten grim fast. Those conversations had typically over the lunches you had with Mrs. Kim. She was the first case of this bunch and also the most optimistic of the friends and family. You felt that you had to keep her updated and in turn she continued to put her trust in you.

“I know. She’s counting on you; I just know it. She knows you’ll get it done somehow.” The words strike you in your core. That’s right, there’s a lot of people counting on you right now. One more family just got added to the list this morning. You try not to think about the handful of others that decided to have you stop looking after they’ve given up that their daughters would come back. It pained you to have them retract their hope enough to have you close their cases, but you wouldn’t stop even if they asked you. You didn’t want to have to leave them in the dark while their daughters were missing. Lord knows you were considering a murderer, but no bodies had turned up to your relief. You just hoped you didn’t have to continue praying for it not to happen.

The call ended quickly, and you spent the next couple of hours going over your information and collecting information from the family of the newest missing girl. She was hanging out with friends when she was all of a sudden separated from the group at the mall. It was a busy place, but camera footage and eyewitnesses last saw her roaming in a store before her trail goes cold. This was frustrating. Rumors had spread about the girl going missing already, but since she was a teen most people assumed that she just ran away. She was pretty social according to her friends, and they just chalked it up to her personality and hanging with the wrong crowd. You decided to ponder over it on your lunch break, calling up your regular lunch partner to meet you at some café a couple blocks away.

Sehun doesn’t have to wave you over for you to sit down at the table you know he’s already at. It’s almost a ritual, to eat at this café every other week and sitting at the same table, nonetheless. He smiles warmly at you and pushes a plate towards you. “I already ordered for you. And don’t worry, I paid for it as a thank you for last time.” You mumble your thanks with a mouthful of food, briefly remembering the time you covered for his ride home after one drink too many.

“You’re godsent, you know that?” His smile turns into a smirk at that and you roll your eyes when you see you’ve stoked his ego. “Before you say ‘I know’, take out that notepad.” His smirk drops and a look of concentration comes onto his face.

“You know, sometimes I like to think you keep eating lunch with me because you like me or that we’re friends or something. But I also tend to think you only keep me around for my work.” He’s teasing you again and you tap the top of his notepad.

“You’re very much aware how much I like having you around. And I’m very much aware about how much you love to collect the information. Sometimes I think you only come back to hang out with me is because I’m not as tightlipped as some of my peers and give you things you can actually report on.” Sehun chuckles at that and the crinkle around his eye is back with that childlike glimmer in the eyes. He looks a lot more at ease than his funky smirk and that impish gleam instead.

He uncaps his pen with his mouth, his other hand busy flipping to a brand-new page and holding a worn notepad with too many torn papers taken from it. He keeps the cap in his mouth and hums for you to signal he’s ready.

“She’s 15.” His eyebrows furrow and a lisped curse slips out of him as he jots it down. He shakes his head sadly at that. “Last seen at the mall with her friends. Eyewitnesses say that she was roaming one of the stores alone before she disappeared. Camera footage doesn’t pick her up leaving the mall, but it’s been picked clean.”

“Has her friends or family said anything about behavior? Being more secretive or distant lately?” Sehun’s habit of keeping the pen cap in his mouth makes his words very mumbled and hard to understand. However, being around him and working with him so often has gotten you used to his silly sounded sentences. You still reach over to pluck it from his lips and snicker that his playfully annoyed glare.

“You don’t think I’ve asked? No, parents and friends claim that nothing was up. They let me in her room and let me search to find any hidden notes. Even let me look through her diary and it was just about some kid drama at school. Seemed ordinary to me, nothing that made me have to investigate this drama. She’s not a part of it anyways, just commenting about how it’s the talk of the halls and dumb.”

Sehun taps the pen against his cheek while your fingers are fiddling with the cap. He’s obviously not to report your words verbatim as it’s not really relevant, but he does appreciate how you share your findings with him. He appreciates your trust in him that he doesn’t skew the details or add too much personal information about these people. He appreciates how you let your thoughts wander with him. You tend to loosely think around him, bouncing ideas off of him every so often or word vomiting to better understand things as you try to explain.

You’d finished with your food while Sehun continues writing and jotting down notes, most likely questions or other tidbits not too concerning for you. Whenever he asks a question he needs for the article you respond and then nudge his plate so that he eats. It goes on like this a couple moments longer until he’s out of food and questions. He finishes jotting down whatever else he wants to and sticks the tip of his pen out to you. You, used to this procedure, cap his pen and look back up into his satisfied eyes. You scoff at his smug look and avoid his gaze as he rests his chin in his hand. He continues to stare at you while you pick at any crumbs you find interesting.

“Got everything you need?”

“How about we get some dessert?” You almost object and tell him you should be back by now until he starts collecting his things and getting out of his seat. “And don’t worry. I’ll pay. You just have to pay me back next time.” You sink lower into your seat in defeat and groan, rubbing your hands over your face. He laughs a little and stands behind your seat, grabbing your shoulders and shaking you lightly. “Come on, Sugar. You’re gonna need some sugar to keep functioning the rest of the day.”

“You and your dumb nicknames are going to kill me before the stress from this case will.” He stops shaking you and gives you a fond squeeze of your shoulders.

“Let’s go before you die on me then.” You turn in your seat to watch him head towards the door before deciding to follow suit and grunting when you do get up. There’s a mini pep in his step and you’re guessing that’s because Sehun has another excuse to visit that favorite bakery of his that a friend of his works at. You couldn’t blame him. There were some doughnuts and cupcakes that were to die for.

As you passed by, you saw some missing persons posters hung up in some alley walls or taped to some lampposts. You’re guessing that’s how Mrs. Kim got news of the missing girl before you caught up with her. Sehun notices your gaze following the long trail of posters, most likely hung up by the gang of girls that were last with their friend. “Is that her?” The both of you come to a stop in front of a small cluster of the posters. He takes on down and holds it out in front of the both of you. You nod and Sehun folds the paper into fours and pockets it for later. “That saves me having to dig around to put that in the paper.”

He tries to keep the mood up as he hums a tune, swinging his arms around and looking around at the people walking the streets. It does little to help, but you do appreciate the thought as he glances at you every now and then to check in. He’s switched songs so many times since he opts for a different, better tune to keep him occupied. You’re trying to decipher his fifth song switch when you finally make it to the bakery.

“Kyungsoo!” Sehun sings into the shop as the door chimes noisily. Luckily, Kyungsoo isn’t tending to any customers at the moment. He pops his head out from behind the counter with a blank face and his lips drawn into a straight line. However he may look, there’s a happy sparkle in his eye at the sight of you two.

“What do you want now?” He asks sarcastically but readies himself anyways.

“I want something with chocolate.” Sehun says as he scans the overhead menu even though he knows exactly what he wants. “Please.” He doesn’t forget to add with a warm smile, which Kyungsoo returns in kind. They both turn to you expectantly and you sputter, not having anything in mind just yet.

“O-Oh! I’ll, uh… I’ll have…” You pause and bite your lips. Suddenly, you’re overwhelmed by all the choices even though you’ve been here before.

“How about some donut holes? And if you don’t like it, you can always have some of mine,” Sehun offers as he turns that warm smile to you.

“What, trying to stick with that cops eat donuts type of thing?” You joke but are grateful at the distraction from you bumbling about. Kyungsoo lets out an amused huff and prepares something for you both of you, making sure to toss in a couple extra pieces in the bag for you. You give him a silent thanks as you nod and take the bag from him as Sehun whips out his wallet in a practiced manner.

The first bite of the donut hole is full of cinnamon and a little honey. Kyungsoo’s been experimenting and you hum at the taste as you squeeze the half-bitten donut hole. As Sehun’s card is ringing up he turns to you with an eyebrow as he wordlessly asks how it tastes. Instead, you offer him the rest of your bite while you chew, and he instantly opens up his mouth to eat the rest. It’s almost like you’ve done this a million times in your life and a million more in your past lives together; you’ve known each other for that long, you think. The motion is easy and simple as he hums and turns back to collect his card and compliments Kyungsoo’s creation with his mouth full.

“It’s good. I like the new flavors, it’s better than just the boring sugar on it.” The words are muffled and both you and Kyungsoo give him a judgmental look as he wipes some of the cinnamon off the corner of his lips.

“… Thank you. I’ve been slowly trying to add more to the menu where I can,” Kyungsoo notes, and you look up again at the menu to see he’s added another couple options beside his regular few in his neat handwriting. He smiles at you again when you look back down. “Keep up the good work. Don’t push yourself, okay?”

You promise him and Sehun gently nudges you to turn and leave so he has a better exit path. It’s not like he couldn’t have gone around you, but it seems he opted to just turn and go. And with his broad shoulders, it seemed you were in his path. You nudge him back as you exit the bakery with your treats in hand.

“What are you doing tonight?” Sehun asks with his mouth full again, this time from a bite of his chocolatey pastry. Crumbs fly in the air and the snort as they do so, but your friend knows no shame and continues to look at you expectantly.

You roll your eyes with a smile. “Probably looking over the case again… and waaay more paperwork than I’m happy with.”

He hums at that as he continues to walk you back to the station. You feel like he’s about to ask you something else, but you’re cut off by your phone ringing and his own buzzing with a couple messages.

“Breaks over.” He comments with a sigh as he scrolls through the messages and tries to type back with the same hand that grips his phone.

“It is.”

The both of you look at each other and trade another bite of each other’s treats. You took a bite of his mainly since you wanted something sweet, and he had his own bite since you felt like you had to repay him for it. He gives you a wave as he, thankfully, doesn’t shout with his mouth full of donut as he heads off to his office building. While you head back, you manage to catch the phone call on its last couple of rings before it could go to voicemail.

“Hello?”

“It’s Boa. You have a couple more files on your desk regarding the girls,” she says with a tired sigh. You know the chief thinks this is wasting time and resources, but you also know she wants to give these girls justice. “Some more schedules of their routines, some stuff they had upcoming, and some chat histories. There’s also someone waiting at the station to talk to you, a friend of the most recent one.”

“I’m on my way.”

“Good,” she states and hangs up the call. You huff and make your way back to the station with a quickened pace. You wonder what this friend has to say since you’ve interviewed the family and teachers recently. Your mind is still reeling with possibilities when you make it back and find a familiar face at your desk.

“Yena, what can I do for you?” You ask kindly as you take a seat by the high school girl. She has a puffiness around her eyes that indicate she hasn’t been able to get a lot of sleep and has probably been crying a lot. You offer her some of your donut holes and she politely declines by holding a hand up before thinking of the right words to say.

Yena was the same age as her missing friend, 15 with a short bob and still wearing her school uniform. You’re wondering if she skipped school to come here, and she confirms your suspicions as she wrings her hands. “I just give you these. I found these in Chae’s locker, it’s some of her notebooks and some flyers. These events are all in the past, but one of them is her dream journal. We both keep one to achieve our dreams, except she doesn’t share hers because she thinks that the dream won’t come true then.”

You take the stack of papers and notebooks from her, eyeing the one she was referring to. It can’t be mistaken with the doodling, stickers, glitter, and large words that say ‘DREAM JOURNAL!’ right on the front.

“Thank you, Yena.” You say kindly, knowing that you’ll have even more to sort through and probably come out empty handed with, but every little bit helps. If you could be armed with even that much of a toothpick, you’d count it as a win.

“I just want my best friend to come back. That’s all I’ve been writing about in mine! I want her to come home.” Her eyes water and you push a box of tissues to her. She takes a shaky breath and dabs at her eyes gently and you realize that her eyes are redder than you thought. She dabs to prevent further irritating her eyes that have been covered in makeup to hide just how bad she’s been taking it.

“I promise, you won’t need a journal to make that come true, okay?” You say gently and comfort the poor girl. It’s another 15 minutes before she gets up and leaves, going back to school she promises.

You sigh as you look at the stack of notebooks she gave you. It was all her school notebooks besides her dream journal, which you knew wouldn’t be much of a look through unless you wanted to relieve your high school days and quiz yourself on whatever the kids were learning these days.

“You know, you shouldn’t be promising things like that.”

“Jongin, that girl was crying.”

“And you don’t think she won’t be if you can’t deliver that promise?”

You clench your hands into fists, narrowing your eyes on the word that seems to be mocking you right now. Because it might be true, you can only ‘DREAM!’ that this will all come to a happy end. Jongin sighs and pats your back.

“I’ll help you get through like 3 of those. Make sure it’s all just random notes so you know if they have anything that’s not about some ancient literature piece, okay?” He asks gently and you take a deep breath.

“Okay,” you say quietly and start sorting through the flyers first.

A lot of them are of school events, cram school, auditions for some of the modeling or singing agencies, and one was even a poster of an actor you recognized from a popular drama currently. You chuckled as you saw the sticky note still attached to it that indicated Chae’s wishes to marry a guy like him. A couple more hours pass in between you checking the notebooks, painstakingly flipping through and reading every page just to make sure, and having to deal with other logistical tasks around the office.

Like promised, Jongin eventually makes it through the notebooks and puts them all on your desk with a sad shake of his head. “Math, English, and Composition. All notes, most of it is textbook and following what they did in class. Anything else was practice problems or doodles. These are no good.”

You groan and hang your head. “I’ve just barely gotten through her other two notebooks. A music one from a piano unit and one she kept solely for cram school. The flyers are all past events or just random ones that I think were trash and she never got to throw away.” You look pointedly at the crumpled up flyer that was from her school’s ‘Fish Club’… whatever that’s about. “Had to get through all the other files from the girls too… nothing new. I saved that dream journal for last.”

“Why, so you can honor making sure her dreams come true?” Jongin asks with a smile, lifting your spirits some.

“Yeah…” You trail off absently. You aren’t sure if maybe you were truly keeping up Yena and Chae’s superstition about their dream journals or if you were hoping that the last thing you got to would prove you some substantial evidence. Maybe you should’ve gotten to that first if so. But then you would’ve needed to spend extra time on it. Ugh! Another sigh makes it way out of you and Jongin frowns now.

“Save that for tomorrow. How about you come out with some of us for some drinks tonight? Get that tension off you.” Jongin gives you an expectant look as he sits on your desk. You rub your face and look up at him through your fingers as you slouch in your chair. “And don’t even think about getting to that journal tonight. Your brain is fried, you need a break, you’re burning yourself out.”

You purse your lips at him and groan again, this time throwing your head back over the top of your desk chair and spinning in it a little.

“Fine. But only for a little bit.”

Famous last words. It was not just a little bit. Jongin kept you entertained and kept handing you drinks as you listened to your peers share drunken stories. Even Jongdae came in for a little bit to say hi to everyone and cry a little about his wife and kid, showing everyone pictures. You were sure that he was sober and just living the high of life.

A twinge of jealousy shot through you at him being able to enjoy his life so much right now. You downed your drink and stared at the empty cup grumpily. You felt just like the cup. Maybe you are a cup. Did your legs always feel like that?

“Woah, you doing okay?” Jongin asks as he gets into your space to take a look at you. He was pretty tipsy, but doing way better than you right now. Both in spirits and sobriety.

“Jongiiiiin, I’m like this cup.” He has to jump back a little as you shove your cup in his face. “You see how it’s wet on the outside?”

“From the ice?” He asks with a raised brow.

“I’m all sweaty!” You shout at him, suddenly feeling like the room is a lot hotter.

“No, you’re not.”

“Look! Feel!” You try to grab his hand to bring it up to your forehead and he grimaces. He shakes his head and you try a couple more times before he pins your hand to the table and reaches for his phone. “What are you doing?”

“Getting you home,” he says as he scrolls in his contacts. You try to look at the screen to see who he’s calling, but he brings the phone straight to his ear and turns a skeptical eye on you to make sure you don’t keep trying to bring his hand to probably stick you in the eyes.

You’re too distracted by pouting to care who he’s talking to. And your head hurts. The alcohol is hitting you fast. How much did you have again? Or was it because you drank the rest of your three-fourths of a cup in less than a minute? When was the last time you even drank like this? Since before you took on the first case ten months ago?

“He’s coming in 15,” Jongin says in your ear. You pop your head up from the table. You didn’t even know you had it down on the table in the first place.

“Who?” You ask sluggishly as you try to keep your eyes open. You don’t bother hearing a reply as you quickly make your way to the bathroom. It’s quieter in there, and colder too. You feel better already by giving yourself some space and time to think for yourself. Not really feeling like you need to get everything out just yet, you lean against the wall and take some deep breaths.

Eventually, there’s a knock on the door and a call for your name. It takes a couple more tries before you push yourself off the wall and wash your face.

“Oh, good. I thought I was going to have to pull your head out of a toilet bowl.”

You yell out in shock, water flinging everywhere when you look up to see Sehun in the mirror.

“What are you doing here?” Water drips off your chin and you remember that you were washing your face. You sigh and see if any got on your shirt – a lot did – and look for the paper towels to wipe.

“At the bar or in the bathroom?” He asks. You grunt in response, eyes blocked by the soggy paper you’re using to scrub the water from your eyes. “Jongin told me you had too much and needed to be brought home. And again, I was making sure you didn’t decide to punish yourself and give yourself a swirlie.”

“Why would I do that?” You grumble at him. Your head was a lot clearer thanks to the rest, you probably spent all of Jongin’s promised 15 minutes against that wall. Plus, the water cooling you off made you feel like you could at least walk to a car before passing out.

“He said you looked sad.”

“I’m not sad.”

He gives you a once over. Hair a mess, probably from the wall. Face still red, from scrubbing with that scratchy paper towel, embarrassment, or the alcohol, probably from all three. Clothes wet from you spilling two handfuls of water all over yourself. And the heavy burden of the finding of 21 girls coming crashing back down onto your shoulders.

“Yeah… you look pretty sad to me.”

“Thanks,” you bite a little harsher than you intend to. But, thanks to the one who made you build a tougher skin with a level of sass on his own, Sehun takes it all in stride and smiles. He merely grabs you by the shoulders and leads you out of the bar. Jongin nods and waves you off, keeping your coworkers distracted by the state you’re in so you don’t get teased when you come back the next morning.

Between the time Sehun came and got you and when he arrived, he had already transferred your stuff from your coworker’s car to his. You saw this when he helped you climb in and your bags of notebooks were sitting in the back seat. Sehun buckled you in and shut the door for you. The state of mind you were in currently clearly showed you could do at least that, but Sehun chose not to care and did it for you anyways while you watched him walk around the car to the driver’s seat.

“If you fall asleep, just know that I’m not carrying you inside.”

“So my knight in shining armor does have a flaw for tonight’s rescue.” You sarcastically bat your eyes at him and he chuckles, shaking his head and he starts towards your apartment.

“I meant to add that I’d probably be dragging you up those three flights of stairs. By your feet. Head hitting each step.” Before you can ask why in offense, he grins with a shrug. “You went through all that training, not me. All my muscles go to my ears for listening to you go on and on about cases.”

“I’m the reason why you have a job,” You grumble as you stare at the passing buildings. Sehun keeps that stupid smile on his face and laughs.

“Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

The ride to yours is a lot quicker than usual since at this hour it’s already late hardly any traffic. Again, Sehun is humming some songs and tapping his fingers against the steering wheel. At least this time there’s less of him switching it up since he’s forced to sing along for the whole 3 minutes. He’s still humming as he grabs all your stuff from the back seat and follows you up the stairs to your apartment. You silently curse the fact that the elevator is down for maintenance since you wish you didn’t have to climb that much while drunk. You feel even worse when you realize that Sehun took all of your bags and all of those notebooks, binders, and files are no joke. It’s a wonder that kids can carry all that on their backs plus whatever else you put into the bags.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Sehun asks as you pause on the steps, a little behind you and huffing a little.

“For someone who claimed he doesn’t have the strength training to carry me up the stairs, you sure are doing real fine while walking up two and a half flights of stairs and carrying all those books.” Sehun lets out another huff, shorter than usual that let you know he was working up quite a sweat.

“I work out.” He says plainly and grins at you again, which makes you roll your eyes at the statement and continue forth. He’s been over before, plenty of times. He’s come over to bring food on your sleepless nights when you just can’t sleep or spend so long trying to work on another case.

You finally make it to your apartment and eventually into your room. Sehun had set the bags down by your couch where you already had a bunch of files spread out on the coffee table. He tuts and grabs one of the papers and gives it a quick skim.

While you change into comfortable, cleaner clothes he hums and calls out from your small space. “You really need to learn about work-life balance.” He sets the paper back down and goes about preparing you some essentials for when you wake up in the morning definitely hungover.

“You know why I can’t,” you call back as you collapse onto the bed with a groan. Your body all of a sudden feels so heavy and it’s hard to keep your eyes open. You huff into your pillow as you try to block out the haunting words of all the names of the 21 girls that prevent you from sleeping at night. That prevent you from functioning unless you can figure out a way to bring them all home.

From your couch, Sehun makes himself comfy and sighs. He folds his hands over his stomach and quietly says to himself, “Yeah… I know.”

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moe-broey · 3 months

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*pulls out a crumpled up piece of paper*

My transfemme Fire Emblem Headcanons. Include:

> Rosado, transfemme non-binary, most likely to use neopronouns or multiple sets of pronouns (fae/faer, she/he, never let 'em know your next move)

> Forrest, has been on estrogen for years but still says "I'm a prince" if asked and insists on using he/him pronouns (may be closeted, may be in denial, may do so out of a sense of obligation, may be a case of pronouns being "indicative of but not exclusive to gender identity", may also just have an exceedingly complicated relationship with the gender)

> Loki, a shapeshifter, chooses to look Like That (and she's so based for it)

> Gullveig. Just. Everything Seidr/Heidr/Kvasir and Gullveig have going on. Is so transgender. To me

And on vibes alone

> Triandra

#fire emblem #i just think. more transfemme hcs in the world. peace and love 👍#i'm transmasc so you can take these w a grain of salt lmfao #also. very much. just the selection of charas i'm in deepest for esp feh oc wise.#i don't have a lot of fleshed out thoughts on trans triandra aside from it's just normal actually. sometimes people are just trans.#and also. like. a lot of trans people do not/did not have easy home lives. like it just makes sense to me #which is like i don't want the trans experience to be defined by suffering but also i think that's why you should have MANY dif trans hcs #like i think rosado perfectly captures trans joy and being dedicated to advocacy and social justice #meanwhile i think. forrest is in the trenches. i'm so sorry.#also the transformation of seidr into gullveig fucks w me SO HARD. i am so insane i know #but it really does feel like a trans allegory. being outed before you were ready. before you even fully knew what it meant for yourself.#and having it fuck your entire life. like she is so transgender to me #also i think any shape shifter is trans by default. ESP if they have a 'main form' they typically present as.#loki is a titted up as wide as she is tall scantly clad goth woman. on purpose.#this is. how i feel. speaking my truth. ect ect #rosado #fe forrest #fe loki #gullveig #triandra

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gregoftom · 1 year

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oh they fr had bitchnasty sex after this

#tomgreg #I CANT BREATHE HAHAHAaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa oh wow. ohhhhhhh wow. oh wow. hahahahahaaaaaaaaaa wow.#GREG REALLY SAID: YOU WANNA FUCK ME SO BAD IT MAKES YOU LOOK STUPID.#the way tom goes OHHHhhhh at greg getting bold is Exactly the same tone me and my gf use with each other. just. you know. for reference.#BUT GREG'S LITTLE HEAD GESTURE BEFORE HE SAID PROVE IT LIKE HE REALLY MEANS IT?????? I GOTTA GO #also i'm sorry but they both read so fucking gay to me like so gay. esp greg in this moment. his line for comfry is so like.#it's so. like you just wouldn't do that. i think. if you were straight. I DONT KNOW I JUST FEEL A KINDRED SPIRIT IN HIM I GUESS.#''she seems like a nice.... person'' GIRL WHAT KIND OF ANSWER IS THAT AND THE PAUSE BEFORE PERSON I KNOW WHAT YOU ARE.#i know what you both are.#like. fuck what else can i say about this scene. they're insane i guess????#oh btw i know for a fact tom thinks greg is the most beautiful weird ass creature he's ever seen #like you know a sea creature that's kinda weird that you'd find at the bottom of the ocean that you see in an aquarium #and you're like wow!! that's odd! but.... so beautiful #like that's greg to tom. yet he's like SHES SO PRETTY AND YOU'RE SO GROSS HAHAHA #like. i see what you're doing you fucking avocado you're like oh don't bother going after her bc you're sweet and she might actually say yes #she might like you for what i like you for and y'all might hook up and i can't be having that!!!#like he's so transparent lmfao.#how do i know tom thinks greg is beautiful?? well who else do you say would be fit to take over from your beautiful wife if she died #ALSO tom is just surprised that greg bit back he's not even like. angry? idk i feel like if anyone else said that they'd be #family guy on the floor pose #about shiv being out of his league i mean #HE EVEN LOOKED AT GREGS MOUTH WHEN HE DID THAT LMFAOOO HE THOUGHT THAT WAS HOT #GOD I HATE HIM HAHAaaaaaaahh #AND AFTER GREG SAYS PROVE IT IT JUST CUTS OFF?!??! DID YALL GO FUCK IN THE BATHROOM IM MDDDWDWKDW #ALSO IF YOU LOOK AT PREV POST/WHAT HAPPENED PREVIOUSLY. THEY TOUCHED EACH OTHER LIGHTLY DIDNT EVEN HUG.#and as i said it felt sort of like ''i don't wanna spoil your outfit we can do that later anyway when we fuck raw''#then you get this. and the cut off. so like. come on what the fuck am i supposed to think. just ignore it??#ALSO sorry. sorry. BUT TOMS FACE DURING IT ALL HES LIKE 20 YEARS YOUNGER!!!!!!! AAARRAHgh #ALSO!!!! sorry. sorry. sorry. but why are the colours the bisexual flag in the bg. why. for what reason.#tom keeps looking at gregs mouth all throughout talking about how he fucks. so fuck him. prove it pussy.

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treeshrine · 2 months

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gonna be real bud if your fic relies so heavily on intense triggering themes and shock value that you're averse to putting warnings on it to "maintain surprise" and "avoid spoilers", then you act like you did nothing wrong when people are upset that you didn't make any effort to turn them away and allow them to protect themselves, while also telling them it's their fault that they read something that upset them when they could have never known it contained specific things that will upset them, i think you are a tar pit

#'warnings are a courtesy!!' yes so why are you apparently averse to being courteous #saying omg fanfiction never used to warn people and print books never warn people so it's not a bad thing if i don't warn you!#that's some 'no one protected me so why should i protect you' type shit #sorry i got recommended this dumb ass post and i had to say something so i'm saying it here #why are you telling people to curate their own experiences while actively making it more difficult to curate their experiences LMFAO #if i read a scene with intensely triggering content without knowing it was there before. 'just closing the book' or 'hitting the back butto #is not protecting myself. how do i protect myself from something I've already read???#diary #like dude it's possible to protect people from spoilers while also protecting people from seeing things that will distress them #i also honestly take issue with people who do a content warning but just say “this gets into some shit” or something of the like.#you might as well have just not said anything because now i'm confused and on edge #instead of able to protect myself properly i have to try and gauge my personal sensitivity against the unknowable factor of #what your idea of “some shit” is #also telling someone to 'just close the book lol' is an incredibly dismissive approach to people being affected by something triggering #you know these things do happen to people in real life. right. but of course who would have empathy for someone who doesn't want to be #reminded of trauma

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vegaseatsass · 20 days

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I'm so exhausted I don't really know where or how to begin my one-day weekend, have spent the day just kind of collapsed into executive dysfunctional confusion when what I WANT to do is post on tumblr about gay tv

#i wanna talk about 23.5 because the latest ep made me feral but for like side couples #i LOVE the main couples but nidabambam and mawinton make me insane #i was rooting for aro ton but now i want mawinton so badly #there's something that happens with the ships that aren't the advertised pairs so whether they happen or not isn't prescribed #i know mawintinh is what everyone on tumblr wants and it's not like i would be unhappy with that ok #but mawinton both obsessed with other people and relationships and oblivious to how they already have a boyf -#thats my shit.#tinh just seems so uninterested in mawin rn too whereas ton is laser focused #and to put a character like charoen into a yuri like come on how many of us who DIDN'T 'just know' we were not into boys #picked a dude to crush on from afar and then went EUGH STOP WHY IS THIS HAPPENING if/when he actually spoke to us #that is way too familiar a narrative to put in a GL and then resolve with her getting with a guy i'm sorry #but her and ton becoming besties who love shipping OTHER people together. hell yes lmfao #that's what i'm talking about! two people who think they like each other but actually just enjoy doing fandom together <3 #buddhism fandom and friend fiction fandom #anyway i can't believe i spent that many words on them but i'm truly invested now. FLOWERS AND KNEE TOUCHES FOR MAWINTON #and i don't even know where to begin with nidabambam??????????????????#i thought this would be us projecting headcanon onto some women who had some nice scenes together #i didn't dare hope for ?????? lucky/unlucky protective/clumsy glorious t4t grown woman love story #what the heck i felt like my brain was unravelling as i watched them #they really stumbled(/carefully protected the other from stumbling) their way into a STARGAZE DATE #what the heck!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!#i think something magical just happens when you hit a certain point in a story and you've LET the main couples grow and evolve #so they're more or less together and it's hilarious and adorable (oh my god ongsa and aylin taking initiative oh my god)#but they also leave narrative space for MORE LOVE STORIES IN THE BEAUTIFUL ENSEMBLE #and that's where i start to lose control apparently #23.5 #23point5 #dear diary

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ddejavvu · 1 year

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tumblr seems to have broken a lot of links on my blog, i checked my masterlists and i think they're okay but most of the links in my navigation are broken and i'm working on fixing them...

#ohhhh tumblr #just so you guys know #if my masterlists stop working #i'm not redoing them #LMFAO #it takes me hours to /update/ /one/#i am not going to redo them all from the beginning #sorry !!

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brittlebutch · 8 months

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still can't help but empathize deeply with Hob's anger and affront over the duel during the 'Southern Lawn' episode, mostly because I also cannot understand the social steps taken to land him in that position during any part of those confrontations

#N posts stuff #i trust that they Do make sense but i do not understand the social cues here At All #like i'm still Confused how we got from Wuvvy going to Dictate the letter to Hob like Aabria implied she was #to her Confronting Hob over an injury that Rue dealt to Her #like does the letter Hob was writing to Wrackingspelt imply a depth of feeling for someone Other than Rue in a way that implies #that they had been like. Rejected or something? and so she acts in defense of them for That?#i don't know and i don't understand no matter how many times i watch these episodes lol #to say Nothing of the way Andhera interferes during the fight and then - when Hob bests them - manages to imply that HOB is the one #with some kind of emotionality or Flaw that caused the whole thing to begin with???#''Captain what have you lost that has put you in this position to begin with?'' <- WHAT do they mean by that??#NOT TO MENTION the fact that Hob is Literally Right to take their interference as an offense given the understanding of duels #and the fact that Every Other Individual on that field responds to his affront with Derision and outright Mockery is so.....#dude it Strikes a wounded nerve so deeply in me and i don't even think i had That Many issue with bullying growing up comparatively #that for Hob - who is Well Established as a mocked outsider in his own court - i cannot even imagine how intolerably wounded it must feel #i know i've already written a fic about this but i'm Not over it sorry. this episode makes me want to Bite #i need someone to walk me through what happens lmfao #d20lb

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greenunoreversecard · 4 months

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Having physical ailments is like;"I'm gonna do shit!" While feeling shitty and then wondering why the shitty feeling is getting worse

( I say this because I stood up to fast while my head was already pounding them proceeded to almost pass out while cleaning my room)

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toastsnaffler · 1 year

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man. getting a little sick of being everyones 15th option for everything. when is it my turn to be someone's first choice :^[

#or even second tbh I'll take it #i had a couple old friends from college msg me recently to tell me what theyve been up to #which is sweet and i care abt them n wanna hear it! but they dont ask after me or show any interest in how I'm doing #and it makes me feel like I'm just their journal or smth. a brick wall they happen to be standing near #don't get me wrong I love to be useful. but when ppl only ever interact w u bc they need smth from u. well.#rly not doing anything good for this complex im developing where my self worth is directly tied to my usefulness to other ppl lmfao #i dont want to be ppls fucking dog!! or not any more than i already am but whatever thats all im good for i guess!!#and i desperately want someone to be my fave person rn bc all my energy is going nowhere + im at my best when im at my most devoted #so ppl treating me like this rn is just making me incredibly vulnerable to being taken advantage of.#like yeah i am eager to please and ill follow anyone around and do whatever for a crumb of attention but maybe #if you're actually my friend u shouldnt be encouraging that behaviour. even if it makes u feel good like cmon thats not so cool man #or if you ARE going to encourage it then maybe u should acknowledge the power dynamic ur creating + try not to abuse it. idk 🤷‍♂️#urgh idk maybe im just saying words rn im very tired #I just feel like all the friendships etc I have atm are slipping into that dangerously unbalanced zone + becoming v one way #and I don't know what I'm doing wrong I'm trying the best I can and I guess its just not enough for anyone and that really really sucks #I'm doing better mentally rn but I dont currently have a support system + there are a lot of destabilising forces in my life #so im just. worried abt the direction things could take if I lose this foothold I've dragged myself onto yknow.#and I wouldnt have to be so worried abt that all of the time if I just had someone literally anyone I could rely on or even trust #but oh well. it is what it is. doing all I can to take care of myself so hopefully it won't come to that anyway.#sorry for rambling on so much if u read this far I'm giving u a kiss on the cheek don't worry abt me honey I've got this #anywayy goodnight #.vent #.diaries

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bbyjackie · 11 months

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𝐒𝐎𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐋𝐒 𝐀𝐒 𝐋𝐔𝐅𝐅𝐘'𝐒 𝐆𝐅 — ♡

one piece social media + dating feat: luffy

♡ liked by trafalgar_d.law, ace and 3.1k others

_ynln: told me to turn around and all i hear is "ARGHH PUNK GIBSON I AM JAGGYYY"

tagged: p1rateking_luffy

trafalgar_d.law: yn is so real for posting this (liked by _ynln)

lovenami: NO LUFFY DON'T GET US INTO BEEF W OTHER CREWS 👹👹

↳ p1rateking_luffy: Nah I'm not scared, I got that DAWGG in me 💪💪

↳ _ynln: LMFAO LUF WHO TAUGHT YOU TO SAY THAT 😭

↳ p1rateking_luffy: Ace told me to say it!

↳ ace: ONGGG THATS MY BROTHER 🥱☝️☝️

CAPTAIN.KIIIID: YOU STYPU11D FUCKIGN MONEKEY TAHST A SHIT IMEPSONATION SHITHEAD

↳ trafalgar_d.law: your lack of ability to spell scares me

↳ killerrr: ngl he got you there kid

↳ CAPTAIN.KIIIID: SHYT UP TRADFALGAR

↳ CAPTAIN.KIIIID: WHIS SIDE ARW YOU ON

↳ _ynln: give kid some credit, only one of his hands got touch recognition (liked by trafalgar_d.law, ace)

↳ ace: LMFSOO

↳ sogekingg.usopp: 💀💀

↳ lovenami: PLS YN I WANT TO LIVE PEACEFULLY

↳ p1rateking_luffy: yn you're funny!!

♡ liked by p1rateking_luffy, saaaa_bo and 2.6k others

_ynln: ick: guys that eat like their food is gonna run away

tagged: p1rateking_luffy

theroronoa.zoro: proceeds to date a guy that eats like their food is gonna run away

↳ _ynln: i can look past the ick 🤭🤭

lovenami: SOO TRUE like no one's gonna take it from you, calm down hoover mouth 😭

↳ blackleg.sanji: nami san just so you know i am trained in dinner etiquette 💞💕❤️❤️‍🔥

↳ sogekingg.usopp: literally who asked 💀

p1rateking_luffy: What does ick mean?

↳ boahancock: Luffy you look so cute when you eat 🥰🥰 (liked by _ynln)

↳ lovenami: get u a girl like yn that wouldn't flip shit at what boa said (liked by nicorobin)

↳ _ynln: it means I Crush on Kind people

↳ p1rateking_luffy: THANKS YN 😁

↳ lovenami: PLEASE 😭

↳ CAPTAIN.KIIIID: 💀💀

↳ sogekingg.usopp: 💀💀

♡ liked by ilovecottoncandychopper, saaaa_bo and 6.7k others

p1rateking_luffy: yn gives me the ICK ❤️

tagged: _ynln

sogekingg.usopp: LMFAOO @_ynln

lovenami: THE CAPTION @_ynln 💀💀

CAPTAIN.KIIIID: AHUAHHAAH

saaaa_bo: LUFFY NO 😭😭

↳ ace: LUFFY YES AHAHAH

↳ saaaa_bo: ACE STOP BEING AN INSTIGATOR

theroronoa.zoro: oh god

↳ blackleg.sanji: there's no way that HE is the one with a girlfriend 😐😐

↳ theroronoa.zoro: tbf i get luffy with a girl more than u 🥱🥱

_ynln: 🤨

↳ p1rateking_luffy: You're my ICK yn! ❤️❤️(liked by sogekingg.usopp, lovenami, CAPTAIN.KIIIID, trafalgar_d.law, FRAAANKY, SOULKING, ace)

♡ liked by p1rateking_luffy, jinbe and 3.5k others

_ynln: 2️⃣ icks

tagged: p1rateking_luffy

p1rateking_luffy: SORRY HEHE

p1rateking_luffy: LOVE YOU YN

↳ _ynln: 🫤💞

blackleg.sanji: how does he manage to screw up and STILL have yn 😩😩

↳ sogekingg.usopp: keep ur head up king 🤕🤕

lovenami: that’s at least 200,000 berries for no photo credits 😙

↳ _ynln: WTF NAMI YK I DONT HAVE THAT KIND OF MONEY 😭😭

↳ lovenami: that’s MINIMUM. i had to third wheel you guys for three hours, i need money for therapy 🥱🥱

#one piece #one piece headcanons #one piece x reader #one piece smau #one piece imagine #luffy x reader #zoro x reader #smau #kid x reader #sanji x reader #usopp x reader #one piece x you #one piece fluff #one piece scenario #luffy x you #straw hat luffy #luffy headcanons #straw hat pirates

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twiixr4kidz · 6 months

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Hey I hear you do Ramona's Evil Exes x Reader so I have a Request I don't know if anyone ask this but the Evil Exes Reaction to their S/o wearing their clothes I got this idea from a boyfriend scenario on Wattpad and I thought it might be cute🥰

sorry it took so long to get to this :( i went on a hiatus and got caught up with a lot of asks so i'm finally getting around to finishing them all. hope this was worth the wait!!

matthew patel:

okay, we know mattie.

he's obsessed with literally everything you do and this is no different

when he sees you in his clothes, he MELTS

literally merges with the floor

"hey babe....... you uh, you look really, uh, you-"

he cannot get a proper sentence out of his mouth but just know he's going to be thinking about this FOREVER

lucas lee:

tch, whatever

just kidding HELLO O___O

at first he wasn't paying attention, but now.......

he's a pretty big guy so his clothes probably hang off of you

he acts very nonchalant about it but even the coolest skater boys have their weaknesses

this is his

he gets so handsy you're going to have to reprimand him

todd ingram:

this motherfucker gets so flustered

literally makes eye contact with you and he's STUNNED

"i see you went through my closet, huh?"

he will not stop staring at you

literally boring holes through your body because oh my GOD you look incredible

he's going insane

roxie richter:

"god DAMN!!!!!"

insert whistling noise

she will not stop complimenting you

insists that you keep whatever you're wearing because "it looks SOOOO much better on you!!!!!!"

also gets very handsy with you

in simplest terms, she's feeling you up

you're way too hot to keep her hands off of

you're a magnet and she's a bag of nails :3

kyle katayanagi:

"woah, hello there"

he's in deep thought

deep, DEEP thought

he's going to tease the shit out of you for this

but don't mistake that as him not enjoying it

he's eating it UP

ken katayanagi:

he doesn't say anything immediately

like he takes notice, but he's silent

sort of just smirks to himself

if you want any sort of reaction, you're going to have to point it out

"notice anything different?" "of course i did hun, you know i'm very attentive"

okay now that you've pointed it out, he's going to be annoying about it

constant teasing, "looks like somebody missed me"

gideon graves:

it takes a little for him to notice

"oh, nice shirt," he says, completely unaware of the fact that it's his shirt

actually it's the smell that makes him realize LMFAO

he wears a very specific cologne and when you walk by smelling like it, he's like "OH HELLO????"

slides over in his silly little desk chair, wraps his arms around your waist, and buries his face in your side

"never stop doing that" he mumbles

god he's so CUTE I LOVE HIM

#scott pilgrim #scott pilgrim vs the world #spvtw #scott pilgrim takes off #spto #matthew patel #lucas lee #todd ingram #roxie richter #kyle katayanagi #ken katayanagi #gideon graves #matthew patel x reader #lucas lee x reader #todd ingram x reader #roxie richter x reader #kyle katayanagi x reader #ken katayanagi x reader #gideon graves x reader

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komelrebi-san · 6 months

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gojo satoru is such a dilf, oh lord

oh no, i'm so whipped for this guy i think i might be mentally insane because how does he have the ability to make me so delusional can someone get me a gojo where can i get a gojo

tw: MDNI!, age gap, single-handsome-neighbour trope, gojo is a rich single dad and his daughter is so damn cute, dom! gojo, fingering, slight choking, drinking, unprotected sex (wrap before you tap kiddos!!), size kink, tummy bulge, daddy+mommy dynamics, oral f! receiving, praise kink, semi-public sex (idk if it counts??), lmk if there's more!

don't like, don't read.

a/n: oops, sorry this was accidentally a bit longer than i thought it would be lmfao. pls comment/dm if you want this to be made into a full oneshot!

you, fresh out of college and just landed a well-paying job, managed to afford a house in a newly built expensive condominium. the apartment next door was uninhabited, as far as you knew. though, you were told otherwise when a little girl tugged on your hand as you walked by the playground in your condo, saying that she didn't know where her daddy was.

perhaps, for a second, you'd cursed to yourself at how careless and heartless the parent must be to have neglected their own child, especially a child as cute as this one! her hair was white as snow, shining gently in the sun; her eyes were a sharp blue, twinkling cheekily as she tugged on your fingers with her small hands. feeling yourself completely beaten by her puppy eyes, you decide to stay with her until her father arrives.

and oh, goodness, to think that all negative thoughts you had about the parent would completely disappear at one glance.

because fuck, he's gorgeous, he's the prettiest man you've ever met. and conveniently, his daughter happened to be the spitting image of him.

but wait, he lives next door! he just moved in.

at first, he was just a friend - a soft-hearted man who looks way too young to be in his early thirties: the kind that always called you over to hangout when his daughter comes because he knew you adored her chubby cheeks and grabby hands; the kind that always offered to help you with work and groceries and whatever that needed fixing in your house; the kind that always cooks for you or buys an extra serving of food on his way home from work.

but somewhere along the lines of knowing him, something sparked between the both of you (and it may or may not have been first planted in both of your minds by his fatally cute daughter, when she asked if 'the pretty lady next door will be moving in').

but it probably started on the night when he put his daughter to bed slightly later than usual, and invited you over for a drink.

there's nothing wrong with that...right?

wrong!

maybe it was the alcohol in your system, maybe it was the yearning for affection, maybe it was the ache for a proper relationship. but you'd told him what happened when he asked why your hand kept going to your neck when there's nothing there.

cheeks flushed, you'd told him how your ex cheated on you with one of your closest friends from highschool. and somehow you can't stop reaching for the necklace that you used to never take off, the one he gave you for your one-year anniversary.

and sometime after that, it led to you sitting in gojo's lap, lips against his with his large hands dangerously low on your hips. sure, it felt wrong because he already has a daughter whom you can't adore more than you already do, it felt wrong because he was like, what, 10 years older than you? and it also felt wrong because you're sure you shouldn't be kissing him when his daughter is sleeping peacefully in her bedroom just down the corridor.

but hell, it felt good too. because god, you swear this man is so damn fine - his eyes in the prettiest shade of blue possible, his soft white hair, his tall lean figure that he hasn't failed to maintain despite being a single dad in his early thirties, his large hands and, oh goodness, his voice. you're positive that you probably almost died on the spot when you saw him in a suit, veiny hands reaching to tug his tie loose with an almost wolfish grin on his lips as he said hi too you.

so, in conclusion, he's the biggest dilf you've ever met and goddamn there would never be a smash or pass judgement for him, because he is and always will be smash.

(oh, and there was this once he got grumpy and pouty because of his friend that came over...what was his name again? geto, was it? anyway, geto was really nice towards you, but gojo got pissed about it. but then again, gojo looks really cute when he's angry.)

and so, it happened.

---

dilf! gojo that never fails to give you the sweetest compliments and cutest pet names that leaves you blushing profusely. oh, he's such a menace, he thinks that you're so cute when you blush so he just ends up teasing you all the time. it's never 'y/n', it's always gotta be 'sweetheart' or 'honey' or 'cutie', or at the very very least 'n/n-chan'.

dilf! gojo that thinks it feels so natural to call you and his daughter 'his girls', curtsy of that one time when you dozed off with his daughter on your lap as you babysat her. 'my little girls look so adorable,' he'd say, sitting next to you while swinging an arm around your shoulders and pulling you into him.

dilf! gojo that is simply casually affectionate towards those close to him, and it multiplied when it came to you, it just felt so natural. forehead kisses, head pats, hair ruffles (oh god, his big hands, sheesh). it felt right to sling an arm around your shoulder or around your waist.

dilf! gojo that loves hugging you - it's not even that sexual, he just loves having you close to him, feeling your warmth and your sweet scent envelope him, feeling your body right up against his. he thinks that you fit perfectly in his arms (bonus! if you're short, bc he likes to prop his chin on your head).

dilf! gojo that insists you call him 'satoru'.

dilf! gojo that just simply can't stop thinking about you after that kiss, because holy fuck your lips taste so good, felt so soft against his. you looked so small and delicate in his lap, he thinks he can't possibly forget about the sight. you look so pretty when you're blushing and tugging him in for another kiss, wait no, you look so pretty all the time.

dilf! gojo who doesn't fail to notice how you got upset when he asked you to babysit his daughter as he'd be away for the night on a date. oh, the pout you tried to hide. of course he noticed it, because he knew that you want him, and fuck, he wants you too. so bad. so, so bad (but still, you looked so terribly cute as you fixed his tie for him).

dilf! gojo that came back as early as possible, heart almost jumping out of his chest when he realised you'd already put his daughter to bed. oh, you looked so beautiful as you waited for him to come back, sat on the couch with a book in your delicate hands. and he wanted, no, needed to explain to you that you're all he wants, who the fuck cares about that girl he was set up with?

dilf! gojo that just simply couldn't hold himself back as he saw your lips part in shock at his explanation as to why the date was so boring. of course it was boring, she isn't you, and she will never be you. why would i be looking for someone else when i've got my beautiful girls waiting at home for me? he'd say. and it's true.

dilf! gojo that just climbed on top of you and smashed his lips into yours. holy shit, it felt so good, it's just like what he'd been chasing after since that drunken kiss with you on his lap.

dilf! gojo that is so intoxicated by your taste, your scent, everything about you. one his hands cupped your face, the other traced up your thighs. though, he doesn't forget to ask for your permission, a smile curving onto his lips when your hips buck up into his hand, a breathy whimper of 'yes, please' falling from your lips.

dilf! gojo that is so obsessed with the way your juices taste. just from licking his fingers, he was tempted into licking a long stripe along your folds, groaning when quiet whines and whimpers bubble up your throat. if he had the patience, he'd eat you out for hours...but not today, because his cock was so hard that it practically hurts, begging to be released from its restraints.

dilf! gojo that swore if he was any less of a man, he'd have cummed immediately as he slowly pushed his big cock inside you, groaning when you clamped down on him. ah, but you can't be too loud, because you'd wake his daughter. so he settled on wrapping a large hand around your throat, squeezing just so very slightly, his touch gentle but dominating.

dilf! gojo that possibly just got harder upon seeing your small figure beneath him, back arching up and head thrown back. there was a bulge in your tummy. fuck, you're taking me so good, sweetheart. such a good girl for me, oh shit. he'd say, lips on your neck, his other hand gripping your waist.

dilf! gojo that rutted into you harder and faster when he heard you call him daddy. fuck, everything that left your lips always sound so pretty. yeah? you want me to make you a mommy? fill your cute little pussy to the brim with my seed? yeah? you gonna be a good girl and take all my cum? you want me to breed you, yeah? he'd pant, moving his away from your throat to knead one of your tits, crushing your lips with his to muffle your moans.

dilf! gojo that came inside you with a groan, painting your insides white with his thick sticky seed, reaching for that spot deep inside your pussy that made you see stars.

dilf! gojo that thinks you look so pretty, fucked out and panting, tongue lolling out of your mouth and cunt clamping down on his dick like a vice, both your juices spilling out of you.

dilf! gojo is serious about wanting you and wanting to be with you.

#dilf!gojo #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #gojo smut #gojo satoru smut #satoru smut #gojo x reader smut #gojo satoru x reader smut #jjk gojo #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk smut #jjk x reader smut #jujutsu gojo

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diordeer · 2 months

Text

౨ৎ DREAM GIRL

“when it all gets too much, darlin', i'm soft to the touch. hush, hush and stop your rushing, i can be your dreamgirl, baby” - lana del rey (smau)

contains: charlie bushnell x fem!reader, orange cat gf black cat bf

description: omg so sorry for the wait, im trying to slowly finish some requests after the break, little life update: the guy i like has a gf but is still msging me?! and i got tickets to see chappell roan!!

requested by: @tomblythsslut

Liked by walker.scobell, dior.n.goodjohn and others

iamcharliebushnell yn and… some other weird people

tagged yn.ln, walker.scobell, leahsavajeffries, dior.n.goodjohn, aryansimhadri

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dior.n.goodjohn omg its yn!!! tell her i need to see her again ASAP!

↳ yn.ln i hear u loud and clear… and YES!!

walker.scobell as much as i feel shamed by the caption its sadly true 😣

user1 yn is so gorgeous i cant

↳ user2 best looking couple of the century 🤷‍♀️

aryansimhadri wtf does that caption mean

leahsavajeffries omg send me the photo of us!

↳ iamcharliebushnell on it 🫡

user4 i need a bf NOW.

↳ user2 agreed

user5 do u guys play fortnite together

↳ yn.ln nooooooo…

↳ iamcharliebushnell we do, theres no shame

↳ yn.ln THERES SO MUCH SHAME

↳ user6 someone has been killed by them before imagine that

↳ yn.ln im not the one killing, still trying to avoid those cliffs

Liked by iamcharliebushnell, leahsavajeffries and others

yn.ln imagine i put a rly cute song lyric in here

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user3 the bows, the uggs, the coffee, the kiss, yes.

↳ user4 she’s the cutest

iamcharliebushnell love you 🫶

↳ yn.ln 🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷

↳ walker.scobell shut up i hate couples

↳ leahsavajeffries WALKER.

user1 girl how hard is it to find a song lyric 🤨

↳ yn.ln theres too many, so i refuse to choose

user8 she won the lottery and there are signs

user2 ur hair has me in a chokehold

↳ user5 porphyrias lover who?

↳ user2 … what?

↳ user5 dw

user6 not to sound like a creep but i CANT stop looking at the photo of them kissing

↳ user7 you sound VERY creepy

dior.n.goodjohn should’ve put focus lyrics 🙄

↳ yn.ln girl NOW u tell me

↳ user8 FOCUS IT ON MEEE

↳ user5 U KEEP ME ON IT BABEE

Liked by walker.scobell, aryansimhadri and others

yn.ln me discretely saving every photo of charlie from then premier 😶

tagged iamcharliebushnell

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iamcharliebushnell GET THAT 0.5 OUT OF HERE

↳ yn.ln i think you look great 🩷

user3 yn knows what the fans want

dior.n.goodjohn so u put a photo of HIM on ur insta post but not us at the premiere? I see how it is 😤

↳ yn.ln NO NO NO NEXT POST I SWEAR

↳ iamcharliebushnell the passive aggressiveness?!

user1 why is the 0.5 actually real cute

↳ yn.ln @iamcharliebushnell see!!

leahsavajeffries omg ur nails r so cute 🤭

↳ yn.ln omg thanks pooks 🤭🤭🤭

user2 your SO REAL for that caption, we all are

↳ user4 *you’re

walker.scobell i love how u take a pic of him casually betraying me ! ☺️

↳ yn.ln dw i got one of u too

↳ aryansimhadri OMG SEND IT PLSPLSPLS

user5 he looks so good 🤩

↳ user6 girl why dont u send that on his acc, this is yns acc no need to talk ab charlie

↳ user5 BRO THEY’RE DATING? SHE POSTED HIM?

↳ user6 people just cant seem to talk about women without bringing up a man

↳ user5 HELLO?!?!

↳ user7 LMFAO

↳ user8 why do they kinda have a point 🤨

↳ yn.ln omg this drama is crazyyy

tag list: @lostinhisworld @lizziesfirstwife @auttumnsayshi @silkenthusiasts @taygrls @kidkrowk @kanojous @niktwazny303 @m00ng4z3r @highfidelities @b0ok-lover @vamplyle @xyzstar @urmomsgirlfriend1 @alexandria-millie

#charlie bushnell x reader #luke castellan x reader #percy jackon and the olympians #social media au #smau #aesthetic #charlie bushnell #in the know #x reader

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missmeinyourbones · 8 months

Note

we NEED "i'm just too soft for all of it." IWHT MEGUMI PLS IM BEGGING

I'M JUST TOO SOFT FOR ALL OF IT (m. fushiguro)

a/n: me making up medical shit LMFAO, repressed and emotionally constipated megumi, deadbeat dad t*ji, slight mentions and undertones of toxic masculinity

L’s MIDNIGHTS EVENT!

Since he was four years old and still growing into his long-sleeved sweaters, Megumi has learned to heal his own wounds or almost die trying.

A routine that he now knows like the back of his hand, he'd returned from his latest mission with weeping cuts and exhaustion clear beneath his eyes, making a point to stop at the medical closet before returning to his dorm. With Shoko's workday over, he makes a mental note to visit her first thing in the morning when he wakes.

He can make it through the night, he always does. Because Megumi is a thinker. He plans until he can't and covers all bases for when they're stolen. He gets by.

What he didn't take into account was potentially running into you, of all people. Dormitory halls barren and almost eerie, he nearly curses himself for brushing shoulders as you turn the corner on the way back to your own room.

Your timing has always been wrong, or maybe it's right and Megumi can't differentiate between the two.

And now he's here, on the creaky wooden floor of the medicinal closet, with you kneeling beside him and prodding at his injuries with tender wrists.

Never one to be good with idle hands, Megumi fidgets and tries to brush at the dried blood on his shoulder. The action has both of you hissing—him in a jolt of pain and you in reaction to his hurt.

"Don't touch it," your voice falters to be stern, still coming out so gently. Megumi thinks about the irony of that—of how you can't even be sharp if you tried. You're too gentle, too soft to even sound hard momentarily.

Humiliated at the mere idea of doing nothing, at needing help, he shakily exhales and returns his attention to the floor.

When the damp cotton pad in your hand touches a bit too deep in one of his cuts, Megumi does his best to save face but can't help the grunt of breath that gets sucked into his lungs.

Immediately, he feels you retract from his skin and coo your apologies. Carefully returning your attention to the burning wound, you do your best to soothe him.

"Sorry, it's deeper than it looks. Almost over."

Megumi's response is quick and curt, like a cut of its own, "It's fine."

You nod hesitantly before grabbing the bottle of antiseptic and another clean cotton round. The cleaning of his wounds continues in silence, though your thoughts are louder than anything.

His injuries vary in size. Some deeper, fresher, than others. Some looking like one-hit victims and others a repeated attack. You do your best to take note of where he's sensitive, where he's hurting the most.

When you reach a certain scratch on his bicep, you're able to catch a glimpse of his face. Sweat beading on his forehead and damp hair sticking to his skin, Megumi bites the collar of his uniform to suppress any kind of noise (weakness) from you.

When he slips up and lets out a guttural muffled groan, you think you might audibly whimper yourself.

"You can yell if you want to," you try to help him in any way you can, "or squeeze my hand or—"

"I'm fine," Megumi attempts to bark again, but this time is different. It's not cold or sharp like it was last time. You can hear how it shakes against the echos of the closet, how it sounds like the burn of tears building in a sore throat.

And between the pain everywhere he still has feeling and the intimacy of you carefully caressing him, Megumi finds himself tearing up.

"Hey," he feels you whisper, attempting to caress his jaw and prompt him to look at you, "hey, you okay?"

He can't find it in himself to answer nor lift his head, so he sniffles like a kicked child and crinkles his nose in disgust at his own pathetic actions.

Megumi is tough, one of the toughest people you know. You've seen him more beat up than this and barely break a sweat. Your head feels light at the realization that something's wrong. He shouldn't be in this much pain from the familiar burning of antiseptic he's felt a dozen times over. Maybe it's from a cursed weapon, or a technique where—

A stifled sob cuts you off.

Like a glass cracking beneath pressure, you feel something inside you break. No longer caring about cleaning his cuts or avoiding sensitive areas, you can't stop yourself from wrapping around his hunched frame.

Megumi's breath hitches as you hold him, feels your hair tickling his neck when you rub his back and whisper.

"I'm sorry, I know, but you're doing so good, okay? And I'm almost done—"

"Don't do that," he bites.

Assuming he's referring to prodding at a specific wound, you flinch and loosen your grip, "Do what?"

"Talk to me like that," he snarls with a crack, "in that—voice."

He feels your head remove its weight from his shoulder slowly, "Why?"

"Because I can't—" Megumi's voice almost breaks before he whines, gritting his teeth when he whimpers, "I can't handle it."

And just like that, Megumi is four years old again. He's scraping his knee on the concrete of his front lawn, and a blurry father-shaped figure with dark hair and legs far too tall tells him to be a man. Not being old enough to use the stove without supervision, but still knowing enough to save his cries for his pillow when Tsumiki is snoring and can't overthink his tears. He thinks of Gojo—of the first time he broke down in front of him and was met with whispers of good intent and love that registered in his brain as pity. Humiliation.

He doesn't realize he's crying until he feels your fingertips on his wet cheeks, replacing the stinging of antiseptic with a fluttering and velvety touch.

Between sniffled strings of apologies and a few hiccups of words that don't quite make sense, you piece together that Megumi isn't crying because he's in pain. He's crying because he can, because you're helping him in a way he never asked for, let alone known.

"I've never...been allowed to, like, feel—"

"Hey," you're soft again, as if you ever weren't. "I know," fingers delicately brush his sticky eyelashes when you remind him, "but you are now."

"Are what?"

"Allowed," you whisper against his cheek, "to feel however you want when you're around me."

And Megumi doesn't know how you do it. How you remain a light in a world that's constantly doing all it can to kick you while you're down. Maybe you're just naive, so stupidly optimistic that it'll eventually be your own demise. Maybe.

But, Megumi can't find himself to care, because he knows that for as long as he's on this earth, he'll be damned if he lets anything happen to that light of yours.

Back to reality and rubbing at his stinging eyes, Megumi softly scoffs. "Y'know, sometimes you look at me with those stupid eyes and I don't know what happens, but I almost feel sick."

Your laughter tastes like water, "I know what you mean. But in a good way though, right?"

"Yeah," he nods, "in a good way."

When Megumi's back finally hits his mattress at an ungodly hour of the morning—something he's been dreaming of since he'd left it hours ago—he's sickeningly sore and his eyes burn with hypersensitivity. He lets himself close his eyes thinking of your hands, the ones that soaked his now scabbing wounds and wiped his watery eyes.

Megumi plans, sure, but he never could have prepared for you.

#L’s MIDNIGHTS EVENT!#megumi x reader #megumi fushiguro x reader #megumi x you #megumi fushiguro x you #megumi angst #megumi fushiguro angst #megumi fluff #megumi fushiguro fluff #megumi fic #megumi fushiguro fic

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xbellaxcarolinax · 9 months

Text

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.”

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