You’ve always been obsessed with Halloween. The horror movies, the dressing up, the ridiculous amounts of candy—it’s always felt like the best kind of chaos. When you were little, your parents let you enjoy it like any other kid. As you got older though, your parents got stricter—way stricter. One year you were trick-or-treating with your neighborhood friends, the next you were being lectured about “spiritual dangers” and how Halloween “opened doors” you didn’t want open. They started banning it altogether once you hit your teens, convinced that parties meant trouble and trouble meant sin.

So yeah, Halloween took a backseat for a long time. Then came college.

Freedom tasted sweet—and it got even sweeter when you met Julian, who turned out to be just as much of a Halloween junkie as you. The two of you clicked fast, and when October rolled around, you dove into it headfirst. Horror marathons. Haunted houses. Couple costumes. Roleplay. The whole nine yards. Finally, Halloween wasn’t something you had to hide. It was something you could celebrate loudly—and with someone who made it even better. themed costumes, spooky date nights, horror marathons with too much popcorn, and plenty of playful roleplay that definitely wasn’t PG.

Now, it’s here again.

October’s cooled the air just enough to make sweaters feel good, and the smell of leaves and bonfires is basically everywhere. Tonight, your college is throwing the Halloween party everyone’s been hyping up for weeks. It’s gonna be packed, messy, and probably unforgettable. But you’re not even thinking about the party yet. You’re in Julian’s dorm room, standing in front of his mirror, fixing your costume.

You went all out this year. A sexy cop outfit—short skirt, tight top, fake badge, the works. Definitely not kid-friendly, but perfect for a college party… and even more perfect for the private roleplay you and Julian have been building up to all month. You smooth your hands down the front of your shirt, checking your makeup one last time.

Then you feel them—his arms sliding around your waist from behind. You’d know those arms anywhere. The tattoos give him away before you even see his face. You glance down with a little smile, fingers brushing his forearm, then look up at the mirror.

There he is.

Julian’s behind you, wearing that orange prisoner jumpsuit that clings just enough to show off the muscles beneath. Half-zipped, of course. His chest is on display, ink snaking across his skin like it belongs there. His hair’s slightly messy like he didn’t try too hard—and somehow that makes him look even hotter. You meet his eyes in the reflection and feel your stomach flip.

He leans in, his lips barely an inch from your ear. You feel the warmth of his breath before he even says a word.

“Arrest me, Mrs. Officer,” he murmurs, his voice low and thick with teasing, his Spanish accent even thicker, making him sound even hotter. “..or should I say, Mami?”