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nahimjustfeelingit-writes · 3 months ago

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House Calls.

Professor!Terrence x Aaliyah

Summary: Aaliyah has an elusive charm that can be alluring to some and frustrating to others. Professor Terry is compelled to have her. On one fateful evening at his college buddies bachelor party, he runs into Aaliyah. An interaction he hadn’t imagined would ever happen.

Warnings: SMUT, 18+ CONTENT, based off of Players Club, Nasty Talk, Professor!Student.

Part Two

The calming effects of the incense burning within his Acadian–style home in Baton Raq. Lauryn Hill playing from a vinyl record was enough to ease his mind after grading over thirty midterm papers. Terry shut his laptop and released a soft sigh. He reached up with his long fingers, taking off his glasses. The burning at the corners of his blue-grey eyes caused him to rub. He was exhausted and in need of a long vacation somewhere tropical after this semester ended.

He pushed away from his elegant, black oak wood desk to stand, stretching his long legs and flexing his quads. Terry wore a boxy–fit graphic T-shirt with a photo of Nina Simone printed on the front and thigh–hugging drawstring, black shorts. His feet covered in long, black Adidas socks led him towards the door to his home office. He would have stepped on the tail of his British Brown Shorthair cat if he hadn’t spotted him creeping between his legs as he walked.

“Orion, watch out…”

The cat slowly moved away, staring up at Terry with its golden eyes.

His stomach grumbled. Terry remembered that he’d had leftover red beans and rice. He walked into his spacious kitchen, opening a cabinet to grab a soup bowl and then he strolled over to his silverware drawer, grabbing a large spoon. Ex–Factor faded in the background while he scooped the last of the food into his bowl. He paused, snapping his fingers in remembrance of the honey butter cornbread he’d made to eat with it.

After warming his food, Terry didn’t bother sitting in his dining room. He leaned over the counter and tucked into his food, appreciative sounds between bites mixed with his spoon scraping the side of the bowl the only noise. His tongue slipped out to catch a few crumbs from his lips after scarfing down the last of his cornbread. Terry shook his head and rubbed his belly as he cleared his mess.

“Damn good,” He muttered while walking towards his sink.

He accepted the burn of his muscles from his morning workout while crouching down to grab some surface disinfectant from beneath his sink. That let him know he went hard in the gym. His tongue smoothed over his teeth to get rid of food while he used a Bounty paper towel to clean. His eyes flicked to the window in his kitchen when he’d heard loud voices passing by his home.

The Apple Watch on his wrist with a stainless steel band alerted Terry to a phone call. He headed back to his office and reached over his desk to grab it from the charger.

“Wassam Bitch!”

Terry released a boisterous, deep laugh. All his teeth showing.

“Cousin! You good?” Terry replied.

“Chillin’ fam. Just left Unc house…”

“He straight?”

“You know how he do. Was in the garden wit’ his woman picking tomatoes and shit. I had to break it to ‘em that he ain’t invited tonight. HE CAN’T COME!”

“Mike, don’t do Unc like that…he wanna be there to support his son.”

“No old heads, TJ. We discussed this. I don’t want him getting a heart attack seeing all that buku ass clapping.”

Terry snickered with his phone to his ear as he made his way into his living room. He wanted to break in his new furniture.

“Layla snoopin’ ‘round the house. She heard about the strippers…”

“Thought you said she was cool about it?”

“She is. But ya know…”

Terry made a face on the other end of the line. He knew how his cousin could get. Tonight is indeed about fun, but if Mike messed up, Layla wouldn’t take him back a second time. Out of all the men attending, Terry is the most levelheaded. Majority of the men in his family and Mike’s friends were a bunch of crazy motherfuckers. He already knows how tonight is gonna turn out.

“No fuckin’ up, Cousin.” Terry stated.

“Already, Marine.” Mike joked.

——

She did a slow two–step with a roll of her hips in a sinuous manner to the late, great Aaliyah – she was honored to share her name – and Tank.

Can I come over? (Can I)

Come over (Stop by)

Come over (To see you)

Come over (Tonight?)

Can I come over? (Can I)

Come over (Get with you?)

Come over (I just wanna)

Come over (Be with you, baby)

Can I come over? (Can I)

Come over (Stop by)

Come over (To see you)

Come over (Tonight?)

Can I come over? (Can I)

Come over (Get with you?)

Come over (Just wanna)

Yeah (Be with you, baby)…

Bonnet on her head, a tank top that’s way too cropped and showing off under–boob with skimpy hot pink boy shorts covered her curvy frame. Aaliyah had just finished making her bed, freshly laundered sheets feeling cozy beneath her hands as she spread out the wrinkles. The next song on her Slow Jamz playlist was Ciara–Promise. Aaliyah tapped the side of her mouth in thought while staring at the neatly stacked money on her side table. She didn’t feel like digging for her mini safe tucked in the back of her closet, but she needed to put the money somewhere safe.

She made almost three grand. Aaliyah really enjoyed herself a week ago at the Fire Station. She craved that attention and excitement. Doing content from home was great, but to show out in person? Oh…it stroked her so good. She was so damn ecstatic that she came home and rubbed one out with her fingers deep in her pussy. Making a man react the way he does to her literal being just ignited something in her.

Aaliyah placed the money in her safe and organized her closet. After that, she grabbed herself a bowl of green grapes and crawled into bed. She popped a grape into her mouth while watching re–runs of P–Valley on mute, eyes reading the subtitles. She already knew what was going on, just something to distract her. She rocked her body in bed to Donell Jones–This Luv, lip syncing and snapping her fingers.

She wondered what Professor Richmond was up to…

Aaliyah kissed her teeth at her lingering thoughts. This week was filled with tension. She walked into that classroom on Wednesday, hauling her school bag and a pep in her step. She dressed in skater jeans and a tight Ed Hardy T-shirt with a gray hoodie unzipped.

“Today class, we’ll discuss morality…”

He had a tiny sculpture of Aristotle in his hand, long, manicured fingers grasping it firm. Today, he wore a perfectly fitting, short sleeve, mock neck black shirt with charcoal grey slacks and black loafers. The glasses on his face reflected the light perfectly whenever he moved his head. It was something about his eyes today that just…drew Aaliyah in. They seemed brighter.

She propped her elbow on her desk and rested her chin in her hand. That foot started to bounce beneath her desk, and when his eyes met hers, she had to turn away to simmer down the butterflies. Something embarrassing happened in the middle of his lecture. She forgot to turn her ringer off, the lyrics to P*$$Y Fairy playing.

Don't be surprised, baby, it's just me (Just me)

Don't be surprised, boy, when I bust it wide

I hypnotize you with this pussy (Pussy)

Now you feel like you can fly—

“Sorry! Sorry…”

Aaliyah silenced her phone and with a sheepish smile she allowed her eyes to roam the class, catching on to a few snickers. She felt heat creeping over her honey skin. Aaliyah bashfully tucked hair behind her ear, and then her sultry gaze connected with Professor Richmond’s.

He had one brow quirked up and his eyes were unblinking and concentrated on her firm. He was the first to slowly pull his eyes away before clearing his throat to finish speaking. That look in his eyes…

After class, Aaliyah approached his desk to drop off an in class assignment. She left her hoodie at her desk. Terry was standing there, propping himself up against his desk with his fingertips. He allowed his eyes to scan her body. She paid attention to the way his piercing eyes fixated on the exposed skin of her midriff. A quick circular motion of his eyes on her breasts caused her to part her lips, the tip of her tongue between her teeth.

“Here?” Aaliyah pointed to the pile of untidy papers.

“Yes.” Terry replied with a slower tone.

She slipped it there, patting the top of it. Terry clenched his jaw, his eyes returning to his laptop.

“Have a good day…”

He couldn’t stop himself from standing at his full height. He exhaled a long breath, his eyes trapping her.

“Yes, Ma’am. You as well.”

Aaliyah gave him one final once over, her eyes doing a double take to the veins in his arms…

Damn…

She walked away, the silence in the lecture hall unnerving. Terry crossed his arms in front of him and rocked back and forth on his heels. He lowered his head and shook it from side to side with a smirk. Aaliyah made her way out of the room, itching to look back and wave, but instead she looked back and gave him one final word.

“Sorry about my ringtone…I know it was inappropriate…”

Terry licked his lips, “Don’t even remember the lyrics.”

They chuckled, Aaliyah finally leaving the class.

——

Stickin' to the code, all these hoes for the streets

I put it in her nose, it's gon' make her pussy leak

Pussy niggas told, ain't gon' wake up out they sleep

You can't hear that switch, but you can hear them niggas scream…

That imposing beat had the house jumping off. Like That lyrics bounced off the walls, hyping up the room full of men that came out to support Mike.

Got your girl in this bitch, she twirlin' on the dick (he was once a thug, he was, he -)

(He was once a thug, he was, he -)

I got syrup in this bitch, turn up in this bitch (he was once a thug, he was, he -)

And it's 'bout the 'Ercs in this bitch, get murked in this bitch (he was once a thug, he was, he -)…

Terry wore an oversized tank top in beige with the sides cut low, giving you a peek at the muscles in his biceps and obliques. He gave himself a fresh line up and moisturized his low curls. Straight fit, light wash jeans hugged his lower half and he wore a pair of crisp, All White’s. Terry bopped his head precisely to the heavy bass, green solo cup in his hand between his lips. The gold Cuban link hanging from his neck matched the gold Cuban chain on his left wrist and the gold band of his Apple Watch on his right wrist.

The front door opened, more handsome black men pouring in and greeting everyone. Terry saluted the ones he recognized and shook hands firmly with those he didn’t. Terry knew the lyrics to Kendrick’s verse word for word. When the ‘Big Three’ line came up, everyone chimed in. Smile on his face, Terry headed towards the kitchen to fill his cup and mingle with some family he hadn’t seen in a while. He couldn’t believe his little cousins were old enough now to attend functions like this.

“This nigga freaked out already!”

One of Terry’s little cousins, Malik, who just turned 21 sucked his teeth at everyone laughing. Terry did notice the way he kept checking the door for the strippers every time it opened.

“They ain’t here yet, nigga!”

Mike entered the kitchen with enthusiasm and shades on. Terry caught the smell of weed on him when he approached his side. Terry picked up his trucker hat to clear some space from the kitchen island for more liquor bottles. A big ass bottle of Hennessy caught Terry’s eye. He was currently sipping on jungle juice.

“Got that shit that turn you into a beast, TJ. Real King Kong shit!” Mike shouted over the loud music.

“I see you came through,” Terry held the neck of the Hennessy bottle firm, veins in his arms popping out.

“We about to see TJ in rare form tonight!”

Terry shook his head at the men surrounding him all agreeing. He refused to let it get to him. He wasn’t the same tall, lanky kid from Red Stick. Wasn’t the same teenager who got picked on in the schoolyard for being too quiet or too nerdy. He was a grown ass man with intellect and vocabulary beyond the slang words and a muscle strength so powerful he could take down an entire room full of wannabe gangstas. But, he didn’t wear that on his sleeve. He remained stoic with his strong and silent presence. Tonight, however, he’d let himself enjoy what was to come. He had his money ready. He just hoped they were deserving of it.

He was a hard man to impress.

“Make yourself a stronger drink, Cousin. We got all night….”

Terry was more of a bourbon guy. But there wasn’t any around and he refused to bring his good shit for everybody to help themselves to. He poured Hennessy into his cup and took a sip. It was cool.

He sauntered towards the spread of party food they had catered. The smells made his mouth water. He grabbed himself a plate and piled fried chicken, smoked turkey greens, gator bites, mac and cheese, and whatever else he could fit. Today was his cheat day.

Terry ate his food while standing, catching bits and pieces of conversation here and there. On one end of the room, a group of men, most likely Mike’s friends, were laughing at whatever was on one of their phones. Across from him in the kitchen, there’s a debate about which they’d prefer: no ass and big titties or a big ass and no titties. Terry snorted. Childish behavior.

Tha Biz-, the Bizness

Uh, I like a long-haired, thick redbone

Open up her legs, then filet mignon that pussy

I'ma get in and on that pussy

If she let me in, I'ma own that pussy…

Terry didn’t care much for the mac and cheese. Too dry and not enough flavor. Every thing else was delicious. He tossed his plate and excused himself to the bathroom. He climbed the stairs to the guest bathroom instead of the basement because he was informed that the basement was reserved for the ladies who plan to entertain them tonight.

He relieved himself and flushed before washing his hands. He checked himself in the mirror making sure he hadn’t stained his new shirt.

“Ladies Ladies Ladies!”

Terry could overhear the commotion downstairs.

“The basement is all yours…hey, Keisha, lookin’ good…nice to meet you…don’t worry, the groom ain’t here right now he went out back…”

That sounded like Mike’s best man and bestfriend, Cliff.

“Take your time ladies…don’t rush the process…we won’t complain TRUST ME…”

Terry left the bathroom and walked down the stairs at the same moment they closed the basement door behind them. His eyes that appeared blue–green in the dim light scanned the room, taking in the eager and impatient looks on the faces of men ready to throw cash.

“Fuck you mean they gotta get ready? Type of shit is this here?” One dude complained.

“They work at Crazy Horse, Bruda, you know how them dancers are.”

“Busted and dusted,” Another replied with a drunk cackle.

Terry held up the wall, cup in hand, tripping off of the conversation.

“Kiesha thick ass can get this anytime, anywhere…but that one that walked in last? Man…”

The man that spoke, short in height with a bald fade and teeth lined with gold caught Terry’s eyes and shook his head as he blew air out his cheeks. Terry smirked into his cup.

“She the truth. I wanna see what she do…”

“She one a ‘dem pretty natural ones…rare.”

That interested Terry. He paid closer attention.

“Probably taste like sugar.”

“Im’a put my tongue in it!”

Cliff cracked the door to the basement. He stuck his head between the opening and shouted down the steps. Terry could hear him communicating with one of the dancers. He shut the door quickly and motioned for his friend to pause the music.

“I’m a grab Mike. It’s about to go down.”

He did the Birdman hand rub as he rushed away to collect the groom. The room started to flood with the others, all too anxious to get a glimpse and participate in the fun. Terry pat his back pocket, feeling the folded stack of cash he’d brought. He had more tucked away in his wallet just in case. Mike entered the room cross–faded. He moved with unsteady legs and a bottle in hand, the contents almost spilling onto the carpet.

Terry grabbed the bottle and sat it down on a table.

“AIGHT! ITS ABOUT TO JUMP OFF YA’LL READY?!!!”

Someone activated the strobe lights and the room flooded with ultraviolet light. The melanin in the room looked a deep blue beneath the black lights. Terry knocked the rest of his drink back and sat his cup down next to the Hennessy bottle Mike was holding. From the corner of his eye, he could see someone carrying a chair out from the dining room. They forced Mike to sit, Terry laughing at his cousin’s goofy smile.

Ear Drummers

Strippers

Mike WiLL Made-It

Bands a make her dance

Bands a make her dance…

The door opened and Terry locked his eyes forward, cupping his mouth and howling along with the others.

——

Aaliyah couldn’t control her indecisive habits if she tried. She’d spent majority of her day into the early afternoon cleaning and now her room looked like a disaster. It was nearing eight and she still couldn’t decide what to wear! Keisha was gonna kill her ass…

Aaliyah flipped through her clear tote filled with old outfits from her stripper days. She was about to give up and settle for a neon green fishnet set until she spotted a bright pink holster top with matching bottoms. There were hot pink fishnets with the back cut out for her ass that she could pair with it. Oh! pink pasties over the nipples would spice it up real nice. Aaliyah remembered her seven inch stiletto heels with rhinestone fringes. Perfect. She quickly grabbed it and worked as fast as she could, glancing at her phone.

So far, Keisha hadn’t called her. Aaliyah slipped off her satin, black robe and flung it over the chair situated in front of her vanity. She already applied her body oil with the aroma of fresh peaches blended perfectly with a hint of the tropics creating this rich, sweet, sultry scent. Her favorite fairy dust body powder clung to her soft skin and glittered in the light like diamonds.

Aaliyah tied the last tight bow on her bottoms before sitting to slip on her heels. She decided to go with a light beat, not wanted to wear anything too heavy and end up sweating it all off. She tapped the screen of her phone and with twenty minutes left, she swooped her edges and sprayed oil sheen over her two, long braids. Her French tip fingers smoothed down as much frizz as she could to keep it neat.

Situated in front of her body length mirror, Aaliyah admired the final look. Lastly, she tugged on a white, bodycon dress with a sway of her hips.

Buzz Buzz…Buzz Buzz…

“Hello?”

“I’m outside. Diamond and Precious is in the back. You ready?”

“Yeah,” Aaliyah grabbed a pair of black, thong flip flops, “heading out now.”

She ended the call and with one final sweep of her room, she turned off the lights and headed straight for the door. Stanley cup in the crease of her arm, she locked her front door. Aaliyah angled her body, descending the stairs carefully. She didn’t want a repeat of what happened a year ago. She sprained her ankle so bad she couldn’t dance for two months.

Kiesha rolled the window down to her Hellcat, smoke billowing out. Aaliyah rolled her eyes. She did not want weed smell lingering on her. Keisha leaned over and opened the door since Aaliyah’s hands were full. She climbed in and shut the door, Keisha not waiting a moment longer before hitting the gas hard. Aaliyah looked over at Keisha with a mug on her face while her friend laughed.

She noticed that she was the only one ready. Aaliyah looked back at Diamond and Precious. Redbone Diamond had her bubble gum pink frontal pinned up while holding a Hello Kitty compact mirror as steady as she could, drawing on her thin eyebrows. She had on a matching camouflage, short set. Aaliyah recognized that set from Fashion Nova. Her eyes moved towards Precious. Precious was a tiny girl. Petite and spunky. She had a buz cut dyed blonde. She was wearing her outfit beneath a tube dress while puffing on a fat blunt. Her eyes squinted at Aaliyah before giving her a toothy grin filled with braces.

“How ya’ll been?” Aaliyah asked.

“Good!” Diamond replied.

“Straight! How ‘bout you?” Precious said.

“Been good. Dealing wit’ school. Good to see ya’ll. Ready for tonight?”

“Can’t wait!”

“Turnt!” Diamond shouted before snapping her mirror shut, “Pass that here…”

Aaliyah relaxed into her seat.

“Girl, you told me to be ready by eight. Why the fuck you ain’t dressed?”

Keisha reached back, accepting the blunt while one–hand whipping the car.

“Cliffy told me we could use the basement if we needed to. I brought all the goods just in case. The coochie spray for Diamond—”

“BITCH don’t get hurt!”

Aaliyah chuckled.

“You got your LED plug?” Keisha asked Aaliyah excitedly.

Aaliyah dragged her upper teeth over her bottom lip with a mischievous smile.

“Nasty bitch….lemme see it.”

Aaliyah leaned her body against the door so her meaty buns could face Keisha. She lifted her white bodycon dress over her cakes and with one hand, she spread one hefty cheek. There, buried in her ass, was the LED plug. It lit up like a pair of sketchers. Keisha giggled.

“Girrrrrlllllllllll I told Cliff about you…”

Aaliyah fixed herself and straightened up in her seat.

“Keisha, don’t set me up with no nigga. No more of that shit.” Aaliyah retorted.

“I didn’t set you up. He remembers you from Crazy Horse. When he used to show up on Tuesdays…”

“Keish, not that nigga…he ugly and his breath stank. You know exactly what to do to piss me off!”

Diamond and Precious cackled in the back seat.

“His dick big.” Keisha replied as if that would change Aaliyah’s mind.

“Bitch, big dick, little dick, a dick made out of the purest gold if phat ma don’t get wet and this heart don’t skip a beat I’m not finna give you my time. That shit is crazy…”

“You shake ass for an ugly nigga though.” Keisha argued back.

“THEY PAYIN’ ME! Girl…” Aaliyah kissed her teeth, fixing her lash extensions because the windows are rolled down, “How far out?”

“Ten minutes.”

They rode in silence the rest of the way while blasting a bounce mix. Keisha’s Hellcat slowed to a stop in front of a cute little house with a lengthy drive way. Kiesha parked on the grass and killed the ignition. She gave the blunt one final hit before tossing it out the window. The ladies exited the car and before the went inside, Keisha had an idea for them to take some pics and video before heading in. Aaliyah acted as photographer and videographer while Diamond, Precious and Keisha did their thing.

When they finished, Keisha begged Aaliyah to do a video. Aaliyah scoped out the area and yanked her dress off, darting to stand next to a white SUV parked haphazardly on the front lawn. Keisha moved her phone in different angles, Aaliyah staring back at her with a hand on the car and her ass moving like a tidal wave.

“Damn, mama…show out!”

Diamond and Precious clapped their hands in time to Aaliyah’s twerking.

“Cool it nah,” Aaliyah shooed them off before putting her dress back on, “You see that?”

The other ladies followed her gaze through the windows of the home. They all gawked at the amount of men throughout that house.

“Dayummmmm…we leaving chubby tonight. Money, money, money!” Diamond said.

This was Aaliyah’s vibe. Although she had a ball at the fire station, nothing compared to a room full of black men. She grinned beautifully and squealed. They grabbed their things and Aaliyah was last to trail behind because she forgot her thong flip flops. Keisha knocked on the door boldly and it opened two seconds later.

It was Cliff.

He hugged Keisha and kissed her cheek. Cliff did the same greeting for Diamond and Precious. However. He held his hand out for Aaliyah. Her sultry eyes flicked to Keisha then back at Cliff. She accepted his hand and he guided her inside softly, his eyes scanning her body.

“Liyah Alllure…mmm, mmm, mmm…”

“Hey you,” Aaliyah titled her head in greeting with a sweet smile.

“Still just as gorgeous…happy you could join us tonight.”

“Happy to be here…”

“Ladies Ladies Ladies!”

Some dude with a skinny frame and a gold grill greeted them. They all said hello, ignoring the men in the room eye–fucking them. Aaliyah could suffocate from their stares alone.

“The basement is all yours…hey, Keisha, lookin’ good…nice to meet you…don’t worry, the groom ain’t here right now he went out back…Take your time ladies…don’t rush the process…we won’t complain TRUST ME…”

Aaliyah remained close behind Precious as they disappeared into the basement. The door shut behind her with a soft click. They entered the finished basement and Aaliyah excused herself to the rest room. She’d been drinking water all day and needed to go before doing a bunch of dancing. Keisha got dressed while Precious and Diamond helped each other out on jewelry. Aaliyah exited the bathroom in just her pink, outfit with rhinestones to match her heels.

“How we goin’ in? One by one or?” Diamond questioned.

She was dressed in neon green. A full body fishnet outfit with black stilettos. Aaliyah was happy she decided on the ensemble she had on.

“One by one. I’m supposed to give the lap dance. After that, ya’ll come out. Simple.” Keisha said.

The intro to Bandz A Make Her Dance started playing.

“That’s me!” Keisha stood up. She was wearing a white cowgirl hat with a fringe bikini set to match and white stilettos. She reminded Aaliyah of Megan The Stallion with her blue hair cascading down her back.

Keisha climbed the stairs and when the door opened, howling and yelling pierced her ears. The other three ladies shared a look with each other and laughed.

“I’m a need some liquor.” Aaliyah said.

——

Terry’s bottom lip sat between his teeth to contain his laughter.

When the first girl entered, going by the name of Keisha, he loved her vibrant personality and spit fire attitude. Keisha had the men in that room foaming at the mouth. She sashayed over to Mike with that brazen attitude and revealing body. Ain’t no way in hell she could fit that white bikini set and that was the point. Terry’s brows rose in surprise at Keisha straddling Mike. Her bountiful curves almost swallowed him while he was in that chair. Big ol’ ass and fat titties. That country thick you got lost in.

Terry grunted when she turned and made that big, fucking ass clap in Mike’s face. His thick brows knitted together and he shared a look with a friend before chuckling. Mike didn’t know what do to. He kept his hands to his sides, grasping the back legs of the chair he was stuck in.

“All that ass, Mike!”

“You better get it in while you can!”

“Suffocate that nigga, Keisha!”

“You good down there groom?” Keisha teased.

Money flew in the air when she plucked her top off. When them titties dropped, Terry’s large hand stuffed into his back pocket. He didn’t make it rain yet, he was waiting for Keisha to do something special. The body was crazy, but where’s the tricks?

“Throw that shit, TJ.” His friend nudged him with his elbow.

Terry ignored him.

Keisha stood up and went down to the floor in front of Mike in a split. She made those twin globes dribble and that was good enough to earn some of his cash. Terry leaned over the back of Mike’s chair and flicked two Benjamin’s on her. He watched it connect with that ass before falling to the floor. Keisha arched forward and spread her cheeks before going into a head stand.

She shook her legs and clicked her heels before dropping into another split.

“THERE YOU GO!”

“Baby going stupid…”

“Buku ass…”

Terry remained close. Keisha’s eyes locked onto him and it was enough to bring her to her feet. Terry held her steady gaze, a smirk teasing his thick lips.

“You a pretty nigga, ain’t you?” Keisha walked up on him with her hands on her hips, “What’s your name?!”

“TJ.” Terry replied.

Keisha pushed her breasts up with her fists in his face.

“Like what you see with those green eyes. A pretty boi like you ain’t used to a woman like me, huh?”

Terry’s tongue grazed his bottom lip and he locked on to the dizzying motion of her fat tits. Bringing his eyes back on her, he displayed a bill and sat it in the crease. Keisha leaned forward and grabbed the money with her teeth.

“Keep impressin’ me and there’s more for you…”

Keisha had to blink out of a trance. Terry had this unspoken power that rendered her speechless. To top it all off, that deep baritone shot straight to her clit.

“Come get this money, baby!”

Keisha pulled herself away from Terry, but not before dragging a hand down his chest. The look in her hazel eyes told him she wanted to do more than give him a lap dance.

She wanted to spin on that dick.

The door pushed open and the next girl to enter had pink hair. She was a cutie.

“I’m Diamond…”

When she turned, Terry looked away.

A BBL. A bad one at that.

He folded his money back up and made his way to where he stood earlier. The other men in the room were probably so used to seeing it that it didn’t even phase them. Terry watched Diamond do her thing. She hit the splits, shook that ass as best she could, but it was boring. Terry filled his cup and just vibed, laughing at the way some of the men in the room went bonkers over her. Even Mike was stuck. Mouth wide and eyes equally wide.

Next came a tiny girl that showed off acrobatic skills and flexibility. Terry had his money out again and he made it rain on her. She made that little booty shake. Keisha was making her way around, grinding and talking shit. Diamond allowed some of the men to grab ass. The three women scoped out Terry and winked at him. He played nice with Diamond and slipped her a crisp bill. With the tiny one named Precious, he tipped more.

“Where’s Liyah?!”

Cliff scanned the room. Another girl?

“There’s more?! Ahhh shit…”

——

Aaliyah watched from the bottom of the stairs as Precious made her entrance. She wrung her hands and exhaled a sigh. She didn’t know what to expect past those doors. Aaliyah applied more gloss and with a shaky hand, she grasped the railing and climbed. They kept the light off to avoid being spotted right away. Aaliyah stared through the crack of the door at Precious working the room.

So many…so many men.

The floor was covered with money.

She allowed her eyes to scan, taking everything in. As her eyes swept past the groom in his chair, she couldn’t see the entire room because of the door, but the sound of Cliff’s voice let her know it was time.

“Where’s Liyah?!”

“Put on her old intro!”

That was Keisha’s voice.

Aaliyah felt her nerves settle. The blacklights and the song reminded her of Crazy Horse. This was her walk out song….

Waka Flocka Ft. Roscoe Dash–No Handz Instrumental.

With one hand Aaliyah pushed open that door and stepped one shaky leg out past the darkness. The ultraviolet light caused her skin to twinkle and the blue hue made the pink she wore pop. She fully came into view, her tongue curled up over her top teeth to tease and those ‘come fuck me eyes’ staring into the faces of horny men with the money she wanted.

She allowed her body to rock to the beat. Aaliyah turned her back on everyone, brought her hands up, and gave them a thunderous applause with that beautiful ass before arching her back. She twerked those honey buns and looked back at it before a lusty smile appeared on her lips. Both hands twirled her braids while she rocked those hips.

Back. Forth. Back. Forth.

Bounce, Bounce, Bounce

*clap clap clap*

Nobody wasted time throwing money. She could work that entire room on her own. Aaliyah got down on her hands and knees, crawling like a jungle cat before turning to show off that LED plug while twerking.

“You see that shit?!”

“Hot damn!”

“Fuck, she’s nice.”

“C’mere pretty lady…”

“Freaky girl!”

That song…she owned it.

She staked her claim on it.

She spread those legs on her back and gyrated, thighs separated and the barely there crotch of her pink bikini covering her meaty pussy lips. She rubbed the money that rained down on her into her pussy and around her breasts. They…were…obsessed.

The way she looked at you, it made you feel like the only man in the world worthy of her attention.

How nasty she talked…

“I better see some thick bulges tonight, boys…”

On her feet, Aaliyah strutted dangerously slow, further into the crowd of men. As her eyes swept, she came across a pair of blue eyes that reminded her of a bottle of Hypnotiq beneath the blacklights. Too familiar…

Holy FUCKING shit…

She tried to mask her surprise but his was so boldly present.

The Professor.

His jaw dropped, eyes widening in disbelief as if a sudden jolt of electricity had coursed through his veins leaving him momentarily stunned. To others, it could seem as if Terry was so overwhelmed with how motherfucking fine Aaliyah is that he couldn’t even function. She knew the real reason. She simmered down her astonishment as best as she could and turning away, focusing on a cute guy with thick locs to his shoulders.

Her heart raced. Panic consumed her.

She had no time to panic.

“Prettiest thang in Louisiana…”

Aaliyah cupped her breasts covered in nipple tape and licked her lips. She could feel Terry’s gaze burning a hole into the side of her face. She was nervous. Oh so nervous. Her smile didn’t reach her eyes. Everybody was too drunk or too hype to take notice.

all except Professor Richmond. He could see right through her.

What the fuck was he doing here of all places?!

She blended in with her girls and tried her best to shield herself from Terry’s view.

That intensity in his eyes this time around left her shaken up.

Aaliyah pushed herself to perform. The space was too cramped. They scattered to watch her hit a clean split and when she glanced over her shoulder, Terry was right there. Like he appeared out of thin air.

He was standing above her. Towering over her. She had no choice but to look up.

Aaliyah couldn’t hide. She couldn’t if she tried.

“Back up, TJ. I’m tryna see all that…”

He was shoved to the side and Aaliyah felt the rain of money on her while she avoided Terry’s hard eyes zeroed in on her ass. He was so stuck.

Her breath hitched at the way he looked at her. Like he wanted to ravage her.

Her eyes glided down his frame and she loved the way he dressed. He looked delectable.

“Arch that back, bitch…”

“Yeahhhh…”

Aaliyah grabbed her ankles and made each cheek dance on its own. The heavy bass and quick melody of the bounce song compelled her to shake some ass.

The sound of her pulse in her ears drowned out the music. She locked eyes with him again and for once she grew timid. His eyes drank her in and when she lifted one leg up to pop that ass he chewed on that lip and tilted his head to see how that pussy looked from that angle.

You like what you see, huh?

“You got skills baby…Think you can show me more?”

Terry cut his eyes at the men circling Aaliyah.

Things were turning up like a raging storm.

“Pull that pussy part…”

They wanted to see her pussy. Aaliyah giggled and trailed a finger between her legs before rubbing it against one of their noses. They enjoyed that way too much. He tried to suck on that finger but Terry yoked him up by the wrist. The dread head looked at Terry like he was asking for a death wish.

“We don’t touch unless they say so…remember the rules.”

“Let go, nigga. I don’t need you tellin’ me what the fuck to do…”

“Woah, woah, woah…”

Aaliyah used that opportunity to disappear. A prickling sensation shot up her spine. She slipped down into the basement and hid herself within the darkness.

She needed a second.

“Get it together, Liyah…”

Aaliyah picked up a shorty bottle of Paul Masson Peach and took a long swig. She recapped the drink and scrunched her face from the burn. Aaliyah shook out her hands to stop them from trembling. How was she going to show her face in class on Wednesday?

All she would be able to think about was the shock on his face. There was no turning back. Aaliyah drank some more. She needed the liquor to get her through the rest of the night. The door to the basement opened and Keisha appeared. She had a look of concern on her face.

“Li–Li. You okay?”

“I’m fine, Keisha. Go back up. I was just feeling a little queasy that’s all.”

“Some shit was about to pop off. Did they touch you without your consent?”

“It’s cool. I’ll be up…”

“Don’t lie to me Li–Li…”

Aaliyah gave Keisha a reassuring smile.

“No reason to lie, mamas. I’m feeling better,” Aaliyah pushed herself up, “C’mon…”

——

Frozen.

When that door pushed open and she crept out like a sex goddess, he almost spilled his cognac.

Aaliyah?

The small hairs across his arms stood on end. Desire rushed in the moment the initial shock faded.

*clap clap clap*

Gahdamn…

He knew it. He fucking knew it.

That body outta be in a museum. This fine ass woman held a confidence so powerful he could bend at her will.

Terry Richmond sucked in a breath when her eyes connected with his.

He saw the power drain from her like Superman to Kryptonite. Terry’s chest grew tight. She drew in closer, his mouth unhinged. The glitter on her skin and the smell of her sweet fragrance made the big boy between his legs react.

Down boy…

He fought the urge to palm his bulge because it was growing out of his control. He didn’t know where to look first. Those titties sat up round and perfect. That ass was so fat he wanted to sink his teeth in it. Leave his imprint on that thick fucking shit. His eyes still lit up like Miracle on 34th Street from the glow emitting from that asshole.

Freak nasty.

He was speechless. His star pupil is a Stripper.

The biggest plot twist.

Terry wanted her even more. He wanted to tell her that it was going to be okay and she didn’t need to feel embarrassed or afraid. He could sense she was trying to avoid him as she moved around the room.

Terry needed her to know that he liked what he saw.

They weren’t in his classroom. It was okay to free her inhibitions and show him what Liyah Allure is all about. He found her popping ass and talking shit.

“Tip me, daddy…”

“You want it?”

“Don’t just stare at me. Spoil me…”

Honeyed voice as smooth as silk. Terry drew in closer and allowed himself to be consumed by her.

The glitter on her skin looked edible and if he could lick every single fleck off with his tongue he would.

The dip in her spine leading down to a full ass with hips and thighs to match told him she could take it deep and it would be a warm, tight, wet paradise.

He did say he wanted to escape somewhere tropical…

Those two braids would be anchored around his hands while he drilled deep with every goddamn stroke of his fat dick.

Unh…Unh…Unh…

Make her weep on his dick.

Professor…Professor…Don’t stop…

There she was.

Those eyes focused on him again and he saw the hint of shyness.

“I wanna pull that pussy part…”

Something primal and predatory sparked within him. Aaliyah stroked her lower lips with a single finger and shoved that finger against Darrell’s nose.

Darrell tried to take it too far.

Terry was quicker.

He wrapped his large hand around Darrell’s wrist with a vice grip similar to a boa constrictor. He would knock the daylights outta Darrell and leave him slumped over if he so much as put that finger in his mouth.

Darrell was stunned by Terry’s strength and the fact that he couldn’t break free. Weak ass nigga…

She disappeared.

Mike came over to settle down the growing altercation and with a pat on Terry’s back, he walked away in search of Aaliyah. She was nowhere in sight.

Terry waited for about ten minutes and then she resurfaced from the basement with Keisha. She probably needed a moment to gather her thoughts and energy. His presence stumped her.

Aaliyah scanned the room until she found Terry.

She got down on her hands and knees and popped ass in a split. Nobody else in that room mattered. She locked in on him from across the room. Terry sipped his drink and watched her.

“Who wants a private show?!”

Keisha pointed at Terry.

He gave a quick nod of his head. Keisha was about to be let down. He ain’t want nobody but Aaliyah. She was getting the rest of his money tonight. She deserves it and so much more. And when Terry gets his hands on her…

“I’ll take one. But I want her.”

Aaliyah saw the cash in his hand and smiled.

“Only if she ain’t scared.”

Aaliyah couldn’t believe he just said that.

“I get the impression she likes to tease…”

Aaliyah walked up to Terry with a seductive look in her eyes. He held onto her gaze with his money on display.

“Your call, beautiful.”

Aaliyah stared at him for another moment before taking him by the hand and down into the basement.

——

Terry allowed her to guide him. They headed towards the sofas, silence hanging between them. Aaliyah turned fully to face him before Terry took a seat. Without taking his eyes off of her, he placed his cup on the table and settled back into the cushion. Terry spread his thighs and with one hand over the top of the couch, the other smoothed down his left thigh invitingly. Aaliyah dropped her eyes to his lap and with a faint smile, she took a seat where his hand once was.

Aaliyah watched him spread his money out across his other thigh. She parted her glossy lips a fraction, eyeing nothing but one hundred dollar bills. Her eyes lit up. Terry looked up at her with low, lust filled eyes and a sly smirk. He removed his glasses with one hand and folded it against his chest before sitting it on the table, all while staring at her.

She looked at him.

He looked at her.

“…I don’t know what to say…”

Aaliyah’s eyelashes fluttered as she blinked away from him. Terry used his thumb to gently pull her attention back towards him.

“I should be embarrassed right now…”

Terry was trying to keep his composure but her breasts in his face was melting his cool exterior.

“Aaliyah…I don’t want you to feel embarrassed. I’m not judging you…”

She giggled nervously, “maybe not…but this was so unexpected, ya know?”

“Very. How long have you been doing this?”

Aaliyah stared heavenward shyly while deep in thought. He liked seeing her like this. It was another side to her he enjoyed.

“Well…this in particular…it’s my second time. Stripping…I did it for about five years before I quit Crazy Horse a year ago…now I just film content and work Verizon part time.”

Her eyes connected with his again.

“So…what do ya want me to do? A lap dance? What?”

Terry trailed his eyes down her body.

“Do whatever makes you feel comfortable…”

Terry’s hand molded into her back. Aaliyah shivered. The feeling of his hand on her skin was exhilarating.

She stood, facing Terry. He placed his money beside him, and his hands out of the way. Aaliyah straddled him, bracing herself on his shoulders. She looked down at him with a slow blink and the erotic smile she gave him forced his hands into fists.

“Have you ever had a lap dance before, Professor?”

“…Call me Terrence.”

“…Terrence…”

“Once. It wasn’t memorable.” Terry responded with a hushed tone.

He reclined his head back slightly and stared up into her eyes with practiced restraint.

Aaliyah gave him a mean whine over his crotch. Her chest would graze his goatee ever so slightly. He had to stop his tongue from poking out to drag between those titties.

“Ooh, that’s too bad…is this okay?”

That melodic voice…

“You’re doin’ just fine, Miss Aaliyah.”

Terry flexed his fingers. Aaliyah looked down at his hands.

“Can I admit something?” Aaliyah asked with a sultry smile.

“What’s that?”

Aaliyah tucked her chin and giggled softly. She blinked away briefly before her eyes met his again.

“What?” Terry pushed.

“I think about you every day…”

“Enough to stick around after class?”

Aaliyah’s bottom lip sat between her teeth. Terry smiled.

“Why did you turn me down?” He questioned.

Aaliyah dragged her hands down his chest and stilled her hips. Terrence rested his hands on the sides of her thighs. He couldn’t resist. Aaliyah didn’t protest.

The feel of her against his hands. The heft of her on him. The images he pictured in his mind…

“I’m not an easy girl, Terrence. You gotta work harder for me. I wanted you to…”

“Chase you.” Terry concluded with an elevated brow.

“May seem silly but…it turns me on.”

“I wonder what else turns you on…”

“That brain of yours,” Aaliyah trailed her fingers through his short, soft curls, “Your passion…expressive hands…your voice…those eyes…”

Terry licked his lips, “I would have chased you and went along with your lil’ game. If that means I get to play with you in the end…”

His eyes dropped to her lips.

“You do this��tongue bite thing…I like that…” Terry said.

“What else you like?” Aaliyah asked softly, doing exactly what Terry liked. Displaying the tip of her tongue between her teeth. Moving it back and forth…

“Everything about you…you’re so damn sexy…the way you look at me just…Aaliyah, you’re aware of your beauty. That confidence lights a fire under me, baby…”

“I’m baby?”

“Mhm, the prettiest baby…”

Aaliyah played with his Cuban link. Terry’s right thumb stroked the beauty mark below her lip.

Terry groped her thigh with his free hand and glided it up to her waist. He used his thumb to trace circles into her soft skin.

“I don’t like how you put your finger on Darrell’s nose.”

“You wish it were you? Darrell didn’t get a lap dance…”

Aaliyah lifted from his lap and turned so that she was grinding against his tent with enough pressure to rub her pussy over it. The hard bulge against her fat, lower lips caused her to moan.

Terry threw money over her, his ears enjoying the way her moans sounded so angelic despite her naughty actions.

After all, she is The Dark Angel.

“Aaliyah…”

That signature look back would have had him busting a fat ass nut in his jeans.

The way she moved her hips on him.

“I want you so fuckin’ bad…”

“I know.”

She smiled.

Aaliyah stood from his lap and Terry groaned deep.

“Times up.”

He glared at her with lust and frustration. Aaliyah leaned over him with her hands on the back of the couch. Their eyes connected and her glossy lips feathered over his.

“Until next time…I think I’m free for that lunch on Wednesday…”

She brought her lips to his cheek and with her jeweled tongue, Aaliyah dragged it over his ear tantalizingly slow. She pushed away from him and Terry stood from the couch. He fixed his attire while Aaliyah stared up at him with faux innocence and her hands crossed behind her back. She swayed back and forth, parting her lips to rest her tongue in the corner of her mouth.

“It’s a date.”

@theereina @bombshellbre95 @planetblaque @trippyscotch @megamindsecretlair @uzumaki-rebellion @thesweetestdrug @theblulife @hotgrlcece @blackerthings @deja-r @helloncrocs @hearteyes-for-killmonger @kaylabuggggg06 @skyesthebomb @blyffe @gwenda-fav @beenathembo @blackpinup22 @novaniskye @melaninhawtie @urfavblackbimbo @avoidthings @rose-bliss @xo-goldengirl @kinginwithbreezy-blog @mysecertdiaryofableedingheart @sirenmouths @creartivefairy @soulfulbeauty19 @therealmrsrhodes @hrlzy @nayaesworld @gg-trini @brattyfics @flydotty @writingsbytee @shiania @browngirldominion @notapradagurl7 @madamzola @kismet83 @aristasworld @sl33p-deprived-princess @erynnnn @itssbrie @melaninangel @withoutmusiclifewouldbflat @sweettea-and-honeybutter

#aaron pierre x black!oc #aaron pierre #rebel ridge #nahimjustfeelingit-writes

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bunny-jpeg · 6 months ago

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hello bunny! Can I please request cinnamon rolls with a side of coffee for Oscar? Tyyyy <3

bakery menu

want to submit your own order? then hit up the menu! i have been working hard on these orders to serve up smiles for my readers! so thank you for submitting this order! i love the combo you chose, especially with oscar and the rivals au! so thank you, thank you!

cinnamon rolls ("no one needs to know") + coffee (rivals au) served by oscar piastri (formula one)!

cw: smut/pwp, rivals au, secret relationship, living room sex, marriage, pull-out method (be safe)!,

it started with you visiting oscar in england. you thought he was stupid to live in rainy england, instead of sunny monaco. but, regardless, during off time, you went to visit him.

sometimes you brought lando along, and the three of you hung out together. but for the summer break in the 2024 season, you went alone. more than happy to visit your colleague? friend? the closest thing to call oscar would probably be rival. and lover.

you had been visiting for a day so far, and already you were barely wearing any clothes. or when you did, it was mostly oscar's clothes, the boxy t-shirts and boxer briefs felt good as you scampered around the large house he owned.

you had shared a meal when you landed and then breakfast in the morning. he made you eggs and even went as far as to get the brand of turkey bacon that you enjoyed more than regular bacon. and yet, you still stole some of the pork bacon off of his plate.

it was domestic, if anyone peered in with no context to your relationship, you'd look like an everyday couple. that was until you started playing switch.

"i swear to god pizza-pie, i'm going to throw your switch controller out the window if you don't get out of my way!!" you chirped as you tried to shove him on the couch.

"yeah, yeah, whatever, cupcake." he snipped back.

they were nicknames you called each other. you started calling him 'pizza-pie' after you misheard his last name upon your first meeting. it spiraled into a nickname for you.

you two shoved into one another as you said, "i swear to god, oscar. you get out of my way. this is going to end as it does on the track." you two were playing mario kart and currently you were lagging behind oscar.

he laughed at your words as he tried to get an arm around you to pull you to him, effectively trapping you against him. making you more prone to losing the race.

you were racing for mercedes and oscar was with mclaren, on the track you two battled it out. and in the media pen, the narrative of your rivalry was often spun. one of the top racers was going toe-to-toe with the first woman in decades.

you tried to bite his strong forearm as he held you, "you son of a bitch! goddamnit!" you swore which only made the man howl in laughter as he got first place.

he pulled away from you then kissed you when you came in second. fuckin' oscar and his bananas! you leaned into the kiss but you reached over and shoved him (with love, of course).

he put the controller down on the coffee table and he took yours to do the same before he crowded in your space once more and held you by the jaw.

"beautiful." he said, "you look good all flustered." then added a cheeky, "below me."

you made a face at him, "you are a pain in my side, pizza-pie." then he pulled you in for a sweet kiss. you wrapped your arms around his shoulders as he melted a little into the kiss.

"but you love me, don't you? my cupcake?" he chuckled as he felt close to you.

"i do, sadly." you joked before you were pulled into another sweet kiss. you held onto his shoulders and leaned into the kiss.

you ended up on the floor, on top of the rug. oscar slowly undressed you both with his eyes and hands. his strong hands on your body made you feel a rush of lust through your body.

you helped him get undressed, then it was followed by a bunch of kisses along your neck. you ran your fingers through his soft hair as he held you by the waist.

"pretty girl." he chuckled, "so pretty."

you squirmed a little, "you're not going to butter me up that easily." then reached out for his forearms when he grabbed you by the hips. he rubbed his achy tip up against your slit and you felt the air leave your lungs for a moment in anticipation.

"i know you love me." he said as he continued to rub up against you, "you can't deny it." he beamed, "you've told me you love me. can't take it back now, babe." he chuckled before he took a deep breath and sank his cock into you.

you tensed up for a moment and held onto the carpet under you, your back arched a little as you felt his length inside of you. you let out a sweet moan, if you were anywhere else it would be hard to keep quiet.

maybe it's for the best that you were all the way in england with him, but as the rain pattered against the window nearby. you second guessed that thought. you'd rather make love to your rival under the bright sun, not the heaviness of storm clouds.

"you're right." you sighed, "damn you, pizza-pie."

he laughed, "oh don't worry, cupcake." he went in for another kiss as he started to find his rhythm of his hips up against you. his cock was a bit of a stretch inside of you, but not enough to bruise your insides.

you held onto the rug tightly as he moved against you, you tried to meet his pace as he kissed you. his lips wet against your heated skin. you whined, "shit, oscar." you kicked your legs out a little as he moved.

"what would the rest of the grid think?" he asked.

you responded with, "i honestly don't care. but i am going to win this year, i'm going to beat, beat max, all of it. it's all coming home with me." you hissed a little as his thrusts got faster.

the heat climb to his face as he held onto your hips. he angled himself in a way to get the best angle as he rocked against you perfectly. he felt a shudder through his body as he felt his heart thump in his chest, your cunt was perfect for him.

he yearned for you when you were both on the track, he'd gaze would often linger before he got into the car. if there was anyone he was going to do tire to tire with, it would be you.

his greatest rival, his greatest love.

the two of you moved together. fit together like perfect pieces. who would've thought that you'd find love in your rival but as you met his gaze made you melt a little.

"oscar."

"i've got you." he said softly.

he was perfect, it left you feeling warm against him. the two of you found a pace and the pleasure washed over you. the kisses were wet and you felt his spit down your chin.

"mine."

"exactly." it rolled off his tongue with such ease.

you clutched onto the carpet under you and arched your back a little as the pleasure washed over you. you tensed up and let out a sweet moan that was music to oscar's ears. he could feel his heart racing in his chest. you gasped out his name as you felt yourself get over the edge. it hit you all at once.

"fuck. oscar." you panted

he slowed down as he felt himself get close then he pulled out and jerked himself off all over your stomach. he loved the sight of his cum all over your skin. he panted heavily and hunched over you as he finished.

he rested back on his heels and panted heavily. his softening cock in his hand. he wiped his forehead free of sweat with his free hand and gazed down at you lovingly.

you laid out on the rug under your back and linked your hands behind your head. you panted heavily, you caught sight of his lingering gaze on your chest. you smirked a little, "want to see who'll come out on top, or will you like to figure that out in bed?"

oscar nodded and replied, "i think you'll kill me if i try to beat you in mario kart." he patted your cheek and grinned, "so why don't we figure it out with you on your back then?"

the rivalry between you and oscar fizzled out by the end of the season. mostly due to photos of you two leaving a restaurant together and him kissing you in the car.

it was a little harder now and days since there are two piastri's on the track. you were still with your teams, orange and black. but when you both got podium it was an affair. you still stood a little taller when the national anthem of your country played, and you beamed at your husband in second.

he still kicked you ass in mario kart, but you still went wheel-to-wheel on the track. you may be married now, but you weren't going to back down to your husband.

even now as he had his arm wrapped around you in the living room of the shared home you had in monaco. much better than dreary england. "i'm going to kill you, piastri!"

"hey, hey. all's fair in mario kart, mrs. piastri!" <3

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alice-after-dark · 1 month ago

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man, I don't want vox to die next season or whatever, I want him to get beaten by Charlie's diligent and obsessive friendship flower beam and be stuck as a resident of the hotel with the other vees whining outside the hotel, banging on the door for Boxy to come home like two sad small purse dogs.

I adore this mental image, thank you lol

I really hope he doesn't die! Not only would it feel like a cop-out for all the main villains to just die at the end of every season, but there's so much potential if he lives? Vox is such a good character and I'd be so upset if his potential got wasted.

Seeing him as a resident of the hotel would certainly be interesting, especially given his relationship with Angel Dust, but there's a lot of potential there for some good interactions and character growth. Done right, it could be really fun and awesome!

I feel like Velvette would be annoyed about it mostly because now she's stuck doing most of the work at the V Tower. Valentino would probably whine and bitch and throw a tantrum.

And of course we have all the RadioStatic potential (drools)! Being stuck in close quarters would force those two to work out there issues and maybe understand the other a little bit better. And then they kiss and then they...okay, stopping myself before I go off the rails lol

#hazbin hotel #hazbin vox #hazbin alastor #radiostatic #alice rambles #hazbin hotel vox #vox hazbin hotel #hazbin valentino #hazbin velvette #asks

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marzipanandminutiae · 7 months ago

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I read about women actively protesting Dior's New Look collection when it came out and. could not have been me. simply could not

give me something elegant and graceful and feminine to wear after years of boxy wartime Girl Scout dresses and watch how fucking fast I start cannibalizing bedsheets to make budget full-circle skirts. I'm not even kidding. Little Below The Knee Club more like Kiss A Little Below My ASS Club

"it represented women's rights regressing after WWII and-" gee whiz sure would be nice if we could have rights independent of how we dressed!!! sure would be nice if these two things weren't inherently related!!! sure would be nice if people could recognize that no single style of dress was inherently repressive, nor any other inherently liberating!!!

oh Chanel doesn't like it? huh? Chanel thinks it's really really bad? shut the fuck up you Nazi athleisure bitch. go dab your eyes with an exorbitantly-priced jersey knit atrocity and continue being mad that it's not 1927 anymore

(also the skirts weren't even that long. they were like calf-length. TOP of the calf. really it's weak and they should have gone even longer. if you consider a calf-length circle skirt impossible for anyone to function in, I don't really know what to tell you)

(obviously everyone is entitled to their opinion about fashion I just feel like there's a very angry woman from 1948 bottled up inside me about this subject)

#fashion #vintage #vintage fashion #nazi mention

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thatboxylady · 1 year ago

Text

may or may not be doing a gofundme soon. or whatever anyone recommends. evidently the clinic who did my root canals a few years back astronomically fucked them up by leaving one of the roots unfilled (???) and now I'm needing a tooth removed probably? plus an implant would also need to be done because it's in a spot that I can't just skip not having a tooth? like fuck?

I'm gonna know more tonight but. I'm astronomically not happy and really scared tbh. we're supposed to be getting hurricane shutters this weekend and uhhh we live in Florida and Cannot Put That Off. We got lucky with Ian but that will not happen again.

#i got an infected tooth/jaw and it doesn't feel great #not even gonna talk about my car rn #or student loans #like how about we just let late stage capatalism crush boxy into pulp and then i just die #that'd be cool #boxy bitches

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imsodishy · 3 months ago

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Take a Step That is New

another episode of Four's Company (a series on ao3)

this episode filmed in front of a live studio audience

May 1987

The cheery chimes above the door at Dot's Dinner ting-a-ling as Steve walks in and he almost throws his stupid briefcase at it. He settles at the last minute for telling it to, “Shut the hell up,” and heads for the counter.

“Whoa, buddy, rough day?” Robin's already saddled up on a stool, Billy’s just serving up her burger and onion rings.

The boxy fan they’ve set up on the counter does nothing to dispel the muggy heat that’s settled over the city, just moves the humid air around. It also does nothing to improve Steve’s mood, sweltering in his stupid suit, he yanks at his tie until he can breathe again.

Steve claims the stool next to Robin, peels off his stuffy jacket and slams it down on the teal formica counter top with zero thought for whatever grease or condiments it might find there, then he plonks his head down next to it without acknowledging Robin, and groans like a dying seal, “I hate my fucking life.”

It’s not true, Steve likes his life. Mostly.

What he fucking hates is his job. Which makes up… some way too big percentage of his life; 9 to 5, Monday to Friday is a big chunk of the week. The heat doesn’t help.

Robin pat-pats his shoulder consolingly. He hears Billy huff at his dramatics before walking away from the sad spectacle of Steve’s life. Off in the corner Seymour, a grumpy old regular who basically lives at his booth, frowns. He’s always frowning at something though. Mostly at Steve, though not exclusively. Eddie earns his fair share of stink-eye.

Robin's hand is still on Steve’s shoulder when he can sense her lean in closer and– “Don't fucking sniff me, dude!” He snaps upright, leaning as far away from her as he can without toppling off the stool. “It's so weird.”

“Sorry! Sorry,” she says, “You seem stressed is all, and I was just checking you didn’t go crawling back to sweet lady nicotine's disgusting embrace.”

Robin’s been rabid lately on her bid to get all three of them to quit smoking. It started with a not in the house rule, and has quickly progressed to all out war on the cancer sticks. Steve's the only one who's buckled so far. He's on an almost two month streak right now, and she's been playing hard defense to keep him on it. He draws the line at the sniffing though. That is simply unacceptable.

Steve rolls his eyes, and grumbles, “I didn’t smoke,” God, he could really go for one right now though, “If I bring a lighter to work I’ll end up burning the building down.”

A strawberry milkshake clonks down on the counter in front of him as Billy basically drops it like a bomb, “Oh my God. Quit! Just quit your stupid fucking job that you hate!” he explodes, “I cannot listen to your sad-sack, bitch-baby, whining about it anymore.“

Steve pulls his milkshake in close just in case Billy tries to confiscate it for bitch-baby behavior. “I can’t just quit,” he whines.

Billy just rolls his eyes and doesn’t try to take Steve’s one joy away from him. “Why? Because your Dad got it for you?”

And like, yeah, but Billy doesn’t have to be such a dickhead about it.

Billy landed his job at Dot’s Diner like some kind of magic. Seriously, their first day in New York, they hadn’t even unpacked any of the boxes they'd schlepped into the house when Billy dusted off his hands and said, “I'm gonna get the lay of the land,” and walked out the front door.

He came back six hours later with a job and a peanut butter milkshake. It took him a month after that to tell them where he worked, and he tells them frequently that he's regretted it everyday since he caved. They do spend a lot of time there bothering him, despite the fact he refuses to give them freebies. His boss, Sal (who reminds Steve a lot of Benny from the diner back home, if he had about two dozen extra tattoos, like they both rolled off a big, gruff, diner proprietor assembly line somewhere), is actually way more likely to sling them a free coke or some fries once in a while.

“We could find you another job,” Robin says, as she’s been saying for months, “One that makes you at least sixty percent less arson-y, guaranteed!”

Robin got her job at the campus bookstore through student services, (obviously not an option for Steve), although, with the first year under her belt, she's talking about looking elsewhere for employment, since the school pays them peanuts anyway, and she thinks she'll be able to balance her schedule better now on her own.

The door chimes jangle crazily as Eddie bursts into the diner, “Outstanding news chums!” he booms, ignoring Seymour scowling in his direction.

“Easy on the door, Munson,” Billy warns.

Eddie shuts the door with exaggerated care, before he hustles over to the counter and hops up on the stool on Robins other side. He gives himself a drumroll, rattling all the flatware on the counter. Old Seymour’s glare intensifies.

“I have news,” he repeats, flipping his cup right-side-up for Billy to fill with coffee he doesn’t need, upcoming nightshift at the bar or no.

Robin takes a guess, “You talked to you boss about getting the time off for the Hawkins trip?” she doesn’t sound that hopeful.

And for good reason. “What? No,” Eddie dismisses her with a flapping hand, “I have an audition with a band!”

“Gasp,” Robin says flatly. The only news Eddie gets this excited about is when he's auditioning, or sitting in, or has a lead on some new band seeking a guitarist.

Eddie, by his own account, got his so-called day job (it’s nights, bar-backing) by just hanging around the bar/music venue he frequents all the time, bothering the bartenders (and selling them weed) until one of them slapped a rag in his hand and told him to make himself useful. Which suits him just fine to fill time while he chases his music dream.

“Look, I'm going to Hawkins either way,” Eddie tells her with a carefree shrug, “If Rosco won't give me the time off I'll just quit and get a new job when we get back.”

“See!” Billy says, slamming the coffee pot back into it's cradle, “You see how easy that is, Harrington? You lose a job, then you get another one. C'est la fucking vie.”

Eddie leans around Robin to look at Steve, “Oh-ho. Did the little Lord Harrington finally break free from the yuppie rat race?”

“No,” Steve says, and slurps a big sip of his milkshake.

Steve didn’t get his own job at all, obviously. It was already lined up for him before they even rented the moving truck. It came pre-approved for him courtesy of his father and his father’s business connections. Steve's been working there for almost a year now, but he's still not entirely clear what they do.

It's real-estate... kind of? The company buys properties, but they do it by selling shares in the properties to other companies, then they use that money to pay construction companies to tear down those properties and build new ones on the land. Those construction companies use that money to buy steel and other building shit from Steve’s dad’s plants back in Indiana (and Michigan). Then Steve's bosses sell the whole shebang for several butt-loads of money for them and their investors to start the game all over again.

Steve’s job largely seems to involve standing around, insuring their side of the boardroom has the most men in suits at all times, and occasionally kissing investor ass. He’s a Junior Account Associate somehow.

It’s soul crushing.

“Aw, cheer up, Stevie,” Eddie says, slapping him on the back, “Look on the bright side, at least you can always keep our beer fridge stocked with that fat paycheck of yours.”

Robin does Steve the favor of smacking Eddie upside the head.

Steve decides to change the subject, “What’s the band called, Ed?” he asks, because that’s always good for a laugh at least.

Eddie holds his hands in front of his face like he's framing a marquee, “ God of Gore ,” he announces in a theatrical growl.

Steve snorts to himself. Yeah, that’s good shit.

“And,” he goes on, voice rising in pitch as he gets more hyped up, “Get this, their last guitarist up and moved to Indiana! How's that for kismet? It's fate, I tells ya!”

“Who would willingly move to Indiana,” Billy wonders, “The whole state's a toilet.”

Not at all bothered by the shit talking of their home state, Eddie hops down of his stool and announces, “Speaking of which, gotta drain the snake.”

While Robin is busy grimacing at that, Eddie wiggles incredibly unsubtle eyebrows at Billy. He gets a, much more subtle, jerk of the chin back, so Eddie slips right past the bathrooms and into the kitchen, and doubtless out the back door to smoke in peace, away from Robin’s judgmental gaze. He’s made vague, placating noises at her about cutting back, but he’s just been sneaking around behind her back, with Billy as an accomplice.

Billy might be smoking more out of spite.

Eddie's whirlwind act really made Steve feel like the sad-sack Billy accused him of being, and he’s sick of that feeling, gets more than enough of it everyday at work.

All the silverware rattles as he slams a decisive hand down on the counter, much to Seymour’s ire. “You know what I think would make me feel better?” Steve asks loudly and rhetorically.

He shoves away from the counter and heads straight for the jukebox.

“No!” Billy booms, pointing at Steve like he’s a cat on the counter.

Steve backs slowly down the aisle, facing Billy the whole way with big, guileless eyes. “What's that?”

“You’re still banned for Bryan Adams crimes.” Honestly, Steve’s probably got a couple bans stacked at the moment. Billy doles them out liberally.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Hargrove,” Steve bumps into the jukebox because he still won’t turn away from Billy’s impotent glare. It's great, his ears are going red.

“I call the shots here,” he tries, fruitlessly.

“No you don‘t, Sal does,” Steve snorts, “And, anyway, I am a private citizen, this is a free country! My dime is as good as anybody’s!” He's been spending too much time with Eddie.

Billy throws a spoon at him.

Steve cackles as he plugs the jukebox. There’s a couple beats of bassy synthesizer.

Billy tells him, “You’re a monster,” with feeling.

Then— “ Watching every motion in my foolish lover’s game.”

Steve slow dances back towards the counter, swaying to the dreamy beat of the bum-bum-bum-bubums, high on the joy of being deeply annoying. He slides back onto his stool just in time to dramatically sing along to, “ Take my breath awaaaaay,” right in Billy’s face. It's gone all red now, like the cherry on Steve's shake, which he happily pops between his grinning teeth.

“It’s not my fault Sal won’t put Mötley Crüe in there,” Steve says, munching happily on his cherry.

Billy storms off into the kitchen.

“Someday,” Robin muses through he mouthful of fried onions, “he’s going to feed you a floor burger, and I’m not going to stop him. This song is sincerely awful.”

“I like it,” Steve declares.

“Of course you do.” Robin pats his hand condescendingly.

She swivels on her stool to face him, a concerned little furrow in her brow, and ketchup on her cheek. “Seriously though, Steve, we could find you a different job. No problem. You got the job at Family Video, and Scoops before that.” Robin got him the job at Family Video, and he only got the job at Scoops because the first guy they hired showed up to the training stoned, but it’s nice of her to say. “You don’t need to stick it out because of your dad, you don’t need his help. It’s not your only option or whatever bullshit you’re worried about. You can get a different job. And, okay, no it wouldn’t pay as much, but you'd get by.”

Robin wasn’t Steve’s first real friend or anything like that, he wouldn’t even say she’s his first good friend . But she’s definitely his best friend. Steve lays a hand over her slightly greasy one on the counter, and furrows his brow right back at her, “But then, Robin, who would keep the beer fridge stocked?”

She rolls her eyes and turns back to her burger, “So we'd have to bid goodbye to Daddy Beer-bucks, we'd survive.”

They would. Robin, Billy, and Eddie are resourceful, and smart, and self-sufficient, they’d figure out a way get by, even with Steve hanging like an anchor around their necks. But Steve hates the idea of dragging them down. Actually can’t stand it. He literally gets a stomach ache if he thinks too hard about it. When he can hear future Robin, somewhere down the line, when she’s sick of his shit, saying You can’t expect us to handle every little issue for you, dingus, in his head, except sometimes the ‘dingus’ morphs into ‘darling’ and imaginary-Robin sounds disturbingly like his mother (which doesn’t help the stomach ache problem at all). So he needs to keep bringing in enough money to pay his way.

Steve just smiles at her.

Billy reemerges from the kitchen to make a round of his tables, giving Steve the evil eye as he goes, before settling behind the counter to concentrate on glaring at Steve despite the fact that the song is long over by now, Eddie Money is playing now. Steve raises his eyebrows at his glare, “Don’t look at me, I’m all out of dimes.”

Robin, perhaps prompted by Mr. Money asks, “Where'd Eddie go? He’s taking forever in there.”

Billy silently points over her shoulder to where they can clearly see Eddie’s hunched form cowering miserably under the diner's awning from the unpleasantly warm rain that’s finally broken after threatening all day. He’s sucking down smoke like his life depends on it. Must not have been enough shelter in the alley when the rain started.

“No!” Robin shouts, much like Billy had shouted at Steve earlier, and dashes out the door, bells cheerfully chiming her exit. Eddie takes a couple more panicked puffs before Robin gets to him and he has to start playing keep away with the butt.

Steve watches them through the window for a couple seconds like a real life version of those weird old puppet shows, “What are those puppets that–“

“Punch and Judy,” Billy answers the unfinished question.

He flicks a dime that bounces off Steve's forehead and drops to the counter with a ring-a-ting-ting. “Go put on some Springsteen, Bambi,” he says, smiling at him like he’s still a sad-sack, sure, but at least he’s one Billy’s kinda fond of, then he goes to top off Seymour’s coffee down at the far end of the other end of the diner.

For Billy alone, Seymour’s got a great big smile.

Steve has stapled his tie to his desk. Which seems like the kind of thing most people would only do by accident. Not Steve, though. No, he simply got so bored that when the thought, I wonder if I could staple my tie to this desk right now, breezed through his head he went ahead and did it.

Turns out he could, so he added a couple more staples for no better reason than the first one.

Steve feels like his brain is melting out his ears which is maybe half boredom, half the heat. The AC has been in and out all week, something about the grid according to maintenance. Turns out a cracked window and a fan isn’t any more effective on the 10th floor of a Manhattan office building than it is in a ground level diner in the Bronx.

“Harrington.” All the staples explode off his tie, flying all over his little hot-box of an office, when he jerks upright as Connor Michaels walks in to his office. The guy definitely notices the staples too, judging by the shitty little smirk on his face.

The thing about all of Steve’s coworkers is that they hate him, because he’s clearly just a doofus nepotism hire who has no business working here. They all hide it behind a veneer of polite condescension while trying to use him as a connection since his last name is Harrington, though. It’s all so pathetically exactly like high school Steve can hardly stand it.

Connor chuckles, “Tgif, am I right? Listen, I asked Laura to pull the permits for the Hell’s Kitchen property for me, but she’s on the rag or something and flipped out at me.”

The other thing about Steve’s coworkers is that they’re all douchebags.

“Okay,” Steve says to avoid stapling his smug face.

“I know she does shit like that for you all the time, so think you could work your magic?” Connor wiggles his fingers vaguely that reminds Steve of how his mom would talk about his sport’s things any time it came up.

Laura is the only exception to the douchebag rule. She’s smart, and competent, and the only woman at Steve’s level of management. She also hates Steve, but she doesn't try to hide it. She’s got integrity about it. The only reason she helps Steve with things like permits and filings is that she knows she’s the one who will have to clean up the mess if he royally screws it. She reminds him a lot of Robin in the early days of working at Scoops, just completely unimpressed by and uninterested in his King Steve bullshit.

Steve does frequently throw himself on her mercy, she’s the only reason he hasn’t caused any serious problems so far. Which is maybe the other reason she keeps helping him, because he unreservedly admits that it’s a joke that they’re on the same level professionally. And not a funny one.

Steve starts sweeping the staples that landed on his desk and not the floor into a pile, “Sure,” he says to Connor, hoping that’ll get him to leave.

No luck. Instead he tucks his hand in his pockets and settles into a slouches against Steve’s wall, “How do you manage that anyway?” he asks lightly, “You tapping that?”

Steve rolls his eyes, “No.”

Connor hums, “Yeah, not surprising. I bet she’s a dyke.”

And maybe, on a different day, when Steve wasn’t already at his boiling point both figuratively and literally, he would have responded more... diplomatically.

“I quit my job,” Steve announces as he walks through the front door of his house.

All three of his roommates turn to gape at him from the living room.

They were all lounging around in the bare minimum of clothes required for the living room with two opposing fans pointed at them in an attempt at a cross breeze when Steve arrived home with his briefcase in a cardboard box with shockingly little else in the way of personal effects in it. He really hadn’t built up much of a presence at the office over the nearly a year he worked there.

“What?” Robin exclaims, as she mutes the TV, “What happened?”

“I threw a stapler at a guy’s head.” Steve answers.

“A stapler?” Billy asks, baffled, “Why?”

Steve shrugs, “I don’t know. I mean, I also said a lot of shit, but the stapler was probably the button on it.” Steve drops his things, steps out of his wingtips, and starts tugging at his tie as he makes his way across the room, “It wasn’t even- Like, I mean, it was business as usual, really. It wasn’t anything new, and I just... lost it.” He’s down to his undershirt and boxershorts by the time he collapses between Robin and Billy on the couch with a massive sigh like a slowly deflating raft.

“Right on man,” Eddie says from his spot on the armchair, leaning over to slap Steve’s knee, “I bet that guy had a stapler to the face coming.”

He really did, Steve must concede.

“Shit, I can’t believe I quit.”

Robin makes a questioning noise, “Did you actually quit, or did they fire you? For the stapler thing?”

“Who gives shit,” Billy says before Steve can tell them he’s not actually sure technically, “It’s done and dusted either way. Which calls for a celebration!”

Billy bounces up off the couch and goes to the kitchen to collect a round of beers for everyone, he’s the only one who’s foregone a shirt so far, which is unsurprising. He pops the caps of with his ring before doling out the bottles.

“To casting off the corporate shackles!” Eddie toasts, Billy and Robin here-hereing it.

Steve takes a big gulp of his beer. “What the hell am I gonna do?” he wonders aloud.

“Celebrate!” Robin says, she’s also in a t-shirt and boxershorts, which she stole from Steve a while back for loungewear, “Like the man said.”

Steve huffs, “I meant like, longer term. The rent and stuff.”

“Don't worry, Stevie my boy,” Eddie says, clapping him on the back, “Once we find you a real person job you'll do just fine. After all, the rest of us plebs cover our fair shares with our piddly little paychecks, right?”

Steve, caught out, hesitates a beat too long (long enough for Billy's bullshit radar to ping), before saying, “Right. Sure. Yeah,” in a way that clearly doesn’t cover for him.

Billy squints at him, “We have all been covering our fair share of the rent, right, Harrington?”

Steve nods but he can’t maintain eye contact when he answers, “Right. Fair shares.”

Robin, catching on immediately, groans, “Oh god, Steve, tell me you haven’t been doing something outstandingly stupid, like paying half the rent, this whole freaking time.” When Steve doesn’t answer right away she screeches, “Steven!”

“Not half! I haven’t, okay?” he rushes to explain, “Just, like,” he holds up his fingers pinched so close together, “A little more, than you guys.”

“How much more,” Billy demands through clenched teeth.

“Well,” Steve tries to think of how best to phrase it, “Imagine we had a fifth roommate, who's rent I have also been paying.”

“So, double,” Billy’s basically growling now, “You've been paying double what the rest of us have. This whole goddamn time!” Steve hadn’t thought of it that way, but the math does check out. He thinks.

“And... also the utilities,” he admits reluctantly.

“Oh, Stevie,” Eddie says, shaking his head sadly.

“Fuck!” Billy shouts and storms off, stomping his way upstairs without anyone trying to stop him. When Billy removes himself from a situation, it’s best to let him.

“I can probably still get the job back,” Steve offers, even though the thought makes him nauseous. He’ll eat shit if he needs to, “If I tell them I was on coke or something they might actually respect me more.”

Eddie’s still shaking his head, but more decisively, “No way, man. We’re not letting you go crawling back to those corporate shitbags now, not a chance in hell.”

“No other job I can get for myself is going to pay a quarter as well, though.”

Robin backs Eddie up though, “You were miserable, Steve. None of us wants you to be miserable like that, not for any amount of money.”

Steve still can’t just let it go, though, “But without that money-

“There’s no need to panic, all we need is a plan. You’ve got savings, yeah? That’ll give us a cushion until you get a new job- we need to do a comprehensive household budget,” Robin says, like she’s already running numbers in her head, “We’ve been way too loosey-goosey about it, anyway.” Because they’ve been relying on Steve to smooth over any gaps. Not that they necessarily knew that. They’d just hit him up for beer and pizza sometimes and called it a Shill tax.

“I don’t know how to do a budget,” Steve admits with an apologetic grimace.

Eddie slings an arm over his shoulders and tries to pull him into some kind of wonky headlock while Steve resists him easily, “Don’t you fret, for you are a very lucky boy, with three wonderful roommates, whose collars are all extremely blue. We’ll show you the ropes.”

“You know what the easiest expense to cut is?” Robin says brightly, “Cigarettes.”

“You know what!” Eddie wheels on her, suddenly apparently at his limit on the whole smoking thing.

Steve watches them bicker back and forth for a couple minutes. Even though it’s clear that this has been building for a while, and of course the inescapable heat doesn’t help, Steve can’t help but feel like it’s his fault for dropping a stress bomb on their heads. Or at least it feels very reminiscent of watching his parents fight about the wallpaper when what they really want to fight about is their miserable marriage. What’s the word for that? Displacement?

Eventually he slips out, leaving Robin and Eddie to their squabbles he can’t really contribute to one way or the other and heads upstairs.

Billy's not in his room, but Steve didn’t really expect him to be.

Halfway up the flight of stairs from the second floor to the third there's a window, and outside the window is a strip of roof, about five feet wide by ten feet long, and gently sloped, covering their porch below. Billy likes to sulk out there, especially since the weather turned, though not quite so much since it turned mean.

Sure enough, the window is ajar and Steve can smell smoke.

He sticks his hands out the window, palms out, he comes in peace, “I’m coming out,” he says, “Please don’t hurl me off the roof.”

Billy doesn’t respond, but he doesn’t bite Steve’s head off either, which from him is basically an engraved invitation.

Steve hauls himself up onto the little stretch of roof, crab walking over ‘til he can plant his butt next to Billy. Even though the sun is sinking fast the heat hasn’t broken at all.

He snags the cigarette right out of Billy’s mouth as he settles next to him and takes a long, indulgent drag. He only grimaces a little at the taste, Billy and his fucking Marlboros.

“Ooooh,” Billy deigns to speak to him, snatching his smoke back, “Robin's gonna be mad at you,”

“More or less mad than when I tell her I'm not going to Hawkins this summer?”

Billy's hand freezes with the cigarette just about back to his mouth. His lips, already parted to accept it, now just hanging slack pointlessly. “Seriously?”

Steve shrugs, shooting for nonchalance, missing by a mile probably. “Figure I can do without getting the full rundown on what an embarrassing disappointment I am in person. I’m sure I’ll get the CliffsNotes from our answering machine anyway. Those were always more my speed.”

He figures they'll share a laugh at that, but when he looks over Billy's not laughing. In fact, he's not even smiling, he just takes a rough drag off the cigarette and then hands it back to Steve without prompting. “If your dad leaves any blowhard message on our machine, I’m deleting them.”

Steve’s not sure what to say to that so for a while they just pass the butt back and forth in silence until he screws up his courage to ask, "What about you? You mad at me?” with a wince, “About the rent thing.”

“Well I’m not fucking thrilled about it, Harrington.”

Yeah, that was obvious.

Billy runs an agitated hand through his hair leaving his curls, already frizzy from the humidity, even more messed up. “Thought- it felt like we were making it. Doing it for real, you know? Standing on my own two feet like a man,” he scoffs to himself, “ Stupid.”

Billy’s got a very specific tone he does when he’s quoting his dad, and Steve fucking hates it.

“You are,” Steve insists. Billy quirks an eyebrow at him, and Steve scrambles to clarify, “Making it. Not stupid. You’re making it.”

“Not without a heaping helping of charity apparently. I can’t-”

“It wasn’t charity, dickhead!” Billy’s mouth snaps shut, and thank god for that, because Steve has no more interest in hearing what Neil Hargrove would have to say about his son than Billy does in suffering through phone messages from Richard Harrington. “It just made sense. I took that stupid job from my dad, and the paycheck was the only good goddamn thing about it. And you guys have all this other stuff going on. You and Robin have school, and Eddie’s trying to do his whole music thing. I mean, what the hell else was I supposed to do with all that stupidly easy money I was barely really earning? Other than use it to buy you guys food, and beer, and, yeah, pay the fucking rent!” He’s worked up a good head of steam, but he deflates immediately in the wake of his outburst, “I mean, what the hell else am I bringing to the table here?”

Suddenly self-conscious in the silence that follows, and way too aware that he’s breathing a little heavy, Steve snatches the cigarette from Billy’s hand. Takes a huffy little puff, like someone who doesn’t know how to inhale, then takes a slower, more measured one.

“You sell yourself short, you know,” Billy says, uncharacteristically quiet. Steve looks over at him, but Billy's not looking back, he's gazing out across their neighborhood instead.

“Look,” he goes on, slow and awkward, “I don’t exactly know where I'd be right now, if not for you. But, I know I wouldn’t be here .” He throws his arms out wide to encompass all of New York City, and their whole life here.

It's not like they have a spectacular view or anything, they're not up remotely high enough for that. Their sagging little strip of roof, on their rundown building, isn’t even facing the glittering Manhattan skyline. Down below them a taxi driver is shouting at a truck that’s blocking a cross street. The humidity is oppressive and the heat makes the streets stink like garbage, and it’s not like it’s any cooler in the house.

Their whole life here? It doesn’t actually look like very much from the outside.

Steve gets it though.

He jostles their shoulders together, “You would have gotten out. You would have made it anyway.”

“Yeah, maybe.” Billy plucks the cigarette out of Steve’s grasp, kills the last of it and pitches the butt to the street below. Steve watches the glowing trail of the cherry as it falls.

“You know,” Billy says after a long stretch of mostly comfortable silence, “If you don’t go to Hawkins, you’re gonna have to let Eddie drive the beemer.”

“Shit, I didn’t think of that.” He waves off the thought, “Can’t be helped. I need to start the job search anyway.”

Steve thinks about that process for all of thirty seconds before he groans, “Man, my resume is gonna be so fucking weird.” Steve lists his employment record out on his fingers, “Scoops Ahoy, burned down. Family Video... I don’t think I gave notice at Family Video, I think I just left and didn’t come back. Kensington Group Limited, assaulted a co-worker with stationary.”

“Well, if all else fails, you know Eddie would love to fake some references for you,” Billy says, “Bet he’ll do voices and everything.”

“Just what I need. A reference from Gondelf.”

Billy snorts a laughs, “It’s Gandalf, you know it’s Gandalf.” He’s right, Steve knows that, because Eddie never shuts up about that book.

“Mmm, pretty sure it’s Gondelf. I mean, he’s an elf, right?” Billy just rolls his eyes but he’s smiling, and listing a little towards Steve.

“Billy,” Steve speaks softly, earnestly. Billy hums back a question, “Would you... get me a job at the diner?”

Billy explodes with laughter, “Fuck no!”

“C’mon,” he wheedles, through his own laughter, “We can commute together! Sal loves you. Be a pal, put in a good word for me!”

Billy punches him in the shoulder, “Sure, I’ll tell him you’re a chronic masturbator and that I’ve never seen you wash your hands.”

“Thanks, buddy. I really appreciate that.”

Billy grabs the shoulder of Steve’s shirt and rattles him around a bit like a dog with a squeaky toy, “I’m going to shove you off this roof,” he threatens through laughter.

They lapse into giggly silence and then just silent silence. Billy keeps his grip on Steve’s shirt like he’s worried he might actually go toppling over the edge after all if Billy doesn’t keep a tight hold.

Or maybe he’s just forgotten that his hand is there.

“Hey,” Steve says after a while, just to get Billy to look him in the eye, “We’re gonna be fine,” he reassures him once he has.

Billy’s undivided attention is always intense, eyes like blue lasers locked on to a target. It used to freak Steve out in high school, but he’s gotten used to it. It’s just how Billy is. Sharp like that.

Sharp enough that he reads Steve like a goddamn book and knows that as much as Steve really was trying to reassure him, he was also, maybe just a bit, fishing for reassurance too.

“We’re gonna be fine,” Billy parrots.

They stare at each other, probably for too long, sitting in a little loop of comforting and being comforted. And Steve, he believes it. They’re gonna be fine.

They have each other.

#steve harrington #billy hargrove #robin buckley #eddie munson #harringrove #(pre harringrove really but ya know)#more cross-posting #dishy writes #four's company #fic

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weebsinstash · 11 months ago

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could we get some valentino x male reader pls?

Bruh I've been actually on Valentino x male/intersex male Reader so hard lately (and I don't mention intersex for like fetish reasons but. I don't know what having a dick feels like and sometimes I'm like "well what if boy but. Vagine" and, shut up its my gender expression power fantasy, maybe I wanna have muscles and broad shoulders, leave me alone 💀)

Right off the top of my head, I've had ideas recently for:

-boy band lead vocalist! male Reader! Just. Ok. Imagine Reader and Angel having kind of a beef with each other and at some point it becomes a sort of "oh yeah, well I can XYZ better than you" kind of competition amd Angel says some shit like "you wouldn't know what it takes to come out here and strut for a bunch of perverts who look at you like you're a piece of meat" and you just hit him with some shit like "bitch I LITERALLY sucked FIVE DICKS so I could headline for the Superbowl, you fucking LOSER, you dont know ACTUAL music, i was AN ARTIST" and you start belting out something sexy with a choreographed dance that is clearly professional level skill

-male Reader with a little sister and you protect her from Valentino by offering to take her place. You've never sucked a single dick in your life and hell you might not even be gay but Valentino has your baby sister's life in his hands and, you've got to protect HER if not yourself

- ughhhhhh I'm probably gonna make this it's own post too but I've been ON my "unwilling red string soulmate" personal indulgence lately and. Just. Valentino who sees his red string appear and OBVIOUSLY he's gotta RUN to find his boo and he finds you and immediately thinks you're the most precious adorable sexy little thing, BUT. You just. Look straight at him and how HUGE he is and reply "i-im not... actually into men 😳" which is a LIE of course and, here's Valentino thinking, AW, his poor little baby gay! You've never had a boyfriend or gone to any clubs? TRAGIC! But also perfect because he is just TICKLED watching you get flustered beyond belief! So cute!

-I feel like. He would try and give you boners on purpose and think it's the cutest most erotic thing. He's got you sitting next to him and you're filled with liquor and he starts REALLY laying on the flirting, maybe even... places his palm on your upper thigh and BOOM. Hard as a rock and you can't even hide it because he makes you wear tight pants all the time. He's just over there, "what's going on amorcito? :3c you feeling a little hot under the collar?" as if he didn't just spend like 15 minutes talking about how he'd love to get you on your back and touch EVERY INCH of you, how he'd love to TASTE you--

-this is gender neutral but, convinced he eventually forces you to do some of those sexy pin-ups with him and one day you're walking around Vee Tower and he just has that shit HANGING UP. Poster You is just braced against his chest looking at the camera all demure and vulnerable while he's like. Got his guns out looking all tough like "mess with my pookie and you're through" and of course he makes you do. Sexy ones. Matching lingerie?

-I think of forced feminization with a male Reader sometimes actually. Like you wear boxy unflattering shit on purpose and one day Vals just like "you've got a small waist for a guy" and is checking you over. It starts off small. He starts wanting to style you. Then he wants you to update your skincare routine. Which is all fine right? But then he starts pushing his personal tastes. You've got such nice muscular thighs... which is why you would look so nice in some fishnets. He'd love to see your cute little butt in a thong while you cover your dick with your hands in MAJOR EMBARRASSMENT. You've got such pretty eyes; can Daddy put some mascara on you?

Valentino straight up punishing you by dressing you in full lingerie, your ass is in garters, heels, full glam makeup, and forcing you to pose for some cell phone pics

-still over here just mentally 🤌🤌🤌 at the idea of Valentino taking male Reader out with him and Angel and you've got matching outfits. You and Angel are in little skimpy, color matching fits while he's in a suit and gold chain, something that makes him feel powerful while he shows off his favorite toys

-I rllllly like the idea of like, a male Reader who is a honeypot assassin. You can be extremely charismatic and charming and seductive but it's all a front; you're an S tier actor and you take your targets down when they least expect it. The Vees are all at the club and some upstart wannabe new Overlord decides to attack and you just JOHN WICK THAT SHIT. Picture the Vees just sitting there, everything is peaceful, suddenly, in a flash, you move your serving tray in front of Valentino just in time to block a bullet. All three Vees are like wtf? How did you even know? What's going on? You proceed to totally wreck shit improvising weapons as the attacker and his goons charge forth and you even wind up grabbing a whip from a nearby dancer and using it as a WEAPON WEAPON and that shit looks like it HURTS. You're out here "Michelle Pfeiffer taking out 5 mannequin heads in one take"ing that shit. You're cutting people IN HALF (because having hell powers is cool leave me alone)

-i like the idea of male Reader who was a professional male model and a bit of a tailor himself, like a real kind of posh art student kind of type. You're with Valentino and Velvette notices how impeccably you're dressed and asks you where you bought it, you just, not so humbly brush yourself off. "Oh no, I made this myself. Nothing down here really fit my tastes" and suddenly you're like, custom designing wardrobes for ALL the Vees

Honestly just "Reader in XYZ Profession is exploited by Val/the Vees for their skills" is an idea I've had a lot. You have a hobby in baking so they always want food from you. You used to cook drugs so they make you work for them. You're a polyglot so youre taken along on business meetings to make sure none of the Vees business partners are planning shit in front of them. Like. Imagine just being the bitch who sits in the corner of the meeting room and shoots project/product ideas at them and it's like ACTUALLY successful and they're totally receptive and like you. You're just "Hey Valentino, what if you and Velvette did a collab on a waterproof mascara where you shot a porno in one continuous take so you can show the actor putting on the mascara, setting it down on the vanity, and then they start choking on a dick and their mascara doesn't run" like. They love you. Vox is just like "so, any new ideas today" and you're just using your VoxTek Premium Exclusive Black Card to cut coke into lines, "*snooooooort* uhhhhh.... I got some ideas for some stupid little mobile games you can put tons of micro transactions in? Like just before i died there was this one game that was getting really popular but it had a lot missing, we could-" and they could all just kiss you

-on God, Fs in the chat for virgin male Readers who have Valentino finally pop that cherry. I feel like he'd find out you've never had so much as fingers in your ass and within that WEEK you're being dosed with love potion and taking him balls deep

-Val's the kinda yandere where he tells you you're safe being closeted with him, he'll keep your secret, he'll let you stay on the downlow, but one day he so much as ASSUMES disrespect from you and he's immediately letting everyone know exactly who you belong you. You're arguing with him and you go completely silent and cross your arms or some shit and he just takes a hit from his cigarette, "you know you looked a lot more handsome when you were screaming on my cock the other night" and outs you just like that, either as gay or as fucking him or both. Imagine Angel not knowing you slept with Val and he immediately gives you this hurt expression BECAUSE HE TOTALLY DOESNT HAVE A THING FOR YOU TOO

-Valentino would absolutely make male Reader and Angel fuck while he watches and or films it, and also tbh I feeeeeeeel like. Angel would be ok with trans or intersex men tbh? Idk. It's not clear exactly what his taste in men is? He doesn't mind when men are shorter than him, so, like, is he a switch? He gives huge switch energy and let's face it, that's one TALL twink. I mean look at him holding Charlie! He's strong for his size too! Pole dancing takes a lot of upper body strength!

Oh no... not me suddenly thinking about a scarier yandere angel dust who is a lot stronger than you thought... Yandere Angel Dust who corners you and takes you completely by surprise and you get a GUTTING display of just how strong his arms actually are. You're thinking "oh he's just some lanky bottom twink, he couldnt overpower me, in fact I'm scared i might hurt him, he's delicate" but like HONEY HE CAN SUPPORT HIS ENTIRE BODY WEIGHT BY JUST HIS ARMS OR THIGHS. He's a FIT twink.

-ive said it before but uh once Angel Has It Bad Enough, like Bad Bad Bad, he's over here, "oh Daddy, I'm just soOoOo scared uxu ya know my buddy Reader, that one ya think is cute? Well, he was drinkin' earlier and he mentioned wanting to move FAR away and he wouldn't tell me WHERE 🥺 I'm just so worried he won't be able to take care of himself, you know, what, with all that trauma about his FATHER and-- oh he didn't tell you? He's really vulnerable to BIG. SCARY MEN and im wooooorrrrrriiiied, what if he gets hurt, talk to him Daddy PleeeeEEeEease? 🥺" like. He might still hate Val's fucking guts but he's high on coke and watching Valentino put some real inches in you and he's having the most explosive guilt-filled nut of his entire afterlife

-im sorry I'm just picturing Reader being like "I'm not fucking gay, fuck off, leave me alone" and Velvette just not even looking up from her phone, "I saw you using that $200 hand cream. You're so deep in the closet you're finding Christmas presents"

"I'm not fucking gay" "amorcito I've seen the pants you like to wear. No straight men wears those"

"I told you guys I'm not into men!!" "That's what I thought too until I met Al- VAL! Until I met VAL! [OuO']"

Then one night you're off work and none of the Vees or even Angel know where you're at and they wind up in a club and, there you are, getting absolutely fucking wasted, on top of one of the counters, you know those clubs that have random pokes everywhere, and you're dancing, you're getting real zesty with it, you're dropping your ass, and here's Valentino jumping to his feet pointing a finger, "so you DO know how to pole dance!!!" and your fate is sealed from there on in 💀💀💀

#yandsre hazbin hotel #hh #yandere hellaverse #yandere x reader #sinprompts

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explicit-tae · 2 hours ago

Text

Ungodly Hour (Jimin)

It's your turn to make Jimin your "bitch" during Taehyung's 'Hallow-tine's Day' party.

Word Count: 6.435

Warning: smut, slight sub jimin, oral sex, dom reader, unprotected sex, face riding, alcohol intake, dirty talking, face-riding, oral sex (f/m), edging, face slapping, nipple sucking, begging, praise kink, handjob,

Valentine's Day Masterlist | Part One

“How long have you been working here?”

You inhale through your nose as your eyes catch onto Park Jimin, along with Jungkook, Hoseok, Namjoon and Taehyung. All of them - of course, besides Jimin - offer you kind smiles and Taehyung even a short wave.

“What can I get you?” you sigh out. It was going to be a long shift - and you’ve only been here an hour.

“Did Jimin invite you to the Hallow-tine’s day party?” Taehyung asks, turning to the man who is seated beside him.

“Why would I do that?” Jimin scoffs, his eyes down at the menu to scan the various amounts of meat.

“I’ll take that as a no. You should definitely come.” Taehyung says, a boxy-like smile flashing your way with a set of white teeth.

You lick your lips, tilting your head a bit at Taehyung. They were the last people you’d expect to see right around now outside of school. Especially since this was your job you were working at and you were also involved with one of them - in a way - who you wanted nothing more than to respond snarkily.

“I…a Hallow-tine’s day party…?” you question with a shrug. “Can I get you all any drinks?”

“I’ll take a sprite-” Hoseok begins.

“It’s like a Halloween party.” Taehyung continues, uncaring. All he did want was for you to attend this party, silently pining for you and Jimin to continue this…relationship of sorts? It isn’t developed as of yet, but soon he has high hopes. “But on Valentine’s day, of course. So come in a costume!” he smiles, blinking your way as if a “Hallow-tine’s” party makes sense.

You couldn’t help but crack a smile at Taehyung.

“Costume winner get’s $1000.” Jungkook pipes up, averting his eyes upwards to look at you now. “I’ll take a water.”

“A water?” Jimin scoffs, knitting his brows. “Am I the only one drinking?”

Jimin turns his eyes to you, his mind flashing with memories of the past weekend he shared with you - the same ones that began in the classroom and ended with you and him entangled together the entire weekend afterwards. The same memories are plagued with you and him walking the halls of the University as if it never happened, back into the classroom bickering with one another. That was back in October and nearly 4 months ago.

“Whiskey.” Jimin says. “The whole bottle.”

“Are you serious?” Jungkook snickers.

“You have a baby and act like you’ve never downed a whole bottle of whiskey in this very restaurant.” Jimin retorts, leaning against the booth with a raised eyebrow.

“Those days are behind me, Jiminie.” Jungkook shrugs his shoulders. It wasn’t entirely true. He wasn’t opposed to drinking, but he still had to go home and help his girlfriend after this. “I’m a father.”

Jimin gags.

“Soo…?” Taehyung wiggles his eyebrows at you. “It’s a Halloween party as you know. Just set on Valentine’s day. Come in a costume. Everything will be provided. Drinks…food…”

“Is there a reason why you want me to come?” you place the tablet onto their table and place a hand onto your hip. “Also, why is the halloween party so…late?”

“Why not?” Taehyung questions. “We’re all friends here, aren’t we? We want you there.”

“Speak for yourself.” Jimin mumbles to himself.

You bite your lip to refrain from responding to Jimin, who appears as if he wants you to. A smirk is forming onto his lips as he witnesses your restraining appearance.

“I couldn’t attend. I was focused on preparing for my daughter.” Jungkook explains to you instead, a twinkle in his eyes that causes you to smile a bit at how cute he looked - and excited that he was now a father. “So Tae being dramatic,” Jungkook rolls his eyes. “decided to have it in February.”

“You can go a few hours without flirting with her.” Taehyung rolls his eyes towards Jimin. “And I wanted all my friends there. Bring the baby-”

“Fuck no.” Jungkook scoffs. “My mom is taking her for the weekend. I’m not sure how I feel about being without her.” Jungkook sighs and there goes your heart. You ponder how Jimin could be friends with someone as sweet as Jungkook. Maybe he was forcing it, you think.

“But seriously, Y/N. You should come. It’s a slutty event-" Taehyung begins.

“You know a lot about slutty, Y/N.” Jimin nods his head.

“Not now.” Hoseok hisses low, turning his eyes to Jimin.

“I do know.” you laugh a bit, body flushing with heat. You cannot act ashamed by what you do - not now or ever. “Maybe I can add a slutty costume to my wishlist and you’ll buy it for me. That’s what you usually tend to do with anything else.”

In the end, it’s you who has the last laugh; one that has his friends joining along with your comment.

“Whisky, sprite, water…” you nod your head, picking up the tablet to put their drink orders through. “Anything else I can get you all to drink?”

Your and Jimin’s banter didn’t stop there as the entire time they were there he was retorting back to you. But, you wouldn’t say it bothered you much. It was quite fun in a usually boring shift.

You had agreed to come to Taehyung’s Hallow-tine’s party, one he explained was usually planned by Jungkook, but instead opting to not. Now that, as Jungkook put it, was a father, he had prepared his home for a baby and not parties.

“That doesn't mean the parties are going to stop.” Taehyung had said piped in immediately after.

“How long have you been working here?” Jimin asks, downing a shot. It was five minutes until closed and he was the only one here. You ponder how one man can still drink and not appear utterly wasted.

“A year.” you respond, spraying down the table he occupies. “I don’t only fuck myself on onlyfans for a living.”

Jimin rolls his eyes. “Don’t get your panties in a bunch, Y/N. I just never saw you here.” he says, licking his lips. “We come here often.”

“Picked up more hours recently.” you admit.

“Onlyfans going dry?” Jimin jokes.

It’s your turn to roll your eyes. You won’t take his joke seriously as this was Jimin. But, he was correct in a way. You never solely depended on it to pay you expenses and always had a job lined up.

“It’ll never be dry as long as you’re subscribed.”

Jimin snickers at how quick you were with responding to him. He scoots out of the booth and stands, stretching a bit.

“What are you wearing?” Jimin asks. “To the party?”

You shrug. “Haven’t really been to a Halloween party before. Especially a Hallowtine’s. It’s a slutty event.” you say, trying your best to imitate Taehyung’s deep voice. “So I’ll make sure to have my ass out.”

Jimin clicks his tongue.

“We should go together.”

You’re silent for a moment, hearing other servers around you clean their tables just as you were doing. Closing shouldn’t be hard tonight as it was a slow evening.

“Together?” you cross your arms. “Is this the part where you confess your undying love for me?”

“Y/N,” Jimin shakes his head. “I hate you.” he deadpans. “But…we agreed that it’s your turn.”

You know what Jimin is insinuating. Four months ago, it was Jimin who had the upper dominance. You were “his bitch”. This time, it was your turn. Should it have taken this long? Probably not. But, you were a busy person and so was Jimin. You weren’t going to be the one to go to him first - as stubborn as you were.

“Okay.” you say, the corner of your lips twitching upwards. “I’m sure I can find a slutty police costume.” you poke Jimin’s shoulder. “You’ll be the inmate.”

“That’s so basic.” Jimin rolls his eyes a bit, your touch lingering on his shoulder. He blinks a few times, even humming to himself as he thinks about the costumes. “Are you going to use the handcuffs on me?”

You roll your eyes and cannot help but laugh out at the change in Jimin’s demeanor or the way his voice drops a few tones. You cannot help but think about the idea of Jimin being the one whimpering for you, handcuffed so he couldn’t get his hands on you.

“Basic?” you hum. “How about we fit the theme then? We can both be cupids.” you wiggle your eyebrows.

“Cupids? I’m not sure I trust a bitch like you with an arrow.” Jimin scoffs, but he does enjoy the idea.

“My arrows won’t make you fall in love with me. They will make you feel other things.” you press the palm of your hand onto Jimin’s chest and allow it to linger for a moment, a glint in your eyes that causes Jimin to raise his brows. “Find the costumes.” you murmur, pushing him away a bit all the while your eyes remain on his.

“You’re such a teasing bitch, Y/N.” Jimin states, but he would be lying to himself if he said he wasn’t anticipating it.

Leaving Jimin in charge of the costume meant that, for you, it was free of charge. It also meant he had full control of your attire and you were hoping it wouldn’t be too slutty.

At first, you weren’t sure about it when Jimin came at you with what appeared to be lingerie and a pair of wings for you to wear. “It’s red.” you had told him with a raise of an eyebrow. “Isn’t it supposed to be, I don’t know, white?”

“White is too pure for a whore like you.” was Jimin’s response, followed by a smirk. He wouldn’t tell you that he thought red would look good on you underneath the neon lights at the party. He didn’t want to gas your already big head up.

So you wore the red fishnets followed by the lingerie of the same color. He even gave you lace gloves to wear, stopping right at your elbows.

At first, you were nervous to wear something so revealing in public. Jimin had convinced you that when Taehyung meant slutty, he meant it truthfully.

“I got you these, too.” Jimin stated as you looked over yourself in your hallway mirror. Your eyes had connected with his through the reflection. He’s holding a black, rectangular box in his hands. “To go with your costume.”

You turned to face him now and he handed over the box. Your eyes scanned the small, silver letters right in the middle of said box. Saint Laurent. You then looked up towards the man who’s waiting for you to open said box.

The heels are more of a wine color than a red, but it wouldn’t be noticeable at the party. The YSL letters along the heel catch your eyes immediately and you feel your eyes widening.

“These must’ve been expensive.” you told him with a swallow. “So not only are you my bitch tonight, but you’re also my paypig?”

“They were expensive.” Jimin responded, a low smirk forming onto his lips. “I’m sure I’ll get my money’s worth tonight.”

Arriving at the party alongside Jimin, you understood now that he wasn’t lying. The lights are flashing and there’s smoke lining the ground so even if what you were wearing was too revealing, it didn’t particularly matter.

Jimin appeared more of a traditional cupid, dressed in a long white cloak - or chlamys he said because he was Jimin and he needed to correct you - gold wrist cuffs and a gold shoulder belt. He also has wings that match your own.

“Y/N!” Taehyung greets over the loud music. He’s holding two red cups in his hands. One he gives to you and the other to Jimin after he takes a sip of it. “You look amazing! Finally someone who gives slutty but classy.”

You smile at Taehyung a bit shyly. He turns to Jimin and furrows a brow at him before snickering. “Have fun you two.” he says, winking. “Nice heels, Y/N.”

Jimin takes a sip of his drink, his eyes glaring at his friend as he walks off. Taehyung wouldn’t tell you how Jimin bought the heels for you prior to you being invited to the Hallowtine’s party. Or how he insisted that they couldn’t be regular heels or nothing about him was “regular”.

“How drunk are you trying to get?” Jimin asks, downing the rest of the drink. It’s a mixture that only Jungkook would’ve made. If it was Namjoon, it would taste bitter and strong of alcohol and leave it up to Hoseok, it would just be juice.

“You drove so.” you shrug your shoulders. “I’m following your lead.”

Jimin smirks a bit. “These parties go on all night, Y/N. Tae lets me sleep in the guest room.”

You lift a brow but don’t respond. Instead, you do the same as he and down the remaining liquid in your drink.

The party goes on with you and him doing exactly that. You and him - and even some of his friends - take shots as if they’re water. You play games with them, majority of them you lost - much to Jimin’s dismay as you and he were partners. You dance, too, finding that the large space with dancing bodies to be exciting. Everyone was already drunk and it was hard to feel self-conscious when the liquor was making you outgoing and sociable.

You were in the middle of unwrapping a lollipop when Jimin stood beside you. “Enjoying yourself?” he asks with a furrowed brow. “You’ve been dancing with them for over 30 minutes non-stop.”

Them being Jungkook’s girlfriend and Chaeyoung, who were already drunk. You had to admit you had the most fun with them, even if Jungkook had to carry his girlfriend out. Or if Chaeyoung had decided to call it a night and nap in the kitchen - only because she didn’t want to miss out on who won best costume.

“And you’ve been watching the entire time?” you put the red, heart shaped lollipop in your mouth. “That’s not creepy.” you say sarcastically.

Jimin tilts his head. He isn’t sure where his friends have gone and he knows Taehyung has no intentions of announcing the winners yet. That being said, he was tipsy, horny and you were being too much of a bitch right now.

“Huh…” you look at Jimin a bit closer, squinting your eyes. Even underneath the flashing lights, the look in his eyes is highly evident. You reach a hand out to touch his slightly uncovered chest, the cloak hiding little of it. “...you must want to fuck me.”

Jimin rolls his eyes, even if it was the truth. “I hope you didn’t think those heels were free.” he retorts.

You smirk, glossy lips shining underneath the neon lights. “Don’t worry, I’ll wear them just for you in my next video.” a finger swipe up from Jimin’s chest right to his lips. You tap them playfully before turning on your heels.

“Where are you going?” Jimin huffs, his body flushed. His legs work on autopilot as he follows you.

“We should go somewhere to be alone, shouldn’t we?” you ask as you reach the kitchen. The alcohol appeared never ending and it had to be a sign of wealth because who else could truly afford all of this alone? Not including decorations, food and a $1000 cash prize.

You grab a bottle of champagne and shrug your shoulders. No one would miss it.

“Lead us to the guest room.”

“Upstairs.” Jimin says, jutting his head to the left where the staircase was at. “To the left, last door.”

Jimin wants you to lead the way just so he can watch you from behind. The wings compliments your costume, a sensual look that looks almost ethereal. The neon lights cast a glow off of you that his tipsy mind is angered with himself for finding you appealing.

The heels make your legs appear longer, Jimin thinks. Even from the loud music, he swears he can hear them click onto the tiled floor.

The guest room is large, you note upon opening the door. It’s clean and organized with a single, queen size bed right in the middle of it. On either side of said bed has two night stands, both holding decorative lamps. Right above the headboard is an oval shaped mirror that reflects the neon lights that shine inside when the door opens.

“It’s quiet.” you note once Jimin closes the door. The music is loud outside and it offers a muffled version from inside the bedroom that’s soothing. “Champagne?” you turn to face Jimin, raising the bottle.

Jimin nods, his eyes on you.

“Sit down.” you press, jutting your head towards the bed.

“Hm, demanding.” Jimin does as he’s told. He passes by your, his arm brushing past yours and he sits onto the edge of the bed.

You pop open the champagne and a bit of it spills. Jimin is unphased by the action and continues to look right up at you. You step closer to him, lifting the bottle to your lips and taking a sip.

Jimin watches the way a bit of it trails from the corner of your mouth and falls down your jawline. He takes a deep breath as you come closer. Your gloved hand reaches out for him and latches underneath his chin. You gently lift it up, a thumb lightly tapping at his plump lips. You lift the bottle to them.

Opening his mouth, Jimin’s eyes never leave yours as you pour the champagne into his mouth. The bubbling liquid fizzles onto his tongue and he swallows it whole when you’re done. He licks his lips as if savoring the taste.

Your touch underneath his chin is hot. Your hands roam towards his cheek, a thumb running along his lips as you tilt your head. For a man, Jimin did have such plump lips that never appeared to be chapped - a thought you hated.

“It must be killing you to sit here.” you murmur, standing right between his parted legs. One knee lifts a bit so that you press it against the bed and right between his legs. You furrow your brows when you feel it - the bulge. Sure, Jimin’s costume covered a bit of his lower half, but you weren’t expecting this so soon. “Excited already?”

“It’s the alcohol.” Jimin retorts, already willing to fight against you. It was going to take a few tries to get him to submit, but you were a patient person. After all, only you could do it.

“Shut up.”

Your knee presses against Jimin a bit - not too hard, but enough to get the man to click his mouth shut. The expression on his face would cause you to laugh if you weren’t determined to remain in character.

“You,” you snort. The bottle of champagne tightening in your grip. You lower your face so that you and Jimin are eye to eye. “want to call me a bitch so bad, don’t you?”

Jimin does - not in a malicious way. He never truly does mean it in that way - nor does he even intend on you knowing this, either.

Jimin remains silent, his eyes flickering to your lips for a mere second before back to your eyes. You’re so close to him, your knee not letting up as it continues to graze against his painfully hard cock. His adam’s apple bobs as he swallows, attempting to control his breathing.

“Kiss me.”

It’s an action that Jimin doesn’t fight you on. Your lips have a bit of gloss to them surprisingly. After all the shots, snacks and overall partying you’ve done. They’re sticky, but sweet; tasting of cherries that he knows he would want to get another taste of when this was done and over with.

You deepened the kiss, gloved hand not falling from his chin. It’s an act of possession and neither of you appeared to care. Soon, your tongue and his is dancing along one another, hot and needily. You can feel his cock pulsing pathetically against your knee.

Aggressively, you shove Jimin away from you. The action causes him to grunt and nearly hiss at you, but he bites his tongue. You notice the action immediately and hide your giddiness.

“More champagne?” you ask with a quirked brow.

Jimin nods.

“Cat got your tongue?” you question with a scoff. “Use your words, Jimin.”

Jimin’s eye twitches. “Yes.”

“Yes…?” you were having a bit too much fun with this. “Where are your manners?”

“Yes. Please.” Jimin grits out, his right leg shaking. He was holding himself back in berating you like he usually does - an action that never bothers you. It’s something that he’s familiar with.

“Good boy.” you say with a smirk. Jimin is taken aback by your words - more so because it causes his cock to jolt immediately once it leaves your mouth.

You press the champagne bottle to your own lips, eyes never leaving Jimin’s. Droplets begin to fall from the corners of your lips again, dropping directly to your chest. Without thinking much, you lift the bottle more, allowing a bit - not too much to be messy - to fall onto your chest.

“Go on.” you say.

Jimin dives in instantly, his warm tongue licking up the champagne from your skin. He groans to himself as he dips lower between your breast, a hand reaching out so all he had to do is push your lingerie-

SMACK!

Jimin’s head is jerked to the side, a stinging in his face.

You were getting bold, having too much fun with you being the one on top. “You didn’t have permission to touch me, right?”

A part of you expects Jimin to either 1, hit you back or 2, berate you like he always does.

You didn’t expect Jimin’s head to slowly turn back towards you, eyes dark, and for him to say;

“Sorry.” in such a low, voice. “Can I…touch you?”

Jimin’s voice is pleading that it shocks you for a moment and shoots straight to your core.

Slowly, you exhale. “What do you want to do?”

Jimin’s cheeks are flushed. He glances away and you can tell he’s biting the inside of his cheek.

“I want to lick the champagne…off of you.” Jimin murmurs, cheeks a crimson color. “Please.”

Your lip twitches upwards. Slowly, you begin to repeat the action, this time placing your free hand behind Jimin’s head. He turns it back towards you as the champagne begins to slide down your breast, in his eyes slow motion.

Jimin’s mouth salivates and his eyes dart to yours, silently pleading. You nod your head and it doesn’t take Jimin much hesitation for his tongue to be right back on your skin. He licks the top of your breast, grunting at the taste before he dips his head lower. His hands work up your breast, tugging the lingering down so that they pool out of them. He doesn’t hesitate to engulf both of them into his hands and to suckle, the citrusy taste hitting his taste buds immediately.

You moan a bit at how starved Jimin appeared, suckling onto your breast as if his life depended on it. His hands squeezing the mounds as if they would disappear if he hadn’t. His eyes are closed, face stretched in utter bliss at being allowed to do this - to taste the champagne right from your breast. When the high (and alcohol) wears down, you were going to have to tease him about it.

Now, however, Jimin’s tongue continues to swirl onto your nipples with such needy greed, going from one to the other every few minutes. Your head is pushed back, moans releasing from your own parted lips, nearly forgetting just who was supposed to be in charge tonight.

You couldn’t allow Jimin to regain control once more - not tonight when it was your night.

The hand that once kept Jimin against your chest entangles in his dark tresses and you yank him away from you. Jimin whines at the sudden action, but licks his lips when his eyes blinks open to look right at you.

“Too much?” Jimin quips.

“You looked too happy.” you retort. “Can’t let you have too much fun.”

“Of course not. You’re a bitch.”

Jimin is taunting you, wanting to see what you’d do. Maybe pull his hair or slap him again. He never did that before - or expected to like it as much. Maybe doing this with someone you hate (maybe that was a strong word, he didn’t hate you truly) made it more fun.

“You talk too much.” you shove Jimin’s head away. You drop the bottle of champagne beside you before grabbing hold of the cloak Jimin was wearing and tugging it. It flies off of him, leaving him in his underwear. You quirk a brow. “And you call me a whore.”

A shiver runs through Jimin but he doesn’t allow it to dwell. He watches the way your face brightens.

“Lay down.”

Jimin does, eyes blinking towards the ceiling. He can hear the way your heels click against the floor. The bed has movement and it dips as you begin to climb it - climb onto him. Your gloved hands roam his chest and Jimin rolls his neck a bit.

“There’s only one way to shut a whore up.” you say, before dropping yourself onto Jimin’s face, clit right against his lips. He’s shocked, but would be lying if he didn’t find the action entirely hot.

Jimin understands just what he was meant to do in this situation, hot tongue flinging out to roam your wet clit. Your thighs cage him between your legs, right hand gripping his hair tightly. Instantly, his own hands hold onto your outer thighs, tongue plunging between your folds.

Jimin recalls the many times he’s watched you - live or during recorded videos you’ve uploaded - fuck yourself. How wet your pussy was. Even then, it caused his mouth to water at the thought of how good you might've tasted against his tongue. How he could have you quivering if he’d ever get the chance to. The last time he’s tasted you was months ago and he could never get enough; not even now.

Your stomach churns as Jimin’s tongue continues to devour you effortlessly. Your attempt to shut him up did exactly that with little push back. Your hips buckle a bit, wanting to feel more of Jimin’s willing tongue against your clit, eyes squeezed shut. Jimin was such an asshole - a cocky one at that. He knew how attractive he was. How intelligent and cunning he was. He understood every assignment, inside the classroom and out. It’s why you and he budded heads so often.

“S-stop.” you stutter, but Jimin doesn’t. He knows fully that you don’t want him to stop and neither does your pussy. His head, pushed firmly against the bed, rocks back and forth as his tongue lays flat against your clit. His eyes flicker open to look at your scrunched, familiar face to know you were about to cum all over his tongue. A taste he craved for.

You cum, must to your dismay, all over Jimin. You’re highly upset with yourself for allowing him to get you distracted enough that it happens. You choose to take said irritation out on him.

You push yourself away from Jimin, eyes dark. “You’re such a whore, Jimin. So greedy for my pussy that you’d do anything to have it.”

You push yourself away from Jimin, the man licking his lips seductively.

“You’re right.” Jimin says, shrugging his shoulders. “I’ve missed your pussy.”

Your eyes widen a bit, not expecting him to admit it.

“I’ll never admit it in front of anyone.” Jimin murmurs, squinting his eyes to you. “I’ll continue to belittle you in front of everyone. I hate you.”

Your walls clench and you’re truly unsure how that makes you a bit horny.

“You hate me?” you say, amused. You lowered yourself so that you’re right in front of his clothed cock. You place a hand on it and it immediately jolts.

“No.” Jimin shakes his head, stomach churning at the sudden touch. “That’s also a lie. I hate the way you make me feel.”

Jimin must’ve been drunk or more than just the alcohol.

“You’re the only person that successfully manages to come toe to toe with me in everything.” Jimin licks his lips once more, your taste still on him.

You blink a few times. “Hm.” is all you say and without warning, you take out Jimin’s cock. It’s erect and pink - and oh so pretty. The tip is oozing with pre-cum that you just want to lick up. “Tell me more.”

Jimin swallows when he watches you take off your gloves and throw them aside. You wrap a hand around his cock.

“You,”

Jimin doesn’t get to say much because he watches you lay your tongue out to allow a trail of saliva to drop onto his tip. It trails down the shaft until it reaches your cuffed hand. You slide your enclosed palm up and down to lubricate his cock.

“-oh fuck.” Jimin groans.

“Speak or I’ll stop.” you warn, eyes hard.

Jimin swallows again. “I-I,” he begins just as you begin to jack his cock. “...I don’t hate you, Y/N.” he repeats, but understands that he can’t have you stop now that you’re making him feel so good. “I…I hate myself for being so consumed by…fuck…by you.”

More words that shoot directly to your core. Jimin was oddly hot now, eyes squeezed shut while you forced a…confession out of him?

“Arguing with you is the only way I know how to express myself around you.” God, Jimin thinks. You weren’t making anything easy for him.

Your tongue flickers against his tip and nearly laughs when Jimin flinches.

“Keep. Talking.” you grit, tongue twirling around his tip like you’ve done to the lollipop earlier.

“You know what the fuck you’re doing!” Jimin hisses, head lifting with hazy eyes as he catches suckle right onto the tip of his cock. “You’re…such a bitch, Y/N.” he groans, head slamming back against the bed. “And you drive me fucking crazy…you and those damn videos. I’ve watched you squirt more times than I can fucking count.”

“Good boy.”

Your mouth takes Jimin whole now, deciding maybe it was time to stop teasing him. He was being so good, after all. A completely sober and not so horny Jimin would’ve never admitted these things.

Jimin whimpers, you calling him a ‘good boy’ just makes this situation worse (better). Your mouth is so warm and wet, fully devoted to now cater to him; even if it is just for a moment. You take him entirely into your throat, then lift up so that only his tip is in your mouth. You repeat the action, each time sucking even harder. A hand wraps around his shaft so that you can jack him as you come up.

“Your mouth feels so good.” Jimin whines, hand itching to touch you but he doesn’t want you to stop. “You’re so good at this, fuck,” Jimin groans. “you’re so good at everything.”

It must’ve hurt him to say that, you think as you continue to suckle onto his cock. Satisfaction flows through you as Jimin continues to babble on, intoxicated on more than just the alcohol.

Your mouth pops Jimin’s cock out from your lips, saliva pooling out along with it.

Jimin shudders, chest heaving at how you stopped so abruptly.

“Who knew you felt this way.” you tease, a hand wrapping around his wet, hard cock. “When you sober up, I’ll have so much material to tease you on.”

Jimin knows this just as much as you do.

“If I didn’t know better…you’d be admitting to liking me.”

Only teasing him, of course. You would never believe that Jimin would like you outside of sexual encounters you and he share. But you did enjoy teasing him about what he has admitted to you.

“Would that be bad?” wasn’t what you were expecting from Jimin. If anything, it wouldn’t even be on your list of responses from the man.

Would that be bad?

Would it?

Well - no. It wouldn’t be bad, but weird. You and Jimin went at one another's neck so much that most people that knew you expected it. They waited for you to pipe in whenever Jimin spoke and vice versa. The tension between you two in the beginning slowly turned to something sexual; mainly because of Jimin watching you.

You bite your lip, unsure how to respond. Jimin doesn’t expect you to truly. Your words were true, you would tease him on end when this was said and over with and he’d do what he does best - talk shit, deny and deflect.

“I’m going to sit on your cock.” you say randomly. “I’m going to fuck it until I cum.”

Jimin gulps, nodding his head feverishly. “Okay.” he says, voice dropping a few tones. “I want you to use my cock as you like.”

Fuck, you think. Pussy drunk Jimin was something else - so submissive with little to say besides complying. You could get used to this.

You climb onto Jimin, kicking off the heels you just realized you were still wearing. You’re facing him, Jimin notices, when you hover above him. You sit onto his cock slowly, pussy clenching until he’s fully inside of you.

Jimin’s hands dig into the sheets, lungs filling with air.

Satisfaction runs through you witnessing Jimin being so fucked out. You know how he felt when you were his bitch and you had to admit that it felt amazing.

You rise and fall on Jimin’s cock, legs widening to assure he had a perfect view of it all. Jimin finds it hard to watch you, his mind flickering to the countless times he’s watched you through his phone screen. The way you’d fuck yourself with your dildo, rising and falling just the same way. Your face morphing to a one of pleasure, wet pussy dripping with lustful arousal…

Jimin groans, a hand reaching out to touch your clit. He cannot believe just how wet you were, thumb rubbing along your clit.

“Your pussy’s so…” Jimin shakes his head, exhaling. “...pretty and wet.”

“You sound like the simp you always call Jungkook.”

Jimin snickers, but he doesn’t deny it. Instead, since you allow it, he continues to twirl his thumb around your clit.

“I want you to cum all over me.” Jimin murmurs. It isn’t demanding in the slightest. It’s pleading. His eyes are begging. “I want you cum all over my cock like you do with your dildo.”

A whimper releases from your throat, eyes widening slightly. Your hips roll onto Jimin’s cock, wishing he would just shut up - but no, he didn’t.

“I don’t even have to cum.” Jimin groans, looking seconds from doing just that. The thought of being used by you as if he was your own personal fuck toy was highly exciting. He’s watched you for so long - the amount of times he came just by you squirting was too much to count.

“You’re so obsessed with me, Jim Jim.” you giggle, head falling back to let out a quick whine. “This pussy has you wasting thousands on heels.”

“It’s not wasting if you have it, Y/N.” Jimin’s hands roam up to grip your breast. His stomach churns with you squeezing around his cock.

“I know you want to cum.” you quip, this time slamming your hands onto his shoulders to push him back. You continue to rise and fall onto his cock sloppily. “Cum with me since I’m feeling nice.”

You also wanted to feel him cum inside of you; to watch the way his face would turn to one of pure ecstasy.

Jimin’s hands catch hold of your hips as you pound right on top of him. Your lips were centimeters from his and you contemplate kissing him, but decide against it. You didn’t want to appear like you were thinking about the plumpness of his lips; how full and tinted they were or-

Jimin presses his lips against yours as he cums, splashing your walls with warm cum and you’re cumming right along with him, hips quivering. The kiss is deep, neither of you breaking apart for a long, long moment.

Your forehead lies against his, panting when your lips finally detach from his. You fall beside him and groan.

Jimin breathes heavily. “You okay?”

You nod your head slightly. “Yeah. You?”

Jimin was asking himself the same thing. He was going to feel the full effects of it tomorrow.

“Yeah.” Jimin answers truthfully. “Do you…want to go back to the party?” he asks awkwardly. The music is faint from behind the door. “I don’t think we won best costume.”

“Why?” you turn to face him. It wasn’t like you were expecting to truthfully. “I thought our costumes were great!”

“Of course it was.” Jimin snickers. “It’s us.” he says, and then blinks - because he actually said “us” instead of “me”. He was including you along with him - and you notice just as he does, a smirk forming onto your lips. “Tae would never let me win a contest. Even if it was rightfully won.”

You hum out a response. That was fair. It wasn’t like he needed the reward.

“This Hallowtine’s party was actually fun.” you place a hand onto Jimin’s naked chest. Your fingers tap softly. “I should thank Taehyung for inviting me.”

Jimin remains silent. He doesn’t tell you that Taehyung invited you because Jimin couldn’t bring himself to. He didn’t say that to his friend, but he didn’t have to. Taehyung could see it for himself.

“Are you staying here tonight?” you question once the silence settles. “I can take a lyft-”

“Dressed like that?” Jimin scoffs with a raised eyebrow. He raises to a seated position. “That sounds absurd.”

“Ah, so you do care.” you tease, batting your eyelashes at him. “And here I thought you were just pussy talking.”

Jimin feels his cheeks flush, but he wasn’t going to go back and forth with you now.

“We can stay here.” Jimin says with a glance. “Or, I can take you home.”

“Hm…it depends. If I go home, will you come?” you were being bold enough to ask. “The night isn’t over, Jim Jim. You’re still technically my bitch.”

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