#please praise the goddesses megan thee stallion and victoria monet

[slushycoookie]

I swear to god this song...

It's giving me ideas.

(Slight NSFW below)

Imagine Loser!Miguel and Stripper!Reader.

He's never been to a strip club before. He saw no reason to. He's known to go to his job and go home, hardly having a social life. But he's had too many bad days lately and his coworkers at Alchemex joke that he should go to that strip club down in Nueva York to let out some steam.

They give him some tips, like keeping his hands to himself with the dancers, and making sure he has a lot of money to throw.

Miguel's nervous, the sweat sticking to his brow when he walks into the dim club. Surrounded by beautiful people with their flashy outfits to catch anyone's eye. But out of all the dancers with their lavish outfits, you're the one he notices. The sparkle from your bodysuit catches the stage lights. Leaving nothing to the imagination about your plump and curvy body. Your hair all done up while still having that same sparkle.

When he stood by the stage, watching you strut up the runway, high heels clicking against the floor. All the men hooping and hollering at your presence. Miguel's ashamed to admit that was noticing your ass the most. Your cheeks hugging the bodysuit as you circle the pole, teasing the crowd. Money starts to fly, coating the runway floor, but he doesn't throw any of his.

Instead, he watches you, eyes focused on your performance. The way your leg hooks around the silver pole, hand gripping the top to help you twirl. Your sweet scent covers the smell of alcohol and smoke in the air. He watches your face as you smile, raking in the attention of the half-drunk patrons.

Somehow your eyes connect.

You're looking directly at him, coming off the pole to creep towards him. He gulps when you bend down, your manicured nail scraping along his chin. Suddenly, the room starts to get hot, sweat pouring out from every inch of his body. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been touched before. And he wants more. So much more. Especially when your hand trails down to his chest, creating more heat on his covered skin. Creasing his pressed buttoned-down shirt. But it only lasts a moment.

Miguel tears away to leave, hearing the roar of laughter from others across his ears when he exits the club. His cheeks flushed with embarrassment, pants tight from his growing erection. On the verge of passing out from the increased attention. All while you watch with confusion and a hint of curiosity.