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dcandmarvelimagines · 8 months ago

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sweeter than you ever knew. (pt. 1)

Series: pt 1 pt 2 pt 3 pt 4 pt 5 Pairing: Wade Wilson x Logan Howlett x Fem!Reader Rating: Explicit Word Count: 6.8k Warnings: AFAB reader (uses she/her pronouns), 1st person POV, non-mutant Reader, some blood, Wade being too flirty for his own good, vaginal fingering, bathroom sex, dirty talking, the relationship with Logan is a "slow" burn in comparison. More smut to come, I swear. Author's note: Damn...it's been a while huh? My last comic related fic was in 2018, funny enough also because of a Deadpool movie. I was already sappy in a post before so I wont subject y'all to it. But this was intended to be a short little oneshot and has absolutely ballooned out of control. I'm thinking this will end up being five chapters. I will upload the second chapter concurrently with my ao3 upload, so if you prefer to read there, feel free! Also as a little aside: I am so unbelievably sorry that the reader's job working in outreach to help Al is barely described and is probably highly inaccurate. I was desperate not to get lost in the weeds of research on the subject. I needed something that would keep the reader out of the apartment most of the time and let the relationship grow differently, so neighbors was out of the question. If you work in community outreach (absolute angel), please just avert your eyes.

I used to think my life was boring. It was the same day in, day out. I never met anyone interesting or experienced new things. That changed when I knocked on an unassuming apartment door in a dingy building.

I worked in government outreach, providing assistance to elderly blind clients. I had been assigned to work with Althea Sanderson. Her file had listed her as combative and she didn’t disappoint. She absolutely hated my guts at first, grumbling about how she just needed her “disco dust” to keep going. She assured me that she had roommates and didn’t need me “thundering” around her small apartment.

For nearly two weeks, I thought her mind had to have been slipping, because no one else would come from that apartment besides me. Imagine my shock when I walked into the place and found a hulking mass of a man, only in his boxers, in the kitchen. His brown hair, streaked with white, was wet after a shower and he was half heartedly rubbing at his shoulder with a towel covered in sparkly unicorns. “Who the hell are you?” He snapped, voice gruff. He glared at me like I had personally insulted him by my mere presence. My eyes darted all over him, the thick ropes of muscles in his arms, the harsh planes of abs, the thin sheen of dark hair on his chest, the trail disappearing into his boxers. The man yanked the fridge door open and snapped me from my drooling.

I had barely stumbled my name out before Al, as she insisted I call her when she realized I wasn’t going anywhere, came around the corner, her hands guiding her along the wall. “Leave her alone Logan. She’s like herpes and I can’t get rid of her.” My lips pursed at the comparison. The man, Logan, huffed with either annoyance or laughter before padding away, beer clutched in his hand. For how big he was, I was shocked at how light on his feet he was. In comparison, I really did thunder around.

“Oh! Do we have a new roomie!?” The voice trembled in excitement. Its owner bounded around the corner, clad only in low slung sweatpants, nearly tripping over the scraggly dog at his feet. I drew back, sucking in a sharp breath. The new man was no less tall than the other, but lean in comparison, with a wide chest and firm arms. But I was far more distracted by his skin. It was a mixture of mottled pink and white, looking more like swirled bacon fat than anything else. He was completely hairless but I saw the skin of his forehead rise. “Al, you didn’t say you had a hot granddaughter!”

“Oh I’m not,” I said. While I was scheduled to be here for four hours, I was already contemplating how to escape the suddenly cramped apartment.

“Does she look like she’s related to me dick for brains?” Al growled at him. The man shrugged, a megawatt smile plastered on his face as he picked up the dog and let it lick at his face.

“She has the same wild sexual energy you do, my sweet black Betty White.” He walked closer, carelessly dropping the dog into Al’s lap just as she lowered herself into a creaky chair. The man theatrically bowed, snagging my hand to press a too wet kiss to my knuckles. His skin was unbelievably soft as it held mine, the grip light enough that I could pull away at any moment. “Wade Winston Wilson.”

He was so close to me that I took a half step back. I gave him my name, just my first, and wriggled my hand free. “Um, I'm assuming your Al’s roommates?”

“Roommates is such a safe for work word, I prefer to be her personal pommel horse.” A laugh bubbles up before I can stop it. Wade grinned at the sound and shit, his face softened in such a charming way that I felt my defenses come down just a little.

“I don’t think you understand what a pommel horse is.”

“Isn’t it something you ride? Get all flexable on?”

After that first awkward day, all four of us fell into an easy routine. Al seemed to warm to me more, though her sharp tongue never faltered. Wade was a vibrating ball of energy whenever I came over. He bounced around the kitchen as I made Al her coffee or insisted I sit with them to watch Golden Girls . I came to realize that only his right hand was so soft, the left was scratchy and blistered, which was something I refused to think about any deeper. Logan remained standoffish and reserved but he was there when I needed a break from Wade’s constant talking. I would occasionally find him sitting on the fire escape, smoking the cigar that seemed permanently stuck to his fingers. We often just sat in silence while Wade and Al argued about Ikea furniture.

I had always found their schedule strange. They would disappear for days, sometimes weeks, at a time with no rhyme or reason. I had originally thought they might be businessmen but Logan’s quick temper and Wade’s obnoxious energy clashed with the idea. Wade often talked about going to exotic places and had brought me back a diamond that he swears up and down is not only real, but is also the tip of a woman’s finger.

The day I found out their real profession had started horribly. The train line to Al’s apartment had broken, so I had to take a cab there. I was flustered, hungry, and in desperate need of caffeine when I trudged up the five flights of stairs to Al’s apartment, because, of course , her elevator had broken. It was customary for me to knock twice, allowing Al to respond before I used my key to come in. Today, my knocks were much shorter. “Good morning Al,” I called, slipping into the door before turning to close and lock it. I spun and nearly screamed.

“Oh hey,” Wade said, leaning against the wall of the kitchen, a mug clutched in his hand. I was far more distracted by three massive claw marks across his chest, blood oozing down his stomach, staining his plaid underwear.

“Oh my god! Wade!” My keys and purse clattered to the floor as I rushed to him, bracing my hands against his chest. “What happened?! Holy shit, oh fuck.” I was babbling now, distracted by how sticky and hot the blood was. But his chest rumbled under my shaking hands. I glanced up and saw a smile on his face as he failed to contain his laughter. “What are you fucking laughing at?! You’re dying here and you're laughing?!”

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard you swear. Miss good samaritan knows such nasty words.” I tried never to swear around patients but this was a worst fucking case scenario.

“Oh fuck off! You’re dying and you're laughing ‘cause I said a bad word?!” That only seemed to make him laugh harder.

“Calm down sweetheart,” came a rough voice behind me. Logan had started to call me that more often, but it always felt like he was insulting me with the word. It usually had a stinge of annoyance laced around it, now was no different. “He’s fine.” I peaked over my shoulder, hands still pressed against Wade’s firm chest, about to argue with the other man about how un fine Wade was. I nearly screamed again. A knife was embedded into Logan’s shoulder. There was blood everywhere . On his bare chest, his face, his hands and arms.

“Logan!” I wanted to reach for him but couldn’t without leaving Wade to bleed out.

“Now peanut,” Wade cooed and slid out from under my touch. “I told you, baby knife is just for the bedroom.” With that, Wade yanked the knife from Logan’s shoulder. The spurt of blood made my head woozy and I gripped the counter to hold myself steady. Logan barely reacted to the five inch blade being ripped from his skin, just a small grunt.

“What’s going on?” My voice was thick with confusion. They had clearly been mauled and attacked in their own home, yet they walked around like nothing traumatizing had just happened.

“Target practice,” Wade said, using a kitchen towel to clean baby knife. Logan turned and dropped on the worn couch, the springs screeching in protest.

“What?” I grabbed at his wrist before he could walk away. “Wade, please, I hope you understand how jarring that was. Now, please explain and cut all the punny bullshit out.” Wade pressed a dramatic hand to his chest like I had insulted him.

“We’re mutants.” My eyebrows knitted together as I stalked toward the living room. Logan sat there, whiskey already in hand. He seemingly hid a bottle everywhere. Wade followed behind before collapsing on top of Logan. The older man snapped his jaws like an animal and a little snarl escaped his throat. Wade grinned, tugged at his hair, before going to the other end of the couch.

“Mutants? Like the X-Men?” The scowl Logan shot me turned my blood to ice. Some of that shock must have shown on my face because Logan glanced away, taking a hefty swig of whiskey, and Wade tugged at my bloody pinky.

“Ignore him, the X-men are a touchy subject for him, and never touchy in the fun way.” He scratched at his chest, some of the blood smudging. The skin was…

“You’re healed?” I knelt before the couch, hands feeling his chest. “Holy shit I thought you were going to bleed out.” It was impossible. The wounds were deep , I could have sworn I saw bone before.

“God I’ve thought about you kneeling there for so long.” Logan’s fist cracked into Wade’s arm. My hands flinched away and I quickly stood. “Hurtful peanut. You know my arms always take too long to heal.”

“Stop being a fucking creep,” Logan hissed. I turned to him and saw that the wound in his shoulder was also gone. Without thinking, I bent to touch the smooth skin, as if I couldn’t believe it without feeling it as well. Logan went still under my touch. I knew Wade didn’t mind the physical contact, he practically threw himself at me whenever I was around, but Logan was always just out of reach. I was too frazzled to think correctly anymore.

“So you can heal,” I mumbled.

“Very fast,” Wade said. He grabbed the remote and clicked on the tv.

“You can stop touching me now sweetheart.” Once again, I snatched my hands back with a mumbled sorry , a faint flush burning my cheeks.

“Comes in real handy with our line of work.” Wade was bouncing his leg, the couch squeaking under him. Logan’s hand shot out to still him, knuckles showing white for a moment. Wade winced and I heard another snap.

“Which is…?”

Logan answered for me, “mercenaries.”

“Oh,” I plopped down on the rickety coffee table. The information settled like a lead weight in my stomach. My first instinct was fear. They killed people for money. Would they then turn on me now? Curiosity tugged at me as well. I couldn’t explain it but there was something so magnetic about them. The edge of danger had always been there, especially with Logan. I would have never guessed it was this. Ever since I first met them, I knew I would be fascinated. I guess I had my answer as to why they were as fit as models. “How come I’ve never seen anything? Do you guys not have…guns or whatever?”

“He didn’t want to scare you.” Logan jabbed his thumb Wade’s way. I cocked my head at Wade, a tiny smile pulling at my lips. He actually looked a little bashful.

“I’ve found that women don’t always respond very positively to my intestines hanging out.” My stomach flipped and I sat a little straighter.

“Has that happened?”

“No, but a fortune teller told me it will happen when I least expect it.” He stood with an excited jump, moving to stand in front of a small closet. There was only a faint limp in his movement. As he walked, I became incredibly aware that both men were nearly naked, only clad in thin boxers. With every step, Wade’s well defined back flexed and his legs tensed. I only allowed myself a moment to take him in before I drew my gaze away. He turned and flung the door open with flourish. “Behold! My batcave!” I glanced inside, and found a tall gun case, massive stacks of ammo, and two katanas balanced against a red suit. There was a yellow one tucked next to it as well. “Mine is the red one, a very flattering color I assure you.”

“The yellow one is yours?” Logan just gives me a curt nod. His face is stone again, clearly done with this conversation. “Do you use any of that?” I ask, motioning to the “batcave”, whatever the hell that means.

Snikt.

“Woah,” I whispered. The three blades protruding from between his knuckles were shiny and looked wicked sharp. I leaned forward and pressed the pad of my thumb against the middle blade. It immediately split the skin and a drop of blood oozed down my skin. Logan watched my warily, like I was liable to jump on the claws at any moment. “Do they hurt?” There were small beads of blood around where they had pierced through his skin. With a flex of his veiny forearm, the claws disappeared. The blades slid smoothly between the bones on the back of his hand.

“Yeah, everytime.” I watch his skin knit itself together again with rapt attention. Once it finished, I ran my injured thumb over the regrown skin, our blood smearing a thick stripe across his knuckles. Logan’s hand was relaxed as I held it. Wade flopped back onto the couch, his head in Logan’s lap, baby knife clutched in his hands. Logan seemed resigned, face relaxing just a bit, and allowed Wade to rest. He withdrew his hand from mine before resting his arm across Wade’s neck. The motion was surprisingly domestic and it made my heart warm. Behind me, the Golden Girls theme played.

“Isn’t Al in danger with you two here? Don’t you have enemies that could find her?” The briefest sad expression flashed across Wade’s face. I stood suddenly, “oh my god where is she? Did someone already grab her and that’s why you were fucked up?”

“She’s fine, probably wandering the streets or whatever women of her age do,” Wade made a dismissive wave of his hand.

“Wade!” I stepped on his foot in my mad dash to my fallen purse. I needed my phone to do…something. Call someone? The phone call would sound ridiculous. Hi, I help a blind woman and her two mutant roommates are mercenaries and got her kidnapped. Yeah, totally believable. I had just snatched my bag up when the door opened and Al herself appeared.

“Fucking Jesus,” she snapped as she ran into me. My body sagged in relief at seeing her. I gripped her shoulders, just to make sure she was actually there.

“Oh my god Al, don’t fucking scare my like that.” Her hands flew up and shook out from my touch.

“Well you were late!” I wasn’t. “Are those two done fucking yet?” I twisted to look at the men on the couch. Logan was half way out the window to smoke. I could have sworn I saw him lick at his bloody knuckles. Wade was studying me, the hint of a challenge in his eyes, daring me to say something about their relationship. I smiled, hoping it let him know I didn’t care. But that easy look might have been ruined when pieces fell together. The knife. The three slashes to Wade’s chest. Their near nakedness.

Huh.

“Uh yeah Al, I think I ruined the mood for them.” She scoffed and shoved a grocery bag into my hands. I dutifully turned to the kitchen and began to store away the random assortment of items. She guided herself over to the coffee maker and began to load the grounds into a filter.

“I think you are one of the biggest things that puts them in the mood honey.” I heard a growl float in from the window.

Wade and Logan stopped avoiding me after finding out their true occupation. It never got any easier seeing their bloody bodies strew around the apartment. I slipped on enough stray bullets that I learned to watch my feet. Wade was always cleaning his guns with a concentration I didn’t think he was capable of. One night he forced me to sit down, offering his lap first and whimpered pitifully when I took the chair, and made me hold the gun, showing me how to cock it and flick the safety on and off. The name Chekhov was stamped across the side in shiny gold letters. “Do I really need to know this?” He leaned closer, cheek pressed to mine. His warm hands slid over my own, guiding me to a button that would pop the magazine out and helped me click it back into place. He had grown much bolder in his touching and I couldn’t bring myself to stop him anymore.

“Never know when you’ll need to flip the badass switch.” His bubbly finger tapped the glittering name for emphasis. I shifted in my seat to face him, my lips ghosting over his cheek. He followed my lead and our noses brushed.

“I didn’t think I would need that with you around.” A beat passed as we looked at each other. There was something soft in his eyes that made my heart clench. “You’re going to protect me, right?” It wouldn’t take much to lean closer, to finally kiss him. I knew he was thinking the same thing and my eyelids fluttered closed in anticipation.

The alarm for my Al’s meds broke the moment.

I knew I was sliding into a sticky situation. I found myself staying later and later, well past my shift with Al had ended. It was absolutely forbidden for me to become involved with clients. The excuse that they weren’t technically my clients wouldn’t work on my boss. I needed to make a decision. Either stop working with Al or end any attachment to Wade, and Logan by extension.

***

I’m not sure how Wade and I ended up on that date. He and Logan had been away on a job for a week. It was finally peaceful in the apartment but I couldn’t lie to myself, I had missed them. So I didn’t fight Wade too much when he asked “nicely”, aka demanded , he tag along while I ran errands for Al. She was the last person I had to visit for the day so I allowed him to drag me to a bar after I dropped her meds off. Logan had a dark look in his eyes when he saw Wade clutch my hand. “The old man is just jealous. He wishes someone would take him out, but he doesn’t do well in crowds, very bitey.” I smirked and let Wade choose our destination. His hand was steady around mine, giving it occasional squeezes as we rushed across busy streets. The bar he picked was properly seedy, full to the brim with haggard men with face tattoos. Normally, I would have run screaming from a place like this. But Wade was clearly well liked. He moved through the room, smiling and waving at everyone. He tried introducing me to some people but it was hard to keep their names straight. We found an empty booth tucked behind the row of pool tables. I eased onto the sticky laminate bench as Wade headed to the bar to get our drinks. I listen to the men next to my seat argue over who was supposed to break for their next game of pool while I waited.

Wade returned with my drink, a neon green one for him, and two small shot glasses. I eyed them suspiciously as he passed me one of the whipped cream topped shots. “I thought it was only right to start our date with a blowjob.” I coughed on my laugh, examining the glass. He tapped his against mine before downing it and I followed his lead. It was pure sugar, nearly masking the burn of the alcohol.

“Whoever made this has clearly never given a blow job. Way too sweet.” Wade grinned in that mischievous way he always seemed to when he was going to be especially gross. I had no idea why I was being so forward. But I felt light, happy. All my worries from work had melted away as Wade held my hand on our way here.

“Oh yeah? I’ve been told my cum is rather delicious. It’s all the pineapple I eat.” I rolled my eyes and matched his grin, propping my elbows on the table, head cradled between my hands.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you eat a single fruit. Or a vegetable honestly.” Wade copied my pose, fluttering his nonexistent eyelashes.

“How about you taste mine and I taste yours?” I pretended to contemplate, eyes scrunching, head tilting from side to side. My hand inched across the table before I plucked the cherry from Wade’s drink. He saw me, I could tell by the minute flick of his gaze, but he let me take it regardless. I yanked it from the stem with my teeth and chewed thoughtfully.

“Hm, I’m not sure. Don’t you think Al would talk if you were moaning my name so much?” He grabbed my wrist and dragged my hand closer. My breath caught as his lips enveloped my index finger and thumb. His tongue lazed over them before he drew back, the cherry stem between his teeth.

“Sweetie pie, I moan it enough as is.” I blushed and my stomach grew warm. The stem disappeared, his jaw moving. “I haven’t been able to convince the old bastard to dress like you yet. But he lets me pretend.” I took a big gulp of my drink and glanced away. The patrons were starting to get more boisterous. Their shouts echoed off the peeling wallpapered walls as they called for more rounds or catcalled some of the working girls. I watched as a pretty blonde walked off with two men. Would Wade and Logan take turns? Or would they pin me between them, spreading me open on both of their- “Jealous?” My head whorled back to him but only found a knowing glint in his eyes.

“Shut up,” I growled and took another deep drink. Wade’s tongue lolled out, in the center was a perfectly knotted stem. I shifted in my seat. This was not how I had intended the night to go. I wanted just a drink, conversation, and then home for a long awaited rest. But here I was, squirming at the mere sight of Wade’s tongue. “Impressive,” I mumbled. I reached across the table and plucked the stem from him. It looked like he was going for another kiss but my hand drew back too fast.

“I know it’s impressive. Just spelling out my name gets it all twisted like that.” I rolled my eyes with a smirk.

“You didn't strike me as a guy who would spell his name out. I thought you might be a little more creative.” He leaned closer, eyes just a bit too wide.

“Oh? What were you imagining I would do? I have a lot of skills and I’ll use them all on you.” Damn it . I finished off my drink and the booze buzzed down my body as it settled inside me. A small voice in my head reminded me that I needed to pick. That if I went down this road with Wade, I needed to stop visiting Al. But fuck, I craved the feeling of his hands on me. I dreamt of him and Logan anytime I saw them. My brain became more and more depraved as the weeks went on. I could barely look at them sometimes without blushing.

“Wade,” I sighed, twirling my straw in the slowly melting ice. “If we do anything, I have to stop working with Al. It’s a conflict of-“ he held a scarred hand up and my voice died away.

“No work talk. It’s Friday, let me show you a good time.” I sighed again but nodded.

The night passed blissfully. Wade was a strangely great date, much better than any guy I’ve been with recently. He asked me a million questions, ranging from my childhood, food allergies, to my favorite Mexican food. He gave me half joke responses about his own childhood, but gave me enthusiastic answers to everything else . He bought me another drink after he finished his but I was careful to sip mine slowly. The last thing I needed was a hangover. He also brought some greasy fries and I dove into them gratefully. We played one round of pool, which he won by only a few points. Then he promptly annihilated me in darts. “So unfair,” I groaned. “You do this for a living, I would have never won.”

“I thought you being sexy would distract me enough. Strip, then you’ll win.” I had that pleasant buzz running through me so his words just made me giggle.

“Maybe I’ll take you up on that.” I held up my hand to cut off his next words. “Not now you horny bastard.” He pouted, lip stuck a full inch off his face. I playfully plucked at it. “Pout all you want. You gotta put more effort in to get me naked.”

That was perhaps the wrong choice of words because he bent down, his lips colliding with mine. I gasped but grabbed at his sweatshirt, clinging to him. He kissed like he wanted to eat me, all tongue and spit. He tasted as sweet as candy from the bright cocktails he had. It made my head swirl, skin heat. His hands moved to my hips and traced the sliver of exposed skin before they dove into my back pockets, and jerked me closer. I moaned into him as I felt the hard ridge in his pants pressed against my hip. The few whoops from our onlookers made me pause. “Probably not the best place.” Wade’s voice was a little husky, lips still close enough to mine that they moved with his words.

“No,” I mumbled. But neither of us disentangled from each other. “I should probably go home.” Wade sighed and straightened. He nodded, tucking a loose lock of hair behind my ear.

“Fuck you look gorgeous.” His voice was barely audible under the conversations and the music. I opened my mouth to say something but he cut me off. “I gotta hit the head then I’ll take you home.” He removed my hands from his sweatshirt, but still held one as he guided me to where the bathrooms were, situated at the end of a long hallway. “Wait here, don’t get too many men drooling over you.” Once he disappeared into the men’s room, I let out a breath. He was overwhelming, equal parts sweet, filthy, and ridiculous. The last thing I wanted to do was be responsible. To go home and ignore all the things he made me feel. I had already gone too far, what were a couple more steps? I bit at my thumb nail and watched the bathrooms intently. I didn’t see any women come or go into theirs. I scanned the bar and only found a handful of them. I knew I would have it mostly to myself.

Cautiously, as if I was somehow breaking a law, I walked down and into the women’s bathroom. It was empty, mostly clean, and smelled fine. Which I’m sure is more than I could say about the men’s. I propped myself against the wall in the hallway, waiting for Wade to emerge again. Two men passed before I saw him. “Aw, I don’t need an escort out of this creepy hallway.” I roughly grabbed his shirt, and backed into the still empty bathroom. “Oh wow, the promised land.”

I slammed him against the door, far too rough from nerves, but his face lit up nevertheless, a little excited laugh escaping him. “How about you show me those skills you talked about, yeah? Consider this a trial period before I let you fuck my brains out.” He didn’t need to be told twice. He hauled my body tight against his, lips crashing against mine again. This time, I gave into his kisses completely, his teeth tugging at my lips. There was a pinch of pain each time but it only made me claw at his neck harder. Judging by the groan he let out, I think I broke through skin. His tongue prodded its way into my mouth and I moaned loudly against him. His hands slid all over my body before they hooked behind my knees and he carried me to the counter. He lifted me like I weighed nothing. My head was beginning to grow fuzzy from our kiss but I refused to part, greedily sucking air from him instead.

Wade was the first to rear back, gulping down lungfuls of air. I wanted to drag him back and kiss him till I was lightheaded again. “Goddamn woman,” he mumbled. I just hummed, moving my desperate kisses to his jaw. My hands crawled up his shirt and littered his torso with scratches. He leaned closer, my head hitting the mirror behind me, as he gripped my hips and dragged me flush against him. My legs curled around his waist, craving the feeling of his hard cock against me.

“Wade,” I whined while I ground my hips against his. I found a particularly sensitive spot just below his ear that made him rasp my name. He cupped the back of my neck, leading me back to his greedy mouth. His thumb brushed along my jaw before his fingers delicately laid across my throat. I arched my neck to give his hand better access to the column of muscle. But his hands slipped from me entirely so he could shove my shirt over my breasts. He buried his face between them, peppering the skin with long, sucking kisses. “ Wade,” I moaned, hips bucking desperately against him, “I need you to fuck me.” His hand went to my jeans, pulling the button free and easing the zipper down. I yelped when his teeth captured a bit of flesh and bit down, hard . But the sting of pain only made me crave him more. Finally his hand plunged under my jeans and into my underwear.

“So wet all ready,” he hummed, biting at more of my skin. He drifted over my clit in loose, but firm circles. With his free hand, he worked the cup of my bra down and captured my nipple in his mouth. I thursted against his hand in an attempt to get him to do more, to bend me over this sink and fuck me like I knew he wanted to. Instead, he traced the tip of his finger over my entrance and had the nerve to chuckle when I tried to force it inside.

“ Jesus, Wade , stop teasing me.” My voice was airy, tinged with desire. His teeth glanced across my nipple and I nearly wailed. “Wade!” My nails went to his head and dug into his scalp, heels digging into his ass in annoyance.

“I love the way you say my name, pretty girl.” His finger drove into me, pumping in and out quickly. He sucked one last bruise onto the top of my breast before he was kissing and licking back up my neck.

“ More , Wade,” I panted, “you aren’t going to break me.” He laughed, the sound sending goosebumps across my feverish skin. Another finger worked its way into me and my eyes rolled back at the stretch, a sigh catching in my throat. His thumb moved into more controlled figure eights. My legs trembled around him as he crooked his fingers inside, hunting for that spongy spot inside me. “Wade, oh fuck.”

“God you moan so nice for daddy Wade.” Something between a laugh and a sob of pleasure bubbled up from my chest. Heat oozed through my body, settled deep in my stomach.

“I’m not gonna call you that. Ah, keeping doing that, so good.”

“Are you going to call Logan daddy when he makes you wiggle like this?” He found his mark and stroked the spot deep inside me with complete focus. My hips bore down on his hand, chasing for the orgasm I sensed. “ Aww seems like you like the idea. You’re sucking me in so much.” He bit more bruises on my neck, tongue lapping at the skin after to soothe the ache. “I can’t wait to see you stretched on his big dick.”

I whimper, the tension inside me near breaking point. “Yours first.” The coil finally snapped. My eyes squeezed shut as a stream of his name and half gasps fell from my chapped lips. His free hand pinned my hip to the counter to stop its wild jerks. He scattered soft kisses across my face and cheeks as he worked me through my orgasm. It seemed to last an eternity and the waves of bliss made my body tingly.

Eventually, my body relaxed and slumped against the mirror, chest heaving. Wade’s fingers remained in me, lazily plunging inside. Now that the haze had passed, I could hear just how wet I was. The lewd noises echo off the cramped bathroom’s tiles. “Wade,” I mumbled, tugging weakly at his wrist. “You should get to fucking me now.”

“ Ew , how about you guys don’t. Do you know how dirty it is in here?” I jumped at the voice, scrambling to cover myself. Wade shifted himself to block me from view as I did. His fingers withdrew with a pop that made my face heat even more. The woman idly scrolled on her phone to give us privacy. My bra was fixed, shirt back over my chest, in record time.

Wade was fine to let us wait it seemed. His sticky fingers lingered on my stomach, running over the curves and stretch marks, before he buttoned up my pants. “Okay sugar bean, let’s get you home.” He helped me off the counter, my weak legs wobbling just a bit. He kept his firm arm around me for support anyways. I had half a mind to think it was just to keep touching me. I didn’t mind and leaned into his side, head against his chest.

The night was cool, the slight bite of oncoming autumn in the crisp air, and I breathed it in. My head felt clearer with each one. I went to pull away first, to tell him that I would see him on Monday, but he kept walking. “Where are we going?”

“Gonna take you home.” I blinked.

“How do you know this is the way to my place?” He made a noncommittal noise and shrugged.

“Is some light stalking a turn off?” I knew I was crazy, absolutely insane, because all I did was beam up at him and cling closer. We made our way to my apartment in long winding segments. First the train where he pulled my legs over his and kissed at my wind whipped cheeks. Then a stop at a late night burger chain where Wade promptly drowned his in ketchup. We walked slowly to my apartment, hand in hand. Exhaustion had finally reached me and my feet dragged behind me. The night had only grown colder, breath misting in front of our faces. I was wearing a light jacket as I anticipated being home before the drop in temperature. I drew Wade’s arm closer, pressing it against my chest, clinging to the bit of heat. “You know, if we were both naked you would be warmer.” I rolled my eyes.

“That’s absolutely not how that works. Also, my place is just around the corner.” We only had to walk a few more steps before I saw the familiar entrance to my apartment. Wade followed me to my door, leaning against the rail, waiting for me to fish my keys out of my purse. Once I had them in hand, I also tugged my phone from my pocket. “I don’t have your number.” I oddly felt shy, like this was too much of a leap. It felt more official like this. When I held it out for him, he took it eagerly, fingers tapping quickly. Then he kept typing. I peered down at my phone and saw him adding information for Asshole GILF, surrounded by an assortment of hearts. Quite frankly, I didn’t even know Logan had a phone, I had never seen him with it.

My stomach dropped when I saw Wade open a conversation with Logan and began typing. I was only able to read the words horny and get it up before I snatched my phone back. “Oh my god Wade!” I rapidly deleted the text, refusing to read anymore of his nonsense sexting. “I would prefer Logan to not think I’m trying to jump his bones.”

“Aw come on! Live a little. Logan loves people who come on too strong, especially on his face.”

“I think you are probably the exception, Wade. Logan doesn’t seem to want much to do with me.” His cold palms cupped my cheeks and drew me closer.

“I’m gonna let you in on a little secret, just you and me, yeah?” I nod, arms encircling his waist. The warmth of his chest spread into mine. “Logan dreams about you. He growls your name. He humps me in his sleep like a teenage boy. Then he wakes up and fucks me for hours.” My face heated at his words. I could feel him getting hard against my hip. “He wants you so bad it makes him crazy.” He pushed against me, just the slightest bit. “ I want you so bad it makes me crazy.” I realized that I never repaid the favor at the bar before being interrupted.

“Do you want to come upstairs?” Wade smirked, kissing the apples of each cheek then my nose.

“No, I’m gonna surprise Logan. He’ll go nuts when he smells you on me.” I blinked in confusion. I didn’t smell that bad, did it? “He has enhanced senses,” he explained. “He’ll be able to smell your cum on my fingers from outside the apartment.”

“Oh god,” I mumbled, stuck between embarrassment and arousal. “Okay, well, don’t keep Al up.”

“She has ear muffs.” I shook my head, chuckling at the absurdity. Wade pecked at my lips but didn’t allow me more. “Goodnight baby girl. Make sure you text me so I know who you are. So many crazy fangirls, you wouldn’t believe it.”

“Uh huh,” I teased, finding the key fob for my building. Wade left one lingering kiss on my forehead before giving me a nudge toward my door. The scanner beeped, door releasing with a click. I wedged the door open before it could lock again. “Goodnight, see you Monday.” I blew him a kiss before the door clicked behind me as I went to the elevator. I reached for my phone and searched for Wade in my contact list. Of course I found him listed as Bootycall . Instead of solely hearts, his name was circled by eggplants and hearts.

Me: you have to send me a picture for your profile. I could have missed you

The elevator dinged and the door slid open. I traced my usual route to my apartment, jiggling the lock open with my key. My phone buzzed on the counter as I set it down to toe off my shoes and hang my coat up.

Bootycall: once I’m done with Logan, I’ll send pictures for the both of us.

Bootycall: Do you have other fuckbuddies? How could you? We should be the only ones for you

I woke up late the next day to two pictures. One was blurry, but the brown hair and a pointy white tooth told me it was Logan. It seemed Wade had tried to sneak it and was caught. The picture of Wade nearly made me faint. Pearly white beads of cum were splattered across his face and dripped off his exposed tongue.

Me: I can’t possibly make that your contact picture

Bootycall: you’re right! Make it your background!

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sabrinajenre96 · 25 days ago

Text

“The chemist and the glitters ”

Pairing: Michael Robinavitch x Doctor!Reader

Featuring: Spencer (5), Payton (16), and Y/N’s glitter-suffering parents

Setting: Home + The Pitt

Warning: a lot of glitters, experiments gone wrong

---

It started with good intentions. A classic mistake.

Spencer, future glitter chemist-slash-unlicensed hazard, had been left in the garage under the very naive supervision of her grandmother while Payton retreated to her room to read her latest fantasy doorstopper. Y/N’s dad had taken Kojo out for a walk. Simple. Peaceful.

Then Spencer whispered the five most dangerous words in the English language:

“I saw this on YouTube.”

---

The glitter volcano erupted in a glorious shimmer-bomb across the garage. It sparkled. It shimmered. It booby-trapped the floor into a deadly slip-and-slide.

Grandma went down first. Spencer, determined to help, rushed in like a pint-sized paramedic—slipped, twirled midair like a tragic ballerina, and landed right next to her, covered in a rainbow sparkle of shame.

Payton only emerged when she heard the “ow!” and the “are you okay!?” followed by, disturbingly, the sparkle of guilt.

She did what any bookworm would do in crisis: she panicked with surprising efficiency. Grandpa’s phone was called. Grandma refused to dial 911 (“It’s just glitter, Payton, not a bullet wound!”), so Payton rolled her eyes so hard it nearly dislocated her soul and ordered Grandpa to take the fallen soldiers to The Pitt.

---

At The Pitt

Dana spotted them first. Glitter-cloaked grandma. Pouting five-year-old. Frazzled grandpa. And Payton, emotionally detached from the circus, reading in the waiting area like a war-weary general.

She radioed in:

“Uh… Robinavitch. You’ve got… sparkle casualties incoming. Family ones.”

Michael and Y/N immediately abandoned their charts.

They found Payton outside the exam room, standing beside Y/N’s dad, still holding her book like it was shielding her from the madness.

Michael blinked. “What happened?”

Payton flipped the page. “Garage. Glitter bomb. Spencer’s experiment. Grandma slipped. Spencer slipped. I called Grandpa. He was walking Kojo. Grandma said not to call 911. Now we’re here.”

Y/N pinched the bridge of her nose. “Why do I feel like you’ve practiced saying that?”

“I have younger siblings. You either become a lawyer or a therapist.”

---

Inside the exam room, it looked like Mardi Gras had sneezed on everyone.

Spencer was sitting on the exam table, arms crossed, sparkling like a disco ball of rebellion. Grandma, meanwhile, had glitter in her hair, glitter in her shoes, and the expression of a woman who had Seen Things.

Michael stared. “Why is she gold.”

Spencer pouted. “It was gonna be a volcano with lava.”

Y/N checked her mom, relieved at the minor bruises. No sprains. No fractures. Just mortification and enough glitter to qualify as a holiday ornament.

“We’ll be finding glitter in this hospital for the next week,” Y/N muttered.

Michael snorted. “Garage is gonna be worse. That’s my day off now.”

“I regret nothing,” Spencer declared.

“You’re banned from experiments for a month.”

“WHAT?!”

---

After patch-ups, Y/N’s parents offered to take the girls home. But Y/N refused.

“Nope. Mom needs to recover. You both need a nap and wine. The girls will stay here until we’re off. They can behave for a few hours. Hopefully.”

Grandma mumbled something about trauma and industrial glitter.

Payton remained unbothered, already back into her book, likely imagining herself in a non-sparkly realm with dragons and less drama.

---

Later That Night

They got home after shift-end, drained, dragging themselves through the door like they’d crawled out of a post-apocalyptic ER drama. Kojo greeted them by barking aggressively at Michael, clearly upset his dog walk had ended early and he’d been abandoned during The Glitter Fiasco.

“Kojo,” Michael sighed, “don’t start.”

Y/N toed off her shoes. “At least it’s over.”

Michael opened the garage to check the damage.

“OH COME ON.”

Y/N blinked. “What?”

He stepped back into the kitchen, deadpan. “Your car. The driver’s side. It’s glittered. Halfway. It looks like a unicorn did a burnout on it.”

Spencer peeked around the corner. Still pouting. “I said I regret nothing.”

Payton, setting the table with Y/N, smirked. “Maybe you should pick a calmer hobby. Like reading. Or meditation. Or not glitterbombing property.”

Spencer stuck her tongue out. “Reading is boring.”

“You say that now,” Payton said, dropping plates. “Wait until you glitter the wrong book and see how fast I report you to NASA.”

Michael scooped up Spencer with a sigh. “Let’s get the sparkle demon cleaned up.”

“I’m not a demon. I’m a scientist.”

“Einstein didn’t cover his grandma in glitter.”

“He should’ve.”

---

Dinner was thankfully already cooked. Y/N’s parents had managed it before they were sacrificed to the Sparkle Gods. Everyone sat down—tired, full of carbs, surrounded by low-grade glitter trauma.

Kojo curled up by the table with the heaviest sigh ever recorded in dog history.

Michael raised a glass of soda. “To glitter. May we never see it again.”

Y/N clinked his glass. “You know we will.”

Spencer grinned, cheeks full of garlic bread. “Maybe… with SLIME next time.”

Michael’s face went pale.

Payton nearly choked laughing.

Y/N leaned her head on his shoulder, whispering, “You love being a girl dad, admit it.”

He groaned. “Yeah. I do. But I’m putting a glitter ban in the marriage vows.”

---

The End.

#the pitt hbo max #dr michael robinavitch #michael robinavitch #Dr Michael Robinavitch x reader #dr robby x reader #dr robby x you #the pitt #Dr Michael Robinavitch x y/n #Dr Robby x wife doctor reader

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mermaidgirl30 · 1 year ago

Text

✨Dark Shades of Innocence Lost Part 2: The First Taste✨

Club owner! Joel Miller x fem! reader

Series Masterlist Part 1

A/N: It is finally here! Sorry that has taken so long to get updated, but this turned out exactly how I wanted it to. Thank you to @mountainsandmayhem for helping me organize my mood board and for letting me chat your ear off about this series! 🩷

Chapter Summary: You decide to go back to Club Inferno, back to those smoldering brown eyes. Turns out you do want more pleasure from Joel, the club owner.

Rating: 18+ Only MDNI

Word Count: 11.7k

Chapter Tags: Oral (M/F receiving), fingering, dirty talk, pining, flirting, some fluff, pleasure dom! Joel, reader has doubts, reader has hair, no use of y/n, pleasure dom! Joel

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

You spend the next few days at work in a deep haze, your mind completely muddled at the thought of those smoldering dark eyes that haunt your dreams night after night. You can’t concentrate on reorganizing books, can’t focus on your own co-workers as they meander around the library keeping busy while you stand leaning up against a wooden bookshelf doing nothing but looking at the business card Joel gave you.

You mindlessly turn the flashy card over and over in your palm, memorizing his phone number, etching his name into your mind as you read his name over and over and over again until the silhouette of his towering body is burned into your brain. You didn’t call, didn’t text him like you should have done after he made you cum on his thigh. God, you want to though. But is it a good idea? Probably not.

As you shift the paper card around your fingers, you think of those lust blown eyes, that rugged panting noise he made when he was breathing hard against the shell of your ear, the way those thick fingers felt inside you, the way he called you a good girl and whispered how fucking good you tasted.

You slip the card back into the pocket of your jeans and lean your head back against some hardback books in the science section. You huff out and put a hand to your sweating forehead as you fight not to get all worked up again, but it doesn’t work. You’re already wet from thinking about him, so you decide you will see him again. Friday. You’ll go back to the club Friday.

You want more, need more. And so you’ll have him. Friday.

Your dress flows to the middle of your thighs, the sparkly midnight blue material shimmering under the dim lights of the club as soon as you walk through the front doors of Club Inferno. The bar is crowded, people scattered all around as loud music blares through the speakers. The dance floor is packed, bodies spinning under the crystal lights of the disco ball. Your heart gallops in your chest, your mouth dry as you hope he’s here. Please be here, please be here.

You turn toward the lit up bar that’s packed with alcohol lining the back mirrored wall and notice something is different, off. You scan your eyes around and try to decipher what’s changed as you take in the aesthetics of the night club. You peel your eyes over the atmosphere carefully, and you stop in place when you notice it. There’s not just heated red signs around the back walls anymore. There’s now pink ones too, glittering under the dim lights as you furrow your eyebrows up. When did they add the pink signs? Your eyes grow wide at the realization. You mentioned pink signs and how there was too much red last time. He must’ve listened to you…

The pretty blonde bartender snaps you out of your deep thoughts as she gets your attention. “Need a drink, hun?” she asks as she sets two big glasses of beer in front of two gentlemen in suits in front of you.

“Oh, no. Thanks. I was just wondering if Joel was around?” you ask nervously as you look shamefully at her. Hopefully she doesn’t see your cheeks heating up or notice how sweaty your palms are at your sides.

She nods her head behind you and smiles as she says, “He’s actually right behind you.”

You look up at the mirrored wall behind the stacked alcohol bottles and gasp when you see a pair of dark eyes flash in your reflection. You quickly turn around and nearly fall over when you see how handsome he looks tonight. A red button-up collared shirt , sleeves rolled up to the elbows to expose tanned skin with corded veins spiraling down his forearms, clean pressed jeans, and slicked back curls that are threaded with grey. He’s so… gorgeous.

His eyes flick over your body as he rakes a hand slowly through his salt-and-pepper scruff, analyzing your dress, your legs, your eyes. You’re nearly out of breath as he glances your way. “Didn’t think I was gonna hear from you again,” he smiles as he walks up in front of you and stops right where you can smell his woodsy cologne and whiskey scent. He smells so enticing, you could practically swim in the scent if you wanted to.

You shrug and let a sigh out. “Couldn’t keep me away, I guess.”

“Mmm, guess not.” His honey colored eyes trail over your skin again as he smirks and nods toward the bar. “You want a drink?”

“Okay,” you say quietly as he leads you over to some empty black barstools. You know what a drink will lead to, and it makes your skin simmer with lightning running through your veins.

Joel gets the blonde’s attention, and she saunters over and smiles brightly over at him. “What’ll it be, Joel?”

“Glass of whiskey on the rocks and a Malibu tonic?” His eyebrow arches as he looks over at you, needing approval before he sends her off. You just nod and watch as he gives her the go ahead, letting the smooth bar top rub against your fingertips as you view him turn slowly in his barstool, bumping his knee lightly against yours.

“You remembered my drink of choice?” you ask with raised brows.

“Thought I’d forget, hmm?” He leans forward as he puts his weight into his elbow, resting his hand on his cheek as it trails over his greying scruff. You can’t believe you’re sitting here with him again, almost in the same position you were in last weekend. It’s almost too much. His broadness, his height, the way he’s staring at you.

You adjust in your seat, pulling down the fabric of your dress as you clear your throat. “I dunno. Just kind of hard to believe you’d remember something as simple as that about me.”

He assesses you, watching you carefully as his dark eyes flick over your nervous form. “Drinks are simple, easy to remember. It’s you that’s hard to forget. Your face, your eyes, your scent.”

Your eyes grow wide, suffocating on your own breath as the pounding music flits through your ears, your skin forming goosebumps along your inner thighs as those dark eyes gaze into yours, his full attention on you. “My… scent?” you ask all wide-eyed with your mouth slightly agape.

“Mhm. I could smell that pretty waft of vanilla when you were standing by the bar. Almost like I was breathing you in,” he murmurs, his voice all low and gruff as his thick fingers tap against the glossy bar top, his eyes melding into yours like he wants to devour you.

You can feel that thick tension like smoke filling the room, hot embers filing your nostrils as you fight to compose yourself. You lean forward just a bit, enough to brush your knee against his smooth denim, stirring something low that you can’t quite stop.

Before he can lean in, the bartender comes back with your drinks, breaking the tension that was just close enough to drown in. “Enjoy!” She smiles as she leaves to attend to other guests.

You take the straw in your hand, twirling it around the sloshing alcohol and then take a sip, letting the fruity taste wash away your growing arousal between your thighs.

Joel surprises you as he asks a personal question, maybe something to break the tension as he looks up from his amber glass of whiskey. “So, what do you do for work?”

You knit your eyebrows together and swallow another mouthful of the fruity liquid as you eye him suspiciously. He wants to know where you work? Interesting. “I work at the library. Austin Central Library. I’m a librarian.”

He smiles gently your way, eyes all glistening as flecks of dark brown irises crinkle up at you. It’s a softer smile, not the menacing smirk he usually gives you. This one is different. “Should’ve guessed. A book lover who’s also smart? Figures,” he chuckles as he takes a generous gulp of his whiskey. “Say I come in there one day. Would you assist me in helpin’ me find some books? Maybe some classics? Books that maybe others don’t check out as often?”

He raises a brow at you, a glint in his beautiful honey eyes as you laugh and play nervously with the bendy straw that sits in your almost untouched drink. “I mean, I would. Seems like you already know your way around though,” you smirk.

He chuckles and shakes his head. “Yeah, reckon I do.”

A loose curl falls over his eye, a strand that looks so soft to the touch. You almost push it back, so close while your hovering hand sits above your tan thigh, almost pushing the limits into other dangerous territory.

You clear your head of the ridiculous notion and push yourself back, watching as he moves the curl away himself. That was a close one.

You tap your long nails on the side of your glass and try your luck. “I was surprised to learn you were the owner of this club.”

He smirks your way and laughs. “Yeah?”

“You do this often? Pick up pretty girls at work and take them back to the dark hallway?” Your eyes narrow while he just shakes his head and laughs.

“No, can’t say that I do. You just caught my attention. I jus’ had to talk to you, at least. You were just so… stunning. Couldn’t pass you up.”

Oh.

Your cheeks burn hot, crimson tinging the skin as you take another large gulp of your alcoholic beverage. You need to calm down. He’s just a guy. He’s probably like the rest of them, but something deep down tells you he’s not.

“How long have you been in the business?” you ask as you swirl the straw around the melting ice cubes.

“A few years. My brother, Tommy, joined the business with me. We still do contracting together on the side, but this is my main gig.”

Contracting? He was a contractor? Fuck, can he get any hotter?

“Contractor, huh?” you ask curiously as your eyes light up with interest.

“That’s right. I like buildin’ things, makin’ things with my hands. It’s sort of relaxin’ to me. The way I can jus’ put together somethin’, imagine anything I want and jus’ build it from scratch. It’s probably my favorite hobby, honestly.”

You find yourself hovering over the clean bar top, leaning against your elbow as you find yourself dreamily gazing at him. You gawk at his crooked smile, stare at the indented dimple in his left cheek as you get lost in his words, in his lively expressions. His low voice is so melodious that you think you could listen to him talk about his hobbies all night long. Maybe even over dinner, at his house, curled up in his lap…

You shake yourself out of your hypnotic daze and smooth your dress out. You shouldn’t get close to anyone. Not after your ex, not after that horrible, horrific…

“Hey, you good?” Joel asks, stirring you out of your hazy thoughts.

“What?” you ask confused as you come back to reality.

“You jus’ looked a little lost there for a second. You alright?” His voice is gentle, deep, and his large hand is even warmer as it glides over the top of your thigh, his touch soothing you back down from dark thoughts you shouldn’t be turning to.

“Oh, yeah. Sorry. You were saying?”

He looks at you hesitantly, his eyes flicking over you quickly to assess that you’re really alright, but your small smile reassures him as he continues on.

Your eyes flicker over the flashy signs, the pink hue reflecting off the scarlet red ones, giving it just the right mix of a perfect combination. He sees you staring, and his lips curl up into a big grin as he raises his eyebrows. “What’s got your attention, hmm?” he asks as he looks over at the sparkling pink sign you’re staring at.

“The signs. There’s pink ones now, not just red…” Your voice catches on a whisper, almost being drowned out by the blaring pop song that booms through the speakers, but he still hears you.

“Oh, those. Yeah, some pretty little thing complained that there was too much red. Said I should throw some pink in there. Stubborn thing, a bit moody, but glad I listened to her. It doesn’t look half bad.” He winks at you, and suddenly your heart is in your throat, pumping and making you gasp as he smirks your way with a knowing look in his eyes.

You take your chance to flirt, leaning forward as your fingertips hover over the top of his knee. “Didn’t think you’d listen to me after I was complaining the whole time. Didn’t know I was talking to the owner of the club. You could’ve just kicked me out,” you say with a curt laugh.

He leans forward just a tad, the tops of his calloused fingers laying gently on the top of your thigh as you gasp in response to the heat of his touch. “Sweetheart, now why on earth would I kick you out? You clearly had an affect on me, otherwise I would’ve kept the signs the way they were. And besides,” he leans forward and places his mouth against the shell of your ear, his hot breath dancing across your skin, causing goosebumps to rise. “I wouldn’t have gotten to make you cum on my thigh if I would’ve done that.”

Your breath hitches, your body coming to life as you feel the nerve endings light up against his touch, his breath, his smell. Suddenly, you want more, need more. And maybe he’ll give it to you, just maybe…

“Why’d you come back here?” he whispers in the crest of your ear, his voice falling like drops of water against your heated skin, showering you in a mist of desire. “I don’t think it’s to socialize or find another guy, not even to sit back and grab a drink at the bar.”

You feel his hand ghost over the edge of your hip, his palm hovering over the small of your back as you fight to keep yourself together. “No,” you hum, voice lilting like a fresh rose as your fingertips dig into the denim of his thigh.

His lips slide against your jawline, his whiskey breath fogging your mind as he whispers back to you in a deep, gravelly tone. “So, why’d you come back, angel? You want somethin’ else from me? Want me to give you more pleasure, more ecstasy?”

His gruff voice slides through your body, making the inside of your thighs press together as you feel the sticky slick drip against your lace. He hasn’t even gotten his hands on you tonight, and you’re already drowning in him.

You grab hold of his button-up, clinging to his silky fabric as you feel his coarse scruff drag against the edge of your cheek. You can smell him, almost taste the whiskey dripping down the back of his throat. And you want to taste it, feel it between your legs.

“I… Joel,” you whimper as his other hand trails up your thigh, dragging those thick, calloused fingers up up up until he’s raising the hem of your dress, just enough to drag a low groan from your throat.

“Yeah, s’that right?” he purrs as his lips meet the shell of your ear again.

You hold in a moan as his fingertips trace circles over your heated skin, his hand sliding up to skim the inside of the crease of your thigh, eliciting tingles that start low in your stomach. You want it, want him. “Joel,” you whisper, only low enough for him to hear as you cling harder to his button-up.

“Gotta use your words, darlin’,” he chuckles. “Now, tell me. You want me to take you to the back? Give you more than last time? ‘Cause I’d sure love to taste you, really taste you,” he smirks.

“Are you gonna put me on your thigh again?” you ask breathlessly while his lips trace dangerously over the crest of your ear.

“No, angel. Not this time. Gonna show you somethin’ else. Gonna put my mouth between those pretty legs of yours,” he chuckles while his eyes darken with danger and temptation.

A wave of slick washes over you, and you’re already dripping at the anticipation of having his tongue swallow you whole.

“So, that what you want? Want me to show you how truly good I can make you feel?”

You’re nearly pulling him toward you with how strong your grip on him is as you nod your head up and down like an eager puppy. “Mhm. Please,” you respond with a complacent whine.

He laughs and pulls you out of your seat, keeping his fingers entangled with yours as he grabs his glass of whiskey and drags you along. “C’mon then. Let’s go get ya taken care of.”

He guides you through the dancing crowd, pushing through sweaty bodies as the bass fills your insides, the loud music mixing together with the nerves pulling down your spine as you follow him into the unknown.

The glittery dark walls turn into a narrow hallway as couples making out against the crowded walls step aside when they see Joel. They gawk at him and whisper quiet slurs as you pass them by, probably wishing they were you at this very moment.

He looks back at you and smirks, his grip on you tightening, the shadows making the dark brown flecks in his eyes look almost black. As black as a panther’s fur, eyes that want to pounce and consume you whole. And that just makes your heart hammer loudly against your chest as you stare back into those dreamy pools of desire.

He takes you to the last door at the end of the dark hallway, painted crimson red as he twists the lavish golden handle and presses through, leading you in as he quietly closes it behind him and turns the lock to where no one else can get in. You gulp and try to take a slow breath, but the nerves seem to be crushing down on your lungs. You’re typically quite eloquent, but try as you might, you can’t seem to place what it is you’re feeling. Nervous. Excited. Absolutely panicked. You want this but your mind and body seem to be at odds.

When you turn around, your mouth parts open as you take in the massive room. A large leather couch sits in the middle, a long pool table with red smooth felt coating the top of it sits in the right hand corner. The lights are dim, a lit fireplace sits crackling next to the leather couch, the walls glisten with shimmering black wallpaper, and the feel of the room is homey, warm, private. You can still hear the pounding music and occasional chants of club goers, but it’s mostly quiet in here. The only thing you can hear is the rushing of blood through your eardrums, your heart right along with it.

He lingers by the doorframe, adjusting his sleeves as he carefully rolls them up to his elbows, his smoldering eyes never leaving yours. Suddenly you’re a hot mess, fingers twisting against the hem of your blue dress, your eyes blown wide as you feel your chest tighten at the thought of being alone with him. Joel Miller. The club owner, the absolute menace who was sent to break into your closed up boundaries.

“Where do you want me?” you ask breathlessly.

He stalks toward you, a sly smirk on his face as he starts to back you up toward the leather couch. You have no room to go around, no way to say no, your body just moves pliantly at his command as his thick fingers push gently against your hips.

“On the couch, sweetheart. Right. Here.” He gently pushes you down as you land in a heap on the plush couch. You scoot back, your legs sliding easily over the black leather as you squeeze your thighs together and dig your fingers into the edge of the new material.

You’re suddenly so nervous as sweat pools against the back of your neck, your lips trembling as you watch him take a generous gulp of his amber colored whiskey. You watch the way he moves, his bulging biceps clinging to his button-up, his slicked back curls throwing smoky grey colors under the dim lighting as he turns slowly, ending right between your legs.

He slowly bends down, running his calloused fingers languidly over the curve of your thighs. Your body tenses up, fingers digging into the slick material as your breath hitches at the sight of that smug smirk he has pulling at the corners of his mouth.

He tries to part your legs, but you hold back, afraid to show him what you look like bare. What if he doesn’t like what he sees, what if he suddenly changes his mind, what if he tells you to leave? Suddenly, you’re overstimulated by all the unknowns, and you can barely stand to look into his dark eyes as your own gazes toward the black polished floors.

As if he can sense your blinding fears and see right through your insecurities, his blown out eyes ease up, his eyebrows knitting together as he stares up at you with a look of encouragement. He cups your chin and makes you gaze up, right into the pits of his softening eyes.

“Hey,” he says with a gentle voice. “You nervous?”

You stumble over your words and just nod, letting the gut wrenching feeling slide down your closed up throat. “Mhm,” you nod slowly.

His lips curl up into a gentle smile, and it takes the breath out of you as his dimple caves into the middle of his cheek. One hand lingers on the top of your thigh, and the other grazes softly underneath your chin. “You don’t gotta be nervous now, sweetheart. Jus’ relax, breathe.”

You take a deep breath and blow it out slowly, starting to relax every limb in your body as you cautiously release your fingers from the edge of the couch and lay them by the hem of your sparkly dress.

“There ya go, angel. Jus’ breathe. Can ya do that for me?” You nod your head, and he chuckles lightly. “Good. Now, wanna tell me what’s got ya all nervous?”

You try to look down, but he keeps his hand rested underneath your chin. You squirm a little, shuffling your hips against the squeaky leather, but he stills your body underneath him with his large palm. Your eyes shift up to his, and there’s no escaping those soft chocolate eyes that seem to stare straight into the depths of your shaking soul.

“I just… I haven’t really. I’m not…” Fuck. You can’t even think straight, let alone speak without making a fool of yourself. Maybe this was a bad idea. Maybe…

He presses his calloused fingers softly against your jawline and furrows his eyebrows as he assesses your stiff features. “Have you ever had anyone go down on you before?” His words are so gentle, not at all condescending which makes you unclench your jaw just a tad.

“I mean, a couple of times, but it wasn’t anything special. Maybe just a few seconds. They didn’t actually make me feel good. I think it was just so they could slide in. It wasn’t for my benefit, guess you could say. So no, I guess I really haven’t,” you mutter as you pout your bottom lip out.

His brows knit together in a tight line, his jaw ticking as he looks at you with a soft gaze. His fingertips leave your chin, and you feel like you’ve just lost a clutch on yourself, but his fingertips land softly on your wrist instead. “Well, that’s a real shame. They must be fuckin’ blind to pass up a girl like you. A real fuckin’ shame, but don’t worry, angel, I’m gonna make you feel so good. I can promise you that. You want that?”

You eagerly nod your head up and down as your words tumble out of your mouth. “Yes, Joel. Please.” Maybe you’re a little too eager because you wrap your fingers firmly around his wrist like you're digging your roots into the tan of skin.

He chuckles lightly and smiles up at you, the dark flecks of his eyes seeming to sparkle under the dimly lit lights of the private room. “You gonna relax for me?”

“Mhm,” you hum out.

“Attagirl,” he winks. You nearly choke on your own saliva at the sound of him saying Attagirl. It’s a simple word, but he’s telling you what a good girl you’re being, and it sends butterflies flitting through your lower belly.

His fingertips start to graze up and down the tops of your thighs, his calloused thumbs dipping down to your inner thighs as he starts to massage the area tenderly. You know what he’s doing, know what he’s capable of doing as he looks up at you with hungry, dark eyes. He wants to devour you, and you sure as hell aren’t going to say no to him. The hottest man you’ve ever laid eyes on wants you. And you sure as hell want him, too.

“Need a little liquid courage to relax a little, hmm?” he asks as he cocks one eyebrow up, his head turning to the side as he looks at you with curious eyes.

“It wouldn’t hurt,” you shrug.

“Alright then, angel. Tip your head back jus’ a little. Gonna give ya a taste of my whiskey,” he says with a sultry tone.

You do as he says, tipping your head back just an inch as you watch him get up from the corner of your eye. He grabs his glass of amber whiskey, swirling it around as the ice hits the edge of the clear cup, making a clinking noise that sounds a lot like how your insides feel. All tingly and alive with nerves pulling low in your gut.

“Tip your head a little more, that’s it,” he approves as he places a hand under your chin and coaxes your lips open with his calloused thumb. “Keep that pretty mouth open now.”

You watch him tip his own head back, taking a large gulp of his whiskey on the rocks. Your eyes grow wide when you see him leaning over you as his thumb pulls your mouth open wider. He lets the alcohol pool out of his mouth like a running faucet, flowing down through your own mouth as the whiskey and the taste of his saliva mix together while it slides slowly down the back of your throat.

“Swallow,” he instructs as he closes your mouth, still hovering over you as he watches you down his taste. You feel the burn simmer through your stomach, taste him on the tip of your tongue as his woodsy cologne sends you into a hazy fog where all you can see is him as his dark eyes begin to grow black.

“Good girl,” he praises. Your mouth gawks open as he sinks back down to the floor, situating himself between the center of your legs as he slowly begins to part them.

He clicks his tongue as he sees your body sewn to the back of the couch. “Now, angel, can’t reach ya all the way back there. C’mere.”

He pulls you to the edge of the leather couch, the palms of his calloused hands latching onto the backs of your thighs. And then he’s parting them, running his fingers nice and slow up the inside of your thighs until he’s hiking the bottom of your dress up over your hips.

You can’t breathe, your voice being held back by the drowned out whines and moans you’re already holding back. You know you’re going to fall apart as soon as his large tongue meets your center, and he’s going to devour you, lick you clean till you have nothing left to give because you just have this feeling that he’ll work you and work you and work you till you’re fully gone. And it nearly drowns out the pulsing energy flowing through your ears.

He drags his lips against your skin, sending trails of kisses up the insides of your thighs as you suck in a breath from the tingling sensations he’s sending straight to your core. He drags his lips higher, lifting your skirt flush over your thighs as he pulls you closer to him while his breath blows gently over your clothed core.

“Look at you, already soakin’ for me,” he purrs as he drags the tip of his curved nose against your clothed folds. Fuck. You hold in a whine, bucking your hips forward as you silently beg him to keep going.

He chuckles out at your response, his dark eyes smoldering as he takes the tip of his thumb and starts to slowly caress your soaked folds. He gauges your reaction, your wide eyes and panting mouth as he starts to circle your clit slowly through the dripping lace.

“Joellll,” you whine out, your manicured nails digging into the leather of the couch.

“Yeah? Does it feel good,” he teases as he presses harder against your buzzing bundle of nerves.

“Mhm, need more. Need you to…”

“Shhh. I’ve got ya, angel. Jus’ gettin’ ya nice and worked up. Want you drippin’ for me. Want this pretty pussy messy and sticky so I can drink you down like a bottle of sweet whiskey,” he purrs with mischief written all over those syrupy brown eyes.

Before you can speak, he takes his tongue and runs it slowly over your clothed core, soaking your ruined lace as you stifle out a moan and buck your hips forward. “Joel, please,” you beg as your heels dig into the surface of the dark floor.

“That’s what I thought,” he teases as his dark eyes shift up toward you. “Now, let’s get these off ya, shall we?” He pulls your lacy panties down your legs and over your high heeled stilettos, bunching up the ruined material and shoving them deep into the pocket of his jeans.

He spreads you wide, your pussy on full display as he sits back on his heels and gawks at you, sliding his palm over his silvery scruff as his eyes blow out wide. He groans, long and deep as he takes in the sight of your dripping core. You can barely breathe as you watch him take you in nice and slow, his eyes alight with fire you want to dip your fingertips into.

“Goddamn. You’re fuckin’ perfect, angel. Look at that pretty pink pussy. Drippin’ and soppin’ jus’ for me, ain’t that right?” He smirks, eyes blowing out into black pits as he leans back down and starts spreading your thighs, his meaty hands holding you down while his cool breath blows over your sensitive center.

You squirm underneath him, feeling sweat pool beneath your long locks as you watch him become mesmerized with your glistening, sticky core. “Joel,” you whisper, barely making a sound as you try to hold yourself back from crushing his face to your center.

“Mmm, yeah. You’re such a messy girl, think I need to clean you up,” he purrs as his thumb lightly traces over your sticky folds.

“Please,”you beg as you groan out with need. “Your mouth, Joel. I need it,” you whine.

“Yeah, ya do,” he smirks. The next thing you know, he’s leaning down and licking a thick, clean stripe all the way from your dripping hole to the tops of your curls above your glistening mound. You moan, body writhing beneath him as he takes his meaty hands and holds your hips still.

“You taste so fuckin’ sweet, angel. Jus’ hold on. Let me take care of this pretty pussy.”

He dives back in, his thick fingers spreading your folds wide as he devours you whole. His tongue languidly slides up and down, collecting drops of slick as he works you nice and slow. Your hips cant up every time his large tongue glides over your buzzing mound, feeling the electric zaps of lightning shooting down your spine when he takes his time and drowns himself in your messy pussy.

He works and works and works you over, drawing meticulous circles around your puffy clit while your eyes roll back, and you toss your head back in full elation. You can feel the energy coursing through your body, feel that aching desire being fed as he feeds on you, flicking his tongue up and down ravenously until you swear you see stars in your vision.

You tangle your fingers into his greying locks, hear him groan under your hold as you fight to keep a grip on yourself. You’re so close to spilling, so close to elated bliss as your body hums beneath your skin.

“Eyes on me, angel. Wanna see those beautiful eyes. Watch me, wanna see you fall apart against my tongue,” he purrs as he licks another long stripe up the center of your folds.

When you snap your eyes open, they go wide as you look at the hungry beast of a man beneath you. He looks completely wrecked, black blown eyes searing into your gaze, his beard dripping in your glistening arousal, his rough tongue working your aching bundle of nerves while his large hands hold your thighs down, making sure you do cum beneath his tongue.

You’re a panting mess, high pitched moans drowning out the blaring music from the other side of the club while you feel yourself start to break. Another wave of slick hits his tongue, and you’re fighting everything inside you to hold on just a little longer.

“Don’t hold back, sweetheart. Wanna see you, wanna taste you. C’mon now, give it to me,” he growls. He pulls your puffy clit into his mouth and sucks, firing off every single nerve ending in your body until you can’t hold on anymore. You’re gone.

“Joel - fuck,” you moan as you feel the tingling sensations run flush down your spine, igniting fireworks in your mind that make you dizzy, and then you’re spilling yourself all over him. Slick builds on his tongue, and he groans while he laps up every bit of it while he growls good girl through the pleasurable licks. He keeps you there till there’s not a hint of slick left between your thighs, he eats you up like a ravenous dog that’s starving for you.

When he’s finished, he looks up and smirks at you with a mischievous smile. “How was that, angel? Did I make you feel good?”

You nod your head up and down slowly. “So good. I’ve never felt anything quite like that,” you pant out as he chuckles up at you.

“Well, that’s good. ‘Cause I’m not done with you yet,” he smirks.

“What?” you ask with wide eyes. Not done with you yet?

“Oh no, angel. That was one orgasm. You’re gonna give me another one.”

“Another one? But I…”

“Know you have more in you, sweetheart. Let me get you there, let me make you lose control.”

He slides you forward, holding your hip down with one of his meaty hands while his other starts to play with your sensitive mound. “I can make you cum in so many ways. This time I’ll take you through with my fingers, know exactly where to get ya,” he smirks, his blown out eyes looking like black pits of desire, a pit you’ll gladly follow him into.

You pant out in a needy whine, watching him drag his middle and ring fingers down your folds, and then shoving them deep into your dripping hole. “Oh,” you moan as he bends his fingers and reaches that spongy, soft spot that makes slick collect on his drenched knuckles.

“Yeah? Feel good?” he asks with a smug smirk on that handsome face, your release still sticking through his greying threads throughout his beard. The sight of it makes you drip more for him, panting out a moan when you respond.

“Mhm, Joel. Feels - so good,” you murmur as you dig your nails into the shoulder of his crimson shirt.

“Mmm, that’s what I like to hear,” he responds while licking his lower lip seductively.

He pushes the back of his thumb into your buzzing clit, drawing slow, meticulous circles while his other fingers pump in and out of you, drawing wet, squelching noises out of you that just seem to turn him on even more.

“C’mon, angel. Tell me how good I’m makin’ ya feel,” he purrs as he continues pulverizing your needy pussy.

“So fucking good. Oh my god, Joel,” you whine as he bathes you in pure ecstasy, coating you in desires you didn’t even know you had in you. All you know is you want more, need more of him.

“Mmm, that’s good, angel. Wanna make you cum again,” he growls as his dark, blown out eyes tear into your whimpering soul.

“Please, Joel. Feels so good. Your fingers, your… fuck,” you whine as he ruts up into you, pushing on that sweet, spongy area that makes slick drip down his huge knuckles.

He chuckles, speeding up his meticulous circles of your clit and thrusting his fingers deep inside your messy hole. The wet noises of his calloused fingers brushing up into you are sinful, filling you to the brim until you can barely hold yourself back. You’re about to cum again, but this time feels much different than the last.

“C’mon now, messy girl. Spill for me, soak me,” he growls as his fingers move faster in and out of you, continuously tormenting you with how fucking good you feel beneath his touch.

“Joel, I’m gonna… gonna…”

“Give it to me,” he demands with the bite of his snarl and blown out black pupils.

One more hit to your spongy walls and he’s knocking the orgasm out of you. His thumb stays clenched down on your throbbing clit, and your orgasm washes through you like a raging hurricane that destroys whole cities with its powerful riptides. You spill yourself, experiencing a new sensation that almost overpowers you as it takes you on the ride of your life. You start squirting, your elated moans filling the emptiness of the room as you release hot, damp slick all over his crimson button-up.

“Oh fuck yeah, angel. That’s a good fuckin’ girl. Goddamn,” he praises as his fingers slowly massage your insides, working out your mind blowing orgasm as you fight to keep yourself upright.

The arousal glistens on his salt-and-pepper scruff, slick coating the front of his soft material, while he’s knuckles deep into your dripping pussy as you take in just how fucked out he looks. He looks so hot with his messy curls falling down into his blown out eyes, his tongue licking his bottom lip seductively while he works you nice and slow with those meticulous fingers of his. He’s a work of art, a perfect masterpiece that you don’t want to stop looking at. He’s everything you really ever wanted in a man. And he looks so wrecked.

His eyes narrow playfully, black pits that swallow you whole as he hooks your tired legs over his broad shoulders and slides you to the very edge of the damp leather couch. His breath blows over your sensitive center, and you can barely tolerate anymore.

“Joel,” you whine, feeling like you have nothing else to give.

“S’okay, angel. One more, give me one more,” he coaxes as he melts his mouth down to your over sensitive core.

You have no room to speak, nowhere to go as he melds his tongue against your folds, dipping inside you, stroking languid licks against your aching clit that’s pulsing and so sensitive. He takes you past the edge, past all your boundaries as you dig your fingers into his mop of messy curls.

“Joel, it’s too much. I can’t cum again. I can’t…” you whine as he pops his mouth off your puffy clit.

“You can, angel. One more. Give me one more,” he purrs as you nod your head and hold in a whine. He takes his tongue and licks a thick strip all the way up your core, collecting slick against his tongue while he works up another building orgasm that you didn’t know you had left in you.

His fingers curl into you, reaching your spongy walls as his tongue pulls your drenched clit into his warm mouth. He sucks and drools over you, mixing his own saliva into your slick clit as he sucks and slurps on your aching core.

“Joel, I think I’m about to…”

“That’s it, angel. One more time, let me hear those pretty moans. Say my name. Say it,” he slurs as he pushes his nose into the curls above your mound and licks feverishly against your puffy clit.

“Ahhh, Joellll,” you moan as you feel your slick wash through you, coating his tongue as he generously laps you up, panting between licks as he holds your hips down to lavish in your white hot release.

Your breath comes in waves, leaning your head back into the cushion of the leather couch as you watch him languidly clean all the slick from your sore, over sensitive pussy.

When he’s finished cleaning you off, he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and smirks up at you with that devilish, handsome grin you burn into the back of your buzzing brain. He pulls the skirt of your dress down and pushes himself up, collapsing into the spot next to you on the plushy couch.

You both sigh, breathing heavily as he looks over at you and smiles, his blown out eyes relaxing into honey glazed eyes that burn holes through your vision. He’s so pretty when he smiles, eyes alight and his messy curls falling into his sweaty forehead. He looks fucking wrecked, but he looks so good like that. You wonder what he’d look like with you between his large legs…

“How was that, hmm? Did I exceed your expectations?” he smirks as he lets his head fall back into the couch, glowing eyes staring right through you.

You smile, taking a deep breath as you let your aching muscles relax. “That was the best three orgasms of my life. You’re pretty… amazing,” you beam as you see the hint of a sparkle in those thick pools of honey.

“Glad I could make ya feel good, angel. You deserve it, and I’m so happy that I could be of some assistance,” he chuckles as his calloused fingers slowly trail up and down your thigh, a gentle rhythm that puts you at ease.

Suddenly, you feel like you should move, get up from this couch full of comfort. You want to make him feel good. You should, after he coaxed three insane orgasms out of you, you feel as if you owe him. And you want to, need to give him the same. So you will. Right now.

You slowly slide from the couch, ending on your knees as you crawl between his legs, laying your hands flat on his jeans while your fingertips dig into the meat of his thighs. You want to taste him just like he tasted you.

“What are you doin’ down there, angel, hmm?” he asks curiously with one eyebrow raised high on his forehead.

You brush your fingertips higher, hands now resting on his leather belt. “What does it look like I’m doing?” You smirk up at him and watch his eyes darken with desire.

He runs his tongue smoothly over his bottom teeth and gives you a crooked half grin that makes you weak in the knees. “Thought you didn’t like goin’ down on guys, sweetheart. Change your mind?” His jaw ticks, and he looks at you as if he’s teasing you in the best possible way.

You smile sweetly up at him and say, “Well, you’re not just any guy,” you laugh as you roll your eyes. “You’re not them, you gave me pleasure first, indescribable bliss. So let me repay the favor. I want to do this. You didn’t ask, I just want to give you exactly what you gave me.”

He leans forward, narrowing his dark eyes as he smirks devilishly your way, licking his lower lip as he gazes hungrily into your eyes. “Think you can handle it?”

Your breath hitches, watching the way he’s teasing you, dark eyes alight with mischief written in those flecks of black charcoal. If he thinks that’s turning you on again then he’s absolutely right. You’re already so wet again, slick pooling in between your sticky thighs.

You lean forward and undo his leather belt as you toss it to the floor in a heap, smirking smugly up at him. “Oh, I can handle it.”

He cocks a thick eyebrow up and relaxes into the slick couch, spreading his legs as he nods down to his jeans. “Alright then, sweetheart. Let’s see what you can do with that pretty mouth of yours.”

You giggle silently and smile up at him, leisurely unzipping his zipper and tugging down his denim jeans, along with his black boxers. When his erect cock springs free, you gawk over how absolutely massive he is. His long, thick cock is leaking precum, the swollen red tip of him begging to be touched. He’s so fucking big that you can barely form a coherent sentence, he’s absolutely sensational.

“What’s the matter, angel?” he teases as he cocks his head to the side, a sarcastic smile tugging at his plush lips. “Think you can still handle it?”

You watch him carefully, narrowing your eyes as you smirk up at him. He’s challenging you, coaxing you to take a hold of him. He doesn't know yet that you can’t pass up a challenge, especially when it comes to him. You may be timid most of the time, but this time you need to show him that you can handle him.

You lean forward, inching your hand over his muscular thigh until you’re ghosting over his weeping cock. “Oh, I can handle it. Watch me,” you smirk.

He lifts his brows like he’s trying to figure you out, like he wants to crawl inside your scrambled mind until he finds exactly what he wants to know. But somehow he knows you can handle it, so he leans back into the leather and nods his head. “Go on, then. Handle it,” he challenges.

You lick your glossy lips seductively as you reach your hand around the girth of his thick cock, slowly spreading the building precum up and down his shaft as you indulge in the wet sounds your hands are making working up and down him. He groans, shifting his hips forward as he relaxes his back against the leather of the couch.

Keeping your eyes on him, you lean down and slowly lick up the thick vein on the underside of his cock, languidly taking your time and ending at the tip as you swirl your tongue in slow circles over his swollen red head.

“Christ,” he groans, his dark pits turning carnal as he watches you take him in your mouth, hollowing your cheeks out as you start to bob your head up and down slowly, one hand at the base working the bottom of his shaft while your spit mixes with his precum.

You feel him squirm underneath you, his cock spasming in your mouth as you take him deeper, feeling your drool coat his slick cock as you suck him and tease him with your tongue, your hand, the back of your throat. He tastes so good, the salty bitterness sliding down your throat as you drink him down like he’s a fresh glass of sweet lemonade on a hot summer day in Austin.

You take a breather, pulling off of him as you wrap your hand around his large length and start spreading your drool over him, making him messy as you smile sweetly up at him.

He looks at you with cloudy eyes, looking absolutely fucked out as he takes you in. Messy lips, lip gloss smeared over his slick cock, a bead of drool connecting from his weeping tip to your lower lip, cheeks flushed pink as you look up at him with glossy eyes. He thinks you’re fucking perfect, a vision only the gods should see. And he feels as if he’s won the lottery because you’re a goddamn treasure.

“Fuck, sweetheart. Didn’t know you were so good with that pretty mouth of yours. Not too shy now, are ya?” he chuckles as he traces your bottom lip, catching the strand of drool that connects you to him like an intricate spider web spun around his swollen cock.

“Guess not,” you say as you shake your head. The way he’s looking at you seems intimate, even through his big, blown out eyes, it’s like he’s fawning over you, the position you’re in, between his knees, hand wrapped around his shaft, drool pooling in your mouth. It’s too much, too affectionate, you’re suddenly a blushing mess.

“Well, go on, angel. Keep goin’. Bein’ such a good girl with that pretty mouth, don’t stop on my account,” he chuckles, sliding his tongue menacingly over his bottom teeth as he winks at you.

You feel crimson fill your cheeks as you get back to work. You take him back in your mouth, slowly sliding down, down, down until you’re nearly choking on him. You make a muffled, gagging sound around him, and he tenses under you, groaning your name as he takes a hand and wraps it around your hair, holding it out of the way as you devour him.

“Attagirl, that’s it,” he hisses through his teeth when you go back down on him, your tongue twirling around his tip after you slide up and down the shaft of him, ending at his balls while you suck and wet them with your drool and spit.

“Goddamn,” he moans, cupping the back of your neck while your hair is wrapped firmly around his hand. When you come back up to the red, angry tip, he rasps out. “Think you can take me deeper, sweetheart?”

Your heart speeds up, pulling itself into your throat as you swallow back any hesitation. He’s so big, it’ll be hard, but you’ll try. As long as he can guide you, you think you can do it.

You slowly nod your head up and down, taking a nice, deep breath while you still have the chance. “Mhm, yeah. I can try,” you pant out as he smiles warmly down at you.

“Alright, angel. Gonna guide you, okay? Jus’ wrap your hand around my wrist if it gets too much. Don’t wanna take you past your limits,” he chuckles, placing his large hand back where it was, keeping your hair wrapped around his calloused fingers.

You open your mouth wide, taking him back in your mouth while he slowly guides you down against him. You hollow your cheeks, opening your throat as he takes you down down down until your nose is grazing against the coarse, dark hair at the base of him. When you come back up again, breathing fresh air through your nose, he asks if you’re okay. When you nod your head yes, he smirks and takes you back down.

He speeds up his movements, guiding you back and forth down on his messy cock as he starts to fuck up into your mouth. The pacing is swift, erratic, desperate as he drives your mouth down on him over and over again. You’re so fucking full of him that obscene, squelching noises are coming out of your throat while you mouth fuck him again and again and again. You’re drowning in your own saliva, the drool pooling out of your throat and onto his large length while you gag and choke on his massive cock.

You can’t hear the thumping music out on the dance floor anymore, can only hear his stifled moans and the throat fucking noises reverberate across the dimly lit private room. Your eyes water, mascara running down your eyes while his hand tightens and pulls firmly on your hair, your own moans filling the space while you slip one hand under your dress while the other grips the end of his shirt.

You circle your aching clit, feeling pleasure run through your body while he ruts his hips into your mouth and chokes on another heated moan. “Look at you, angel. Already soakin’ again, yeah? Chokin’ on this fat cock made you wet again, hmm?” he teases as he lifts your mouth up and watches the drool pool from your tired mouth.

“Mhm, it did,” you nod as the breath leaves your body, his salty taste still lingering in the back of your throat while your hand goes back to slowly working him up and down.

You moan out in pleasure, feeling the precipice of your orgasm about to wash over you as he watches with wrecked black eyes. “Gonna cum again, angel?”

“Ye- yeah,” you pant as you feel the white hot sensation start to take over, feeling your muscles collapse beneath your knees as he places a sturdy hand on your shoulder to keep you from falling over. “Joelllll,” you scream as he works you through your orgasm.

“Oh, fuck yeah, sweetheart. Such a good girl spillin’ for me again. There ya go, what an angel,” he purrs as you fight to keep your eyes open, feeling the aftershocks of a fourth orgasm in just under an hour. You’ve never cum this many times, but also you’ve never met a man like Joel. A pure menace that keeps you on your toes.

He keeps you upright while you lean into his meaty thighs, one hand languidly stroking him up and down while the slick and drool collects in your palm. “Joel,” you whine with a pathetic cry that whimpers from your throat.

“What do ya need, sweetheart? Tell me what you want,” he coaxes, his thick fingers massaging the back of your shoulders gently.

“Want to… want to finish you off. Wanna make you cum,” you groan out.

He looks down at you, gentle brown eyes gazing through you as a light chuckle comes from his lips. “You seem pretty tired, darlin’. You sure you can…”

“Yes,” you snap, eyes heating into his like a swirling fire. “Let me finish you off. Gag me, Joel. Fuck my mouth, please,” you beg.

He chuckles out, eyes blowing back out as he smirks your way. “Such a dirty girl, ain’t ya? Alright, sweetheart. Since you asked so nicely, I’ll jus’ give ya what you want.”

He grabs a fistful of your hair, holding you in place as he brings his weeping cock up to your mouth and thrusts in, hitting the back of your throat while you gag and swallow him whole, his massive cock hitting the back of your throat repeatedly. You sit there and take it, on your knees while your hands dig into the meat of his thighs.

His thrusts speed up, snapping his hips into the air as he grunts and swallows your name on elated moans. “That’s a good fuckin’ girl, yeah. Takin’ me so well, sweetheart. Goddamn,” he grunts as he thrusts harder into the back of your throat.

He’s so close, you can feel it by the winded breaths and breathy moans, his body coming to life every time he ruts up into you. It’s like he’s everywhere all at once, his salty cum sliding down your hot throat as you feel him about to burst.

“Fuck, I’m not gonna last any longer, angel. I’m gonna… gonna cum,” he huffs as he tightens his fist through your messy curls. You inhale his musk, the smell of sweat and sex consuming you while he mouth fucks you nice and hard.

Just when you feel like you’re about to run out of breath, he thrusts deep inside your throat, your nose gliding against the base of his coarse hairs when you feel his cock spasm around the back of your throat. Before you know it, hot ropes of white cum are filling you, shooting down your closed up throat as you drink his salty release down.

“Christ,” he groans as he releases the last of his cum, filling you nice and full with the white spurts of him.

He releases his grip in your hair, pushing you back as he slowly slides out of your drool encased throat. When you finally take a breather, you cough a few times, choking on nothing until you’re panting out in raspy breaths.

You see him tuck himself back into his boxers, sliding his jeans up his hips as he zips himself back up and reaches down, cupping your chin as he takes a good look at the absolute wreck he made you.

“Look at you,” he laughs, gazing into your tear soaked eyes while his thumb gently grazes against your drool covered mouth, lip gloss covering half your chin. “Really did a number on ya, huh?” he teases.

“Looks like it,” you smile.

He smiles back, and it’s so warm that you have to stop and take a long, deep breath. He’s positively radiating right now, and it makes something tug hard inside your core. “Let’s get you cleaned up, yeah?” he asks.

He unbuttons the red collared button-up quickly, throwing his pristine white t-shirt over his head. And you can’t help but gawk at his tanned, glowing skin and the ripped muscles he has against his broad chest. He’s fucking gorgeous, he almost doesn’t even look real.

“C’mere,” he chuckles as he takes the soft t-shirt and cleans you off, running the cotton material against your messy mouth, your rainy eyes, your clumpy mascara, your sweat covered forehead. He’s so gentle with his large hands, almost delicate as he traces every inch of your face until you’re all cleaned up. You can’t help but stare at him the entire time he takes care of you. You’ve never had this, never known this.

Why was he doing this for you? Surely he’d just leave you to clean up after yourself, but he doesn’t. He does it for you.

“There ya go, all better,” he smiles gently, his caramel eyes a lighter brown as he stares back at you, something warm and admirable in his flecked starry eyes. It’s nothing like you’ve seen before. It’s new, uncharted territory. “Feel better?”

“Yeah,” you say in a daze, still on your sore knees while you stare up at him, eyelashes batting slowly.

“Good, that’s good,” he nods slowly, thumb still trailing along your jawline smoothly. It’s like you’re in a fog, your mind racing at whatever this is. He’s a menace, but he’s also so, so… caring. You almost can’t say the word.

He throws on his silky shirt again, butting the small buttons as he covers his tanned, hairy chest. You almost mourn the loss of his sweaty, glistening chest.

“What are you still doin’ on the floor?” he laughs as he scoots over to the edge of the couch, leaving the left side open for you.

“Oh, I don’t know. Guess I got stuck,” you giggle as you shake your head, but honestly you’re just so tired, and you can’t stop looking at his mess of curls and honey colored eyes that you want to slip into.

“Well, c’mon now. Let’s get you up. C’mere.” He lifts you up off the hard floor, turning you around to where you’re facing the opposite way. He leans back into the armrest of the chair, parting his legs as he scoops you up into his lap and pulls his arms around your waist while one hand gently slides up and down your bare right arm, his fingertips trailing against smooth skin.

Your body is so confused, muscles tensing with every stroke of his thumb. You shouldn’t stiffen up, shouldn’t shy away from him because he feels so warm, but yet your body doesn’t even know what’s happening. Why is he being so soft, so gentle? Your mind must be playing tricks on you. This isn’t normal. At least not normal for you…

Joel immediately notices your tight, strained muscles and carefully grips your shoulder. “Hey, why are you so tense? Hmm?” he asks with knit together brows, looking down at you with concern lathered all in those syrupy eyes.

You shrug, giving him your best perplexed look at you flutter your long lashes up at him. “I don’t know, guess I’m just known to be a little tense,” you whisper out, your eyes still staring up into those pools of warmth.

He smiles at you, chuckling out as he rubs the back of your neck, his thick fingers feeling like magic as they gradually dance over your smooth skin. “Relax,” he coaxes as he slides you up further on his lap, resting one arm lazily over your hip and the other drawing gentle circles in the crease of your arm.

Relax. The word slips through you, pulling every tense muscle out of its binds, releasing you slowly from any worries or anxiety in your buzzing mind. You’re here with Joel, you can relax. You don’t have to always go into fight or flight mode after being physical. This is a safe space. He is a safe space.

You nuzzle into the middle of his chest, resting your hand on the warm button-up as your hand brushes right over his beating heart. You can feel it beat a million miles an hour, the galloping hooves pumping in his veins. You also feel your own heart, steady and pacing wildly, and they start to mix together slowly.

Thump, thump, thump. It’s like your beats almost match his. A swift race of only two bodies colliding into the other, both running toward the other until you mesh into one. Two falling stars predestined to fall together. Binary stars.

You nestle your cheek into the cotton of his button-up, your hand slipping under his shirt as you feel hot, sticky skin and the flex of strong muscles. He flexes his arm across your back and languidly strokes up and down your spine, calming you of any tension and putting your tired muscles at rest.

He smells so good, woodsy pine scents sticking to his flannel, sweet whiskey collecting on his tongue, and maybe the hint of some kind of tobacco in his hair from the wild crowd outside this room’s door. You get so lost in his scent that you just now realize he’s stroking the back of your head, fingers combing through your locks of hair as he caresses your lower back with his other hand.

You close your eyes, breathing him deep as you relax into his soothing touch, feeling every brush of his calloused fingertips as he rubs the back of your head gently. Your eyes flash open when you realize just what this is. Aftercare.

Aftercare? Joel was giving you… aftercare? But why? No one had ever given you that. Why would he want to give you that?

He rips you out of your distant thoughts, his deep, gravelly voice blowing gently through your ear. “You okay?” he asks as he trails his index finger up and down your wrist. You wish he’d never stop.

“Mhm,” you hum as you nuzzle into his arm, wrapping yourself around it as you hear him chuckle lightly above you while his head comes to rest on the top of your head.

“You thirsty?”

“Yeah, actually,” you murmur against the cotton material rubbing softly against your cheek.

“Alright, let me jus’ go grab some water for you, sweetheart.” He shifts his weight carefully, sliding out from underneath you as he positions you against the soft cushion of the couch. “You gonna be alright if I’m gone for a few minutes?”

You flick your eyes up to his and nod sleepily. “Mhm.”

“Okay, angel. Be right back.”

Before he goes, he softly caresses your cheek with the back of his hand and then makes his way toward the door. He tugs it open, allowing the flow of carrying music to enter the room until he closes it gently, making the loud music suddenly go silent.

You breathe out a sigh, relaxing into the black leather as you place your fingers against the seat of the cushion. You still smell him, that whiskey and woodsy scent you could get drunk off. It engulfs you, makes you drunk with need. And then you feel that low tug when you think of those smoldering dark eyes and that lazy, crooked smile that seems to send your heart into a full on race.

You’re getting attached to him. You shouldn’t, you don’t need another shattered heart. But maybe Joel would be different, he is different. So maybe you need to let your concrete walls down again. Maybe for him you would…

You close your eyes, concentrate on soothing the growing ache in between your legs, breathing in his cologne that’s left lathered in the leather on the couch. It’s soothing, almost like a bedtime melody that can hum you to sleep. You’re so close to fading off, drifting into a calm sleep until you hear the rustling noise of a door being opened and the sound of party goers float through the dimly lit room.

Once you push yourself to a sitting position, Joel joins you next to you on the couch, skimming his denim jeans against your bare leg. “Sorry I took so long. Thought you might be hungry, too.”

Before you can ask what he means, he brings a basket of golden chicken fingers around his side and hands it to you, while his big brown gaze smiles back at you. Your mouth drops open, and you gawk at him. Chicken? He remembered what you said.

Blinking once, twice, three times in shock, you finally reach out and grab the red basket while your fingertips brush against his. “Chicken fingers? I didn’t think you had any food here? I thought you said…”

He laughs and places his hand on your thigh softly. “Well, if I remember correctly, some random girl just waltzed in here last weekend and started complaining ‘bout there not bein’ any food. Specifically chicken.”

He raises his brows and smirks your way, continuing his conversation. “She got me thinkin’ maybe I could use a private menu, somethin’ not open to the public jus’ yet. Maybe she wants to try it out first, hmm?”

You narrow your eyes playfully, grabbing a piece of a fried chicken finger and breaking off half. “Yeah? Maybe she does want to try,” you say flirtatiously. When you take a bite of the delicious goodness, you can’t help but groan at the taste of it. “Holy shit, this is really good,” you reply with a little bounce in your seat.

He chuckles and smiles, grabbing the other half from your hand and bites into it. “Yeah? That good?” he laughs as he folds himself back into the cushion of the couch.

“Yeah,” you reply with a smile wide on your face.

He changed the signs for you, made chicken for you, made you feel pleasure like you’ve never known before in your life, gave you aftercare. Joel was… something out of a dream. So charming, handsome, dominant but yet so soft. You really needed to be careful with this one.

The red embers in the fire crackle in the corner while you and Joel talk about books, hobbies, music, your likes and dislikes. And it’s so easy as you fall back into laughter with him, flirting and smiling to each other while the both of you sip on iced waters and finish off the crispy chicken.

“Why’d you do it?” you ask quietly, after the chicken is finished off and you sit with your legs sprawled across his lap, his calloused fingers running slowly up and down your smooth skin.

“Do what?” he asks, cocking his head to the side as those pools of honey flood your mind.

“The pink signs, the chicken, and whatever else you changed that I didn’t notice.”

He looks at you a minute, his honey eyes glazing over yours while his greying scruff catches the dimly lit lighting of the glowing room. And it looks like he’s contemplating if he wants to say anything or not. He slightly shrugs and smiles over at you. “Guess it jus’ took a special girl to open my eyes.”

“Oh,” you gulp.

Special girl? He thinks you’re special? Oh.

His eyes never leave yours, those smoldering brown eyes you can’t get enough of. And you’re afraid you’re already falling hard.

You nod to his pocket that he stuffed your panties in and raise an eyebrow at him. “You gonna give me those back, Mr. Club Owner?” you tease as he smirks over at you with a devilish glint to his dark eyes.

“I don’t think so, angel. Think I might jus’ keep ‘em. Besides, they look better off you,” he winks as your cheeks flush red.

You shake your head and laugh. “You’re a menace, Joel. You know that?”

He throws his head back and chuckles loudly as his laugh carries around the large room. You love it, the sound of his deep, infectious laugh. You’re in big trouble, and you know that now. But there’s no going back now, it’s too late for that. He’s already had a taste of you, and you want more.

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bangaveragewhitewine · 5 months ago

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⋆⁺₊❅ the snow ball

teacher!Steve Harrington x teacher!Reader

Word Count: 1.7k

Summary: My second fic for @littlexdeaths The Twelve Days of Promptmas takes us back to 1996. At the annual Snow Ball Dance, Girl Power is supreme and the English teacher is standing very close to Mr H…

Content: The tension is high. 90’s nostalgia, teacher puns and passing notes. Redefinition of the word nemesis, now to be read as ‘that one colleague you have a lethal crush on’ (the girls who get it, get it)

✨bang average festive fics✨ Steve Harrington masterlist ✨

December 1996

The opening bars of Wannabe are cut by the sound of thirty-odd teenage girls squealing with excitement as they crowd onto the dancefloor in threes and fours. The too-cool-to-dance girls bop and bounce their heads, the popular girls perform like they are at home in their bedroom mirrors or the Superbowl Half-Time Show. Geeky and quiet girls sparkle joyfully under the disco ball, any lack of confidence forgotten by utter glee. Girl Power reigns supreme over Meadow Hill Middle School as the world-ending pettiness and hormonal squabbles of thirteen and fourteen-year-olds are soothed and solved by the bouncy vocals and practiced choreography.

You watch the boys stand and stare from the sidelines, buoying each other up as they whisper about who they might ask to dance with later and playing down their nerves. You have seen first love and first heartbreak tonight, watching Andi Cooper sway with Brian W to Always Be My Baby as Danny D looked on with tears in his eyes. Poor kid.

“D’you think they’ll riot if Just A Girl comes on next?”

Your head tilts back against the streamer-covered wall behind you and you can’t help a little smirk at the thought of Female Revolution fuelled by Gwen Stefani and the Spice Girls.

“Mm, imagine the headlines. Ballroom Blitz - Meadow Hill reduced to ruins by festive female rage.”

He laughs and places a cup of punch into your hand, keeping an appropriate distance between your bodies as you survey the Snow Ball in full swing.

“And that’s why you’re the English teacher. Such a way with words.”

“Mm, nice use of sarcasm, Mr Harrington. Gold star.”

The punch is not spiked, but your words sound a little barbed to the unfamiliar ear. All part of the fun.

Speaking of the punch, there’s a hipflask in his jacket, full of some strong spirit that he will share with you once the kids have been picked up, while the DJ is packing away his kit.

“Thanks, you’ve taught me well...”

You look up, meeting his cocoa-coloured eyes, caught staring. His tone is less barbed, more sincere, and when he says your name - your teacher name - you feel fizzy and warm all over.

Steve feels it too, a swirling spiralling drag low in his gut.

It’s fleeting, too quick and far too much for where you are. Too heavy for a gym that smells like sweat masked by Tommy Girl & Victoria's Secret body spray, and looks like an explosion of blue and silver and glitter, festooned with polystyrene snowflakes.

You’re the first to look away, breaking his stare to make sure that revolution is not in fact being stirred up by girls in sparkly dresses and frosted lipgloss.

Across the dancefloor, you watch Coach Farrell mouthing along the words as he keeps an eye on the aforementioned untainted punch. A perfect distraction from that moment of too much.

“Look at Farrell. Be subtle.”

Steve can just about hear your voice over the scream-singing and chances a glance at the veteran of Physical Education.

“Maybe he’s mellowing.” There’s the sarcasm again. He sips his punch and murmurs, “Asshole.”

Your shoulders shake with laughter as Wannabe reaches its peak. You are more tickled by Steve’s candour than the spectacle of it all. So here’s the story from A to Z… Neither of you is immune to its catchiness as you watch your students create core memories.

If you wanna be my lover…

You catch each other’s eye again as the proclamation of Girl Power bleeds out. Your face feels hot, the fluttering feeling returns.

Steve is the one to break it this time, sipping his punch to cool down what is threatening to boil over.

It’s not just tonight, not simply because he looks hot in his navy blazer and slacks with his stupidly perfect hair. Not only because he helped you re-stick the streamers that had started to sag and fall before the night even began. Not because you caught him looking at the way navy velvet hugged your body, or because he told you looked ‘a million bucks’.

This has been simmering for two years since he walked into the teacher’s lounge full of confidence and charm, sent searching for you by the administrator who promised the new History teacher that you would show him around. Two years of teaching next door to each other, pretending to be competitive about how your homeroom performed in the Readathon, using the playful rivalry to feature ‘nemesis’ as your word of the week with a picture of Mr H pinned to the board.

Two years of sharing gossip and frustrations about the district and asshole parents over teacher’s lounge coffee and ungraded papers. Coming in early and staying late to help each other decorate your classrooms for the holidays, just because. Two years of pretending you were not stoking the fire of a crush bigger than the sun, and brushing off teasing questions from students and teachers alike.

You were just friends, but it stung when you overheard he had a date planned for the weekend. You were just friends, but when you saw his arm around a pretty blonde at a bar one Friday night, you headed home early and hoped he had not seen you. You were just friends but you understood again why teens and poets were so dramatic about matters of the heart.

You tried to close yourself off, became spiky and quiet to protect yourself from inevitable heartbreak. But Steve was persistent. When you stood him up for coffee for the third time, he delivered it to your desk with a homemade maple pecan muffin with ‘Drink Me’ and ‘Eat Me’ tags as a nod to your seventh graders' reading assignment for the term.

You let your friends set you up on dates with colleagues and cousins and made yourself unavailable. You found it harder and harder to pretend not to want to spend your shared-free periods shooting the shit with him. To see him looking a little bit lost without his work bestie for company, even when he fit in just fine with the other teachers.

So you gave in.

You had seen first-hand how crushes ruin friendships; you saw it every day in your classroom and the hallways. You were too old for that and felt like a fraud standing at the top of your classroom teaching kids how to identify themes and literary devices and formulate an objective summary of a text while you were stuck on how Steve's hair looked today and the way he smiled at you in the parking lot.

You could get over yourself, choke down your feelings and mask the bitterness with his baked treats and teacher’s lounge coffee.

The olive branch came in the form of a mug festooned with the face of Abraham Lincoln and the words ‘That’s so four score and seven years ago’. There was also a whole box of peanut butter chocolate chip cookies to sweeten the deal.

His smile was brighter than the sun and his laugh echoed around the empty classroom. Friends again.

Things went back to normal but your crush could not be overcome. It only got worse as Steve became more charming, opened more doors for you and opened up a little more when you graded papers together. You found it easy to open up to him too. The simmering of something more than friends was threatening to bubble up and boil over.

This afternoon, you found a gift on your desk. Beneath blue and white snowflake patterned paper was a mug.

‘Though she be but little she is fierce.’

Inside the mug was a note in Steve’s handwriting.

Will you dance with me at the Snow Ball tonight? Yes / No.

The note feels like it is burning your skin, tucked beneath your bra strap. He has been playing it supremely cool all night - you would expect nothing less from Mr Harrington - but you have caught him staring all evening, fleeting glances that the kids are too excited and distracted to see.

Wannabe is followed by the Macarena. You both watch on as the boys standing around the edges of the gym are herded onto the floor by Mrs Willis, who has hogged the mic and insists that ‘everyone knows this one!’

Shared laughter is smothered and hidden by cups of untainted punch, and it’s only a matter of time before both of you are pulled onto the dancefloor to join in.

Over the music and Mrs Willis’s encouragement, you hear him mutter “Not what I had in mind,” as you fall in step with the student body who are totally mortified that their teachers are dancing.

You both endure almost four minutes of in-sync choreography before the DJ pulls the plug and transitions into All I Want For Christmas and you are free to shuffle to the sidelines again, side by side against the streamers.

The myrrh and amber notes of Steve’s cologne tickle your nose as you stand close.

You have to do it now.

Before you can chicken out, you quickly slide the note from its hiding place and into the pocket of his blazer and pray that no one saw.

“I love the mug. Thank you.”

His eyes light up with more than the reflections of the silver streamers and his fingers wrap around the body-warm slip of paper.

“Yeah? You’re welcome, I thought it suited you. And, y’know. Shakespeare.”

Steve’s back to playing cool, but beneath the surface the bubbles fizz and rise and the butterflies flap their wings. You can see it, feel it too.

“And,” he continues, “I’ve seen you in action at those district meetings so ‘fierce’ felt appropriate. And I’m taller than you so…”

His lips curve into a smile as you roll your eyes.

“Yeah yeah, big guy. I can still change my answer on that note…”

Mirth and mischief are replaced by relief, pure joy and a little hint of a scowl.

“I’ll play nice. Promise.”

There’s an unspoken, “Will you?”

“I’ll play nice too. Just don’t step on my tiny girl-feet.”

Another look that is both too much and just right is held between you for just a few moments.

“Find me later, Mr. Harrington.”

Steve watches you swish away, swathed in deep blue velvet and your dancing shoes.

Later on, when the hall is clear of students and chaperones, when the hipflask has been opened and shared, he will spin you under his arm and watch you glitter beneath the disco ball.

If you made it to the end, thank you for reading - I hope you enjoyed!! Comments, reblogs and likes are loved, adored and stored in my heart!

#thetwelvedaysofpromptmas #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x fem!reader #bangaveragefics #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington fanfic #masterlist #steve harrington fic #steve harrington x y/n #90's steve harrington #steve stranger things #steve harrington x f!reader #promptparty #bangaveragefestivefics

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spr1ngbunnypvrin · 27 days ago

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💄🎀 Sweet, Silly Coquette Moments w/ William Afton - 𝒀𝒐𝒖, 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒄𝒐𝒒𝒖𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒆 𝒇𝒖𝒓𝒓𝒚 𝒈𝒓𝒆𝒎𝒍𝒊𝒏, 𝒘𝒓𝒆𝒄𝒌 𝑾𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒊𝒂𝒎’𝒔 𝒓𝒆𝒑 𝒃𝒚 𝒔𝒆𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒅𝒔

(aka: Him = your goth rabbit test subject husband)

💋 Lipstick Tester Chronicles™

You own like… 56 lipsticks. Every shade of pink, cherry red, coral, and even sparkly lavender.

William has now become your official lipstick test dummy.

“Stay still, darling. I’m testing the kiss-resistance of this one.”

You kiss his cheek, lean back dramatically… “Hmph. Not good enough. You’re stained. Again!”

Now his neck and jaw are permanently bruised with kiss marks in various shades. He acts annoyed.

“You’re using me like parchment paper.”

But does he move away? No.

Does he wear a scarf to hide the marks? Also no.

He lowkey likes it. It's your signature on him.

So naturally, you grab William by the collar while he's heading into a meeting with Henry.

You: "Hold still, love—need to make sure this one doesn’t smudge when I kiss you stupid." 💄💋

You plant a glittery red kiss on his cheek. He stares at you, deadpan. Then walks into the office anyway.

Henry: “...Will.” William: “Don’t say it.” Henry: “Is that a lip mark on your forehead?” William: “...I’m being hunted.”

🌸 You Glitterbomb Him Before Important Meetings

“Willy,” you whisper, eyes gleaming, “I think your cheekbones need more sparkle.”

Before he can escape, you swipe glitter highlighter all over his face.

When he goes to meetings with Henry or anyone else, he’s just:

Stone-cold serial killer face... with pink shimmer on his nose and cupid's bow.

The animatronics can sense the glitter. Even Freddy blinks twice.

He pretends not to care, but the moment he gets back to you, he leans down and mutters: “You... absolute menace. I looked like a disco ball.” You kiss his nose. “The cutest disco ball.”

🎨 Full Coquette Makeover Ambushes

Sometimes you just tackle him onto the fainting couch with makeup brushes in hand.

“Your undereyes are criminal, sweetheart. Sit down. Let mama fix that.”

You give him blush, fake lashes, glitter eyeliner—and sometimes tie a bow around his ponytail.

He looks like a villain in drag and mutters under his breath the whole time.

“If the kids see this, I will never recover.”

“Oh hush, you look divine. A little Victorian boy who tells lies.”

🎠 Embarrassing Him in Front of His Kids and Animatronics™

You love calling him pet names like “Honeybun,” “Starlight,” or “My Sparkly Bun-Bun” in front of the Afton kids or animatronics.

Elizabeth is like: “...Dad. Did she just call you Bun-Bun?”

William: ”No. You’re hallucinating.”

Sometimes you leave glittery kiss marks on his cheek on purpose before he enters the dining area.

Freddy: “Mr. Afton, you are… sparkly today.”

He turns to you with a flat expression and mutters: “They’re planning a coup. I can see it in their eyes.”

🐰 His animatronics are suspicious

Freddy: “Sir, you are displaying romantic residue. Shall I initiate cleanup protocol?”

Bonnie: “Heyyy Mr. A, you got some sugar on your collar—wink wink—”

Chica: “Aww, is it your anniversary???”

William: “I am surrounded by traitors.”

If you ever sneak up behind him while he’s in front of employees and tug his coat, whispering:

“Bun-Bun, you forgot your kiss~”

He’ll literally freeze like a haunted Victorian ghost, then growl under his breath:

"You're lucky I love you, you glitter-cursed minx."

And you? Smug, swinging your fox tail, bells jingling with mischief.

💞 You leave pink notes in his files

When his employees go through the safe room logs, there's a note between pages:

“Reminder: Tell William he’s a sparkly little bun-bun and I love him. Also, he looks kissable when he’s mad. xoxo ~Celeste/[Your Name] ♡”

He reads it mid-meeting and just closes the file slowly while his cheeks are burning. Henry’s watching him with suspicious side-eye. “You good?” “No.”

🧵 You Custom-Make Him Embroidered Coquette Clothing

You sew him delicate lace-trimmed gloves that match your aesthetic.

They’re black with little embroidered rabbits, roses, and stitched “W x _” initials.

He acts like it’s overly sentimental nonsense, but he wears them to work.

You once gave him a handmade pink satin bowtie with tiny skulls on it.

“For formal murder occasions,” you told him.

He genuinely choked laughing.

🐇 “Bunny, Hold Still While I Glue Rhinestones on You”

You treat him like your ✨bedazzle Barbie✨.

“Your springlock suit is cute, but it could use... rhinestone teardrops. And a few pearls.”

“You’re not turning me into a coquette show pony.”

“Too late.”

Sometimes you stick little gems under his eyes before a private show/performance night.

He acts grumpy, but backstage? He smirks. “You missed a spot, sweetheart.”

You also insisted on “adding a little flair” to his springlock suit. By the time you were done:

It had ruffled cuffs.

A glittery pocket square.

A little stitched label on the inside that read: “Property of [Your Name] 💘 Touch and perish.”

🌸 You bedazzle his tools

You find his toolbox one day and decide it needs a little pizzazz. Now everything is covered in pastel rhinestones, pink lace, and heart stickers.

The screwdriver is now “Mr. Pointy Love.”

The wrench? Covered in butterfly decals.

His springlock maintenance gloves? 💖 “Kiss the technician” embroidered on the back.

He doesn’t realize until Henry calls from backstage:

Henry: “Will. Why is your crowbar sparkling.” William: "...Ask my beloved demon."

🧁 Mid-performance interruptions

You’re in your Celeste suit, doing your little puppet show for the kids, being all sugar-sweet and cute— Then William walks by.

You completely break character, lean toward the mic, and go:

“There’s my darling sparkle daddy~ Don’t forget date night tonight! If you’re late, I’m smothering you in glitter hugs and kissing you in front of Henry again!”

Cue every employee pausing. William doesn’t even stop walking. Just raises a hand and mutters, "I married chaos."

☕ You Two in Full Vintage Aesthetic Being Weirdly Romantic

You bake pastries in a frilly vintage apron while he reads on the couch, looking like a noir villain.

Then you plop into his lap, covered in flour, and kiss his temple.

He pretends to scowl but hums contentedly under his breath.

Later, you hand-feed him strawberries from porcelain plates while still wearing a heart-shaped apron.

“Your sugar’s showing,” he mumbles as you peck his lips.

“So’s yours,” you reply, smearing a little pink frosting on his nose.

📖 Bonus Scenario: Caught Daydreaming

One day you catch him sketching a version of himself and you in full fursona suits, wearing matching bows and kissing under a heart-shaped arch.

You sneak up behind him.

“WILLIAM AFTON. Are you drawing romantic animatronic fanfiction of us?”

He slams the notebook shut, face flushed like a rose macaron. “NO. IT’S FOR SCIENCE.”

You hold him from behind, giggling. “My little blushing bunny…”

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pandapetals · 5 months ago

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Disco Party

The mansion is turned into a disco party!

professor logan howlett x professor fem!reader - married couple, cute, fluff, banter, no y/n used, no reader description, your an english professor, logan is a history professor

read on ao3 or find more parts for the series: here

divider credit: @enchanthings

“A disco party?” Logan repeated, his tone caught somewhere between disbelief and outright disdain. His scowl deepened as he leaned back on the bed, watching you fuss over two sequined jumpsuits in front of the mirror. “You’re jokin’, right? Who the hell thought this was a good idea?”

You grinned, holding the jumpsuits up against your body and tilting your head as you examined your reflection. “It was Ororo’s idea, obviously. And for the record, I think it’s genius. It’s fun, it’s retro, and c’mon… you lived through the disco era! You should be excited about this.”

Logan let out a low groan, dragging a hand down his face. “Sweetheart, trust me—livin’ through it once was enough. The disco era wasn’t all glitter and bell bottoms, you know. It was chaos.”

You turned to face him, ignoring his grumbling. “Okay, Mr. Grumpypants, focus. Which jumpsuit—gold or silver?”

His gaze flicked over you, and even though he tried to maintain his gruff expression, the way his eyes lingered on you betrayed him. He pointed to the gold one with a faint smirk. “The gold makes your ass look good. And it’s more accurate to the time period if you care about that sorta thing.”

You rolled your eyes, but your lips twitched into a smile. “You really know how to sweet-talk a girl.”

Logan shrugged, leaning back on his elbows. “Just statin’ facts.”

“And what about you?” you asked, holding the gold jumpsuit up to your body for one last look. “What are you wearing to this fabulous disco extravaganza?”

“Hell no,” he muttered, shaking his head. “I’m not dressin’ up.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, setting the jumpsuit down and crossing your arms. “Oh, yes you are.”

“Darlin’, there’s not a chance in hell you’re gettin’ me into one of those ridiculous getups.”

“Oh, really?” you challenged, raising an eyebrow. “Logan, you’ve survived wars, mutant battles, and teaching hormonal teenagers. And you’re telling me you’re scared of a little polyester and sequins?”

His jaw tightened, and you could see him waver. He hated being called out, and you knew exactly how to push his buttons.

“You don’t even have to try that hard,” you added, softening your tone and stepping closer to him. “Just wear a pair of flared pants, an open shirt, and maybe a chain or two. You’ll look amazing. Trust me.”

Logan sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose like he was already regretting this. “Fine,” he grumbled. “But if anyone takes a picture of me, I’m leavin’ early.”

Later that evening, the mansion was transformed into a glittering time machine. The large ballroom was strung with colorful lights, a disco ball casting shimmering patterns across the walls and floor. Abba blasted from the speakers, and nearly everyone was dressed to the nines in retro-themed outfits—bell bottoms, platform shoes, bright colors, and sparkly jumpsuits.

You walked into the room with Logan by your side, beaming as you took in the scene. Logan, however, looked less than thrilled in his flared black pants, white shirt left unbuttoned halfway down, and a gold chain you had somehow convinced him to wear.

“You look amazing,” you said, threading your arm through his.

“Feel like an idiot,” he muttered, though the faint blush creeping up his neck betrayed him.

“You’re my idiot,” you teased, leaning up to kiss his cheek before dragging him further into the room.

The energy in the ballroom was infectious. Everyone was dancing, laughing, and singing along to the music. You couldn’t stop smiling as you twirled in your gold jumpsuit, the sequins catching the light.

When “Gimme! Gimme! Gimme!” started blasting through the speakers, you turned to Logan with a mischievous grin.

“Oh, no,” Logan said immediately, holding up his hands. “Don’t even think about it.”

“Come on, Logan!” you said, grabbing his arm. “It’s Abba! You can’t not dance to Abba!”

“Watch me,” he deadpanned.

But you weren’t having it. With a firm tug, you pulled him onto the dance floor, laughing as he let out a resigned groan.

“Alright, fine,” he muttered, standing awkwardly in the middle of the dance floor while you began to move to the music.

“Loosen up!” you said, grinning as you spun around him. “Just follow my lead!”

He grumbled something under his breath, but the sight of you—bright-eyed, laughing, and completely carefree—was impossible to resist. Slowly, he started to sway, his movements stiff at first but gradually more natural as you took his hands and guided him.

“That’s it!” you encouraged, laughing as you sang along to the lyrics. “Gimme, gimme, gimme a man after midnight…”

Logan rolled his eyes but couldn’t stop the small smile tugging at his lips as he watched you dance, your joy lighting up the entire room. “You’re somethin’ else, sweetheart,” he said, his voice low and warm.

“And don’t you forget it,” you teased, spinning around and pulling him closer.

To your surprise, Logan started to move with you, his hands resting on your hips as he let the music take over. His movements were a little clumsy, but there was something endearing about seeing him let his guard down.

“See?” you said, beaming up at him. “You’re a natural!”

“Don’t push it,” he muttered, though the smirk on his face betrayed his amusement.

As the song reached its chorus, you leaned up and kissed his cheek, your lips brushing against his stubble. “You’re officially my favorite dance partner.”

“Yeah?” he said, his hazel eyes softening as he looked down at you. “Well, you’re the only reason I’m even out here.”

For the rest of the song, you stayed close, swaying together as the disco ball spun above you. And though Logan would never admit it, he didn’t mind the ridiculous outfit or the cheesy music—not when it meant moments like this, where everything else melted away and it was just the two of you.

As the song ended, Logan leaned down, brushing his lips against your ear. “Next time, we’re pickin’ a decade without sequins.”

You laughed, resting your head against his chest. “Deal. But you have to admit, you had fun.”

He chuckled, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “Yeah, maybe a little.”

91 notes · View notes

leorioscanonwife · 20 days ago

Text

♡ “The Prom She Deserved” ♡ (A Leorio x Jolie fanfic)

✎ Fluff, Romance, Hurt/Comfort, Wholesome, Comedy,

✎ Hunter x Hunter Fanfic, Leorio x Oc, Leorio x Self insert

✎ 4.1k Words

Rain streaked gently down the windows of their cozy little apartment, matching the soft background hum of the TV. Jolie and Leorio were curled up on the couch under a fluffy blanket. The TV screen flickered with pastel lights and dramatic violin music as a teen movie prom scene unfolded—slow dancing, glitter falling from the ceiling, people crying because someone confessed their love near a balloon arch. The works.

Jolie stared at it blankly, eating a handful of dry cereal straight from the box.

Leorio glanced down at her. “You’ve been quiet.”

Jolie blinked, then snorted. “I’m always quiet when people are experiencing things I didn’t get to.”

Leorio paused. “…Like prom?”

She shrugged, playing it cool—but her voice wobbled a little. “Yeah. I didn’t go. Never did the dances. Or field trips. Or theme days. I didn’t even get to do spirit week because I was scared I’d get shoved in a locker for wearing mismatched socks.”

She let out a half laugh and sat up, hugging the cereal box to her chest. “I got bullied a lot, Lele. Like, ‘don’t eat in the cafeteria unless you want mashed potatoes in your hair’ levels of bad. Nobody wanted me around. I stopped going to school events because every time I tried, I felt like I was crashing a party I wasn’t invited to.”

Leorio’s heart sank. “Jolie…”

“I used to sneak into the auditorium after hours just to pretend I was part of something. I’d hum the slow songs I never got to hear in real life. Once, I danced with a mop just to feel like I wasn’t completely alone.” She sniffed, then immediately added with a smirk, “His name was Gregory and he was a great dancer, thank you very much.”

Leorio gave a tight, loving smile, brushing her hair behind her ear. “You deserved more than that, my little firecracker.”

She shrugged again. “It’s okay. I’m okay now. I mean, I’ve got you, don’t I?” She leaned into his shoulder. “Even if we never had a prom night, I’ve got couch snuggles and cereal dinners. That’s enough.”

But Leorio’s mind was already racing. Because it wasn’t enough. Not for her.

————————————————————————-

Three Days Later…

The door burst open with a dramatic crash, and Jolie exploded inside like a glitter bomb with legs.

She had four snack bags in her arms, a fuzzy blanket knotted around her neck like a cape, and the crazed gleam of a woman on the edge.

“LELE, I HAVE ACQUIRED THE HOLY GRAIL—JALAPEÑO PUFFS AND THE BARELY-LEGAL ENERGY DRINK THAT MAKES ME SEE SOUNDS—”

She skidded to a halt mid rant.

Her eyes widened.

The lights were dim, casting everything in a dreamy pink and purple haze. Fairy lights sparkled like stars lazily winking down from the ceiling. Glittery streamers swayed across the walls, and scattered across the floor were flower petals, confetti, and tiny disco ball keychains. In the very center of it all was a handmade banner in sparkly gold letters that read:

PROM NIGHT – CLASS OF JOLIE

And standing beneath it—straightening his tie, looking somewhere between nervously smug and totally enchanted—was Leorio.

He wore a dark navy suit with a rose-pink tie that almost matched the flush in his cheeks. In one hand, he held a corsage of her favorite wildflowers. Slung over his shoulder was a garment bag.

The snack bags fell to the floor.

So did her jaw.

“Leorio…” Her voice wobbled. “Is that a murder weapon… or a prom dress?”

He smiled, a little sheepish but undeniably proud. “You once said if you ever got to go to prom, you’d wear something pink, fluffy, and capable of blinding satellites.”

Her eyes went round. “You remembered that?”

“I remember everything about you,” he said gently. “Now open it.”

Hands trembling, Jolie lunged forward like a raccoon faced with a golden trash can. She yanked down the zipper and let out a strangled squeal.

Inside was the most gloriously ridiculous dress she had ever seen. It was cotton candy pink, covered in star shaped glitter and ruffles that flounced just from looking at them. Tulle poofed dramatically like it had been threatened. It sparkled under the lights like it was forged in a fairy’s fever dream.

Her lips quivered. “You menace. You chaotic, romantic maniac. You got me a fairy tale dress.”

He grinned. “I also got you glittery heels… and a backup pair of bunny slippers for when those inevitably betray you.”

She didn’t say anything at first. She just stood there, staring at the dress, then at him.

Then her eyes filled with tears.

“You…” she whispered, voice cracking. “You actually did all this for me.”

“I wanted you to have the prom you deserved,” Leorio said, stepping closer. “And I wanted to be your date. For real this time.”

With a broken laugh and a soft sob, Jolie launched herself into his arms, nearly knocking him over as she wrapped herself around him like an overdramatic boa constrictor.

“You’re the best boyfriend ever,” she cried into his chest. “Like, ever ever. You remembered the thing I said a year ago while I was high on expired chocolate pudding. Who does that?!”

Leorio chuckled and rubbed her back, holding her tight. “A guy who’s stupidly in love with his little firecracker.”

She sniffled and pulled back just enough to look up at him, eyes glassy but sparkling. “I look like a trash goblin right now, but I swear to god, I’m gonna put that dress on and look like the glitter demon queen I was born to be.”

He wiped away one of her tears with a knuckle, then kissed her forehead. “Go get ‘em, Your Majesty.”

She gave him one last squeeze, grabbed the dress like it was a sacred relic, and bolted down the hallway yelling, “NOBODY FOLLOW ME! I’M GONNA DO A SLOW-MO WALKOUT AND YOU’RE ALL GONNA WEEP!”

Leorio watched her go, smiling so hard his face hurt.

————————————————————————

Ten Minutes Later…

The lights dimmed a little more. The music changed to something softly retro, dreamy and slow. And then—

From the hallway emerged Jolie.

No—exploded.

She turned the corner like a final boss in a magical girl anime, arms extended dramatically, her fluffy pink prom dress swishing with every gloriously extra step. The tulle bounced like it had its own personality. Glitter caught in the fairy lights and shimmered in a soft halo around her. Her sparkly heels clicked across the floor, and atop her head sat a tiara, tilted slightly to the side like she knew she was trouble.

“BEHOLD,” she announced, twirling once like a storm in a candy store. “IT IS I, THE GLITTER QUEEN OF CHAOS HIGH.”

Leorio stood in the middle of the room, jaw slack.

He was holding the corsage again, though this time he nearly dropped it from sheer awe.

“Miss Jolie,” he said with an exaggerated, slightly wobbly gentleman’s bow, “would you do me the honor of being my date tonight?”

She blinked rapidly, eyes glossy with emotion but smile still ridiculous. “Lele…”

“I’ve got fairy lights. I’ve got slow songs. I’ve got a punch bowl that is… probably illegal,” he added with a grimace. “And most importantly—” He wiggled his fingers with flair. “I’ve got two left feet, both labeled ‘danger.’”

Jolie gave him the most dramatic curtsy she could muster. “You had me at ‘probably illegal.’”

He stepped forward and gently slipped the corsage around her wrist. Then, very softly, he lifted her hand and kissed her knuckles like a prince in a storybook.

She promptly squeaked like a microwave full of marshmallows.

They began to sway under the warm twinkle of the fairy lights, moving with a rhythm that was more heart than coordination. Jolie leaned her head against his chest, one heel slightly lifting as they slowly spun in a circle.

“I never thought I’d get this,” she murmured, voice barely louder than the music. “Not the lights, or the dress, or you in a suit looking like you walked out of a teen drama to ruin my academic concentration.”

“If I was in your class,” Leorio whispered, “you’d have made me fail biology on purpose.”

“Oh, I definitely would’ve passed you love notes in the shape of paper planes. Probably folded in the middle of math class with aggressive hearts drawn in red ink.”

He chuckled. “I would’ve kept them all. And I’d make you sit next to me in every group project, just to hear you rant about how boring the mitochondria is.”

“It is boring,” she muttered. “Unless you set it on fire.”

Leorio laughed, then grew a bit softer. “If I had known you back then, Jolie… I would’ve walked you to class every day. I’d have carried your bag, punched every jerk who made you feel small, and held your hand in the halls so no one could pretend you weren’t worth everything.”

Her eyes filled again. She stopped moving.

“I used to sit by myself at lunch,” she admitted, looking down. “I’d read books and pretend I was somewhere else. I didn’t go to prom because… no one asked. And I didn’t wanna go alone. It just felt like… if I went, it would prove how unwelcome I really was.”

Leorio reached up, cupping her cheek gently.

“Well,” he said, voice rough, “you’re not alone now. Not anymore. And I’m here to make sure you never feel like that again.”

She threw her arms around him, hugging him tight, eyes wet. “You’re literally the best boyfriend ever, you know that? Like, award winning. I’d let you sign my yearbook and everything.”

He kissed the top of her head. “You’d have drawn glittery hearts around my name and asked me to beat up half the school, wouldn’t you?”

“You’d do it too,” she sniffled, pulling back with a grin. “You’d be like: ‘Who bullied her? Square up.’”

“Damn right I would. I’d be the angry nerd with brass knuckles and a soft spot.”

They swayed again, arms locked, noses nearly touching.

And then—

“OW!” Jolie suddenly yelped.

Leorio froze, mortified. “I stepped on your toe, didn’t I?”

“YOU ABSOLUTE TREE OF A MAN!” she accused, hopping on one foot. “MY TOES ARE FRAGILE AND TINY!”

“I blame you! You’re too short! You keep moving underneath me like a hyperactive squirrel made of glitter!”

“That is short person slander!”

“That is short person fact! You’re like… sparkly ankle height danger!”

She narrowed her eyes. “You better buy me snacks later to make up for this.”

“Done. Unlimited. Name your price.”

They collapsed into giggles as they continued dancing in chaotic slow circles, bumping into the furniture and each other, mock-insulting between kisses and laughter. The music played softly on, and for that one ridiculous, glitter soaked night, Jolie finally got her prom.

And she got it with the boy who never would’ve let her sit alone.

————————————————————————

Meanwhile… at the Punch Bowl of Doom:

Jolie tip tapped her way across the living room floor in sparkly heels, holding what appeared to be a lumpy wad of plastic wrap like it was a sacred relic. Her eyes were glittering with pure, unfiltered menace. She glanced left. She glanced right. Then, with the ceremony of a wizard performing a forbidden ritual, she plopped a suspiciously chunky brownie into the punch bowl.

A soft plunk echoed in the room. The punch rippled.

Killua blinked from across the room. “Did you just spike the punch with… dessert?”

Jolie turned slowly, grinning like a mad scientist. “Oh, sweet naive snow haired assassin… We don’t just spike the punch at this prom. We obliterate it.”

She dropped in two more brownies like bombs.

Then, with zero explanation, she peeled back the plastic wrap to reveal a fist sized wad of Leorio’s hair. Not even a few strands—a wad. Like she’d either mugged his hairbrush or harvested it during one of his naps.

Killua’s face contorted in horror. “WHAT—JOLIE. THAT IS NOT FOOD SAFE.”

“Don’t worry,” she said, delicately sprinkling the hair clump into the bowl like seasoning. “It’s for ambiance.”

“THAT’S NOT WHAT AMBIANCE MEANS—”

But it was too late. The damage was done. The punch was now a cursed relic of sugar, follicle, and danger.

Never one to be outdone, Killua reached into the inner pocket of his jacket and pulled out a menacing little glass bottle with a cartoon skull on it. “Ghost pepper hot sauce,” he said, wiggling his eyebrows. “Limited edition. Two drops is enough to kill a small adult.”

Then he unscrewed the cap… and poured the whole thing in.

The punch bowl hissed. HISSED. Like it was alive. Like it was angry.

Gon bounced in at the exact moment the punch tried to steam. “Hey guys! I brought worms!”

Jolie leaned in to inspect. “Are those… alive?”

Gon hesitated. “I caught them in the yard!”

“PERFECT,” she declared, and chucked a whole handful into the bowl.

The worms wriggled. The punch gurgled. The surface shimmered with chocolate oil slicks, spicy bubbles, and suspicious hair strands dancing like seaweed in a Lovecraftian brew.

Kurapika walked into the kitchen, blinking. “What… in God’s name… is going on over here?”

They all turned to him like synchronized cultists.

“Kurapika,” Gon said with a radiant smile, “drink the punch.”

“No,” he said immediately.

“Kurapika,” Killua added with a smirk, “do it for the memories. Of prom. Of youth.”

“I was homeschooled,” he snapped.

“DRINK IT,” Jolie chanted, thrusting a ladle full of swirling horror juice into his hands.

Kurapika stared at them. Then the punch. Then back at them. And, with the resigned sigh of someone who had clearly lost control of his life somewhere back in Yorknew, he raised the cup to his lips… and sipped.

Immediately, his spine straightened like he’d been struck by lightning.

He fell to his knees.

“I—I think my stomach is burning through my spine,” he gasped, clutching his side.

Jolie patted his back solemnly. “It’s the taste of memory. And sin.”

The rest of them, like moths to a spicy, disgusting flame—took a sip too.

Killua coughed. Gon shrieked. Melody dry heaved from another room without even drinking it. Leorio, who had no idea what had happened to his hair, casually took a sip and muttered, “Tastes like betrayal and cinnamon.”

Within seconds, the entire group was sprinting to the sink, gagging and howling and slapping each other on the back. Even the worms were trying to escape.

Jolie, of course, watched it all with a satisfied nod.

“…Prom achieved.”

————————————————————————

Everyone was still reeling, Kurapika foaming slightly at the mouth on the couch, Killua dunking his entire head in the sink, and Gon trying to tame one of the worms with friendship when Leorio stood up on a folding chair and cupped his hands around his mouth.

“ATTENTION ALL CHAOS PARTICIPANTS,” he bellowed. “It is time to crown our Prom Royalty!”

Jolie, currently trying to draw a mustache on Kurapika with glitter glue, blinked. “Wait, for real? I thought we abolished the monarchy five snacks ago.”

“Nope,” Killua said, eyes still watering from the ghost pepper punch. “You’re getting crowned whether you like it or not, Sparkle Tyrant.”

Leorio dramatically whipped out a crumpled paper crown. “All in favor of Jolie as Prom Queen, raise your hand.”

Every hand in the room shot up. Even Kurapika, in a barely conscious daze, whispered, “Send… help…” and raised one trembling finger.

Jolie gasped. “You fools. You absolute enablers. You have given me power.”

Gon cheered. “Queen Jolie! Queen Jolie!”

Leorio strode over and gently, reverently placed the crooked crown atop her glittery mess of hair. “Long may she sparkle.”

Immediately, Jolie climbed on top of the coffee table in one smooth, deranged motion and raised both arms. “PEASANTS! LISTEN TO YOUR QUEEN.”

She lets out a loud over exaggerated cough. “I speak now not only as your ruler, but as your messenger of truth. You think this is just a prom. You think this is just a party. BUT NO. This entire night… is being watched.”

Everyone stared.

“…By ALIENS.”

Gon tilted his head. “Like… the fun kind? Or the kind that disintegrate cows?”

“The sexy kind, Gon!” she cried. “The ones who put glitter in your shampoo and control your thoughts through microwave burritos!”

Killua buried his face in his hands. “Why am I still here.”

“Open your minds! Take off your shoes! They’re tracking us through shoelaces! THIS DANCE IS A DISTRACTION!”

Kurapika blinked concerningly “Please. Someone stop her.”

And then without warning Jolie pulled out a suspiciously large glitter cannon from somewhere, cranked it like a maniac, and yelled “LONG LIVE THE SPARKLE MONARCHY!”

BOOM.

A blinding explosion of rainbow glitter filled the room. Everyone screamed. The air turned into shimmering chaos. Gon was now covered head to toe in fuchsia sparkles. Killua inhaled and choked on silver stars. Leorio’s entire suit looked bedazzled by an angry unicorn. Even Kurapika, barely conscious, got a direct blast to the face and looked like a disco ghost.

And Jolie? Jolie just stood there on the table, surrounded by a storm of glitter, crown askew, looking completely unhinged and completely glorious.

Then without a word, she dove into a worm, wriggling across the floor in her prom dress, screaming “THE TRUTH IS OUT THERE AND IT HAS JAZZ HANDS!”

The room descended into unfiltered, feral chaos. Gon wheezed from laughter. Killua clapped despite himself. Leorio just watched, stunned and starry eyed.

“My girlfriend,” he whispered, brushing glitter out of his hair, “just launched a glitter bomb mid alien rant while doing the worm. I am so in love.”

Jolie flopped onto her back in victory, glitter stuck to every inch of her. She raised a fist one last time.

“TRUST NO ONE. GLITTER IS POWER. PROM IS AN INSIDE JOB.”

Everyone was quiet for a moment.

Then, slowly… they all clapped.

Because somehow, somehow, Jolie had earned that crown.

Prom Queen. Alien truther. Glitter warlord. Worm champion.

She was unstoppable.

————————————————————————-

Later That Night…

After the crowning, the punch related war crimes, and a group photo where Kurapika looked 100% done with life, Leorio tugged Jolie outside with a mischievous glint in his eye.

“Prom tradition,” he said seriously, tossing her a pack of toilet paper like it was a sacred artifact. “Senior prank. It’s time.”

Jolie gasped, clutching it to her chest. “You mean… we’re gonna defile someone’s property together?”

He grinned. “We’re going to TP Biscuit Krueger’s house.”

Moments later, Jolie stood dramatically atop Killua’s shoulders like a tiny general surveying her battlefield. The moonlight glinted off her sparkly prom dress, making her look like a very glamorous warlord.

“Alright, team!” she bellowed, striking a power pose with a roll of toilet paper in each hand. “You all know the mission. Operation: Wrath of the Roll is a go!”

“Why her house again?” Kurapika asked, holding exactly one roll like he wanted to go home.

“She made me do eighty squats as emotional punishment once,” Jolie said. “It’s personal.”

Gon launched the first roll. “I’m contributing to justice!”

Killua leapt into a tree like a hyperactive ninja, unrolling a toilet paper streamer that fluttered through the branches like snowy chaos. Leorio was trying to throw but kept hitting himself in the face. Jolie tripped in her sparkly heels and had to TP from the ground like a groundhog.

Kurapika just sighed and gently placed a roll on a shrub.

“Do it with rage!” Jolie screeched. “Bisky deserves DESTRUCTION!”

They were in the middle of spelling “TOILET YOU VERY MUCH” across the roof when the porch light snapped on.

Everyone froze.

Then—

“WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING?!”

Bisky stomped out in fuzzy slippers and an anti aging sheet mask, wielding a dumbbell like a medieval weapon. Toilet paper streamed off her porch and stuck to her hair as her glittery rage intensified by the second.

“RUN!” Jolie screamed, grabbing her heels and booking it barefoot down the street.

Leorio scooped her up bridal style. “We’re gonna die—this is how we die!”

Killua backflipped off the roof. “Best. Prom. Ever!”

Gon waved at Bisky mid sprint. “We love you!”

Kurapika sighed. “I told you this would happen.”

“YOU’RE CLEANING THIS UP TOMORROW, YOU LITTLE MENACES!” Bisky shrieked after them, hurling a roll of Charmin like a javelin.

They disappeared into the night, laughter echoing, hearts pounding, arms full of leftover TP.

————————————————————————-

They lay on the grassy hill, panting from laughter, exhaustion, and a very real fear of being turned into protein powder by Bisky.

Jolie, still dressed like a sparkly pink cupcake, sprawled on top of Leorio with zero grace, a crushed roll of toilet paper as her pillow.

“Operation: Wrath of the Roll,” she declared, chest heaving dramatically, “was a glittery, chaotic, perfect success.”

Killua was face down in the grass. “Ten out of ten, would get chased again.”

“I think I pulled something laughing,” Gon said proudly, still holding a roll of TP like a sacred artifact.

Kurapika lay off to the side like a ghost in a tuxedo, muttering about “never again” and “should’ve stayed home.”

Leorio tightened his arm around Jolie, his prom tie half untied, his heart still thumping from the adrenaline—and maybe a little from her. “You happy now, firecracker?”

She looked up at him, eyes sparkly, cheeks flushed. “Happier than a raccoon in a vending machine.”

“…That’s… weirdly vivid.”

“Thank you.”

Then she turned her gaze to the stars, letting out a soft, dreamy sigh. “Hey, Lele…”

“Yeah?”

“You see that group of stars up there?”

He followed her finger. “Uh-huh.”

“They look like an AK-47.”

Leorio paused. “I’m sorry. What?”

She nodded with deep sincerity. “You see the long part? That’s the barrel. And the little curve—that’s the magazine. I think that one’s the buttstock. It’s majestic.”

He blinked at her. “Jolie. That’s not what people usually see in constellations.”

“I don’t care. Let me have this.” She snuggled in closer. “That’s my gun star. His name is Blammo.”

Leorio just stared at the sky for a beat. “What the hell.”

She giggled, then leaned up and kissed his cheek. “You love it.”

He blushed, smiling helplessly. “Yeah… yeah, I do.”

And then she kissed him—soft and sweet under the stars, with glitter in her hair and toilet paper stuck to one of her heels.

As they pulled apart, still grinning like fools, she whispered, “Best prom ever.”

He nodded. “And somehow, we’re not in jail. Yet.”

The night air buzzed with laughter, leftover adrenaline, and the distant echo of Bisky still shouting into the void.

————————————————————————

The front door creaked open just past midnight as Leorio and Jolie stepped inside—exhausted, glitter dusted, and slightly bruised from their chaotic escape down a grassy hill after angering Bisky.

Jolie’s tiara sat crooked on her head, her once elegant dress now rumpled with a patch of grass stains along the back. Leorio was missing his suit jacket entirely, his shirt hal -untucked and tie hanging loose. Together, they looked like the remnants of a beautiful mess—tired but glowing, like two people who had lived through something wild and unforgettable.

Neither said a word.

Jolie kicked off one heel. Then the other. Then collapsed face first onto the couch like a dramatic starfish. “I can’t feel my shins,” she mumbled into a cushion.

Leorio chuckled tiredly, locking the door behind them. “You used them to scale a drainpipe and swan dive off Bisky’s shed. I’m not surprised.”

“I have no regrets,” she said into the upholstery.

Eventually, they dragged themselves to the bedroom like broken dolls, Jolie still in her sparkly prom dress, Leorio still in his half suited, half wrecked glory.

She flopped onto the bed and rolled dramatically toward him, her eyes still glittery and a little sleepy. “Don’t make me take it off. I want to sleep in this. Let me feel like a fancy cake just a little longer.”

Leorio smirked and gently joined her, wrapping an arm around her waist. “You’re the prettiest cake I’ve ever seen.”

She sighed happily, curling into his chest. “You’re the best boyfriend ever, you know that?”

“Yeah,” he murmured into her hair, pulling the blanket over them both. “I know.”

She smiled, eyes fluttering shut as she burrowed closer.

The room was still, the chaos of the night faded into soft breaths and steady heartbeats. Wrapped in each other’s arms, dressed in their wrinkled prom clothes, they lay tangled beneath the covers—warm, safe, and full of something that felt a lot like forever.

And as they drifted off to sleep, the world outside didn’t matter.

They had each other.

And that was more than enough.

#leolie #self ship #selfship #yume ship #leorio x self insert #selfshipping #hxh leorio #leorio self ship #leorio x oc #leorio x reader #leorio fanfic #leorio hunter x hunter #hunter x hunter oc #I never went to prom irl so I wanted to write this for myself #I just really needed this mentally because I missed out on something I’ve wanted for so long #and yes my reasons were similar to jolie 🥹#but hey i feel better knowing leorio would be my prom date

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sadboi-writer · 3 months ago

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Dear Jack (Series)

Chapter Seven: All the Wrong Moves

Summary: Jerry ditches the crew to dance with someone better. But, when his new friends turn out to just be using him, the Wasabi's are there to pick him back up and cheer him on.

Word Count: 2.6K words

Warnings: Canon-typical violence

There is one line in Spanish. Translation: Ah, what are these people doing?

Y/N sat between Milton and Kim at the lunch table. They were locked into a discussion with Milton about whether or not The Flash and Quicksilver would get along.

"Mil, it depends on which Quicksilver we're talking about!" Y/N insisted, "If we're talking X-Men then absolutely not! Barry would hate Peter! If we're talking Avengers then maybe!"

Jerry ran in before Milton could rebuttal.

"Guy! I got us the opportunity of a lifetime!" Jerry panted, "We're gonna be rich!"

"For the last time, your mom's car has a leak. There's no oil under your house!" Milton huffed

Y/N turned to Jerry, "Ignore him, he's all grumpy because I was winning our argument. What's that?"

Y/N pointed at the flyer in Jerry's hand.

"I signed us up for The Battle of the Dance Crews competition at the mall!" Jerry explained, "Check it!" He held up the flyer proudly. Jack, Kim, and Eddie leaned in to read it.

"Woah! First prize wins $1,000!" Kim pointed out

"It's not just about the money!" Jerry countered, "I've always loved dancing. I used to try to teach Y/N until they tripped and broke their ankle once. You know, when I was a baby my mom hung a disco ball over my crib!"

"I have pictures of that!" Y/N giggled

Jack chuckled as he stood, "Did it ever fall on your head?"

Jerry quirked an eyebrow and scanned the table, confused.

"Did what ever fall on my head?"

"Jerry, that sounds great." Eddie said, "But, we're not a dance crew."

"I have the skills, and I'll teach you the moves!" Jerry reassured,"And if we work hard we can win this together! Now what do you say?"

"Sounds like a great idea to me, Jer." Y/N agreed

"I'm in," Jack answered

The others agreed too.

"Okay, jerry, you've got yourself a crew!" Jack smiled

"Wasabi?" Jerry asked

They stood.

"Wasabi!" The group affirmed

After school, Y/N sat in a booth at Falafel Phil's with Jerry and Jack. Grabbing a bite to eat before they went to learn their dance for the competition.

"Is it just me or are these falafel balls greasier than usual?" Jack asked

He picked one up and squeezed it in his hand, wringing it out of the excess grease. Which was far too much for Y/N's comfort.

"Oh, ew, disgusting!" Y/N gagged

Jack smiled, "Oh, really?"

He reached toward Y/N with his grease covered hand. "Gross, Jack!" Y/N laughed, "Get your gross falafel hand away from me!" Jack pulled away, "Okay, okay, you win."

Jerry shrugged, "That looks about right to me."

A guy walked into the restaurant.

"Woah, check it out," Jerry informed, "That's Dan Brennan. He's the best dancer at our school. They call him Smooth."

Y/N scrunched up their nose, "That's a weird nickname." "Is it because he's got great dance moves?" Jack asked, turning to look at the guy

Jerry nodded, " And his skin's crazy soft. Yo, we're talking velvet."

Smooth approached the table. Giving a sparkly smile to Y/N, which they hesitantly returned.

"Hey, Jerry," Smooth greeted, he looked at Jack

"Jack,"He informed

"Eh," Smooth scoffed

Y/N scowled at that. Jack shook his head in an effort to talk them down from going off on Smooth for being rude.

"I heard you karate clowns signed up for the dance contest. You know my crew The Step Brotherz win every year."

"Yeah, I know. Just 'cause you win every year doesn't mean other people shouldn't try," Jerry countered

Smooth scoffed, "Yeah, it kind of does! See, I suggest you leave the dancing to sand stay in your little karate club."

Smooth turned and started to leave. Jack smirked at Y/N and turned in his seat to look at Smooth.

"You know, we're not just a karate club," Jack called out, "We also offer free counseling to people with bad nicknames. You should come by and see us, Smooth."

Y/N snorted out a laugh, trying to cover it with a cough. Smooth came back to their table.

"You guys are just gonna embarrass yourselves," He belittled, "You might have some moves. But, can you move...like Smooth?"

He hit a couple dance moves, sliding down into the splits, and then scoffed at them.

"I don't know?" Y/N chirped, "Can you not dance in the middle of a restaurant like a loser?"

Smooth scoffed and left.

Jerry huffed, "Yo, I can move like Smooth. It's just a split! I can do a split, check it."

Y/N and Jack twisted in their seats to watch him. Jerry swiped under his nose like Smooth did, then turned and dropped into the splits. A loud ripping sound happening as he did.

Y/N tried so hard not to laugh. But, Jack chuckled, which made Y/N burst into a fit of giggles at her friends predicament.

"I think your pants just ripped," Jack laughed, looking at Y/N

Jerry leaned up to make eye contact, " That wasn't my pants." Jack and Y/N stopped laughing and looked at each other. Then they moved to help Jerry up.

"Okay, let's get you to the dojo," Y/N said, struggling to hold Jerry up

Jack slid his shoulder under Jerry's other armpit, helping to carry him across the food court.

Once they got there, Y/N and Jack set Jerry down on a bench. Y/N patted his head.

"I'll go get you some Tylenol." They offered

Jerry nodded in appreciation, and Y/N left to get what he needed. Jack sat next to Jerry.

"So, how are things between you two?" Jerry asked

Jack shrugged, "Like they were before the fight about Truman."

"You haven't said anything to them?"

"I tried to, but Y/N just wants things back how they were and I don't want them to get upset with me."

Jerry nodded contemplatively. But before he could say much more to Jack, the others arrived for their first dance rehearsal. And Y/N came back with the painkillers for Jerry.

Once everyone was together, Jerry taught them all a little choreography. Y/N felt like they were getting the hang of it pretty well.

After a while, they decided to take a break and Kim hauled them off to the changing room to get into their 'dance gear'. Kim had brought a set of matching dance clothes for the two of them. Complete with a head band and leg warmers.

Kim skipped out excitedly to get back to work, with Y/N trudging along behind her. Trying to not let their distaste for the outfit be known.

"Okay! Let's do this!" Kim tittered,

The boys all stared, Jack looked confused, Milton and Eddie looked scared, and Jerry looked downright disgusted.

"What? This is how dancers dress!" Kim insisted

"Maybe in the 80's in Poland."Milton rebutted

Y/N smiled, "Just call us ABBA , then."

"I'm pretty sure that's Sweden." Jack corrected

Jerry groaned, "Come on, guys. We've got a lot of work to do. Are you ready?"

They all said some variation of yes.

"I can't hear you!"

Milton quirked an eyebrow, "Really? Because that was pretty loud."

He walked to Jerry and shouted in his ear.

"I think you might have some hearing loss!"

Y/N laughed, "Well, he certainly does now!"

Jerry rolled his eyes, "Alright. Here we go, whoo!"

They all ran to their opening spots as Jerry went to start the music. Jerry was jamming, feeling the music in his bones but when he turned to see the rest of the group... it was a hot mess. No one was doing the same move, and somehow everyone was off beat.

"Ah, esta gente que esta haciendo?" Jerry groaned, running to turn the music off, "Woah, woah, woah! Cut! Stop!"

They all slowly came to a stop.

"Okay, I taught you this." Jerry showed how it was supposed to be done, "You guys are doing this!"

Jerry proceeded to flail about for a moment.

"Come on, guys," Jerry pleaded, "Don't you have any dancing experience at all?"

Jack stepped forward, "Well, uh... I have my own victory dance I do every time I win a match."

Y/N glanced at Kim and the two folded their arms as they watched. Jack started jerking his neck like he was a chicken. Kim stifled a snort, and smacked Y/N when she giggled a little too loud. Jerry watched with a look of disgust on his face.

"If that's your victory dance, I'm gonna start rooting against you." Jerry said

"It's been a while since I danced onstage," Kim started, " But I think I'm just as good now as I was then."

Jerry sighed, "Milton, tell me there's a dancer hiding in there somewhere."

"Oh, believe you me, I have busted many a move." Milton confirmed

"Losing your shoe while Irish dancing doesn't count, Mil;." Y/N chided

"Eddie," Jerry begged, "Please give me some good news here."

"Well, I did go to Mrs.King's Dance Academy."

Jerry rolled his eyes, "Y/N?"

"I try very hard." Y/N offered

"This isn't working,"Jerry groaned, "Come on, guys, this is important to me. You gotta start trying."

"Woah, we're trying," Jack argued

The rest of them agreed.

"Maybe we should just take a break." Eddie suggested

The group got up to leave.

"Fine," Jerry snapped, "But before you go, think about this. When you dance, you gotta totally feel it. When I dance, I'm not thinking about anything. My head is absolutely empty."

"Right,"Kim sassed, "Like right before an algebra test."

They all hurried out of the dojo. Jerry calling after them.

"Hey, you guys better be ready to work when you get back!"

"Will do, Jer!" Y/N shouted back giving him a thumbs up

Eddie, Milton, Jack, Kim, and Y/N grabbed a table in the food court and sat. Eating their various snacks. Eddie and Milton went to Pirate Pete's, Kim went to the taco shop, and Jack and Y/N got Falafel Phil's.

They only took about ten minutes to eat, throw their things away, and go back, but when they got to the dojo Jerry wasn't there. Y/N went to the door.

"Guys, is that him at Falafel Phils?" Y/N asked

Jack came up beside her, "Huh, yeah, he must've slipped past when we were throwing our stuff away."

Jack headed out the door toward Jerry, the rest of them trailing after him.

"Jerry, what are you doing here?" Jack asked, "We were waiting for you back at the dojo."

"A little change of plans," Smooth answered, "Jerry's a part of my crew now. He wants to dance with the best. "

"What?" Jack said incredulously, "Jerry, is that true?"

"Yeah, it is true." Jerry confirmed confidently, "Hey, Smooth's a great dancer. And he's my only real shot to be a part of a winning crew."

Y/N stepped forward, hurt evident in their eyes, "You're kidding, right?"

"So, you would rather win than be with your friends?" Kim demanded

"Look, it's not about winning, okay?" Jerry backpedaled, "This guy also makes his own cocoa butter."

Smooth moved the Wasabi's out of the way and left with Jerry. Y/N felt tears prick their vision. Kim turned to them and engulfed them in a hug.

The next day, they went to Falafel Phil's before practice and found Jerry sipping on a drink alone. Y/N's eyes were red and puffy like they had been crying non stop.

"Well, if it's isn't Eggs Benedict." Eddie accused

"You mean Benedict Arnold?" Milton corrected

"No, I don't think I do."

Jack crossed his arms and turned his attention back to Jerry.

"Shouldn't you be practicing with your new Smooth dance friends?"

"They're not my friends," Jerry confessed, " Smooth just used me to steal my move."

"They stole the Jerry?" Kim asked

"Yeah, and it's not called the Jerry anymore. Now, it's called the Smooth. He just named it after himself. Ah, zero imagination."

"Jerry, you got us all excited about this dance thing. You said we were gonna do it together and then you bailed on us." Jack reprimanded, "Y/N only just stopped crying."

The group agreed, and Milton placed his around Y/N's shoulders and led them to the counter to order.

"Look, I'm never gonna be great at karate or a great school person." Jerry started

"Student." Milton chimed

"Whatever." Jerry dismissed, "Dancing's the one thing I'm really good at. And I just wanted everyone to see that. But you guys are my friends, and I shouldn't have walked out on you. So, I'm sorry."

Jerry started to leave, but Jack stopped him.

"Jerry, wait. If you still want to be in the contest, we'll be your crew." "Really?" Jerry asked, "Yes! The kid is back in the game! You guys are awesome!"

Milton chuckled, "Not at dancing. We still stink."

A woman stormed by with a blow-up man, "Would you excuse me, please I'm on a date!"

The blow-up man smack Jack in the face and Y/N burst into a fit of laughter. He reached over and smacked their shoulder playfully.

They spent all night rehearsing, doing everything they could to make Jerry look good. The next day, they stood in their decked out Gi dance outfits. Watching as Smooth performed his stolen move and the Step-Brothers blew everyone away.

"Wow! How 'bout that!" The MC praised, "Come on, guys, let's give it up for the Step-Brotherz! Did you see that last move? That was crazy! How do you come up with something like that?"

"Steal it," Y/N mumbled into Jack's ear, causing him to crack a smile

"By stealing it!" Jerry shouted

The dojo all yelled in support. Smooth's smile dropped for a moment before him and his crew hurried off the stage.

"Now, let's give it up for the last act of the competition..." The MC introduced, " The Wasabi Warriors!"

The group ran onstage, happily hyping themselves up. Y/N watched Jerry have a hushed conversation with Smooth until Jack went to get him. Once the two got into their positions, Jack reached over and squeezed Y/N's hand in reassurance.

The dance went off without a hitch, and they ended it with a loud:

"Wasabi!"

Jack picked up Y/N in a hug, causing them to squeal.

"I have the judges results!" The MC announced, "And this years winner are: The Step Brothers!"

Jerry shrugged and wrapped his arms around the group, "I thought you guys did awesome!" The MC came back to the stage.

"This year the judges also decided to give out a best individual dancer award, and it goes to:" Y/N watched Smooth walk toward the MC to preemptively collect it, "Jerry Martinez!"

Y/N clapped and hollered when Jerry's name was called

"Yes! Jerry you totally deserve it!" Y/N praised

"What? Jerry!" Smooth protested, "He's not that great! I could do what he did! Watch this!"

Smooth tried and failed to do Jerry's new move and went flying into the judges table. Y/N leaned into Jack's ear and whispered.

"Karma."

Jerry traipsed over to the edge of the stage Smooth had just fallen from.

"Not very smooth, Smooth! Whoo!" Jerry shouted, "Yeah, that's right! I'm taking my 'Whoo' back!"

Smooth sneered and stomped off. Jerry went back to the MC to give his acceptance speech.

"UH, yeah, I'd like to thank my mom, my dad, Rudy, my crew... couldn't have done it without you guys! Oh, and uh, one last thing I'd like to say is, five, six, seven, eight, and-"

Music started playing allowing for Jerry and Jack to do Jack's victory dance as Y/N and Kim twirled around together.

#jack brewer #jack brewer x reader #eddie jones #jerry martinez #kim crawford #kickin it #kickin it x reader #rudy gillespie

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literallyjusttoa · 8 months ago

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Hey guys! I'm putting out a call for my commissions again for two big reasons: One, Emergencies have caused me to be low on funds when I wasn't expecting it, and that kind of sucks actually. Two, I have a project that I've been dreaming about for years but have actually been able to start working towards in the last couple of months, but to finish it I need to not be living paycheck to paycheck for like a month at the very least, which brings me back to point one :(. I will talk more about the big project under the cut, bc I think it's something you all might really enjoy!

But for now, I will link my commission sheet: Here (It's also my pinned post)

And my new Ko-fi!: Here for if you just want to donate, which would be literally incredible and I would owe you my soul actually.

Ok now for big Project Time!!!

I am in the process of editing and revising my first Youtube video! This has been an on and off dream of mine for like 7 years at this point, but I've finally taken the plunge and gotten to work on a channel. I wanna talk about all sorts of fandoms (including the riordanverse ofc) With videos ranging from plot and character analysis, to trends in fandom culture in general, to fun little ranking videos and speedpaints. All around, I just want the channel to be a fandom hive, where everyone can find something they enjoy.

I already have PNG's created of my sona to use as assets (And I have a sparkly new sona, the one in the pic above!) and I have two finished scripts, with the first one being fully recorded as well! One for my first video, which will be a retrospective on Gravity Falls, and one for a video about the Percy Jackson TV show, the inherent differences between TV and books as mediums, how I think the TV show could improve, and the things I think it got perfectly. I also have a bunch more ideas, such as:

BIG Trials of Apollo video essay, with a focus on how the books and the fandom have effected me over the years.

Ranking all of my favorite characters from all of the media I've been a fan of over the years (This would be over 70 characters)

Explaining the Iliad, but make it funny (with a side of Troy apologia)

Reading Lore Olympus and pointing out how it deviates from myth (the things I'm willing to do for you people /j)

Canon vs. Fanon, where I compare a characters canon characterization with their fanon counterpart and try to figure out how things turned out the way they did.

And more, but I don't want this post to be 5000 words long.

Now here's the big question. As I said in the part above, I'm struggling a bit now money-wise. And I really wanna make this project work, but there's also, you know. Tuition. Rent. Food. Stupid other adult stuff. So if anyone is amenable (and this is totally up to demand, I don't wanna pressure anyone into doing anything!) I was also thinking of maybe making a Patreon. Now, I'd have to do research for this, bc I wanna make sure anyone who signed up would get the right rewards and really get the bang for their buck. I'm pretty sure there's not gonna be much interest in this rn, cuz like, I'm not that big of a blog oof. But if anyone is interested! Here are some of the perks I would definitely be implementing! (sry it's another list)

Early access to videos, and behind the scenes looks at art assets and video creation

the ability to request topics for videos

Patrons names being shown in the videos. And higher tiered patrons getting custom chibis that will be shown in videos as well (and given to the patrons obv)

This ones a bit complicated, but I want to create a cover of a song that has to do with each video to play during their outros. So like, for the gravity falls video, I'm gonna record a quick cover of the Disco Girl song from the show. Only a small section of the song would be in each video, but patrons would get access to the full covers, and be able to request songs to be covered.

Discounts on commissions

A monthly speedpaint that would be exclusive to patreon. Patrons would be able to vote on what the drawing would be.

All of these ideas I'm 100% sure I want to add to a patreon if I make one, but obv there could be more that comes up later. I'm just gauging interest on this idea rn, so let me know if that's something you'd be down to sign up for! Maybe I'm jumping the gun here but I'm just really excited to create and give back to the community and aaahhhhh

Now, no matter what, I'm gonna have this first video out by mid-September at the latest. Because stupid money troubles are not gonna stop me from making this a thing dangit. So look out for that, I'll link the vid here when it releases! But I am just really stressed rn and any support would go a long way towards making this dream come true. And on that note, one more sappy real talk if I am allowed it?

If you've read this far, from the bottom of my heart, thank you. This community and fandom is truly incredible. My blog is about to reach 5 years old, and I've never seen a group of people so accepting and creative and just fun to be around. You guys have truly changed my life, and I wouldn't have the courage to try for this if I didn't have the support you've given me. I know this is super dramatic for just trying to make a youtube channel, but making a place where I could just talk about all the nerdy and overly specific things I care about and share them with the world is something I've wanted for my whole life. You guys gave me that with this blog, and if this channel works out, it'll be thanks to you, so you'll have given it to me twice. I don't have the words to express how much I love this community and all the incredible people in it. So even if you can't support, just know that being here for however long you have been, whether it's the whole five years or the last two days, has done more than you'll ever know. You guys are the best, thank you for everything <3

#sunny speaks #apollart #long post #commissions #trials of apollo #toa apollo #lester papadopoulos #sry for the tags I just want to reach everybody in the audience #writing this got me so in my feels oml #shut up sunny #also I hope you guys like the new sona I wanted to change it up a bit #I got a mask now >:)#I always feel weird about posting about commissions and stuff bc I feel like i'm begging #Like I know I'm providing a service it's just ughhhh #But! Big plans mean big things to give to you guys to enjoy! And that's what I'm excited about!

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jjtheresidentbaby · 2 months ago

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⋆˚ ౨ৎ ˖ ⋆.. little!jackie burkhart headcanons ˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ ˚₊

warnings: agere au, everyone in the group acting as her cg at different times cause I say so ! , bad parenting on her parents part but good parenting on kitty & red’s part, flip kelso & fez

little ! jackie who loves to play dress up and makes everyone in the group play it - and yes hyde’s included though his dress up clothes are usually limited to a plastic tiara on his head or a fluffy boa around his neck

little ! jackie who plays with flip ! kelso for hours and hours until someone has to remind them both to take a break and that they can go back to it later

little ! jackie who gets piggy back rides from donna, hyde, & kelso, whenever she can because walking is tiring for a little girl like her ! and she usually isn’t in the most comfortable of shoes when she slips unexpectedly

cg ! kitty & cg ! donna noticing that jackie has no little clothes to wear and take her on a biggggg shopping trip to get things for her - she gets shoes that velcro & are sparkly pink ! (kelso is jealous and eventually donna takes him to get his own blue pair) and lots of cute t-shirts & shorts that are a cheaper material than what jackie is used to so she’s free to get them as dirty as she pleases

cg ! red who listens to jackie ramble as she sits on the forman’s living room and colors while red pretends to be reading the newspaper and not fully entranced in the story jackie’s telling (he most definitely is)

little ! jackie who lovesssss to cuddle and will find any reason to be in someone’s lap or with her head on their shoulder - surprisingly, eric is one of her favorites to sit on the couch with and cuddle up to & unsurprisingly, hyde is her other favorite to sit with

little ! jackie who can get very emotional when she drops to a more baby-ish range and requires a lot of patience and cannot be left alone when she’s like this - her parents had a habit of leaving her to deal with her own emotions growing up and simply buying her something to fix the issue later and she now gets very anxious when alone

little ! jackie who finds school work very difficult to do when small and goes to eric or donna for help - reading is her biggest struggle so usually she’ll just need the question read aloud to her and she’ll be able to get the answer down herself !

little ! jackie & flip ! fez going to the roller rink together and having lots of fun making up disco routines on skates - donna has many many pictures of them and always makes sure to put them in a scrape book so jackie & fez can flip through them together

cg ! red & little ! jackie spending hours in the garage talking about cars and fixing the forman’s cars even if they don’t need much done just because jackie loves learning about cars so much and red jumps to teach her (ref to s1ep18)

#jj headcanons #that 70s show agere #little!jackie burkhart #jackie burkhart

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doctorhelena · 6 months ago

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Steggy Fic: Teach My Feet to Fly, Chapter 13/14

Summary: Peggy Carter, a world class ice hockey player learning to figure skate as part of a Canadian reality show, has an iron-clad rule about never, ever dating a teammate. Which means that she’ll simply have to get over the ridiculous attraction she has to her new figure skating partner, Steve Rogers.

Note: This story is complete, and has 14 chapters in total. New chapters are posted weekly on Fridays.

It’s also a very long-delayed thank you gift fic for the lovely @teaandatale!

Rating: PG

Read Chapter 13

Read from the beginning

Excerpt:

Toronto, Canada Battle of the Blades, Week 9 Fifth Week of Competition (Tuesday) Finale

Peggy had been skeptical that even Steve could make a spangly leisure suit look attractive, but when she actually saw him emerging from the men's dressing room the evening of the finale, she realized she’d been very, very wrong.

Her jaw actually dropped a little. The arms, legs, and back of his sparkly red, white, and blue outfit were fairly standard, as far as figure skating costumes went, but the part that truly evoked the disco era was the very deep V that exposed not only his entire chest, but a rather generous portion of his abs as well. Without thinking, Peggy reached out to touch his chest, then pulled her hand back almost as quickly as she’d reached out, her mouth still hanging open. Good God. She wasn’t entirely certain whether to bless or curse Darcy Lewis.

Steve, in turn, looked like he couldn’t decide if he should be gratified or embarrassed, and had settled for a little of both. “How do I look?”

“In very good shape,” Peggy said faintly, then cleared her throat. “Is that costume actually - legal for competition?” There was an unobtrusive, loose mesh holding the V together, but it wasn’t hiding much. Somewhere in the back of her mind she thanked her lucky stars that the fabric her own costume was held together with was somewhat sturdier, and considerably more opaque.

Behind her, she heard Natasha snicker.

“I’m not actually sure it would be legal for international competition,” said Angie, sounding a bit awe-struck. “But, apparently it’s legal for Battle of the Blades.” She stepped forward a bit to get in on the ogling of Steve. “And might I just say, God bless America. And also whichever producer okayed this.”

Beside her, Sam was also eyeing Steve's muscles a bit incredulously. “What do you bench press, man? Elephants?”

“Gee, thanks a lot,” said Natasha, dryly.

Read the rest of the chapter on A03

#fanfic #steggy #my fic #peggy carter #steve rogers #au

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ruanbaijie · 8 months ago

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You watch a lot shows. Is snowfall one you would highly recommend?

I don’t watch a lot of shows or movies but I’m kind of feeling like picking one up, but I want it to be a good one.

okay this comes with a hugeass disclaimer: I am extremely biased towards this show, because my all-time favourite hyper-specific trope is vampires Done Right - i.e. with a healthy dose of longing and yearning, angst and pain, and inner conflict

and snowfall delivers that ✨ exquisitely ✨

so yes, it's one of the best shows of all time that I've watched, never mind the 7.9 rating on mdl (am I salty? yes I'm salty. some people don't have taste.), never mind how the plot is actually pretty simple. secondhand embarrassment-inducing cgi aside, I've actually come to terms with how it ended especially after having read the novel, and I'd say I'm actually pretty satisfied even with the show ending

in any case, it's not a long show (another thing I'm also very salty about) and it's very easy to binge

more reasons why you should totally watch it:

A++++ cinematography

republican era aesthetics

everyone looks like they've walked out from a runway (in this house we do not talk about the ninja knights in sparkly disco pants)

the most unexpected humour

hints of yaoi (I'm not kidding)

a soundtrack that is small but really hits

brilliant acting

gao weiguang

gao weiguang with long hair

gao weiguang with long hair in republican era clothes

#*ramblings #snowfall #bxy #冰雪谣

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mermaidgirl30 · 1 year ago

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✨Javi’s Playground✨

A/N: Ahhh I’ve been wanting to write a Javi one shot for a while, and I finally got the inspiration after listening to “Sex & Candy” by Marcy Playground. Thank you to @mountainsandmayhem for helping me come up with a name and beta read so I didn’t chicken out and not post 😘 This is my first time writing Javi, so I’d like as much feedback as I can get 🥰 I tried my best with the Spanish translations.

Summary: Javi decides to blow off some steam at the strip club, but he doesn’t intend to attempt to take one of the dancers home with him.

Pairing: Javier Pena x fem! reader

Word Count: 3.2k

Rating: Explicit (18+ MDNI)

Tags: smut, flirting, Javi goes to a strip club, alcohol, smoking, unprotected p in v, oral, Narcos era, reader is a stripper, reader has long hair, switching POVs, some Spanish (translations at bottom of doc)

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

The glow of the amber lights swirl above his head as a crystal disco ball spins slowly, throwing its sparkly essence into the crowded strip club. This isn’t his normal place, Paradise Cove. It’s only a distraction, a secret alcove to let go of any thoughts of drug lords, innocent bloodshed, Pablo Escobar, or any traces of misery he’s been holding on to over the past treacherous year. This was a place for forgetting, relaxing the mind, indulging in mere fantasies he could only wish to grasp his torn hands around. So he’d drink, smoke, and indulge in beautiful women in peace on this lonely Friday evening.

The red walls are smeared with flecks of sparkles, and the atmosphere is bursting with energy and dim lighting. The cool glass of amber whiskey sits in his hand as he gulps down another swig, letting the burn coat his insides as he flicks the small lighter and lights up another Marlboro cigarette. He lets the smoke surround him, fogging his vision as he inhales the nicotine and lets it sit there dwindling around him in a blur. Just for a couple of seconds, just enough to take the edge off of his growing migraine.

He throws his head back and exhales, blowing the smoke out as the music changes over to a tune he knows. “Sex & Candy” by Marcy Playground starts to play from the blaring speakers, the song slowly slipping through his ears as he sits up just a little straighter in the black leather chair.

The crowd hollers when the next girl takes the stage, low whistles reverberating off the side mahogany tables as the volume of the music picks up. He doesn’t realize what they’re all making a fuss about until he looks up and sees you. The most beautiful girl he’s ever seen. Esplendida.

You’re so radiant, the way you strut across the stage in your crystal clear stiletto high heels as you spin in slow motion, running your fingers through your thick, long curls as you look over your shoulder and flirt with the crowd. Your legs are so long, the curve of your thighs begging to be touched as you sway your hips side to side and get lost in the song.

And then there she was, in platform double suede. Yeah, there she was. Like disco lemonade.

He can’t help but grip the damp glass in his hands a little too tight as he spreads his legs wide and relaxes into the plush leather, his eyes glued to you as you slide down the pole gracefully. He wets his lips as his tongue glides across his bottom lip, his cigarette burning his flared nostrils as he oogles the way you please the crowd with every single move you make across the reflective stage.

He watches the way you push the swell of your breasts up with your delicate hands, eyes the tiny black lingerie set that barely covers your porcelain skin, assesses the way the lacy thong skims across the curve of your hips, and nearly drowns on his sip of bubbling whiskey as you bend down and show off the thick globes of your ass.

Javi sets the half empty glass of alcohol down beside him on the little sturdy table and grabs his denim clad knee as he sinks his nails into the fabric, trying to hold himself together as he listens to the track play through the massive club, watching the way you keep turning and finding his searing gaze.

I smell sex and candy here. Who’s that lounging in my chair? Who’s that casting devious stares in my direction? Mama, this surely is a dream.

His brown eyes blow wide every time you turn and wink his way, casually flirting as you flip your hair and bite your lower lip, sending him spiraling as he feels the blood rush to his cock in his tight jeans, feeling just how hard he is now as his thick cock presses into the metal of the zipper. It’s like you know what you’re doing, sparkling eyes penetrating his gaze as you flirtatiously bat your long mascara coated eyelashes and eye fuck him from the glowing stage, making sure he’s getting exactly what he came her for. To feel good, to indulge in his fantasies, to make him think you want him. But customers don’t get to take strippers home. That’s not how this business works, not how it’s supposed to run, unless…

You slide slowly down the metal pole, ending up on the floor of the lit up stage as you spread your legs wide and tease him just a little as you play with the straps of your panties and press your heels into the floor, giving him a view that just about takes him out. He leans his elbows against his knees, rakes a hand through his thick mustache as he groans into the palm of his hand while sweat sticks to his tanned forehead.

He loves the view that’s on display, loves the outline of your pussy as he swears he can see wetness pooling there in between your legs while you sit there and tease him with the biggest smirk on your face he’s ever seen in his life. Those red, plump lips, those glistening thighs that deserve to be kissed, that pulsing core that begs to be lapped up. He can see it now, you splayed out on his bed while he fucks you deep, bottoming out as you scream his name, claw at his tanned skin as you beg for more. He’d take care of you. God he would. And fuck does he want to. Desesperadamente.

He can feel the precum sliding against his thick length, can feel just how badly he wants to palm himself through his tight denim as he watches you fall apart on the stage before him. At this point he has no restraint, can barely sit here and watch as you start to crawl on your hands and knees toward him, hypnotizing eyes that lock on his as he leans forward and unfastens the black tie that clings to his button-up white collared shirt.

His eyebrows furrow, lips parting unbelievably as you curl your finger and beckon him to come to the side of the stage, your gaze flicking over his figure as he prays you don’t see the erection that’s begging for some kind of release that’d involve hands, or maybe a mouth, a warm tongue…

He takes another drag of the sweet nicotine and pushes himself out of the leather chair, slowly trudging up to you as he lets his eyes trail generously over your perfect body. When he finally makes it over to the end of the glossy stage, he sees just how beautiful your eyes really are, eyes that were just eye fucking him seconds ago, eyes he’d love to gaze into while he cants his hips against yours roughly. Eyes he could lost in, swim in.

You smirk his way, letting your hands run through your tousled curls as you flutter thick eyelashes up at him. He digs into the pit of his denim pocket and pulls out a crisp twenty dollar bill as he cautiously slides it inside the lace of your push-up bra, his fingertips grazing the edge of one of your perky breasts as he groans in response. Your skin is so soft, he thinks what you have underneath the lace will be even softer, divine, delicious.

You bite your bottom lip flirtatiously and play with the end of his loose tie, letting the silk slip through your fingertips as he watches in a blissed out daze. You could’ve chosen anyone to target, could’ve had attention from any of the sleazy men in this nightclub, but you chose him. The one with the flecks of honey eyes, the one that couldn’t keep his eyes off you for one second, the handsome stranger who must’ve been new to this place.

“You new here?” you ask curiously as you eye his stance, watching the way his eyes seem to light with burning fire every time he even dares to look your way.

“Been here once or twice before, but this is the first time I’m seeing you, hermosa.” He lets his dark eyes slide down your body, a smirk curling across his plush lips as he leans in closer, until you can smell the tinge of nicotine lacing through his taste buds. “You sure look good up on that stage, amar. Prettiest thing I’ve seen in a city like San Francisco.”

“Oh? You like what you see?” you blush as you hang your legs off the end of the stage, just enough to brush his thighs as you feel how strong they are.

“Oh, I like what I see alright. Jodidamente perfecta.”

You feel your cheeks burn bright red, feel your thighs clench up as you see how thick his fingers are, how dark and ravenous his eyes look, how hard he is underneath the fabric of his tight jeans. You don’t ever get this wound up about customers, but something about well dressed, smoldering men makes you want to lose all dignity and throw yourself at him. He must be so good in bed. With the way he’s staring at you, all hot and bothered, he may as well just carry you out of this club. Even if it’s technically against the rules.

“What’s your name, handsome?” you ask as you brush your heels against the side of his ankles and watch him tense up under your touch.

“Javier. Just call me Javi for short, though. And yours, hermosa?” You tell him your name, your real name, not your stripper name, even if that’s against the rules, too. You clearly don’t care about any fucking rules at this point.

“Ahh, that’s a gorgeous name. Telling me your real name, yeah? Aren’t you a little rule breaker,” he teases as he cocks up a thick eyebrow and slides his thumb over his lips as he brushes against his thick mustache. You wonder what it’d feel like with his mouth covering your core, his mustache brushing over your swollen clit as he licks and licks until you come apart on his large tongue.

You pull yourself out of ridiculous wet fantasies and watch the smoke fall off his tongue. “I live to break rules,” you tease as you pull him closer, catching the end of his black tie as he’s so close now that you can see the embers of brown flecks scatter across his dark eyes. He’s so handsome, you think you want to go home with him.

“That right, hermosa?” he asks as he takes another long drag of his cigarette and blows the smoke away from your face as that smug smirk still encases his playful teasing.

“That’s right,” you giggle as you gently curl your fingers over the wrist that holds the burning cigarette.

He watches you carefully, eyes full of trouble as he puffs out a breath and fills your nostrils with the stench of whiskey and nicotine. “What do you say, hermosa? Wanna take a tour of my bedroom tonight?”

You carefully snag his lit cigarette from his outstretched hand and slide it in between your crimson lips, taking a slow drag of the cigarette as he watches you with dark, wide eyes and parted lips that shine with the gleam of amber colored whiskey. You gently blow out the smoke in his face and lean forward as you wrap your manicured fingers around his loosened tie. “You can give me money, yes, but what else? I have plenty of money. What is it that you want, handsome?”

He grabs the cigarette from your open hand and takes a whiff of the nicotine, letting it blow right back into your face as you smell whiskey, smoke, and trouble fill your lungs.

“Te deseo…” He says it slowly, meticulously like it’s the most sensual thing he’s ever said to a woman before. You don’t know what it means, but it damn sure sounds like you need to say yes.

Your eyebrows raise as you smile wide his way. “I don’t speak Spanish, handsome. But I think I want to say yes. Wanna indulge me in what exactly it is you want?”

He takes another slow drag of his cigarette as he smirks your way. “I want you, hermosa. In my bed, underneath my body, so I can fuck you fast and hard. Wanna rip off that lace and devour your sweet pussy until I have you coming apart on my tongue. Wanna make love to the beauty that stole my heart away tonight.”

Your breath hitches as you gasp out of breath, not realizing you clutched onto his leather belt and clenched your sticky thighs together as slick pools warmly in your lace. You should’ve known he was a handsome menace the first moment you saw him sitting there with his glass of cold whiskey and lit up cigarette. You should’ve fucking guessed.

His body is now too close to yours, chest pressed against yours as you stand shakily off the stage and feel just how bad he wants you through the fabric of his tight jeans. You can see that way his dark eyes flick over yours, feel the heavy breaths coming from his broad chest, smell the stench of trouble and nicotine lacing around your wrists as he slowly grabs a strand of hair and whispers your name into the shell of your ear.

It’s almost too much, almost enough to get you fired right on the spot until the music suddenly changes to a Rhianna song, signaling it was time for the next dancer to come out. You abruptly pull away from him as you feel the tension sit thick in the air, almost like a fog takes over and you can’t see anything clearly anymore.

It’s your time to go, to mingle with other clients, and he knows that, you can see it in the understanding of those big chocolate eyes that stare adamantly at you. You give him a flirtatious wave and brush up against his large arm as you whisper up to him, “I get off in an hour. Meet me in the back.”

He watches you saunter off, half smiling as he realizes he got the girl. He never misses, almost never gets turned down, but this one he might want to see again. He can already tell he’ll want you to stick around, maybe even make you his. Maybe he won’t have to walk this lonely, overbearing life alone anymore. Maybe…. just maybe you’ll stay. Maybe he’ll let you stay. Maybe for a night, a month, a year, forever.

The smell of sweat covered bodies, vanilla scents of sensual movements and whiskey clad tongues fill the room as you move at a slow, passionate pace. His meaty hands and smooth tongue are everywhere, sliding down your neck, pulling your pebbled nipples into his warm mouth, and lapping thoroughly at the slick between your sticky thighs.

Your moans come in sync. Elated, deafening, ravenous every time he licks a thick stripe over your dripping core. He groans each time you rake your fingers through his mess of dark locks, your pleasurable moans filling the room every time he pulls your puffy clit into his mouth as his thick fingers curl up into the spongy walls that make you see blinding stars in your vision. He doesn’t stop even after the first time you come for him, spilling all your pent up slick as he laps up every single drop between your thighs.

He pulls out another mind blowing orgasm with his experienced tongue alone, and he doesn’t even give you a minute to breathe before he’s splitting you in two with the slick cock that fills you to the brim, bottoming out in you time and time again until you feel him everywhere in your system, like the nicotine and whiskey that fill his lungs night after lonely night. He licks into your mouth, his smooth tongue dancing along with yours until you can’t taste anything but the tang of neat whiskey and toxic nicotine that bleed into your bloodstream, tasting like sweet addiction and danger, a lover in disguise.

You’re already close again, almost spilling yourself around his thick cock as he bends your knees back and folds you like an acrobatic so you can feel him deep, rough every single time he snaps his hips against yours and buries his face into your neck with furrowed eyebrows as he sucks and bites against the base of your neck.

“Come for me again, hermosa. There you go, such a good fucking girl. Let me feel you again. Squeezing so tight around my fucking cock,” he growls as he guides his thumb down to your clit and starts to circle nice and slow, the pressure building in your spine as you start to let go.

“Javi,” you moan as you scratch your long nails down his bare back, clawing at his tanned skin every time he guides his slick cocks inside you, reaching that spongy spot that makes you plead and moan with every thrust of his hips.

“Attagirl, hermosa. Tan encantadora,” he pants as sweat covers his glistening forehead. Once, twice, three more tight circles on your bundle of nerves and you’re squeezing his cock, spilling yourself all over him as you moan loudly into his ear as he comes seconds after, throwing his head back as he groans with pleasure as thick ropes of white come paint your insides.

He topples over next to you in the damp, twisted sheets and pulls you against his broad chest while his free hand lights a cigarette up while he gets lost in the thick cloud of nicotine and musty sex. While he sucks on the addictive stick of nicotine, his dark eyes wade over you as his lips graze warmly over your sweat covered forehead.

“Did so good for me, hermosa. You wanna stay the night? I can get you all cleaned up in the morning, and we can go for breakfast. Maybe eat you out on the kitchen counter while I make you coffee. What do you say, hermosa?”

You shift closer against his side, sliding your fingers over his glistening chest as his deep breaths fill the void in the spacious room. You flick your eyes up to him and study him, watching the way he inhales smoke and stares warmly down your way, like he’s in a lucid dream just watching the girl of his dreams. “You mean like… you want to keep seeing me? This wasn’t a one time thing?”

His jaw goes slack as his lips parts open, putting the burning cigarette out on the pale blue ash tray on the edge of his mahogany nightstand. “That’s right, hermosa. A sweet, beautiful, gorgeous girl like you deserves more, and I want to give you that. If you’ll let me.”

You take in his offer, your fingers threading through his as you crawl over him and graze your swollen red lips against his. “Okay then, Javi. Show me your world.”

He cups the back of your neck and brings you down to his lips as he slots his tongue between your lipstick smeared lips, pulling you deep into him as you taste every shade of red he can paint you, coating you in desire you’ve only ever dreamed of.

He tasted like sex and candy, and you were just getting started.

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Spanish Translations:

Hermosa - beautiful

Esplendida - gorgeous

desesperadamente - desperately

jodidamente perfecta - fucking perfect

Tan Encantadora - so lovely

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