#a lap dance club without the dancers

[tumblerislovetumblerislife]

it's sapphic time (mind the rating!)

[plethorawrites]

I feel like we skipped over Club Owner Jason way too fast. Think of all the possibilities...

Club Owner Jason: Who thinks it's a chore more than anything but does it because he trusts himself to have control of the iceberg lounge more than Oswald.

Club Owner Jason: Who shows up every night, purposely scaring some guests, making a scene of throwing someone out once in a while just to prove a point and pass the time because it's boring sitting in the back, just watching the large crowds.

Club Owner Jason: Who spots you out of crowd, curious as to how he's never noticed you before when he knew every dancers name, as he did with all his staff for their safety.

Club Owner Jason: Who realizes you cut your hair recently, dying it a different shade, which wasn't unusual for dancers to do from time to time, but God, you suddenly stood out.

Club Owner Jason: Who pulled you from the floor to satisfy his own curiosity and when you—who was oddly enough not afraid of him the way most of his staff was—complained that he was eating away at your tips by doing so, suggested you dance for him instead. He was a much better tipper than any possible guest.

Club Owner Jason: Who watches your every move, his eyes hardly ever leaving your body unless it was to look you in the eyes, which, were just as stunning, he quickly realized while feeling mesmerized.

Club Owner Jason: Who is true to his word and tips you exceptionally well to compensate for being your only client that night, sliding several hundred dollars into your palms before twirling a strand of your hair in his fingers and asking you to dance for him again tomorrow night.

Club Owner Jason: Who keeps pulling you from the floor so often you stop asking your manager where you're going because you know it'll be to him, like always and to be entirely honest, you don't mind, because he's twice as respectful as most clients and far better at paying you what you're worth.

Club Owner Jason: Who one day, after especially hard day, wants to do more than just stare at you and dates to ask for your permission to touch you, just for a few minutes.

Club Owner Jason: Who pulls you onto his lap, his hands resting on your hips gently, staying completely still as he lays his head on your shoulder, breathing quietly against your neck.

Club Owner Jason: Whose hair you gently run your hands through, letting him rest against you in such an oddly intimate moment you wonder if this is really the guy everyone is so scared of. (Multiple of your fellow dancers has asked you how you were so calm always going to see him.)

Club Owner Jason: Who can't stop himself from shifting his head a bit, pressing a kiss to your exposed collar bone before immediately apologizing for doing so, clearly having lost his mind for a moment.

Club Owner Jason: Who moves to let you up, knowing fully well that this isn't your job and he's not willing to ask for those kind of services from you, only for you to stop him, enjoying the feeling of his hands on your hips. It felt almost natural.

Club Owner Jason: Who quietly asks you, almost hesitantly, why you're not afraid of him, only for you to shrug, not even sure if the answer yourself.

Club Owner Jason: Who brushes a piece of hair from your face, staring at you in silence for a long time before eventually asking if you'd ever let him know you outside of work, if you'd ever let him do this without getting paid for it..

Club Owner Jason: Who feels his heart clench when you tell him yes without hesitation.

[ellastone-olsen]

hihihihi idk if youre accepting requests or not but if you are:

can you please do stripper!wanda x innocent!reader where reader's friend drags her to a nearby strip club to blow off steam. and reader is really innocent and is just sitting in the chair, slightly confused while watching the dancers do their thing on the pole. and reader is unknowingly eyeing one certain stripper (wanda) and wanda notices and comes over to reader. and reader's friend is teasing reader and telling wanda to give reader a lap dance when she comes over. and then wanda brings reader to like one of the private rooms in the back and like reader is realy inexperienced and awkward and tense. and then wandas there to like talk reader through it and reader's like REALLLY shy. okay woah thats a lot thank youuuuu take your time 💝

The art of eye contact - Wanda Maximoff

★Pairing: stripper!Wanda Maximoff x innocent!f!reader

Summary: your friend drags you to a strip club, what could happen there to such an innocent little thing like you?

★Warnings: little NSFW 18+, lap dance, grinding, pet names, a little fluff (sorry I can’t without fluff)

★Word count: 1.5k

★AN: hi anon! In general, my requests are closed, but I found this very interesting, so here we are. there was nothing about 18+ in the request and I decided to remove this part (well, almost). hope you’ll like it

The loud music and shining lights of the club were blinding as you sat shyly in your seat and looked somewhere at the floor. There was a can of soda on the table nearby. The people around are mostly men, but your eye notices some women who also came to watch the show. And only one question: what the hell are you doing here?

“Come on Y/N let’s go, I’ve been there more than once, maybe you’ll like it.” This is exactly what you heard from your friend half an hour ago, when you were sitting in her apartment and just playing online games. You came to her in a terrible mood because of a failed college exam and sought solace in this meeting. In the last couple of weeks, your nerves were on edge and all you need now was to let off steam after a series of failures. “Fucking shit, can’t you see they’re shooting at you!?” You told her angrily as she turned away from the laptop screen without following the game. You definitely needed another way to relax.

Despite your 21, you had never been to this kind of establishment and of all your friends, you were the most innocent person, not knowing what relationships and sex are. "Come on, let's go, don't be so boring." She insisted, "If you don't like it, then I give you permission to hit me." You took off your headphones and sighed. If you think so, then you were curious to visit the strip club. "okay." After that, within 10 minutes you were riding in a taxi to an address unknown to you.

Returning to the present time, you tried not to stare too much at all these people dancing at the poles, the clothes on them were becoming less and less every minute and your cheeks were flushed red. Your friend hit you with her elbow, signaling for you to look (she paid for the entrance and doesn’t want her money to disappear into the floor in which you are ready to make a hole with your gaze). You look up again and look at each dancer in turn until you reach her. To your right is dancing a woman with long red hair, which is pulled back into a messy bun with a shiny clip. Her top was already off, revealing a red fabric bra that did not hide the softness of her breasts. She was still wearing a long skirt that cut out to her hips, so you could see her legs, which seemed to be moving closer to you. Stop why is she coming to you.

While you watched as if under hypnosis, the stranger was already in front of you and grabbed the soda from your hand and put it on the table to put her hands on either side of you on the armrests. Her back arched and she made a small wave, so that her breasts were a few centimeters from your face, it seemed like you were ready to explode from what was happening. Her head tilted, her lips reached your ear so she could shout to you over the noise of the music, “I’m Wanda, nice to meet you.” In your opinion, people usually don’t get to know each other by sticking their almost bare breasts under the noses of strangers, but remember where you were and toss all the questions. In any case, all you did was nod and again direct your gaze somewhere to the side. It seemed that you had turned into a bundle of nerves and embarrassment.

Wanda took this as a sign that she needed to look for another client for the night, but your friend, who had been watching all this time from the side, took the redhead somewhere to the side and seemed to give her a bill and instructions on what to do.

"Where have you been?" You asked the girl as she approached with a sly grin, noticing how red you were. Why the hell did she bring you here and leave you to your fate? “I have another little gift for you that you’ve been eyeing so eagerly.” Was she teasing you? Defined. “What are you talking about, what kind of gift am I thinking enough for today.” Then your friend stepped aside and showed Wanda standing behind her. The girl leaned over so only you could hear, “I paid, so have fun.” You didn’t immediately understand what exactly she paid for, but Wanda’s sweet smile brought the idea to your brain and your eyes widened.

The redhead gently took your hand in hers and you obeyed (only out of curiosity) and followed her into the private rooms. When the red matte door closed and it became much quieter, you sat on the sofa with your hands on your knees and asked a question. “What exactly she told to do?” One of your knees is bouncing from the fact that you are shaking your leg trying not to be nervous. Your friend has already explained to the redhead what an innocent little thing you are, so the woman decided to first ask permission for some actions.

"She ordered a lap dance, but you're such a sweet girl that I was willing to do it for free just for you." She came up to you again and leaned in, so close that her breath was on your neck and you could smell the scent of her cherry perfume. “Can I sit on your lap honey?” Her soft sexy whisper drove you crazy and you squeaked in agreement. Immediately you felt the weight of her body on you, how her long legs in stockings wrapped around you and your core began to pulsate just from this. "What should I do? I…I never…” Wanda’s hips rocked and her core pressed against your stomach. “Oh I know baby, I can see it right away.” She giggled. “I’m sitting right on top of you, can you tell me your name?” Your head fell back and your hair fell into face, you really didn’t want to seem like what you were, namely the inexperienced mess right under her. “My name is Y/N.” Your hands grabbed the upholstery of the sofa, you didn’t know how to touch her, or whether it was possible at all.

Wanda's hands dropped to yours and placed them on her hips. “That’s it Y/N, you can touch me if you want.” Your head turned towards her and you finally looked into her big green eyes. It was so beautiful that no part of her body interested you as much as this. “Your eyes are so…lovely.” The woman seemed confused at these words. Her clients told her a lot, in particular something about her breasts or ass, but never before had anyone given her a compliment with such trepidation. “Oh, what a cute little thing you are Y/N.” She stood up on your knees, her hands reached for the clasp of her skirt, which she was still wearing, but you stopped her. “No, don't. I mean, you're so beautiful, you don't need to take your clothes off to prove it."

This was the third time you had confused her that night. Of course, your inexperience spoke to you, but you also didn’t want to do something so blatant with her, at least not right now. Although perhaps there was one thing that you wanted to get. “I...can you kiss me? That is, if you don’t want to or it’s forbidden, I don’t insist, but...” Her soft, full lips fell on yours without allowing you to finish, it seems that at these words the woman’s heart sank painfully. Her dark lipstick mixed with your cherry gloss and with every movement of your lips, your hands gripped her soft thighs tighter. “Wanda...” You wanted to ask, but she wasn’t done with you. When there was not enough air, she pulled away and turned her head away. “Sorry, it was not according to regulations.” You didn't understand why she was apologizing.

“No, no, everything is fine, at least... it sounds so stupid but... maybe you would like to get to know each other better and go on a date, for example?” You realized how naive it sounded, asking the girl from the strip club you had just met on a date. Surely everyone who was with her in this room made her such an offer.

Instead of words, the woman got up from you and you thought that the time that your friend had paid for was over, but after a few seconds she handed you a piece of paper with numbers. “Here, this is my number, text me in the morning if you don’t change your mind.” You took the small piece of paper from her hands and carefully placed it under your phone case.

For a minute you were in an awkward ringing silence. “Can I kiss you again?” You asked shyly. Even then, Wanda couldn’t refuse you.

When you left the private room and said goodbye, your friend immediately met you with questions about how everything went. You told her, not knowing that in this evening Wanda did not bring anyone else into the room where you were together.

[prettyfilmz]

SWEET LIKE CANDY 3 • JEY USO

author's note: hello my loves! we have officially made it to the third part of SLC (so excitingggg) I must say...I really outdid myself with this part, I am so excited for you guys to read. I hope you enjoy💗

synopsis: in which a celebration at the strip club leads to the beginning of a love affair between a wrestler and a dancer.

pairing: jey uso x black fem!oc (cherise aka candy)

tags: 18+(MDNI), slow burn, flirty banter, teasing, kissing, lots of touching, dirty talk, pussy eating, jey is a certified munch ™, daddy kink, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it guys!), breast sucking, biting, fingering, choking, spanking, lotssss of dirty talk, multiple orgasms, daddy kink, pet names ( pretty girl, baby, mama, baby girl ), roughhhhh sex, squirting, creampie, aftercare, they're falling in luvvvvvvv.

word count: 6k words (she's longgggg)

read part one here!

read part two here!

soundtrack playlist

The club smelled like money and perfume, the air thick with bass-heavy music and the hum of people celebrating anything and everything. Cherise moved through it all, ready to head out, her bag slung over her shoulder and her feet aching from a long night of dancing. She paused when she saw Trinity perched in Jimmy’s lap near the bar.

It had become a routine.

Trinity and Jimmy were all over each other every night, and Cherise could barely remember the last time she’d seen either of them without the other. Jimmy had made it clear—Trinity wasn’t just a fling for him, even if their relationship was unconventional.

And then there was Jey.

Her phone vibrated in her hand, and her chest tightened.

Jey: What time you off, baby girl?

Her lips curved into a small smile.

They’d been texting constantly since that night in the VIP room, their conversations flirty and teasing, but deeper, too. They talked about any and everything. And somehow, in between all of that, she found herself softening toward him, her usual walls starting to slip.

Before she could type a reply, Trinity’s voice pulled her from her thoughts.

"Girl, you gon’ stand there lookin’ dreamy or you gon’ say hi?"

Cherise blinked, stuffing her phone into her bag as she walked over.  "Ain’t nobody dreamy over here."

Jimmy smirked, his arm draped lazily over Trinity’s waist.  "Mmm, you sure about that?  ‘Cause you lookin’ like somebody who just got a text from my brother."

Cherise rolled her eyes. "Don’t you got somebody else to bother?"

"Nope." Jimmy grinned.  "That’s why I’m botherin’ you. So, what’s up with y’all?  You givin’ my brother a hard time, huh?"

"Ain’t nothin’ up."

Trinity raised a brow, clearly not buying it. "Girl, you know Jey don’t text just anybody like that. If he’s hittin’ you up, it’s ‘cause he likes you."

"It’s not like that," Cherise said quickly, but her cheeks were burning.  "We’re just talkin’."

"Mmm, sure." Trinity gave her a knowing look before leaning back against Jimmy’s chest.  “He likes you. He might act all tough, but Jey’s a softie underneath it."

“Duly noted,” Cherise muttered, ignoring the way her chest tightened at the thought. She said her goodbyes and headed out of the club, finally free for the night.

The cool night air hit her skin as she stepped out, adjusting her bag on her shoulder.  She was halfway to her car when she noticed a black SUV parked nearby, headlights cutting through the darkness.

And leaning against the driver’s side door?

Jey.

He was in a hoodie and sweatpants, looking so casual and comfortable it made her heart stutter.  He grinned when he saw her, his eyes doing that crinkle which made her heart skip a beat.

"Yo, what took you so long, mama?" he called out.

Cherise stopped, her brows furrowing.  "What are you doing here?"

"Waitin’ on you," he said simply, pushing off the car and walking toward her.  "C’mon, baby girl.  You know I had to see you."

She crossed her arms, trying to ignore the fluttering in her chest.  "And you thought just poppin’ up at my job unannounced was a good idea?"

"Hell yeah." He smirked, his voice dropping into that slow, teasing drawl.  "You miss me, baby?"

"Please." She rolled her eyes, but her lips betrayed her, curving into a small smile. "What do you want, Joshua?”

"You."

Her stomach flipped.

"And some Waffle House," he added with a grin.  "I’m starvin’, mama.  Let me take you to get somethin’ to eat."

Cherise hesitated, but the warmth in his eyes melted her resistance.  "Fine."

♡

The late-night crowd was light, the clatter of plates and quiet hum of conversation filling the air as they slid into a booth. Cherise ordered a simple plate of waffles, bacon, and eggs, while Jey went for the All-Star Special, stacking his plate high.

"Damn, you eatin’ light tonight, mama," he teased, leaning back in his seat.  "That all you got in you?"

"*I’m not tryna eat myself into a coma like somebody across from me,” she shot back, smirking. "What, you burnin’ all them calories in the ring or somethin’?"

"Somethin’ like that." He shrugged, then leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. "So, what’s up with you?  You been actin’ all mysterious since I met you. Tell me somethin’ real, baby girl."

She raised a brow, cutting into her waffle. “What you wanna know?"

“Everything.” He grinned.  "I don’t wanna talk to Candy right now. I wanna talk to Cherise."

Her hand paused for a moment, the vulnerability of his request catching her off guard. "Cherise is boring," she said lightly with a shrug, trying to brush it off.

"Nah, see, I don’t believe that." He tilted his head, watching her closely. "Tell me why you started dancin’, baby. You don’t seem like the type to be in a place like that."

She hesitated, then set her fork down, meeting his gaze. "I needed the money. Nursing school ain’t cheap, and I wasn’t tryna take out a million loans. The club gave me the flexibility I needed, and it pays the bills."

"Nursing school?" His brows lifted in surprise.  "Damn, mama. You out here savin’ lives and shit?"

"Not yet," she said with a small smile.  "But I’m workin’ on it."

Jey leaned back, his expression softening. "See?  That’s the shit I’m talkin’ about. You over here actin’ like you ain’t special, but you got your shit together, baby.  That’s sexy as hell."

Her cheeks warmed under his praise, and she quickly looked away.  "It’s not that deep, Jey."

"Yeah, it is." His voice was quieter now, more sincere. "You somethin’ special, Cherise. I knew that the second I saw you."

She didn’t know how to respond, so she stayed quiet, focusing on her food.

♡

The drive back to her place was quiet but comfortable, the tension between them simmering just beneath the surface.  When they pulled up outside her apartment, she hesitated before unbuckling her seatbelt.

"You good to go, baby?” Jey asked, glancing at her.

"Yeah…" She took a breath, then looked at him.  "You wanna come up? It’s late, and I don’t want you driving back home at this hour.”

His brows lifted, a slow grin spreading across his face. "You sure, baby?"

“5 seconds and I’m changing my mind,” she said quickly, opening the door.

He chuckled, grabbing his keys and following her inside.

Her apartment was small but cozy, the faint smell of vanilla filling the air. Jey’s eyes immediately landed on the messy table near the couch, textbooks and notebooks scattered everywhere.

"Damn, mama, you really hittin’ the books like that, huh?" he teased, dropping onto the couch.

"Don’t start," she muttered, setting her bag down and slipping out of her sneakers. "You want somethin’ to drink?"

"Nah, I’m good."

She joined him on the couch, and for a moment, they just sat there in comfortable silence. But the air between them was charged, the tension from the car now crackling in the quiet space.

"C’mere," he murmured, his voice low and rough.

She let him pull her closer, her breath hitching as his hands slid to her waist, pulling her flush against him.

"You know how bad I been wantin’ this, mama?" His lips brushed against her ear, sending shivers down her spine.  "Three months, baby.  I been waitin’ three long-ass months to get you like this."

Her hands pressed against his chest, feeling the solid warmth of him beneath his hoodie. "Then what are you waitin’ for?"

Jey groaned softly, his lips crashing into hers.

"You gon’ let me kiss you again, mama?" His voice was low, teasing, a soft rasp that sent shivers racing down her spine.

"You already are," Cherise murmured, her lips brushing against his as she spoke.

"Mmm… you smart, huh?" Jey chuckled softly, but the sound was swallowed by the way he finally closed the gap, his mouth claiming hers in a kiss that was hot and unrelenting.

It wasn’t careful this time.

His lips pressed firm against hers, his tongue sliding between them to taste her, to take from her, like he couldn’t hold back anymore.  Cherise let herself fall into it, her fingers curling into the fabric of his hoodie as his hands slid down her sides, gripping her hips like they belonged there.

"Mmm, baby…" Jey groaned against her mouth, breaking the kiss only to trail his lips down the curve of her jaw to her neck.  "You smell so fuckin’ good. You been tryna kill me, huh?"

"Jey—" Her breath hitched as his teeth grazed her pulse point, nipping lightly before soothing the sting with his tongue.

"Shhh…" His hands gripped her thighs, tugging her across his lap so she was straddling him.  "I got you, mama. Just let me take care of you."

Cherise’s head tipped back as his lips continued their path, sucking gently at the sensitive skin of her throat, marking her in places only he would know were there.  His hands slid up her back, tugging at the hem of her shirt.

"Off," he muttered, his voice thick with heat.  "Lemme see you, baby."

She hesitated for half a second, her walls flickering back into place, but the look in his eyes, filled with admiration, had her giving in.

She lifted her shirt over her head, tossing it aside, leaving her in a simple lace bra that hugged her full breasts perfectly.

"Damn, Cherise…” Jey’s hands slid up her sides, his thumbs brushing the swell of her breasts. “You so fuckin’ pretty.”

Cherise felt her cheeks heat, but before she could say anything, his lips were on her collarbone, then lower, tracing the edge of her bra.

"You gon’ let me taste these, baby girl?" he murmured, his teeth gently tugging at the strap of her bra.

He didn’t wait for her to answer.

His hands reached behind her, expertly unhooking her bra and sliding it off her shoulders. The cool air kissed her bare skin for only a second before his lips replaced it, warm and wet as he sucked one of her nipples into his mouth.

"Ohhh… fuck," Cherise moaned, her back arching as his tongue swirled over the sensitive bud.

"Mmm, that’s it, pretty girl…" Jey’s voice was muffled as he moved to the other side, his teeth grazing her nipple before biting down just hard enough to make her gasp. "You sound so pretty, mama. I could listen to you all night."

His hands gripped her hips, grinding her against the hard length straining beneath his sweatpants.  "You feel that, baby?  That’s all you."

"Jey…" Cherise whimpered, rolling her hips against him as heat pooled low in her stomach.

"You so fuckin’ soft, mama…" His hands slid lower, gripping her ass firmly before smacking it hard, the sound echoing in the quiet apartment. "And you move so good for me, damn."

Her nails dragged across his chest, tugging at his hoodie.  "This ain’t fair," she breathed, her voice shaky.  "Take this off."

"Whatever you want, baby girl." Jey leaned back, yanking the hoodie over his head in one fluid motion, leaving his chest bare.

Cherise’s eyes roamed over him, taking in the broad planes of his chest, the smooth expanse of his tanned brown skin, the tribal art that decorated over his pecs, torso and arms. "You done lookin’, or you tryna touch on my tattoos?” he teased, his grin wide and cocky.

"Shut up," she muttered, but her hands were already trailing over his chest, her nails dragging lightly down his toned stomach to trace the two palm trees inked onto his side.

Jey growled low in his throat, his hands sliding back between her thighs. "Nah, baby, I think you need a reminder who in charge tonight." He shifted her off his lap, laying her back against the couch as he knelt between her legs.

"These gotta go," he murmured, tugging at the waistband of her sweats. Cherise lifted her hips, letting him slide them down along with her panties, leaving her completely bare beneath him.

Jey sat back for a moment, his gaze devouring her.  "Goddamn, mama…" His voice was thick, low, full of want.  “You so fuckin’ beautiful.”

"You talk too much," Cherise said breathlessly, her thighs clenching under his gaze.

"Mmm, you gon’ learn to love it, mama."

And then his mouth was on her. Jey’s lips pressed against the inside of her thigh, soft and slow, his warm breath making Cherise shiver.  "Shit, baby girl… you this sweet all over?"

Cherise’s head tipped back, a soft whimper escaping her lips.  "You always this talkative?”

"Only when I got somethin’ to say, pretty girl." His grin was wicked, his tongue sliding out to tease her just barely where she wanted him.  "And I got plenty to say about this pretty lil’ pussy."

"Jey—"

"Shhh…" His hands spread her thighs wider, his lips brushing the slick heat of her folds.  "Relax for me, mama.  Let me take care of you." The first swipe of his tongue was slow, deliberate, dragging from her entrance to her clit, and Cherise jerked, her thighs trembling under his firm grip.

"Mmm…" Jey groaned, his tongue swirling around her swollen clit before sucking it into his mouth.  "Yeah, baby. I know that’s what you wanted.” Cherise’s hips bucked against his mouth, but Jey held her down, his broad shoulders anchoring her as he worked her with slow, messy precision.

"Oh my God…" Her fingers threaded through his short curls, pulling tight as her body arched under him.  "Jey—fuck—"

"Mmm, nah, you talked all that shit earlier, let daddy handle you,” he murmured against her, his voice sending vibrations straight to her core. Her entire body shuddered, and Jey chuckled low, dark.  "Yeah, that’s what I thought. You like that, huh, pretty girl?"

Cherise couldn’t answer, couldn’t think.

His tongue moved with purpose, flicking and circling her clit, while his fingers slid up her thigh, teasing her entrance before slipping inside.

"Shit… you so tight, mama," he groaned, pumping his fingers deep and slow.  "You been holdin’ out on me, huh?"

"F-fuck—" Cherise’s nails dragged down his scalp, her thighs trembling as heat built low in her belly.

"You close, baby girl?" Jey’s voice was gravelly, thick with lust as he curled his fingers just right.  "C’mon, mama… I wanna feel you cum for me."

"Ohhh—fuck!  Jey—daddy—"

Her body shattered, her climax crashing over her in waves, her thighs locking around his head as he stayed right there, his mouth and fingers working her through every pulse and tremor.

Jey groaned, licking her through her high, his hands sliding up her waist to steady her.  "Good girl…"

Cherise’s thighs still trembled. She could still feel the ghost of his lips against her clit, still feel the way he’d moaned against her, dragging her through that orgasm until her whole body shook.

Jey was leaned back on the couch, legs spread wide, his sweatpants hanging low on his hips, his bare chest rising and falling as he watched her with those hungry, hooded eyes. His lips were still slick from from tasting her, his fingers still damp with her arousal, and she swore she could see the way his cock strained against the fabric of his sweatpants, a thick, hard outline that made her mouth water.

"Shit, pretty girl," Jey murmured, his voice thick and heavy. “You lookin’ at me like you hungry or somethin’."

Cherise licked her lips, crawling between his legs, letting her hands slide up his thighs—feeling how tense he was, how much he was holding back.

"Maybe I am," she murmured, her nails scratching lightly over his skin.

Jey exhaled a slow, shaky breath, watching her closely.  "Yeah?  You gon’ take care of me, baby?"

"Mhmm." Cherise dragged her nails higher, feeling the way his thighs tensed under her touch.  "I think you earned it."

"Fuck…" He let his head tip back for a second before fixing her with that lazy, knowing smirk.  "Go on, then, baby girl.  Show me what you got."

Cherise wasted no time.

She hooked her fingers in the waistband of his sweats, tugging them down just enough to free his cock, and fuck…he was big. Thick, heavy, veined and perfect, with a soft curve that made her stomach flip. The tip was flushed, already leaking, evidence of how much he wanted her.

She dragged her fingers along his length, just teasing, just watching the way his stomach tensed beneath her touch.

"Shit, baby…" Jey hissed, his hips jerking slightly as she wrapped her hand around him, stroking slow, lazy, teasing.

“I wonder how much you been thinkin’ about this,” she says, her voice smooth, sultry. She leaned in, letting her warm breath brush over his tip.

Jey exhaled a rough, shaky breath, his grip tightening on his thigh.  "You got no fuckin’ idea, baby girl.  I been dyin’ to feel that pretty mouth."

"Mmm." Cherise smirked, then dragged her tongue along the underside of his length, slow and deliberate, tasting the salt and heat of him. Jey groaned deep in his chest, his hand flexing at his side like he was resisting the urge to grab her hair.

Good.

She wanted to make him lose control…just a little.

She let her lips brush against the tip, teasing, before flicking her tongue against it, soft and slow. Then, without warning, she wrapped her mouth around him, taking him in deep all at once.

"Fuuuck—" Jey’s head slammed back against the couch, his hips bucking up as his hand flew to the back of her head. "Ohhh, shit, baby girl… just like that."

Cherise hummed around him, sucking hard, her tongue dragging along every ridge and vein, hollowing her cheeks as she took him deeper.

Jey cursed under his breath, his grip tightening in her hair.

"Shit—look at you, baby… takin’ me so fuckin’ good." His voice was rough, strained, almost desperate.

Cherise let him slip from her lips with a filthy pop, her hand stroking his length slow, teasing.  "You like that, daddy?"

Jey let out a deep, shuddering groan, his thighs shaking beneath her.  "You tryna fuckin’ kill me, baby…"

She grinned, then took him back into her mouth, sinking even lower this time, letting her tongue press against that thick vein, letting her gag just slightly when he hit the back of her throat.

"Fuck, Cherise—" Jey’s voice broke, his hips jerking up, his grip in her hair guiding her, pulling her down deeper.

She let him.

She let him fuck her mouth, let him use her the way he needed, let herself get messy, spit dripping down her chin, her throat tightening around him every time he pushed a little deeper.

"Yeah, that’s my girl," he groaned, his voice shaking, his abs flexing under her touch.  "Takin’ me so fuckin’ good, pretty girl. Such a good fuckin’ girl for me."

She moaned around him, letting her hand slip between her own legs, her fingers sliding through the mess he had already made of her.

Jey noticed immediately.

His grip tightened in her hair, pulling her back just enough to make her gasp.

"Ohhh, what you doin’ down there, huh?" His dark eyes locked onto hers, his chest rising and falling. "You gettin’ yourself off while you suck on daddy?”

Cherise bit her lip, panting, still stroking his cock slow.

"Answer me, baby." His grip on her hair tightened just a little more.

"Mhmm," she whispered, her thighs trembling.  "I can’t help it."

Jey exhaled a slow, shaky breath, then pulled her up tugging her into his lap, pressing his fingers between her thighs, groaning when he felt just how wet she was.

"Damn, mama,” he murmured, sliding his fingers through her slick folds. "You really this messy for me?"

Cherise whimpered, rocking against his hand. "You already know."

"Mmm, I do." He pushed two fingers inside her, slow and deep, making her gasp, her body clenching around him.

"Jey—fuck—"

He curled his fingers, his thumb circling her clit, his eyes locked on her face as he worked her open. "This mine now, pretty girl," he growled, his free hand gripping her throat just enough to make her shiver.  You understand me?"

Cherise could barely breathe. "Y-yes.!“

"Yes, what?"

"Yes, Daddy...fuck!”

Jey groaned, his fingers fucking into her harder, faster.  "You so fuckin’ good for me, baby. You ready for this dick, huh?"

"Yes..please,”

"Good."

And then, in one fluid motion, he flipped her over onto her stomach, his hand pressing between her shoulder blades as he lined himself up behind her.

"You gon’ to take all this dick, pretty girl?" His voice was a deep, hungry rasp, his cock pressing tapped against her folds, teasing.

Cherise whimpered. “Yes, please Jey…”

"Good girl."

And then he pressed into her, and everything else just seemed to not matter. 

Jey stared up at her, his hands resting heavy on her waist, his grip just enough to remind her that he was still in control, even with her on top. "Go ‘head, baby," he murmured, his voice a low, husky rasp, thick with heat. "Show me what you got."

Cherise’s thighs trembled, but she didn’t let that deter her. She lifted her hips just slightly, dragging herself up his thick, aching length before sinking down slow, deep, taking every inch.

Jey let out a deep, guttural groan, his head falling back against the couch. "Ohhh, shit, baby… you feel too fuckin’ good."

She moaned, rolling her hips, letting herself feel every inch of him stretch her open, fill her completely.  "J-Jey—"

"Mmm, you takin’ me so good, pretty girl," he murmured, his hands sliding up her thighs, gripping them, feeling them shake under his palms. "Shit, you holdin’ me tight as fuck."

Cherise bit her lip, picking up her pace, her nails digging into his chest as she bounced on his dick, each movement making her whimper. "F-fuck, you so deep—" she gasped, her head tilting back.

"Yeah, baby? I’m right where I need to be, huh?" Jey groaned, his hands gripping her hips tighter, guiding her movements. "Keep ridin’ daddy, pretty girl. Don’t run from it."

She sure as hell didn’t.

She rode him deep and slow at first, dragging it out, making him feel every damn stroke, every squeeze of her tight, warm pussy. "Shit, Cherise—" Jey cursed under his breath, his jaw clenching.  "You tryna make me lose my fuckin’ mind, huh?"

She smirked through her whimpers, rolling her hips in slow circles, making his cock drag against her most sensitive spots.  "M-maybe I am…”

Jey grunted, his abs tensing.  "Yeah?  You think you in control, huh, baby?"

Cherise gasped as he grabbed a handful of her ass, smacking it hard, the sound echoing through the room.

"Ahhh fuck—“

"Nah, keep goin’, baby," he muttered, his voice thick, strained. "I wanna see you fuck me...just like that. Make yourself cum on my dick."

Her thighs burned, her breath shuddering, but she did exactly that—rolling, grinding, bouncing on him, faster, deeper, her walls tightening around him.

"Ohhh, fuck—fuck—Jey, I’m—"

Jey groaned, his fingers bruising her waist, forcing her down onto him harder, deeper.  "Yeah, that’s right, pretty girl.  Cum on me."

Her whole body tensed.

A sharp, shattering moan spilled from her lips as her pussy pulsed around him, her orgasm ripping through her so hard her vision blurred.

Jey watched it all, felt it all.

"Fuuuuck, baby girl," he groaned, his eyes dark, watching the way she trembled, the way she soaked his cock, dripping all over his thighs.  "That’s right, baby, look at you… makin’ a whole fuckin’ mess on me."

She could feel it—her slick dripping down his length, wetting his stomach, coating his skin.

And she was still shaking, still sensitive, still gasping for air.

Jey wasn’t done.

He flipped her over onto her stomach, pressing her down against the couch, his cock still deep inside her.

"Nah, baby," he murmured, his lips brushing the back of her neck.  "We ain’t finished yet."

Cherise whimpered, her legs still shaking.  "Jey, I—"

"I got you, pretty girl," he muttered, his voice soft but commanding.  "Just take it."

He pressed back into her. Deep. Slow. Every single thrust dragging against her sensitive, overstimulated pussy, making her cry out, making her body shake.

"Jey—fuck—too much—"

"Nah, baby, you can take it," he groaned, his fingers slipping around her throat, tilting her head back just enough for his lips to brush her ear. "You my good girl, ain’t you?”

Her whole body shuddered.

"Y-yeah—fuck, yes I’m your good girl-“

"That’s right," he murmured, his pace picking up, rougher, deeper.  "Then take this dick just like that."

Cherise let out a high, wrecked moan, her nails clawing at the couch, her body on fire, shaking, so fucking close to breaking.

"You close again, pretty girl?" Jey felt the way her pussy clenched up around him, the way she got even wetter, even sloppier.

"Mhmm—fuck, I’m-!”

"Go ‘head, baby," he grunted, his grip tightening on her throat.  "Lemme feel you cum again.  Gimme one more."

Her orgasm hit her so hard she screamed his name, her body tensing up, her pussy squeezing him tight, shaking uncontrollably as she gushed all over him, soaking the couch, dripping down her thighs.

Jey groaned deep, dark, filthy.

"Goddamn, baby," he muttered, watching the mess she made.  "You just keep squirtin’ on me, huh? My baby girl so nasty huh?”

Cherise couldn’t speak.

She was twitching, whimpering, lost in the pleasure.

Jey was right behind her.

"Fuck, baby—" His grip on her waist tightened, his strokes turning rough, erratic, deep as hell.  "Shit—gimme that nut, baby—take it—"

And then he buried himself deep, groaning loud as he came, filling her up so good she felt it everywhere. He collapsed against her back, his breath ragged, heavy, his arms wrapping around her, holding her close.

Jey’s grip on her waist never loosened.  Even after they both caught their breath, after the sweat cooled between them, after the last tremor of pleasure ran through her legs—he still had her locked in his arms, his chest warm and solid against her back.

Cherise was still floating, her body heavy, satisfied, her cheek resting against Jey’s bare shoulder.  She could feel his heartbeat steady and slow beneath her fingertips.

"You still with me, baby?" Jey murmured, his lips brushing her temple, his voice thick, deep, kinda smug.

Cherise let out a slow breath, her body still boneless and warm.  "Mmm… barely."

Jey chuckled, his grip tightening, his fingers brushing slow circles into her hip.  "That’s what I like to hear."

She rolled her eyes, but she didn’t move.

Didn’t wanna.

And Jey wasn’t letting go either.

For a long moment, they just lay there, tangled in each other, comfortable and quiet, with only the soft hum of the city outside filling the room.

Until Jey, being himself, opened his mouth.

"You know, you ain’t even say thank you."

Cherise’s head shot up, her brows scrunching.  "Huh?"

Jey smirked down at her, looking too damn pleased with himself.  "I mean, I just rocked your lil’ world, baby.  A ‘thank you, Daddy’ would be real nice."

Cherise shoved at his chest, rolling her eyes.  "Oh my God, shut up."

Jey cracked up laughing, gripping her waist before she could wriggle away.  "Aww, c’mon, baby girl.  I’m just sayin’.  Show some appreciation."

Cherise gave him a look. “Boy, I just let you nut in me and you worried about a thank you?"

Jey grinned, biting his lip.  "Mmm, yeah.  That was real generous of you."

She groaned, grabbing a pillow and shoving it in his face.  "You get on my damn nerves, Jey."

Jey just laughed harder, pulling the pillow away and flipping her onto her back, pinning her down.

"You love it, pretty girl," he murmured, his grin softening, his eyes lazily tracing over her face.

Cherise’s stomach flipped.

Because he looked at her different now.  Not just like he wanted her, but like he liked her.  Like he was studying her.

Like he wanted to keep her.

Her heart started beating too fast, so she rolled her eyes again and shoved at his chest.  "You gettin’ real comfortable, huh?"

Jey didn’t move, didn’t even try.  "Mmhmm." He smirked.  "You actin’ like you ain’t just gimme your soul five minutes ago."

Cherise gasped, pushing him harder.  "Jey—shut the hell up!"

Jey was laughing, dropping his forehead against her shoulder, his broad back shaking.  "Aight, aight, baby, I’ll stop.  Damn."

Cherise huffed, but she was smiling now, her fingers brushing over the back of his neck.

Her fingers trailed across his stomach, her nails lightly scratching over the tribal ink that stretched down to his side, tracing every sharp line and intricate detail.

"I always loved your tattoos," she murmured, her voice soft in the quiet. "But I never got a real good look before."

Jey smirked, his voice now in a softer tone. “Yeah? You a fan of ‘em, mama?”

“I think they’re beautiful,” she whispers, dragging her nails up his arm now, following the curve of the ink that stretched over his thick bicep. Her fingers stopped on his bicep, tracing over the butterfly inked inside it.

Jey hummed, his eyes flicking down to where she was touching.  "That one caught your eye, huh?"

"Yeah," Cherise murmured, her thumb brushing over the design.  It stood out from the rest—softer, more delicate than the other bold tribal ink on his body.  "What’s the story behind it?"

Jey was quiet for a beat, his fingers playing with the ends of her braids.

"That one’s personal," he said finally, his voice softer.  "Most of my ink is family shit, tribal heritage… but the butterfly?" He exhaled, his gaze distant.  "That one’s just for me."

Cherise didn’t press. She just traced it again, softer this time.

"The butterfly…" He licked his lips, gazing up at the ceiling like he was choosing his words carefully.  "I got it after a real… rough time in my life. Before I broke out as a singles wrestler, before the Bloodline shit, before everything. I was just… lost."

Cherise listened intently, her fingers still brushing over the ink.

Jey exhaled slowly.

"I had to change.  Had to break out of some old shit, get my mind right.  I told myself I wasn’t gon’ stay stuck in my past, in my own doubts. That I was gon’ transform into the man I wanted to be."

He glanced at her, then back at the ceiling.

"The butterfly’s for that. A reminder that I ain’t that same person no more."

Cherise’s chest tightened.

She understood.

More than he knew.

She was quiet for a moment, then leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to the inked skin.

Jey stilled for a moment.

“You’re somethin’ else you know that right?” he chuckled, shaking his head. “Only you would be the person to get me all sentimental and shit.” Cherise just grinned softly, pressing a kiss to his chest. “Maybe that was my plan all along.”

Jey hummed, his arms tightening around her, his fingers brushing her lower back.

A beat of silence.

Then—

"Aight, baby girl, as much as I love layin’ here wit’ you naked and sweaty, we need to hit that shower ‘fore we get stuck to this couch."

Cherise snorted, smacking his chest.  "Ew, don’t say it like that."

♡

Ten minutes later, they were freshly showered, Cherise in one of her oversized t-shirts, Jey in nothing but his boxers, both curled up in her bed.

Cherise lay on her stomach, twisting a section of her damp braids, while Jey lay on his back, one arm slung over his forehead, the other lazily stroking up and down her back.

"You really just popped up at my job," she murmured, glancing at him.

Jey smirked, eyes half-lidded.  "And?"

Cherise rolled her eyes, biting back a smile.  "And you real bold, Joshua."

Jey grinned, his dimples deep.  "You liked it, though."

She didn’t answer.

Didn’t need to.

He already knew.

After a moment, she shifted, laying her head on his chest, listening to the steady thump of his heartbeat.

Jey’s hand slid into her hair, playing with the braids at the nape of her neck.

They lay there in silence for a minute, just breathing each other in.

"You gon’ let me see you outside the club again?" Jey finally asked, his voice low, careful.

Cherise hesitated, her fingers tracing the ink on his chest.

"Maybe," she murmured. “"I don’t usually do this."

Jey tilted his head, eyes heavy-lidded as he watched her.  "What, let dudes blow your back out then sleep in your bed?"

Cherise burst out laughing, shoving his chest. "Shut up, dumbass."

Jey chuckled, gripping her wrist before she could pull away, pulling her right back where she was.

"That ain’t what I meant," she muttered, biting her lip.

Jey’s fingers hooked beneath her chin, tilting her face up to his.  "Then tell me what you meant, baby."

Cherise hesitated once again.

She didn’t know how to explain it.

How she never really let people get close, how her bed was usually just hers, how she didn’t even let dudes stick around long enough to see her without her stripper persona wrapped around her like armor.

How it felt different with him.

Like her walls weren’t up the way they should’ve been.

Jey must've seen something on her face, because he stroked his thumb along her bottom lip, soft, slow.

"You think too much Cherise,” he murmured, leaning down, brushing his lips against hers.

Cherise exhaled a slow breath, letting herself sink into him, letting herself kiss him back.

This one was different.

Slow.  Deep.  Lazy.

Like they had all the time in the world.

Jey groaned softly into her mouth, his hand slipping under her t-shirt, resting on her bare waist.  Not to start something. Just to feel her.

To keep her right there.

"Mmm," Cherise hummed, her lips brushing his as she pulled back.  "You always this affectionate?"

Jey smirked, his fingers stroking her skin. “Only with girls I like."

Cherise rolled her eyes.  "Mmm. You run game on all your little stripper crushes like this?" Jey chuckled, gripping her hip, squeezing just enough to make her squirm. "Ain’t my fault you special, baby girl," he murmured.

Cherise’s stomach flipped, but she played it off, trailing her fingers over the butterfly on his bicep again.

Jey watched her, his eyes heavy with something unreadable.

"You really like that tattoo, huh?" he murmured.

Cherise shrugged, running her nails lightly over the ink.  "I like what it means to you."

Jey let out a slow breath, gripping her thigh, pulling her even closer.

"You know…you remind me of it.” he said suddenly.

Cherise blinked, tilting her head.  "What?"

Jey smirked, pressing his lips to her temple, lingering there for a beat.

"You the same way, pretty girl," he murmured, his voice low, smooth.  "Tryna act like you ain’t changed, but I bet you ain’t the same girl you was a few years ago, huh?"

Cherise’s breath hitched.

He wasn’t wrong.

She just didn’t think he’d see through her so easily.

She swallowed, her nails grazing his stomach, her voice quieter now.  "And who do you think I am now?"

Jey didn’t answer right away.

Instead, he rolled her onto her back, leaning over her, his body caging hers in, one hand propped by her head, the other still gripping her thigh.

His gaze was steady, unflinching.

"I think you a woman who knows what she wants,” he said, voice low, deep, thick with something that made her heart skip a beat. "I think you smart, I think you strong as hell, I think you way too fine for your own damn good, and I wish you could see yourself the way I see you.”

Cherise bit her lip, her pulse skittering beneath her skin.

Jey smirked, leaning in, his nose brushing hers.

"And I think you vibin’ with me," he murmured, his lips grazing hers.  "Even if you don’t wanna admit it."

Cherise exhaled a slow breath, her fingers sliding into his curls, gripping just enough to make him groan.

"I might be," she whispered.

Jey grinned, kissing her forehead, his hand sliding higher up her thigh.

"Mmm. Guess I’ma have to stick around and find out then, huh?"

Cherise smirked, tugging his face closer.

"Guess so."

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[promiscuousg1rl]

INTRODUCING STRIPPER!READER

STRIPPER!READER who meets dealer!rafe when barry drags him to a strip club one night to celebrate their successful “business”. she’s well-acquainted with barry but for some reason has no idea who rafe is until barry introduces them. he asks her if she can give “country club” a private lap dance.

STRIPPER!READER who is one of the best dancers at the club and it shows in how much money she makes. its caused her to have quite an expensive taste too. while she’s smart with her money she still loves to spoil herself every once in a while; mani pedis, spa-days, shopping strips on the mainland, etc.

STRIPPER!READER who had a strict “no dating customers” policy until rafe came along and swept her off her feet. after the night they met, rafe turned into a man on mission. he started coming to the club without barry, requesting her and only her for private dances. and always ended up paying more than he owed. he became her biggest tipper.

STRIPPER!READER who LOVES the dancing aspect of her job. she used to be a ballerina dancer when she was younger and had hopes of becoming a principal dancer. but unfortunately she was told that she didn’t have what’s known as a “ballet body” and decided to quit. it broke her heart to do so did the idea of being turned down by her dream company.

STRIPPER!READER who gave in to rafe quicker than she thought she would. once rafe showed her that he valued her for more than just her body, the walls she had up fell apart brick by brick. it was her first time letting someone else take care of her for a change and it felt good.

dealer!rafe and stripper!reader meeting for the first time

[hysteria-things]

BIRTHDAY BOY

also based off of this

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: sub!nate x stripper!reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: for his 21st, nate goes to the strip club with his two best friends.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: SMUTTY SMUT, swearing, drinking, semi-public, oral (male receiving), overstimulation, gagging, p in v, handsome/good boy kink, unprotected sex, cream pie

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1,370

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: day THREE of nate week!

let’s pretend that today is yesterday🤫

shoutout to @stellarsturns for the idea <3

boston’s local strip club was the last place nate wanted to go to for his 21st, but chris and matt insisted on bringing him. for understandable reasons, nick decided to stay home and wait for them to get back to have some birthday cake.

this isn’t his scene at all, and to be honest, he’s freaked out. not because of the half-naked girls dancing on poles, but because this isn’t… him.

he wanted to stay at the triplet’s house to celebrate, but according to chris and matt; that was boring.

poor nate got left all alone, watching with wide eyes as the dancer did their thing on the stage in front of him. the other two left and said ‘we’re coming back with a surprise!’ whatever that means.

“nate, dude!” chris slurs loudly over the music, his two friends stumbling back to the table they’re sitting at. “look who we got for you.”

“this is— uh…” matt trails off.

you wave. “cherry.”

“damn straight.” matt says, sipping on his beer. “happy birthday, man. we paid her ahead of time.”

holding your hand out, nate’s silent as he grabs on with his shaky and sweaty one. you can feel that he’s squeezing tight, but he doesn’t notice. you don’t mind, though, and instead start walking to one of the many private rooms. “don’t have too much fun!” chris laughs, cheering until his voice fades.

nate didn’t realize how much his head was pounding until he got into the room, the vibration hurting like crazy. the music is muffled, voices from others outside the door. “sit.” you demand softly, and he does.

he takes a good look at your very revealing two-piece, cash that he assumes is the money chris and matt gave you sits under the strap of your bra. avoiding eye contact, he glances around the room. he’s so intimidated by you, especially when he was standing. you’re much taller than him in those tall heels.

“you’re intimidated.” you point out as if you’re reading his mind.

ain’t that the truth.

taking your acrylic thumb, you graze it over his bottom lip. without thinking, he opens his mouth the tiniest bit. he’s looking at you now, mesmerized by your beauty. “your friends told me it’s your birthday.” you say innocently. “how old are you turning, handsome?”

he clears his throat, stammering syllables before he gets the words out. “t-twenty-one.”

nodding, you hum before straddling his lap, your clothed pussy rubbing on the bulge in his pants. he wants to touch you, but he doesn’t know if he can. your hands run from the sides of his head down to his chest, grinding slowly.

he grunts, rutting his hips subconsciously. “s-sorry.” he stutters, but then does it again. his cheeks are red like a tomato. “i-i’m sorry.”

sighing, you start to leave open-mouthed soft kisses down his neck. he groans, the aching boner rubbing your clit the right way. rutting his hips once more, he whines. “i’m so—”

“it’s highly against the rules to fuck customers.” you say between kisses. “but because you’re the birthday boy… i’ll make you an exception.”

you hover on the ground, licking and biting your lips as you stare into his pleading eyes while you unbuckle his pants.

there’s already a wet spot forming through his calvin klein’s. he’s just about cumming in his underwear already. “aw, pretty boy. you’re already making a mess in your boxers.” you tease innocently.

when you start to kiss his hard-on, he jolts from the sensitivity. his hands rush to the hem, pulling down the remains of his bottoms in a whine.

so needy.

his dick is red, the hardness of it looking painful the more you stare at it. you lick the pre-cum from his slit, pumping your hand and swallowing the amount you can fit in your mouth.

lolling his head back, his mouth hangs open from the warmth. god blessed you with no gag reflex, so this is going to be a piece of cake. his eyes roll back each time you bob down.

your throat morphs into the shape of him, gulping as your saliva moistens his base. you notice his nails claw at his thigh. he wants to grip your hair, but he also doesn’t want to hurt you.

to tease him, you moan to send some vibration throughout his body. he thrusts up into your mouth from the suddenness, but you keep going.

the softness of his hips moving upward has him moaning like a mess. “oh, fuck. oh, fuck.”

his dick twitches, pelvis shuttering before shooting his load down your throat. that doesn’t stop you, though. “w-wait.” he whines, trying to push your head away. you don’t budge.

in fact, you move back to his tip, kitty-licking the rest of his cum off of it before spitting. his breath hitches, legs quivering from the feeling. your plump lips move to the side of his dick, sloppily licking the remains of his orgasm that dripped down.

angling yourself differently, you take him to the point where all of him now fits in your mouth.

“wait!” he cries again, eyes becoming watery. “it’s t-too sensitive.”

even though he’s complaining, he takes each side of your head and guides you nice and deep on his cock; nose touching his pubic bone. “it hurts.” he whimpers, forcing your head to go faster.

nate feels so pathetic because of how fast his second orgasm approaches. he’s squirming and twitching like crazy.

“i’m going to cum again.” he pants, hooded eyes looking into your doe-like ones.

a few gulps later, you stay put on his dick while his spurts of cum land on your tastebuds. it’s still coming out of his slit when you take your mouth off with a pop noise.

you get up from the floor, his eyes staring at what your hands are doing as he catches his breath. you reach for the front clip on your bra, take it off, and let it fall to the floor.

then, you remove your panties, bunching them into a ball. his mouth dangles open in complete awe with your body.

you take your time to walk over and lean over him, smirking when all he seems to look at is your breasts. “you’ve been too noisy.” you state. “i think somebody needs to be gagged.”

before he can answer, you shove your panties into his mouth. you start to sit on his dick, nate’s panting getting more intense the further down you go.

you moan lowly, lifting yourself to the tip and plopping back down. he sniffles, you continuing those actions. you run your hands through his hair, looking at his face of pleasure each time you bounce.

the sound of your ass slapping against his thighs is covering up his muffled whimpers and moans. tears stream down his cheeks, a choked sob flowing through the panties blocking his lips.

“you’re so handsome.” you coo, the eye contact turning you on even more as you wipe the tears. his blue orbs are dark, the lids fluttering closed at how your bare pussy feels.

you can’t help but moan as well from the squelching noise that portrays. the tips of your fingers run through his hair, peppering kisses on his jawline. “you want to be a good boy for me?” you ask.

he nods frantically. “uh huh.”

“be a good boy and cum for me, yeah?” you say, moving faster, causing you to squeal when your g-spot gets hit. your dominance is starting to slip. “you-you have too much of a handsome face.”

his eyes widen when he figures out what you mean by that, but he doesn’t care. he grabs your hips and starts to thrust into you, the both of you whining as you reach your highs. “that’s right, handsome. c-cum in me.”

“mhm.” he moans, following your instructions.

you keep going until you collapse on top of him, removing your underwear from his mouth. grabbing the money his friends gave you, you hold it up and get off of his lap. he’s trying to catch his breath when you put your foot next to his leg to hunch over.

“free of charge.” you smile. “happy birthday.”

𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

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[memoiresofaneternaldreamer]

Midnight Bloom

Pairing: The Hermit! Seungmin x Dancer! Reader

Themes: Smut | Strangers to ? | Crime Syndicate AU

Wordcount: 5.8K

Playlist: 'Chimera' - HANA

Smut Warnings: Explicit sexual acts - Mutual masturbation - Thigh riding - Use of pet names - Slight degradation - Slight Dom!Seungmin

This story is intended for an adult audience only. Minors do not interact.

Previous chapter: Celestial Sin - The Lovers

The city was supposed to be your golden ticket, a place where dreams were spun into reality. You had arrived with a guitar strapped to your back, a suitcase filled with more hope than money, and the conviction that you would make it. But dreams, you learned, were expensive, and conviction didn’t pay the bills.

For months, you juggled odd jobs—barista, cashier, hostess at a seedy little diner—anything to keep you afloat while chasing auditions and open mic nights. But one by one, those gigs slipped through your fingers. The barista job went when a corporate chain opened next door. The cashier job cut your hours until you couldn’t afford to stay. And the diner? Well, that one ended last night, when your manager decided he could get handsy, and you decided to throw a pot of scalding coffee in his lap.

Your rent was overdue three weeks, and your landlord’s final notice lay on your tiny bedside table like a death sentence. Your phone buzzed beside it, a call from Mina lighting up the screen.

“Tell me you’re not still in bed.”

You groaned, rubbing your eyes. “Mina, it’s barely noon.”

“Exactly. Which means you should be up looking for a job.”

“I am looking for a job,” you lied, staring at the ceiling. “Manifesting one right now.”

Mina snorted. “You manifest a job the way I manifest a boyfriend—poorly.” She hesitated, and you could hear the shift in her tone. “Listen, I might have something for you. It’s… unconventional.”

You sat up, wary. “If you’re about to suggest OnlyFans—”

“Oh, please. You’re too much of a control freak. No, I was thinking something a little different.”

You frowned. “Mina.”

She hesitated. “You know where I work.”

You did. Vaguely. Mina never flaunted it, never dragged you into conversations about it, but you knew she was comfortable, lived well, and never seemed to regret her choices. “The club?”

“The Garden,” she corrected. “And before you say no, just listen. It’s not some sleazy backroom joint. It’s exclusive. Private. Everyone wears masks, even the girls, and no one touches you without permission. The money is insane. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. Just dance.”

You ran a hand through your hair, exhausted. “Mina, I don’t even know how to work a pole.”

“You don’t need to. You already dance. You already perform. You’ll pick it up fast.” There was a pause. “Look, I wouldn’t suggest this if I thought it was a bad idea. I know you. You have standards. This place does, too.”

Your stomach twisted. You had always prided yourself on finding another way. On holding onto your pride. But pride didn’t pay rent. Pride didn’t fill your fridge. And you were tired—tired of fighting, tired of struggling, tired of clawing your way through a city that didn’t seem to want you.

“I don’t know…”

“Come on, just meet with the manager. If you hate it, walk away. No pressure.”

Your bank account balance flashed in your mind—$34.76. Your landlord’s final notice wouldn’t manifest itself into rent money. You exhaled sharply.

“Fine. I’ll meet her.”

Mina whooped. “That’s my girl! I’ll text you the details. Wear something cute.”

The Garden wasn’t what you expected. Tucked away in the heart of the city, it looked more like a high-end lounge than a strip club. The entrance was discreet, a sleek black door with a brass plaque etched with the name The Garden in elegant cursive. Inside, the air smelled like vanilla and something darker—something decadent.

A woman met you at the bar. She was dressed in all black, her sharp features unreadable.

“Mina speaks highly of you,” she said, eyes assessing. “You have experience performing?”

You nodded. “I dance. I sing. I’ve done stage work.”

“Pole?”

You hesitated. “Not yet.”

The woman smiled slightly. “You’ll learn.” She motioned for you to follow her further into the club. “The rules are simple. No real names, no personal details. You’ll choose a nymph name—Persephone’s court. We protect our dancers, and you control your performances. You strip as much as you’re comfortable with. No one touches you unless you allow it. If you ever feel unsafe, you walk away.”

It sounded… surreal. You expected something grimier, something desperate. But this? This was control. This was money. This was a way out.

“What’s my name?” you asked, pulse thrumming as the manager handed you a purple mask.

The woman smiled. “Ianthe.”

And just like that, you became someone new.

The first official night was a blur of nerves and adrenaline. You weren’t the best, not yet, but you knew how to move, how to hold an audience’s attention. The pole was foreign, but the music was not. You kept your boundaries, stripping only as far as you were comfortable, and to your surprise, no one pushed. The customers were eager but controlled, appreciative rather than entitled. When the night ended, you had more money than you had seen in months.

It was supposed to be just one night.

But one night turned into another.

And another.

You never expected to enjoy it. But in a way, you did. The thrill of performance, the anonymity of the mask, the way the world blurred into a haze of music and movement. The money was good—more than good. For the first time in a long time, you weren’t drowning.

You fell into the rhythm of The Garden quicker than you had expected.

What had begun as a desperate solution had become something familiar, something steady. Your schedule was set, your performances fluid, your movements more confident with each passing night. You moved through its velvet-lined corridors like you belonged, like you had always belonged. The dancers—Callisto, Thalia, Eurydice—had welcomed you in their own ways, offering tips and knowing glances. Customers came and went—some lingering longer than others—but all of them knew the rules. The Garden wasn’t a place for sloppy, drunken hands or crude demands. It was a playground for the wealthy, a sanctuary for indulgence and restraint intertwined.

And they watched you.

Some were expected—the older men in tailored suits, businessmen looking for a distraction with wallets fat enough to demand attention, lonely men with too much time and not enough warmth, younger ones pretending to be older, and older ones pretending to be young.

But one customer stood out.

You noticed him the first time by accident. You had been performing, body swaying to the slow, sultry beat of the music, when you felt it—the weight of an unwavering gaze. It was nothing new; you were used to being observed, scrutinized even. But this was different. His stare wasn’t leering, nor was it detached like those who watched simply because you were there. His focus was precise, deliberate. It sent a shiver down your spine.

But when you finished and made your usual rounds through the club, he was nowhere to be found.

You lingered longer than necessary, greeting patrons, and taking your time with the regulars who had learned to appreciate your boundaries. There was the IT mogul, a silver-haired gentleman who tipped generously and never asked for more than conversation. Then there was the Parisian, a man in his fifties who liked to pretend he was much younger, always eager for a private dance but respectful enough never to push. You indulged them, letting their hands rest on yours, laughing at their harmless flirtations, all while keeping an eye out for the man who had been watching you.

But he was gone.

Mina caught on quickly. She always did.

“You’ve got yourself a mystery man,” Mina’s voice cut through your thoughts as you lounged backstage, sipping water between sets. She perched beside you, looking effortlessly radiant in her barely-there ensemble, her mask pushed up to rest on her forehead for a moment.

You rolled your eyes. “He’s just another customer.”

“Oh, please,” Mina smirked, eyes glinting with amusement. “I’ve been here long enough to know the difference between a casual customer and whatever the hell he is.”

You rolled your eyes, but her words stuck with you.

She leaned in closer. “You know the manager knows him, right?”

That made you pause. “What?”

“They never talk much, but she acknowledges him. Which means he’s important. Rich, maybe. Maybe he owns the whole damn place.” Mina nudged you playfully. “Wouldn’t that be something? Our little Ianthe catching the eye of The Garden’s owner.”

You laughed softly at the idea, shaking your head. “You’ve been watching too many dramas.”

Mina winked before slipping off her stool and grinning. “Uh-huh. Keep telling yourself that, Ianthe.”

The rhythm of the club became routine. Nights blurred together in a swirl of music, silk, and whispered propositions. The money flowed easily, and for the first time in a long time, you didn’t have to worry about rent, food, surviving. You weren’t just keeping your head above water—you were swimming.

And then, one night, everything changed.

You had just finished a set, the heat of the stage lights still clinging to your skin, when the manager approached you. Her gaze was unreadable, her posture relaxed but firm.

“A guest has requested a private room,” she said. “He specifically asked for you.”

You barely blinked. You had been requested before—it was nothing new. Some men preferred to watch, others preferred more direct entertainment. It was part of the job.

Still, something prickled at your skin, a whisper of anticipation curling in your stomach. “Which guest?”

She didn’t answer; she just tilted her head toward the hallway that led to the private rooms.

You took a breath and followed.

As you made your way through the dimly lit hallway, the hush of the main floor faded behind you. The private rooms were different—smaller, more intimate. A single platform with a pole for dancers stood in the centre, plush seating arranged around it in a way that made it feel personal rather than transactional.

You stepped inside, the door clicking shut behind you.

And then, you saw him.

The stranger from the shadows, now sitting comfortably on one of the benches surrounding the lone pole at the center of the room. His suit was dark, his posture relaxed, but his eyes—those same intense eyes that had watched you for weeks—followed your every move.

You hesitated, just for a moment, before stepping forward, keeping your mask securely in place.

“I suppose I should be flattered,” you said lightly, letting your fingers skim along the length of your torso. “I was wondering if you’d ever request me.”

He didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he watched you, his gaze never faltering. Then, finally—

“I wanted to see you up close.”

It was an expected answer, but something about the way he said it made your breath catch. Not crude. Not demanding. Just... certain. His voice was smooth, low but not imposing. A beat of silence stretched between you. He made no move to touch you, no move to beckon you closer, and yet his presence was magnetic. His aura wasn’t suffocating or lecherous like some of the others—it was controlled, powerful in a way you couldn’t quite place.

You stepped onto the platform, the cool metal of the pole grounding you. The music started, slow and rhythmic, and you let yourself move—not just to entice, but to feel. You had grown used to how men watched you, but this was different. He wasn’t just watching your body—he was watching you.

Between movements, you dared to meet his gaze. “What should I call you?”

His lips curled into the ghost of a smirk. “I think the better question is—what should I call you?”

“Ianthe.” Even though you were used to it by now, uttering it out loud still felt foreign all the same—a persona that wasn’t quite you but close enough.

He nodded slowly. “Ianthe.”

Your pulse quickened. It was how he said your stage name, slowly, like he was savouring it, rolling it over his tongue to see how it felt. Your mask shielded you, but somehow, you felt exposed under his stare.

The dance continued, the space between you thick with something unspoken.

By the time the music slowed to a stop, you were breathless—not just from the performance, but from the weight of his attention. You met his gaze again, trying to decipher the quiet storm behind his eyes.

“I suppose I’ll be seeing more of you,” you mused as you stepped down from the platform.

His smirk deepened just slightly. “Perhaps.”

And just like that, you knew—this was only the beginning.

Something shifts after that first private performance.

The stranger still keeps his distance on the public floor. He remains in the shadows, watching you with that same quiet intensity, and he still disappears the moment your performances end. But now, he calls for you—again and again.

Private room. Your name. No substitutions.

At first, you try to ignore the way your stomach twists when the request comes in and try to treat him like any other customer. But he isn’t like the others. His attention is too sharp, too measured. He doesn’t gawk, doesn’t leer. He watches as if he’s learning something about you with every movement, every note in your voice.

And despite your best efforts, your walls begin to crack.

The first few private dances are much like the first. He stays seated, his posture always composed, his eyes always on you. He doesn’t touch, doesn’t speak unless you do first. But when he does, it’s with that low, steady voice that makes the air between you feel heavier than it should.

“You’re different when you dance.”

You circle the pole, dragging your fingers along the cool metal, letting the tension coil in your body as you sway. “That’s the point, isn’t it?”

“Is it?” There’s no amusement in his voice, just curiosity, like he genuinely wants to know. “Are you pretending?”

You pause mid-turn, catching his gaze through your mask. “Aren’t we all?”

Something flickers in his expression, something you can’t quite name. You don’t wait for him to respond—you move again, rolling your hips to the slow beat, letting the music wrap around you.

But the more time you spend in these private rooms with him, the more you find yourself slipping. You reveal more—not just with your body when you finally bare your breasts to him, but with your words. He asks small, precise questions, and somehow, you answer them.

“How long have you been in the city?”

“Two years.”

“Why stay?”

“Because I have to.”

He never asks for more than you’re willing to give. But still, you give.

And then, one night, you finally learn his name.

There was something about the way he watched you, something that made you feel like you weren’t just another performer. Like he saw something more than just a body swaying to the music.

“What should I call you?” you asked one night, mid-performance, emboldened by how he had begun to lean forward, his elbows resting on his knees.

His lips quirked into a barely-there smile. “You tell me, Ianthe.”

“That’s not an answer.”

He exhaled, a quiet amusement threading through his expression. “Seungmin.”

The name settles between you like a secret. You repeat it, soft but deliberate. “Seungmin.”

For the first time, his lips curve—just barely. But it’s there.

Mina notices the shift before you do.

She corners you in the dressing room one night, her arms crossed, an unreadable expression on her face.

“You’re different.”

You scoff, adjusting the ties on your lingerie. “I’m making good money. Maybe I’m just happier.”

“It’s not that.” Mina steps closer, her voice dropping. “It’s him.”

You roll your eyes. “Mina—”

“I’m serious.” She softens, reaching out to lace her fingers through yours. “I know you, babe. I know how you keep your distance. But you’re letting him in.”

You glance at her, searching for the right words. She isn’t wrong. You just don’t know what to do about it.

“I know what I’m doing,” you say finally, squeezing her hand before pulling away. “It’s just business.”

Mina doesn’t look convinced. But she doesn’t push. Not yet.

She does push a few nights later.

Mina is heading out of a private room when she passes by yours. You’re not inside yet; still due on stage in a few minutes. But the door is slightly ajar, and she hears voices.

She stops, just for a moment, and listens.

“…profits are steady.” The voice is female—your manager.

“Good. I want the reports by the end of the week.” Seungmin.

Mina’s brows furrow, but she stays still.

“Vendors have been settled, but the new shipment is delayed. It should arrive soon.” your manager continues. “Mostly thanks to certain… interventions from The Hermit.”

There’s a pause before Seungmin replies. “Good.”

Mina strains to hear more as she tenses, but the noise outside drowns out their conversation. Still, she’s heard enough. The Syndicate owns the Garden. She had always known this place was backed by powerful figures, but hearing it confirmed like this sent a shiver down her spine. Not only that, but now she knows that Seungmin isn’t just another customer. He’s connected somehow.

And she doesn’t like it.

She keeps this information to herself for the next few days, watching you closely from the shadows. You seem lighter, more at ease when Seungmin is around, but she sees the way he affects you, the way you hesitate when his name comes up, the way you search for him in the crowd. And she doesn’t like that either.

So when another request comes in—another private dance, another night in that secluded room—Mina pulls you into a darkened corner right before you can go in.

“Listen,” she whispers, urgency laced in her voice. “I need to tell you something.”

You sigh, adjusting your mask. “Mina, I—”

“It’s about him.” She grips your arm, eyes glancing at the door before forcing your gaze to meet hers. “He’s not just some guy, okay? I heard him talking to the manager a couple of days ago. He knows things—things about the club. About the business. About The Syndicate.”

You blink, thrown off by the seriousness in her tone. “What are you saying?”

“I don’t know yet. But I don’t trust it.” She exhales sharply. “And I don’t think you should either.”

You open your mouth to respond, but the call comes—your name over the speakers, signalling your time is up.

You hesitate, just for a second. Then, you pull away from Mina’s grip and shake your head. “I have to go.”

She looks like she wants to stop you, to say more, but she doesn’t.

And so you go—to him.

To Seungmin.

But you should have known the shadows don't keep secrets for long.

The moment you step into the private room, your eyes land on him immediately.

Seungmin.

He greets you with nothing but a look—intense, unreadable, but something about it is different tonight. There’s a tension rolling over his shoulders, something tight coiled beneath his usual composed demeanour. To anyone else, he might look the same as always: relaxed, leaning into the plush seating, his posture giving nothing away. But you’ve learned to read him, to decipher the smallest changes. The slight shift of his fingers as they drum against the seat cushion. The way his jaw clenches, just briefly, before smoothing over again.

Something is off.

You try to ground yourself, to ignore the sudden weight pressing into your chest, the whisper of danger suddenly stifling the air.

The music starts, a slow, intoxicating melody that seeps into your skin, pulling you back to the performance. This is where you excel, where you thrive. The weight of the outside world, of unspoken words and lingering questions, fades as you let your body take over.

Seungmin watches you like he always does, but tonight, his gaze is heavier, sharper. It burns against your skin, branding you in ways that make your breath hitch. You twirl around the pole, your hands gliding along your own body, teasing both yourself and him.

“You’re distracted.” His voice cuts through the haze, the deep timbre curling around you.

You blink, not missing a beat in your movements, though for a fraction of a second, your balance wavers. “Am I?”

He tilts his head slightly, his dark eyes unwavering. “You are.”

You don’t know how he does it—how he always manages to read you so easily when you can barely read him at all. You force a soft smile, letting your fingers trail down your thighs as you move, shaking Mina’s words from your head. “I’m just tired.”

His lips curve just a little, but it isn’t in amusement. “You expect me to believe that?”

You meet his gaze then, something defiant sparking in your chest. “Does it matter?”

A quiet pause. Then, “No.” But the way he says it—low, almost thoughtful—tells you that’s a lie.

You exhale shakily as the moment stretches between you, thick and heavy. You let yourself sink into the music again, forcing everything else to the back of your mind. If Seungmin is tied to The Garden, if he is something more than just a customer, then what does it really matter? You don’t have answers yet and won’t ask for them either. Because if there’s one thing you’ve learned, it’s that Seungmin will only reveal what he wants to, when he wants to.

And right now, it seems he wants something else entirely.

As your fingers tease the clasp of your bra, letting the delicate fabric slip from your shoulders, you catch it. The hard bulge pressing against the front of his pants.

Heat floods through you.

You’re not naïve—You’ve always known he finds you attractive—he wouldn’t be here otherwise—but Seungmin is a man of control, a master at hiding his impulses. Yet tonight, something is different.

He isn’t hiding it.

Or maybe, he doesn’t want to.

Something in you shifts. The power you feel at this discovery is intoxicating. Your own desire has never been in question—you’ve left this room more than once with damp panties and restless frustration. But this? This feels different. It feels like an opportunity.

So you test it.

Your movements become slower, more deliberate. You let your hands ghost over your breasts, your fingers grazing your sensitive nipples as your hips roll with precision. You take your time, watching his every reaction, every flicker of his expression. And there it is again—the tightening of his jaw, the faintest twitch of his fingers resting on his thigh.

Not enough.

You want more.

And so, emboldened by your own rising desire, you do something you’ve never done before. Not for anyone.

Turning your back to him, you hook your thumbs under the thin straps of your panties and, with an agonizing slowness, you slide them down your legs. You bend, giving him an unobstructed view of your bare, glistening core, knowing precisely what he’s seeing.

The hitch in his breath is unrestrained. Uncontrolled.

Got him.

A slow, victorious smile curves your lips as you straighten, turning to face him. He’s still composed—just barely—but the shift is undeniable. His control is slipping. His hand has moved, no longer resting idly on his leg. Now, it’s in his lap, palming his hardened cock over his tailored slacks.

His eyes are darker, pupils blown wide, fixed on you like you’re something dangerous. Like you’re something he wants.

The space between you is charged, buzzing with an unspoken challenge. You step off the platform, moving towards him, completely bare now, feeling more powerful than ever before.

His fingers twitch as he squeezes again, and you almost expect him to stop you. But he doesn’t.

So you push further.

Straddling his lap, you settle yourself over him, close enough that you can feel the heat from his crotch against your bare skin.

You lean in, your lips close to his ear. “What do you want from me, Seungmin?”

His fingers grab hold of your hips in response. He doesn’t answer immediately, his breath warm against your naked shoulder. When he finally speaks, his voice is lower than before, rougher, laced with something dangerous and wanting all at once.

“Are you sure you want to know?”

The words send a thrill through you, igniting something deep in your core. There’s no doubt now—no second-guessing. Whatever has been building between you both has reached a point of no return.

Your breathless “Yes” barely leaves your lips before Seungmin is on you.

His mouth crashes against yours in a kiss so deep, so consuming, it knocks every lingering thought from your head. It’s bruising, raw, his lips parting yours with ease as his tongue sweeps against yours, pulling you deeper into him. His hands grip your hips tightly, fingers digging in as he drags you closer, pressing your bare body against his fully clothed frame. The contrast is dizzying—the warmth of his body seeping through the fabric, the friction setting every inch of your skin ablaze.

You fist his hair, tugging just enough to earn a low groan from him, the sound vibrating against your lips. Your other hand clutches his shoulder, feeling the flex of muscle beneath his suit, the sheer power coiled beneath his perfect composure.

Your hips move instinctively, grinding against him, desperate for friction. You don’t even realize how lost you are in the moment until Seungmin suddenly shifts, adjusting your position with ease. A moment later, you’re no longer straddling his lap, but perched on just one of his thighs instead.

The new position sends a shock of heat through you, and you gasp against his lips at the sudden pressure of his tight muscle against your aching clit. Seungmin pulls back from the kiss slightly, his breath hot against your mouth as he murmurs, “Ride my thigh, doll.”

Your stomach tightens at the command, the heat pooling within your core. You swallow hard, but something keeps you still—a hesitation that isn’t like you. Seungmin notices immediately. Of course, he does.

His fingers flex against your waist, firm but coaxing. “Don’t make me repeat it.” There’s a teasing lilt in his tone, but beneath it, something darker—a threat.

Your breath hitches. Slowly, hesitantly, you start to move.

The first slow drag of your slick folds against his pants makes your breath catch in your throat. The friction against your clit is sharp, teasing, just enough to make you whimper softly. Seungmin exhales sharply, his grip tightening.

“That’s it, doll.” His voice is low, almost reverent. “Look at you. Already making a mess of me.”

You shudder, but you don’t stop.

Your movements become bolder, each grind more desperate, chasing the pleasure coiling tighter inside you. The fabric of his trousers beneath your pussy is damp now, soaked with your arousal, and when you roll your hips particularly hard, Seungmin lets out a quiet, satisfied hum.

“Fuck,” he groans, his hands squeezing your hips as he watches you move. “So fucking wet, doll. You feel that?”

You nod, biting your lip. You feel everything—the heat of his thigh between your legs, the way his pants are now sticking to his skin from your slick, the way every grind makes your clit throb harder.

You’re unravelling. And the worst part is that he knows it.

His voice drops lower, rough and teasing. “You’re soaked. Desperate little thing, aren’t you?”

You let out a choked moan, your thighs clenching around him. Seungmin smirks, his fingers guiding your movements, making you grind down harder. But it’s not enough.

You slow your pace, meeting his gaze through heavy lashes. “Take it out. Please.”

His jaw flexes at your request, something dark flickering in his eyes, but then he moves. His hands leave your hips, undoing his belt, his fingers working with practised ease. The sound of his zipper lowering fills the thick silence before he finally reaches in, pulling himself free.

Your breath hitches in your throat at the view.

Seungmin’s cock is thick, flushed, the tip already glistening with the first drops of precum. He wraps his hand around himself and strokes once, twice, his breath growing uneven as his gaze stays locked on yours.

“Keep going,” he murmurs. “I want to see you come like this.”

You obey.

Rolling your hips, you find your rhythm again, your slick folds dragging against his thigh as he watches you with hooded eyes. The sight of him stroking himself, matching your movements, sends another rush of arousal through you. His hand tightens around his cock, and he groans low in his throat.

The pace builds. You move faster, rocking against him, gasping as pleasure sparks through every nerve. Seungmin grips your waist again with his free hand, his fingers pressing bruises into your skin. “That’s it, doll. Fuck yourself on me.”

Your whimper is near desperate now. Every grind drags you closer, the pressure unbearable. And then, his voice, dark and commanding— “Touch yourself.”

A shiver runs down your spine, but you obey again, slipping a hand between your legs. The second your fingers find your clit, you cry out, pleasure slamming into you like a tidal wave.

“Fuck—”

Seungmin’s groan is wrecked, his strokes turning rougher as he watches you fall apart. “That’s my girl.”

You’re spiralling now, grinding against him with reckless desperation, your fingers circling your clit, the pleasure cresting higher, higher—until finally, it snaps.

A strangled moan rips from your throat as your orgasm crashes over you. Your body trembles, thighs shaking as wave after wave of pleasure washes over you. Seungmin watches every second of it, his gaze dark and hungry as you come apart on top of him.

Through the haze, you hear him curse, his grip on his cock tightening. His strokes turn erratic, his breathing ragged. Then, with a sharp inhale, his jaw clenches, and his body goes rigid.

“Fuck,” he groans, his head tipping back as his release spills over his fingers.

Your body is still humming, the remnants of pleasure leaving you heavy-limbed and breathless. Seungmin exhales deeply, his head tilted back against the couch, his fingers still curled loosely around his softening length, streaked with his own release. Then, with practised ease, he tucks himself back into his pants, the quiet sound of his zipper breaking the silence between you.

You blink slowly, reality creeping back in as you shift, your legs weak as you carefully move off his lap. His warmth leaves you too quickly, making you feel bare, vulnerable. You settle beside him on the couch, wrapping your arms around yourself, watching him as he adjusts his clothes.

Now. Now would be the time to ask.

You hesitate before speaking, your voice softer than you mean it to be. “Seungmin.”

He doesn’t immediately respond, straightening his cuffs, his expression unreadable. But you see it—the small flicker in his eyes that tells you he knows what’s coming.

You tread carefully. “Can I ask you something?”

This time, his gaze finally meets yours. It’s softer now, the sharpness from before mellowed, but there’s something distant in the way he looks at you. “You can ask.”

You chew on your bottom lip for a moment before speaking again. “What do you do outside of this?” Your tone is light, casual, but intentional. “I don’t see you with the other dancers. You don’t act like other clients. You don’t even look at anyone but me.”

He doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he shifts forward, resting his elbows on his knees, hands clasped loosely together. “You’re not asking what I do,” he muses, voice low. “You’re asking who I am.”

A beat of silence. Then—“Maybe.”

His lips twitch, almost like he wants to smirk, but it doesn’t quite happen. “And if I told you I’m just a man who enjoys watching you?”

You exhale, rolling your eyes slightly. “I’d say that’s bullshit.”

He chuckles, but it’s quiet, brief. “Would you?”

“Yes.” You shift slightly, watching him. “I know when someone is lying to me.”

Seungmin hums, tilting his head as he finally looks at you again. The air between you is charged, but not as it was before. There’s something unspoken hanging there, something he’s waiting for you to let go of.

You hesitate, then try again. “Mina told me something today.”

At that, his jaw tightens—so subtly you almost miss it.

Bingo.

“She’s worried about me,” you continue, watching him closely. “She thinks you might be someone I should be careful around.”

Seungmin doesn’t react at first. He breathes, slow and steady, as if weighing his words carefully. Then, finally, he straightens, standing from the couch.

The shift in his demeanour is subtle but noticeable. Where there was warmth, there is now a cool distance. Not cold—not regretful—but something else entirely. Something like a retreat.

You watch as he adjusts his jacket, his expression calm, unruffled. The same Seungmin you always see. The one who never gives away more than he wants to. The one you can never quite pin down. The enigma.

“You should listen to her,” he says finally, his voice quieter now. “Mina is a good friend.”

Your stomach tightens. “That’s not an answer.”

“It’s the only one I’m giving.”

There it is. The wall. The carefully constructed barrier he’s so skilled at building between himself and the rest of the world.

You don’t push. You could—you could demand, press further, chase the truth he so obviously doesn’t want to give. But something tells you that if you do, he’ll disappear entirely.

So you let it go. For now.

Seungmin watches you for a moment longer before stepping closer. You don’t move as he leans in, his lips pressing softly against your forehead. It’s gentle, intimate in a way that somehow holds more weight than the heat you shared moments ago.

When he pulls back, his gaze is unreadable again, but his voice is warm. “I’ll see you again soon, doll.”

And just like that, he turns, heading for the door. You watch him leave, something twisting deep in your chest as the door clicks shut behind him.

The silence is deafening.

You exhale, running a hand through your hair as you finally move to your feet. The events of the last hour settle over you like a weight, leaving you dizzy, uncertain. You should be getting dressed, but your mind is elsewhere, your thoughts too tangled to focus.

Then—something catches your eye.

Something small, matte black, tucked into the crease of the couch where Seungmin had been sitting.

Frowning, you reach for it, fingers brushing against the sleek surface. When you turn it over, your breath catches.

A tarot card.

The gold lettering gleams under the dim lighting, the illustration strikingly familiar.

The Hermit.

Realization slams into you like a forceful wave, knocking the breath from your lungs.

You stare at the card, your heart pounding, your grip tightening around it as everything clicks into place.

Seungmin hadn’t dodged your questions.

He had answered them.

A/N: Soooooo, chapter 5 of The Syndicate is officially finished. What did y'all think of it? I tried to emulate Seungmin as The Hermit as well as I could, and hope some questions have been answered. 💟

Send me your thoughts - feedback/fangirling is always welcome.

taglist: @hanjisungs-bitch66 - @smartie-pants - @inniesfanblog - @skzittomebabyuhhuhx3 - @skzthelomlhehe - @tirena1 - @sp4ceboo - @hanniebunch

(Collage created by me. Credits to owners of the pictures taken from Pinterest)

[wordpress-blaze-219959775]

What If the Only Thing Stopping You Is You?

There’s a beautiful park here in Rome.

I often go there when I need to take a break, when my thoughts feel cluttered, and I get the sense that I can’t see things clearly. This morning, after hours in front of the computer, I put on my sneakers and stepped outside.

Walking is one of those simple things that seem insignificant, but in reality, they make all the difference. The body moves, the breath steadies, the feet find a rhythm, and before I even realize it, my thoughts start falling into place. Spring amplifies everything—the air feels lighter, the branches fill with new leaves, and there’s that sweet scent in the air that makes you slow down, look around with curiosity.

And it was precisely while walking, with the sun filtering through the trees, that a thought came to me: how often do we stop ourselves out of fear of making mistakes? How many times do we stay still, waiting for the perfect moment that never comes? And what if, instead, we tried to see things from a different perspective?

Just like how changing paths, even slightly, makes the park look different—and with it, everything else.

Success, whatever it means to each of us, doesn’t depend on talent or luck, but on how we choose to face challenges, on the courage to keep going even when we feel unsure of which way to turn. When my husband and I decided to start our business, we had no idea what we were doing. We came from completely different backgrounds, with no experience in entrepreneurship, no perfect plan—just the willingness to try. We made mistakes, of course, more than once. We faced difficulties, made the wrong decisions. But we didn’t stop. And that’s what makes the difference.

The fear of making mistakes is one of the most dangerous traps—it stops us, makes us postpone, keeps us stuck waiting for the right moment that, in reality, doesn’t exist. If you make the right decision, great, you’ve taken a step forward. If you make the wrong one, just as good, because you’ll have learned something valuable for next time. The problem isn’t making mistakes—it’s staying still.

So, what do you do when you feel stuck? Step outside, change your perspective, find a way to break the loop of thoughts spinning endlessly in your mind. Take action, even if you don’t feel ready, because no one ever really feels ready. Learn to see mistakes not as failures, but as part of the process. And above all, stop focusing on problems and start looking for solutions.

There were times when everything felt too difficult, when challenges piled up one after another, and we asked ourselves why we had even started. But it was in those very moments that we realized the most important thing was to pause, take a breath, and remember why we had begun in the first place.

Success is not a destination—it’s a journey. And the only real mistake is stopping.

Looking back now, I realize that the hardest moments were the ones that took us the farthest. Because they forced us to grow, to find new ways forward, to become stronger. And maybe, in the end, life is exactly that—a long walk. The secret is to keep moving.

Source: What If the Only Thing Stopping You Is You?

[hope-you-brought-kneepads-bitch]

Club Fun

A/n: this is a draft that I’ve had for a while and I just kept putting it off posting because I wasn’t sure I liked it but I wanted to put it out and see what other people think 💕 thanks for reading I appreciate it 💕

(This also isn’t proofread at all soooo I’m sorry for any mistakes)

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, adult themes and Nat being a pain in the ass

"Come on Y/n how bad could a gentleman's club be?" Nat pushed you through the doors even with you groaning and pushing back against her

"Nat I have a literal alien in my body and I don't know what will set them off" you felt a grumble in your head

"I am not a prepubescent teenager Y/n I am sophisticated"

"Only because you can't survive without me out of my body" you grumbled back and Nat really wished she could understand what you were saying to the alien

You looked up and sighed "okay let's go in"

Nat smiled wide and guided you through the small hallway to the second bouncer "hey we're Nat and Y/n, we have a table booked under Tony Stark?"

The man looked you both over the at the list seeing your names and allowing you past "please keep your hands to yourselves and don't try and get any dancer's numbers because they'll just laugh at you" he laughed and you rolled your eyes turning to Nat

"does he think we're kids? Pretty sure I can control myself around some scantily clad women"

Nat scoffed "talk about yourself Y/n, I see a hot woman staring at me I'll give her money my number, my soul anything the sexy lady wants"

You giggled "you'll get us kicked out the moment we sit down at the booth"

Nat ignored you as she eyed up a waitress walking past who gave her a wink in response "yeah yeah whatever I'm gonna go and get some free drinks" she patted you on the back leaving you alone, well with the alien obviously

"We are being stared at"

You glanced around not noticing anything "what are you talking about?"

They turned your body around suddenly nearly falling over before you managed to steady yourself "dude what the fuck, you can't just turn me around like that!" You whisper shouted at them but they ignored you

"There is a redhead lady who is looking at us and biting her lip, I think she is older than us" you were pointed towards said woman and she gave you a wink

"Oh you're right, do you think she wants us to go over?" Before you could say anything else the woman in question walked over to you "hi pretty girl, do you need some help? You look a little lost"

The sweetness in her voice made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up and your mouth go dry "oh-er no-no thanks my friend is just getting drinks" you glanced at Nat who was very much not getting your drinks but instead was making out with the waitress she followed after

"It seems you're friend is a little busy right now, I'll take you to your booth" she pulled you towards a booth, her hand gripping your own sweaty mess of a hand.

You were near enough thrown into the booth and the woman followed close near enough sat in your lap "how about I get us some shots? They should loosen your cute tongue"

"...okay" you whispered and the women smiled kissing you on the cheek turning around and singling for a waiter to come over with their tray of shots

"How many miss Scarlet?" The man asked and she told him to put the tray down "thanks Brucie"

He left without another word and she took a glass from the tray pointing it towards you "here you go pretty girl" she tipped the drink towards your mouth and you opened your mouth taking the drink "good?"

You nodded licking the left over liquid from your lips "yeah it's good"

The woman's piercing green eyes were locked onto yours sitting in silence for a few moments before she spoke again "can I interest you in a dance?" She asked sweetly and you shook your head maybe a little too much making her pout

"Awe are you sure? I can relive all of that clear tension coming off of your shoulders, you're too pretty to be stressed"

She stood up bringing you with her and walking off towards Nat who managed to pull her face away from the waitress long enough to talk to you

"Y/n! This place is amazing! This is Maria, she's great" her ragged breath made you laugh "I'm sure she is amazing Nat"

Maria looked behind you to the woman and winked "so Scarlet, is this your new little conquest?"

So her name was Scarlet, or maybe just her stage name, you were certain no one gave their real names out, but this Maria did? She's not a dancer though you guessed?

Scarlet's arms wrapped around your waist getting your attention and she chuckled when you jumped "don't think too hard there pretty girl" she looked to Maria "I offered a dance but she turned me down Mia"

You couldn't see her face but you knew she was pouting about you refusing a dance "Y/n you can't refuse a dance! That's the whole point of the club!"

"I know but-

"No buts Y/n! Go on Scarlet take her to a room and help her relax" Nat demanded ignoring your embarrassed face

"Whatever the costumer wants they get Natalia" Scarlet smirked grabbing your hand leading you through the club away from the safety of people and noise for a quiet private room

"You need to relax honey, I promise you're okay I'll take such good care of you" she purred sitting you down on the couch and you finally looked at her properly seeing the dark red blazer wrapped around her body

"Y/n your body is heating up is everything okay?"

You couldn't answer them instead watching Scarlet unbutton her blazer dropping it to the floor

"Holy shit" you whispered letting your eyes wonder over her lingerie barley covering her body, it was useless being there in all honesty, her breasts were practically spilling out and that's where you met her finger pointing to her face "my eyes are up here princess" she chuckled and your eyes snapped up

"S-sorry!"

She giggled coming towards you and straddling your lap placing a leg on either side "don't say sorry for admiring beauty honey, let's start with your name again"

"Y-y/n" you whispered feeling your hands unintentionally land on her thighs and she gasped "getting bold Y/n? I like it"

"You were moving too slow so I needed to help you Y/n"

You knew they where right, you had a woman, a hot woman you may add on your lap wearing the hottest thing you’ve ever seen and yeah sure it’s part of her job but you could have fun right?

“Get out of your pretty head Y/n” she brought you out of your thoughts and jumped at how you could feel her breath on your face as she whispered in your ear “so Y/n are you going to tell me what you I can do for you?

“This is all new to me so I don’t know what to ask for”

Scarlet looked over you and your slightly trembling body “how about a kiss?" She didn't really wait for answer before kissing you on the lips softly, you remained frozen until you were mentally slapped by your symbiote

"Y/n I do not get aroused or feel sexual tension but even I am suffering through this air of arousal, kiss her back"

You relaxed into the kiss sighing as you kissed her back, feeling Venom slip into your body and elongate your tongue and force her mouth open slipping the long tongue inside and wrapping around her own, Scarlet either didn't realise or didn't care because she moaned into the kiss trying to gain some kind of control

When you both had to pull away for some air Scarlet was shocked seeing the tongue lull out of your mouth "what the hell is that? Looks like your tongue had an erection" when she laughed and didn't run away from you or slap you your heart grew ten sizes, it was nice you guessed if still little strange.

"Can you even talk with that thing?" she giggled and wen to kiss you again but you pulled away letting your tongue return to its normal size

"Everthing okay?" She placed a kiss on your cheek as a reassurance and you smiled

"Have you ever heard of symbiotes?"

She sat back on your lap thinking about it "like that alien that tried to destroy the world? Are you that alien?"

You shook your head "no! No at all, I was just infect-sorry chosen to be a host for one...do you want to meet them?"

Scarlet had to bite her lip to keep herself from laughing "well this is nothing like my normal encounters here but sure, let's see the little alien"

Venom didn't need to be told twice and their tendrils appeared forming a their head smiling at Scarlet

"You are a very pretty lady miss Scarlet, I cannot feel aroused or these silly human feelings but you have a hot body and Y/n agrees"

"Venom! Just stop talking" you groaned trying to get away but you were still trapped under Scarlet's thighs

"God this is so weird, it's a good thing you're hot" she lent forward placing a kiss on your neck and then biting you there, you looked at Venom whispering "go back"

They looked at you funny so you said it again "it's a private moment now Venom"

They understood and retreated back into your body quickly and you focused back on the feeling of her soft lips on your neck.

******************************************************************

“My lips are chapped Nat” Maria pulled away from Nat who still tried chasing after her “oh come on, they’re not that bad”

The waitress gently pushed her away “you’re insatiable, I like it, give me a few minutes and I’ll take you somewhere nice”

‘Where?” She questioned

“To the best room we have, it’s got a mini fridge” Maria kissed Nat again softly refusing to let her take over the kiss again “plus we can watch the cameras for your friend”

Nat’s eyes widened “there’s cameras in the room?”

Maria laughed “obviously, how else are we supposed to protect our girls?”

She lead Nat through the club into a closed off area and through a door to a room with a couch, a mini fridge and the cameras she mentioned

“This looks like a pervs hangout” Nat commented but Maria just rolled her eyes pushing the redhead to the couch “just sit there and be quiet, if that’s something you can do”

"I prefer being loud" Nat winked

"I can’t wait to prove that later" Maria took some wine out of the fridge and sat next to the woman giving her a kiss on the cheek “okay let’s get this started" she turned on the Tv changing the channel through the rooms before finding you and Scarlet

"Ugh boring they're just talking" nat looked through the screen, she hoped she could read lips so she knew what you were saying, when she got a closer look she noticed Venom's head at the side of you "what the fuck?!"

Maria put down the wine quickly looking at these screen "what's that?! Is that a puppet? Does your friend have a puppet kink? A little odd but I'm sure Scarlet can work with that" Maria was laughing but Nat only let out a small chuckle too focused on why the hell Venom decided to make themselves known, suddenly Scarlet lent forward kissing and started kissing your neck

"The puppet worked" Maria laughed and Nat managed a small laugh "hah yeah sure" she turned the TV off instead not wanting to focus on you and your weird alien friend, she had no idea why Scarlet didn't mind it though

"Well they're boring now"

******************************************************************

Scarlet's lips moved up to your ear "you're not the only one with a secret princess"

Your smile dropped and you pulled away suddenly but Scarlet just laughed "it's okay honey nothing horrible, do you know what a coven is?"

You flexed your hands on her thighs and swallowed nervously "like witches?"

She smiled "yes"

"Are you a witch?"

She simply nodded and flashed her red eyes making you gasp "shit that's so cool!" You were memorised, maybe a little scared since witches were seen as strange or evil but a dancer at a gentleman's club couldn't be evil...right?

"I'm not evil honey, just someone who gets bored easily and needs something to do"

Did she read your mind?? You looked at her surprised and she giggled "yes princess I can read minds and yours has been a delight to listen too"

That's so weird but cool as well, so what so we do now?"

"Well, my real name is Wanda to start with, I use Scarlet because the guys like it, and for security of course"

You were really trying to listen honestly you were but your eyes kept flickering down to her chest

"You're not listening to a thing I'm saying are you?" Wanda laughed using her finger to lift up your chin "it's okay, I know what you really want" she lent forward to kiss you but a bell went off stopping her in her tracks "oooh sorry princess times up"

She tried pulling away but your fingers dug into her thighs keeping her there "but you were going to kiss me again?”

She raised her eyebrow and smiled at you "I know, I love leaving my clients on edge, it guarantees they come back"

This time Venom growled and appeared again "that seems a little unfair Wanda, we showed you me, I think we deserve a treat"

She just shrugged managing to pull away from you standing up and covering herself with her robe "are you saying you don't want to see me again?"

Both you and Venom were confused

"Because if I slept with you that's what would happen, and I'm quite enjoying your company"

"She is teasing us Y/n"

You agreed "she is"

Wanda watched you as you were thinking, and you knew she was reading your mind "you have some hot thoughts in there Y/n, a stark difference from when we first started, now come on, your friend will be waiting for you"

You sighed reluctantly getting up and going past Wanda when she gave you a small smack on your ass "hey!"

She laughed "I couldn't help myself honey"

****************************************************************

"Nice to finally see you two out of the room, did you give her the full dance Scarlet?" Maria laughed glancing between the two of you and the redhead smiled wrapping her fingers around your waist "she had a wonderful time Maria, she'll be coming back tomorrow night"

Nat gasped and you looked at her "you're coming back?! Wow Y/n, she must've given you the full treatment eh?"

When your face blushed Wanda kissed your cheek "you're so cute malen'kiy you can have my number, so call me when you're here tomorrow and I'll come and get you"

You nodded and went to kiss Wanda but you weren't too sure until Wanda pulled you in close kissing you hard

"Oooooohhhh!" Nat exclaimed excitedly "Maria did you see that?! My little virgin is getting somewhere!"

You instantly pulled back going bright red "Nat! I'm not a virgin! I've slept with loads of women"

Both women laughed and Wanda tried hiding her own smirk "it's okay princess, I'm an excellent teacher"

You groaned pulling away from the woman "come on Nat before I sink into the ground from embarrassment"

Nat giggled and kissed Maria one more time "so it look's like I'll see you tomorrow?"

"I'll have the usual room ready" she winked in response kissing the redhead again

"Do I get a good-bye kiss?" Wanda pouted and you rolled your eyes walking back to her "I never expected this coming into a strip club" holding the woman's face in your hands you kissed Wanda softly before pulling away then kissing her nose

"Hmm you're my favourite client malen'kiy"

"I have no idea what that Russian word means but I hope it's good"

Wanda giggled kissing the side of your head "Ty takaya ocharovatel'naya printsessa, dumayu, ya ostavlyu tebya ty moya"

You heard Nat soft gasp from the side of you and you whipped your head around to her "did she say something shocking?"

Wanda looked to Nat shaking her head and Nat nodded "just some sickly sweet thing about you, typical for you to come into a gentleman's cub for a dance from a stripper to come out with a potential partner"

You shrugged "hey I can't help it if I have incredible game"

The group burst out laughing even Wanda joined in making you pout

"Y/n I love you I really do but you're really terrible with women, I'm surprised Wanda actually made out with you"

You blushed hard leaner closer into Wanda "yeah well fuck you Nat" okay it wasn't the best comeback but its the only one you could think of

"It's okay Y/n I thought that was a very good comeback" Wanda kissed your cheek "okay honey, I've got to go back to work"

You started to talk back but a finger shushed your lips "I still need money my love but I want you back here tomorrow okay?"

You nodded "I'm definitely coming back all the time Wanda, I'll sit in the corner with a snack"

Wanda held in a giggle rubbing your shoulder "oh honey I don't think my clients would enjoy that"

"Then they'd to keep their hands off of you" you retorted and Wanda laughed "my little possessive girl don't worry, you'll get the special private dances"

It was your turn to blush hard again and you had to keep yourself steady "o-oh okay cool yeah! Great"

Nat laughed “you’re a mess, come on idiot let’s go”

[lostintransist]

This Bunny Bites | Part 9

Check out part 1 here.

CW: None that I can think of.

Meeting up with Cara always helped you feel your spine decompress. You met her at the first club you took a job at. She had been a dancer already, and you with your mismatched and too-small boobs had been relegated to serving drinks. She had caught you watching the girls several times and even trying the pole before shifts started.

For some reason, Cara had decided to take you under her wing. She set you up with a friend of hers who taught pole classes. The number of times you walked home with a bow-legged gait was unreal. Soon enough the inner skin on your thighs didn’t scream any time it touched the pole. Once you had enough skill you were approved to run small sets between the regular dancers. Though you were under no circumstance allowed to remove your bra. Your right side sat vastly smaller than your left. Custom bras were the only way to deal with the discrepancy. The money you earned from the between-set dances and the lap dances paid for your implants.

Cara, again being a saint, became more than a mentor. She became your best friend. If you think too hard or too long about where you would be without her the tears start to flow. If soul mates existed yours lived in a body named Cara.

Chin resting in your hand you stare at her across the table. Her dark eyes and perfectly done-up hair accentuate how beautiful she is.

The snapping of fingers in front of your nose brings you back to the present.

“Did they put straight gasoline in that mimosa? You were staring,” Cara eyes you.

“No,” sitting back in your chair you adjust your legs and cross your arms. “I was thinking about how if soul mates exist you have to be mine.”

Watery shock fills Cara’s eyes.

“You can’t do that to me. People already don’t believe me when I tell them you aren’t my girlfriend.” Cara flapped a hand at her eyes, blinking and staring at the ceiling to fight off tears. “But thank you. I think you would be my soul mate as well.”

Plucking your previously mentioned mimosa from the table you smile into it as you take a sip. The mimosas at this cute little cafe, several small tables filled the space. Fresh flowers on every table and the soft, bright colors on the walls were only some of the reasons this was your favorite morning spot.

With a slight shake of her head and a light dab at her eyes, Cara focused back on you. Her shrewd eyes came out.

“Alright, spill. You said something bad had happened but it needed to be discussed in person,” Cara threaded her fingers together leaning on her elbows on the table.

You can’t stop the worried expression that passes over your face as you take another sip of the drink in your hand.

“So uh,” you set it down, ruffling your hair with your hand.

“Oh fuck, you’re touching your hair something bad bad happened.”

If you could stab her with your eyes you wouldn’t hesitate.

“Bitch you are not supposed to use your powers for evil! Let me tell you what happened before you jump to conclusions!” You huff out a breath, conscious now of the desire to touch your hair. “But yes, fine a few things have happened but you are not allowed to ask any questions until I am done.”

Pointing to her for good measure you waited until she rolled her eyes and put her hands up in defeat.

“Caroline canned me for the incident I told you about where Todd let a fight start and escalate until I had to get involved.”

Cara cut in, “The one where you nearly got clocked in the nose right?”

“You couldn’t escape a paper bag with the way you listen, now hush and let me finish.” You glared until she apologized and pulled her purse to the table.

As Cara dug out her compact or lip gloss you continued.

“So I am out a job when I am so fucking close to making it out,” you clock the nasty look an old woman of god sends you but ignore it. “But wouldn’t you know it one of the guys that came in with my brother came in that same night to offer me a job. So,” you rush to keep talking before she can open her mouth as you can clearly see she wants to, “I had dinner with them, accepted the job, and ended up telling Johnny the reason I dance is dear old dad putting me on the internet. I managed to do it without yelling even.”

Looking fit to burst your best friend is chomping at the bit to say her piece.

“Hold that thought, our food is coming.” Looking up with a smile to the young man delivering your food, “Thank you so much for your help, Wyatt.”

He nods and sets both plates down on the table, taking a step back.

“Is there anything else I can get you?” He glances from you to Cara.

“Can I get some salsa please?” You ask with a warm smile.

“Of course, that should be just a minute,” Wyatt nods and walks away.

“Bitch what the fuck is your life! First off, not yelling at your brother? He deserved it. Second how much are you getting for the job?”

Bless her for not asking what the job is, the NDA you signed would have you hanging by your ankles if you broke it.

“No, I didn’t yell at him. It was in front of all of his teammates. Johnny works as special forces of all things.” You keep talking even as you queue up your first bite of omelet. “I delivered the news like a calm badass and left the house they are renting. Did I cry the entire walk to my car? Yes, but that is not the point. Job is paying 30K.”

Cara lifted both brows at her food.

“Damn, that’s double what you needed to get out right?”

Humming confirmation around the food in your mouth you nodded.

Swallowing, you hold a finger to your lips.

“Yeah, I won’t even have to quit since Caroline let me go.”

“What a bitch,” Cara shook her head. “I can’t believe she let you go over an air horn. An air horn that saved her property damage and saved the girls from getting hurt I might point out!” She pointed her fork at you aggressively.

‘Willing to go to bat’ was something you wanted to put on a T-shirt for Cara.

“I did do that, but she wasn’t pleased I hid them in the ceiling and I bet Todd has been gunning for my head for a long time. He didn’t like that I never kowtowed to his demands.”

“Well, you have a hard time listening to authority,” Cara acknowledged offhandedly.

“If I wanted a mental evaluation I would schedule an appointment with my therapist,” you gape at her. Bitch knew you better than anyone and weaponized it.

Cara, the bitch, laughs at your outrage.

The obnoxious sound of your phone going off cuts off your well-timed and deserved middle-finger salute. Pulling it out the caller ID noted three money bags.

“Ah, the new boss. One second.”

Swiping to accept the call you lifted the phone to your ear.

“What’s up?”

“Free today?”

“Depends on the reason,” you counter.

“Have an opening at a fancy dress shop at 2 PM today if you can make it. You’re going to need the right kind of clothes to fit in,” Price offers by way of explanation.

“Send lover boy with a card and car, he can pick us up at my place.” You catch Cara’s eye and point to the uneaten food.

She waves a hand, no she doesn’t want to take it. You nod in acknowledgment, waving for Wyatt who had stepped around a corner. Cara will handle getting the bill.

“Us?” Comes his careful question.

“My bestie will be coming, you think I am going to trust lover boy’s opinion on such an important matter as this?”

“You signed an NDA.”

Cutting him off you say your piece.

“I can shop with my best friend without breaking an NDA. This isn’t my first rodeo with them. Now what time should we be ready for pick up?”

Cara called you steamroller for a reason. You dig out your card from your wallet, it is your turn to buy. Passing it over you focus back on your call.

“He will be there at 1300.”

“Ooo big number, translate it for me.”

The confused look from Cara meant she caught your tone switch to demanding but sweet.

“Gaz will be at your home at 1 PM.”

“Thanks, Captain,” you sprinkle in a touch of sweetness to your tone.

He grunts and hangs up.

“That sounds interesting,” Cara eyes you, mischief in her gaze.

“Not nearly as interesting as it’s about to be. Come on, we are heading to my house. I am curious to see your take on our driver.” Grabbing your purse you hauled it up to your shoulder.

Wyatt returned rather quickly with your card, after signing the receipt you lead the way to the parking lot with Cara in tow.

“You’ve piqued my interest, anything I should know going in?” Cara watches you as she asks.

“Nope, I want your cold read on him.”

“Can do. I will see you at your house then.”

Waving to your best friend you climb in your car and head home to get ready for an interesting afternoon.

@leahnicole1219

Part 8 | Part 10

Bunny Masterlist | Masterlist

[tumblerislovetumblerislife]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Dead Boy Detectives (TV) Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Edwin Paine | Edwin Payne/Charles Rowland Characters: Charles Rowland (DCU), Edwin Paine | Edwin Payne Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, female Edwin Paine | Edwin Payne, Female Charles Rowland, Lapdance, Dom/sub, Dom Charles Rowland (DCU), Sub Edwin Paine | Edwin Payne, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Frottage, Strap-Ons, Dirty Talk, Vaginal Fingering, Nipple Piercings, Oral Sex, butch4butch sapphic payneland is something that can be so personal, Genderqueer Edwin Paine | Edwin Payne Summary:

The woman was a sight and a half. Glazed eyes, dark strands of hair sticking to flushed cheeks, the proper button-down doing nothing to hide the way her chest heaved with her rapid breaths. Easy. Charlize had barely started. And, oh, there was still so much she planned to do…

Or: A lap dance gets a little out of hand.

[u6is]

"i fucked my way up to the top this is my show"

summary: as a stripper at a buzzing nightclub, you’re drawn into a tantalizing challenge when kylian demands someone "truly unforgettable," pushing you to test the limits of desire and control.

anora inspired one shot!

note: this story is entirely fictional and not meant to glorify or romanticize harmful behaviour.

—kylian mbappé x reader: smut

Madrid at night is a symphony of freedom, a dance of lights and shadows where the city bares its soul.

The air was thick with the scent of cologne and perfume, the walls painted in a haze of cigarette smoke and sweat. The dim lights and strobe effects of the club where you worked cast shadows that danced with the beat of the music, creating a world both seductive and a little dangerous.

It was your kind of place.

Your eyes scanned the sea of faces, searching for the one that would signal the start of your night's performance.

As a lap dancer, you had mastered the art of reading the room, knowing exactly when and where to make your move, your confidence cloaked in the dim glow of the club's lights.

The job was far from perfect, but you couldn’t deny the way it made you feel. Working as a sex worker in the city’s electrifying nightclubs gave you a sense of confidence and control that was hard to find elsewhere. It wasn’t just about the money, though keeping the bills paid on time certainly helped—it was about owning your power in a world that often tried to take it away.

It was about making ends meet, one performance at a time.

The thumping bass of the music vibrated through the soles of your towering stilettos, setting the tempo for your hunt.

You spotted a man in the corner, nursing a whiskey neat, his tie loosened just enough to hint at the day's conquests. His eyes followed you as you approached, a spark of curiosity igniting in his gaze. He looked lonely, a perfect candidate for the kind of intimate escape you offered.

You flashed him a coy smile, your voice dripping with flirtation.

"Want to have some fun on the private chairs?" you teased, the question laced with a playful edge, like a trap expertly set. He nodded, reaching for your hand as you led him toward the chair, falling into your trap without a moment's hesitation.

He sat down, his eyes locked on yours, as you began to circle him, the fabric of your dress whispering against his skin.

As you danced, you could feel his breath quicken, and his pupils dilate. You moved closer, your movements more deliberate and sensual, the air between you crackling with energy. Your hands traced the contours of your body, a silent story of temptation and desire. The man's eyes never left yours, his grip tightening on the chair's arms as you leaned in, your breath warm against his ear. You felt his heart race, a silent symphony that only you could hear.

You executed your routine with the precision of a seasoned professional, each move calculated to elicit a gasp or a moan. Your hips swayed to the beat of the music, your hands gliding over the fabric that barely contained your curves.

With a seductive twirl, you began to strip the dress from your body, revealing inch by tantalizing inch of your smooth, bare skin. His eyes grew wide with anticipation as the dress slipped lower, exposing the lacy lingerie that matched the fiery red of your lips.

As the dress pooled around your ankles, you stepped closer and straddled his lap, your legs encasing him in a warm embrace. You could feel his heart pound through the fabric of his tailored suit as your thighs pressed against his. Your hands roamed over your body, tracing the path of your curves, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake.

With the dress fully removed, you started your work, grinding on him with a rhythm that was as old as time itself. His eyes were glued to yours, pupils dilated with lust as your hips moved in slow, tantalizing circles. You felt the heat radiating from his body, the tension building in the air as you leaned back, your hands on his shoulders for balance. Your breasts, freed from their lacy confines, bounced with each movement, taunting him with every delicious inch of exposed skin.

The music grew louder, the lights dimmer, as you lost yourself in the dance, your body moving in perfect harmony with the pulsating beat. You leaned forward, your hair cascading around his face like a fiery waterfall as your mouth hovered just above his. You could feel the heat of his breath, the moistness of his lips, and the desperate need in his eyes. The grind grew more intense, your movements more deliberate as you felt him growing hard beneath you.

As the song reached its crescendo, he pulled out a crisp bill, placing it on the string of your panties with a trembling hand. You took the offering with a smile that could melt the coldest of hearts, your eyes never leaving his. With a flick of your hips, the bill fluttered away, joining the others that had found their home in the elastic band of your underwear. He leaned back in his chair, his gaze filled with a mix of admiration and hunger.

The man's eyes were glued to your every motion, his mouth slightly parted in anticipation. You knew the effect you had on him, had seen it countless times before.

As you were about to finish your lap dance with him, he started touching you inappropriately. His hands were like iron bars, gripping your thighs and sliding upwards. The music was so loud that you weren't sure if he'd even heard your firm "no" the first time you whispered it into his ear.

You sweetly put his hands away, looking into his eyes with a smile that didn't quite reach your own.

"Remember," you said, your voice a soft purr that was almost lost in the bass of the music, "touching can cost you more of what you pay to me." His expression faltered for a moment, surprise and confusion playing across his features.

You leaned in closer, so close that your breath was hot on his skin, and whispered again, "It's all part of the experience, darling. But you need to respect the boundaries if you want to enjoy the show."

No touching from the client, just grinding against them. That was the rule, all part of the dance. The unspoken contract between you two that existed only in the confines of the club.

Thanking him sweetly, you bent over, your breasts brushing against his face, and whispered, "Thank you, darling," making sure the sweetness in your voice was as genuine as the warmth that emanated from your smile.

Finally, you pulled back, leaving him gasping for air, and with a playful wink, you dismounted his lap.

You sauntered away, leaving the man in a daze of desire, before disappearing into the throngs of the club. The night was still young, and you had more clients to attend to.

Each dance was a performance, a chance to escape the mundane and immerse yourself in a world of passion and power.

After a string of lap dances with eager men, you decided to take a brief respite, slipping into the dressing room to freshen up. The cool air was a stark contrast to the heat of the stage, and you took a deep breath, savouring the quietude. The mirror reflected your flushed cheeks and the sparkle in your eyes, evidence of the rush that came from the dance. You applied a fresh coat of crimson lipstick, ensuring that it remained as vibrant as the passion you stirred in your audience.

Inside, the manager, a man named Alejandro, spotted you and hurried over. His eyes widened with a mix of excitement and apprehension, as if he had seen a ghost or had a secret he couldn't wait to spill. You felt a flicker of curiosity as he approached, his footsteps echoing in the empty corridor.

"Tonight, we’ve got someone big. An important client," he started, his voice low despite the pounding music. "He specifically asked for the most beautiful girl in the club," he added, a sly smile playing on his lips. "And let’s just say, he’s ready to pay more than you can imagine." He leaned in closer, the minty warmth of his breath brushing against your ear.

You took a step back, crossing your arms over your chest.

"And you chose me?" you asked, raising an eyebrow, a challenge in your tone.

Alejandro nodded, his eyes scanning you up and down.

"You're the best we've got." he said, his voice sticky with flattery. "He wants someone truly unforgettable."

After hearing Alejandro mention the pay, you couldn’t help but think about how much money this could be. The sum was tempting, a figure that could make a real difference. It wasn’t just about the job. It was about the money, the kind that could take care of everything for a while.

You tilted your head, curiosity creeping into your voice. "Who is he?"

Alejandro hesitated, glancing over his shoulder before leaning in closer. "The place is full of football players tonight," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "But I was told... it's for Mbappé."

A flicker of surprise crossed your face, but you quickly masked it. The thrill that had been simmering under the surface now burned brighter, and you couldn’t help but smirk.

Truly unforgettable, huh?

The dressing room was a whirlwind of glitter and naked skin as the other dancers prepped for the night.

They all knew what it meant when the VIP section called for a private performance. A few of them shot you envious glances, but you didn't blame them.

Performing for someone like a football player was a golden opportunity—not just for the pay, but for the story it would make.

You slipped into your costume, a seductive ensemble that clung to your curves like a lover's embrace. Each bead and sequin had been meticulously placed to dazzle and distract.

The music grew louder as Alejandro returned to lead you through the curtains to the VIP area. The crowd was a sea of faces, all blending into one hungry gaze.

There, in the corner, sat Mbappé, surrounded by his teammates—his eyes locked onto you as if you were the only person in the room.

You could feel the weight of their gaze as it landed on you. Alejandro gave you a tap on the back before walking away, leaving you to introduce yourself.

"Hi, I'm Bella," you said, your stage name rolling off your tongue.

"Kylian," he replied, taking your hands in a firm handshake.

Kylian's eyes were like pools of molten chocolate, rich and inviting. You could feel the intensity in his gaze, commanding and powerful, just like his presence on the pitch—a football God, intimidating and dominating.

"These are my teammates," he said, gesturing to the group of muscular men surrounding him. "Vini, Jude, and Brahim." Each one greeted you with varying degrees of enthusiasm.

With a casual confidence that only the truly talented possess, you perched on the velvet chair beside Kylian, your bare legs crossing elegantly. He leaned back, a smug smirk playing on his lips as he offered you a shot of something potent and clear. You took the glass with a grace that seemed to catch him off guard for a moment, your fingers brushing against his in a fleeting, electric touch.

"To an unforgettable night," he toasted, his French accent wrapping around the words like a lover's embrace.

The night grew hotter as the drinks flowed and the conversation grew more intimate. Kylian was surprisingly charming, his arrogance tempered by a wit that made you laugh. The tension between you was a dance of its own, a delicate interplay of power and allure that neither of you could ignore. His hand hovered near yours, the air crackling with the potential of a touch that never quite came.

His fingers brushed against your skin as he reached for the champagne bottle, and the spark that ignited was undeniable. You felt your body lean into him, craving more of his attention, and he didn't disappoint. His touch grew bolder, tracing the curve of your arm, the line of your neck, sending shivers down your spine.

Each caress was a question, and your body responded with a silent "yes."

The music seemed to pulse in time with your racing heart, the bass a seductive whisper in your ear that told you to let go.

The strobe lights painted the room in flashes of light and shadow, playing across Kylian's chiseled features. His eyes never left yours, darkening with a hunger that mirrored your own. His hand slid down to rest on your thigh, the heat of his palm searing through the fabric of your costume. You could feel the tension in his muscles, the restrained power of a man who was used to getting what he wanted. But tonight, you were in control.

You leaned in closer, an idea sparking in your mind. "You know I'm just here to dance, right?" you whispered against his ear, your voice teasing. "Would you like a private performance?" His smirk deepened, and his eyes darkened with desire.

"Well, since you're special," he said, his voice low, "we can go to a private room."

You stood, your hips swaying to the rhythm of the music that was now your heartbeat. You led him through a hidden door, away from the prying eyes of the club.

The room was dimly lit, a stark contrast to the neon chaos outside. A plush, velvet couch dominated the space, surrounded by mirrors that reflected the desire in his eyes as he watched you. The air was thick with the scent of money and the promise of something more.

You pushed Kylian to the couch with surprising strength, your eyes never leaving his. The fabric whispered against his skin as he settled into the embrace of the velvet, his expression a mix of excitement and curiosity. The private room was yours to command, and you knew exactly what to do with it. The music from the club pounded through the walls, setting the tempo for the dance that was about to unfold.

With the grace of a seasoned seductress, you began to strip away your layers. Each movement was deliberate, a tease that made his eyes follow the trail of your fingers. Your top fell away, revealing a lacy bra that barely contained the fullness of your breasts. His gaze lingered there, a silent plea for more, and you granted it, spinning to showcase your body's curves under the dim lights.

The music grew louder, a heartbeat that matched the rhythm of your hips as you danced closer to Kylian. You could see the desire etched on his face, a hunger that made your pulse quicken. Each step was a challenge, a promise of what was to come. Your skirt slid to the floor, leaving you in nothing but the scanty underwear that left little to the imagination.

With a seductive smile, you straddled his lap, your legs wrapping around him like a serpent coiling around its prey.

The warmth of his body was a stark contrast to the cool air of the room, and you relished the control you held over him.

Your breath hitched as you began to grind against him.

That control slipped away the moment you felt him.

You felt him, harder and larger than you had anticipated, straining against the fabric of his tailored pants. It was a pleasant surprise, one that sent a shiver of excitement down your spine.

In all the time you’d spent in this line of work, you’d never come across a man quite like Kylian.

As you moved against him, your body seemingly of its own accord, you felt the heat build within you. You were no stranger to the art of the tease, but there was something about his unabashed hunger that had you craving more.

Each rock of your hips sent a jolt of pleasure through your core, and you found yourself losing yourself in the dance, forgetting that this was a performance for his entertainment.

You felt his hands grip your hips, guiding you closer, urging you to grind harder against his growing erection. Your breath grew ragged, and you could feel the wetness between your thighs.

Kylian's smirk grew wider as he whispered, "Looks like you're the one enjoying this." His hand slid down your bare back, the heat of his palm sending shockwaves through your body. You met his gaze, a silent challenge in your eyes.

You didn’t just dance for the men; you danced for the power, the thrill of the hunt. But something about Kylian was different—his confidence, his unabashed desire, and the way he made you feel.

With a flick of your wrist, you began to undo the clasp of your bra. The fabric fell away, revealing your full breasts, the cool air nipping at your sensitive skin.

Your hand slid down to his waistband, your fingers lingering on the button of his pants. With a knowing smile, you deftly undid it, and the zipper whispered open. The anticipation in the room was thick, a palpable force that seemed to thrum through the air.

His cock sprang free, standing proud and thick between his legs, a testament to his arousal.

You knew you were breaking the rules, you knew you were pushing the limits, doing something you weren’t meant to.

Alejandro had made it clear—your job was to dance, keeping things strictly professional with the client fully clothed.

But with Kylian, there was something about him that made you want to throw the rules out the window.

He watched you with an intensity that made you feel like the most desirable woman on the planet. His hands traveled up your thighs, his thumbs brushing the sensitive skin just beneath the edge of your g-string. The heat of his touch was like a brand, leaving you marked, claimed.

You leaned in, your breasts grazing his chest as you whispered in his ear, "Is this what you want, Kylian?"

His breath hitched, his eyes never leaving yours as he replied, "More."

You slid off his lap, the loss of contact leaving a trail of electricity in its wake.

Turning your back to Kylian, you took your time with the g-string, the lacy fabric clinging to your hips before finally releasing its grip.

You bent over with deliberate slowness, giving him an ample view of your rounded ass and the soft curves of your back. The room grew quieter than you had ever heard it, the music from the club outside muffled by the thick walls and the thunder of your pulse in your ears.

You positioned yourself in front of him, straddling him once again but this time facing away. You felt his eyes widen, his breath quicken as you bent over, your hands planted firmly on his knees. The coolness of the room kissed your bare skin as you arched your back, your breasts bouncing slightly with the movement.

He wasted no time. Kylian’s strong hands reached around, cupping your breasts, his thumbs teasing your erect nipples. You bit your lip to stifle a moan, your eyes fluttering shut.

His touch was firm, possessive, sending waves of heat through your body. Then, without warning, his hand slid down to your ass, giving it a gentle smack. The sound echoed in the quiet room, a sharp contrast to the gentle caresses that had come before.

You opened your eyes, meeting his gaze in the mirror. His pupils were dilated, his jaw clenched with need. You smirked, feeling the power shift in your favor. Slowly, you began to grind your bare sex against his cock again, feeling the thickness of him, the veins pulsing against your wetness.

With each rock of your hips, you could see the restraint in his face falter, the desire taking over. His hands gripped your hips, his fingers digging into your skin as he matched your rhythm.

And then, without warning, he grabbed you by the neck, pulling you towards him with a strength that was as surprising as it was exhilarating. You gasped as he yanked you closer, your back arching against his chest. The sudden change in dynamic made your heart race even faster, a thrill of danger mixed with the sweetness of power.

In the mirror, you saw the reflection of his cock, standing tall and proud against your cunt. Your own moan was a sweet symphony in the quiet room, a sound that seemed to resonate in every corner, amplifying the intensity of the moment.

"Bounce on my cock and I'll double your pay," Kylian murmured into your ear, his hands tightening around your neck. His breath was hot against your skin, sending shivers down your spine. You could feel the pulse of his erection, the heat of it begging for more.

You smirked, looking at him in the mirror.

"Triple." you countered, your voice steady and confident. The challenge in your eyes was clear.

Without a word, Kylian's grip tightened, and he positioned himself beneath you. The anticipation was almost unbearable, the air thick with it. He didn't need to guide you; your body knew exactly what to do. You hovered above him, feeling the tip of his erection pressing against your wetness, the promise of pleasure so close it was almost painful.

The tip of him alone was enough to make your toes curl, your eyes roll back. He groaned, his breath hot against your neck, and you felt his hands clench into fists as he fought to hold back.

You lowered yourself, the warmth of him spreading through your core as you took him in, inch by glorious inch. The room spun around you as you adjusted to his size, the pressure building like a crescendo in a symphony of pleasure.

Your eyes closed involuntarily, the sensation overwhelming, and your mouth formed an 'O' of surprise. Kylian was indeed more than you had expected, and you felt a thrill of excitement at the thought of what was to come. His grip on your neck tightened as you began to move, a silent reminder of who was in control.

The first few bounces were tentative, both of you feeling the newness of this connection. His cock stretched you, filled you in a way that made you feel both deliciously full and insatiably hungry for more. The sensation was exquisite, a delicate balance between pleasure and pain that you rode with the finesse of a seasoned performer.

With each downward thrust, your eyes fluttered shut, lost in the sensation of Kylian’s cock claiming your body. His size was a revelation, a symphony of sensation that sent your nerve endings into a frenzy of pleasure. The room around you melted away, leaving only the two of you in the dimly lit cocoon of the private room. The music from the club was a distant murmur, the cheers of his teammates a muffled echo in the back of your mind.

As you adjusted to the delicious stretch of him inside you, your movements grew erratic, driven by instinct rather than the practiced grace of your usual routine. Your breasts bounced with the rhythm, your nipples peaked and sensitive to every brush of fabric and gust of air. Kylian's hand on your neck held you firmly in place, a reminder of the power dynamics at play, while his other hand slid down your body to find your clit.

You gasped as his thumb began to circle the swollen bud, his touch surprisingly tender despite the firmness of his grip. The dual sensation of his cock filling you and his fingers teasing you was almost too much to handle. You felt your walls tighten around him, desperate for the release that was building with every stroke.

In the mirror, Kylian watched as his cock disappeared into the folds of your sex, only to reappear with a wet slap as you bounced back up. The sight was erotic, a visual testament to the power dynamics at play. You could see the hunger in his eyes, the need to claim you fully, but it was your own reflection that held your gaze—the way your body moved, the arch of your back, the way your breasts bobbed with each thrust. You were in control, even as his hands and his cock worked in tandem to drive you closer to the edge.

Suddenly, his grip shifted from your neck to your face, turning your head so that you had to look at him.

Kylian's eyes bore into yours, the smugness in them replaced with a primal need that made your knees weak. His lips crashed into yours, claiming your mouth with a hunger that was both thrilling and terrifying. You kissed him back, your teeth grazing his lower lip, tasting the mint from the drinks you had shared earlier. The kiss was messy, all tongues and teeth, a battle of dominance and submission.

As your bodies moved in unison, his hand guiding your hips, your moans grew louder, mingling with the muffled bass from the club outside. You felt him swell within you, his grip tightening as he approached his climax. You matched his pace, desperate to feel the explosion of pleasure that was building between your legs. His thumb circled your clit with increasing pressure, his other hand keeping your face angled towards his, the kiss growing more demanding with each passing second.

You could feel yourself losing control, your body begging for release. The pressure built, coiling in your belly. And then, it hit you—a wave of ecstasy so intense it took your breath away. Your cunt clenched around him, and you threw your head back, your cries echoing through the room. Kylian's own release followed closely behind, his body shuddering with the force of it.

For a moment, time stood still as you rode the crest of pleasure. His grip loosened, and you leaned into him, his warmth enveloping you. The room was a blur of lights and shadows, the music a distant throb that matched the rhythm of your pulse.

As the intensity of the orgasm began to wane, you felt your legs wobble, the muscles in your thighs protesting from the exertion of the dance you'd just shared.

You slowly slid off him, your legs shaking from the effort.

Kylian's grip on your hips was the only thing that kept you upright, his breath hot on your neck as he whispered sweet nothings in French, his accent thick with lust.

You looked down to see Kylian's cock, still hard and glistening with your wetness, the proof of your passionate performance.

The room spun around you, a kaleidoscope of color and light, the aftermath of the erotic dance you'd just shared.

He stepped away and stood up to pull his pants back on, the fabric whispering against his skin as he tucked himself away.

You took a moment to admire his physique, the power and grace of an athlete honed to perfection.

The sight of him doing up his zipper brought you back to reality with a jolt, the starkness of the act a stark contrast to the intimacy of the moment.

Kylian reached into his pocket and pulled out a thick wad of euros. You watched, your breath still ragged. He held out the money to you, but before you could take it, he bent down to kiss your forehead, his lips lingering just long enough to leave a warm imprint on your skin.

"Let's do it again sometime," he murmured, his voice a mix of satisfaction and a hint of something deeper, something that made your stomach flip. Then, with a final squeeze of your thigh, he stepped away, leaving you on the couch, naked and smiling.

happy new year 🥳

[bigwishes]

A Night at The Club

[Trade for: @bribri66]

It was a Friday night and Frank had just gotten off late from work and was driving down mainstreet out of the city. He saw a bright glowing neon sign coming up right before his turn. He'd never remembered it being there and he drove this way home every single night. The sign shone brightly "Men's Milk Bar" written in bright pink letters with the neon shape of a man in a cowboy hat under it.

Frank was slowly approaching the turn off to get on the road to go home or to turn into the car park of the new gay bar that had seemingly popped up in the middle of the day. Frank flicked his indicator on and turned off into the carpark of the gay bar almost without even realising.

Frank got out of his car and walked towards the building, he could hear the music pounding outside and could almost feel it through the ground as he got close, lights shined out of the windows and pinks and greens flashed around inside. Frank walked up to the front and saw an enormous muscular man blocking the door and next to him a long line of men. The giant man turned to Frank,

"What do you want Jelly Man?"

The bouncer laughed at Frank as he pocked his large fat stomach and dusted crumbs off his flannelette shirt.

Frank stared blankly at the door and the bouncer chuckled

"sure buddy, don't get lost in there"

The bouncer opened the door and a roar of moans erupted from the lines as Frank cut straight through. Light shot out of the open doors and the heavy thumping of music spilled out onto the streets and called Frank inside like a siren song. The large grizzled man clumsily stumbled inside almost like he was drunk.

Immediately walking through the door Frank was saw two dancers standing before him.

the two men were built like bulls and flaunted it with every movement they made. The both of them approached Frank.

"Well hi big boy" the first said rubbing Frank's shoulders

"We don't get many guys like you in here" the second said patting Frank's fat belly

Frank blushed embarrassed trying to get the words out as the two dancers paraded themselves around him and rubbed up against him. Frank became more and more flustered as the two ripped men toyed and teased with him, slight comments about his guy, his hairy face, his stained and worn out work clothes. Frank wanted to react to being borderline bullied but he couldn't focus as he felt his dick desperately try to uncurl against the tightness of his jeans.

"I don't think our friend hear likes how loud it is Georgie"

"I think you're right Joey"

The two dancers smiled at each other as they ran their hands down Frank's arms, taking his hands in theirs. The two lead Frank through the crowds of men dancing to the music to a large pink stained glass heart shaped door. There was a small neon sign above it the read "Love Factory". The sign pulsed like a heart beat. The two dancers opened the doors and took Frank inside. As the doors closed the music almost completely shut out like the room was sound proof.

Frank walked over to a heart shaped bar stool and sat down, it squeaked and moaned clearly not built for a man of his size.

Georgie walked over to Frank and leant his arms against his lap making the chair squeak even more. Frank's face turned a deep red as he was eye to eye with the almost naked man leaning on him.

"I know you wanna be with us big guy" said Georgie poking his tongue in his cheek

"and I know you wanna be like us big guy" Joey smirked as he pulled something out of a small fridge tucked in the corner.

"Should we Joey?"

"I think we should Georgie"

The two devilishly smiled at one another as Joey placed a glass pint full of ice cold strawberry milk in Frank's hands

"All you need to do big guy is have a drink"

"and we're all yours"

Frank looked down at the milk, slowly brining it up to his lips, his gaze meeting the two dancers as he started to drink. It tasted like strawberries mixed with something with a slight spicy tang, like paprika. It fizzed and bubbled in his mouth and in his throat.

The two dancers began rubbing themselves against Frank, gentle touches slowly turning into groping and kissing. Frank couldn't focus on anything, he tried his best to entertain the the advances of the two dancers but there was only so much of him to go around, and he couldn't focus as there was a strange feeling in his stomach and an terrible itching spreading across his body.

Frank desperately tried to keep up with the two men whilst taking breaks to scratch and itch. He tried to ease the annoyance but whenever to began to itch his face or under his shirt the dancers quickly distracted him pulling his hands away, but every now and again, when he got the chance he felt different. The deep black hair on his face and across his body was getting light and lighter, thinning up, the chunky weight and layer of fat on his gut, chest and arms started to feel tighter and tighter. Even his raspy voice sounded slightly lighter as he moaned.

A few moments later and Frank began to feel dizzy, the tang and bubbling that took place in his throat and mouth had made its way to his brain, it felt like tiny fireworks were going off in his head. Frank slumped slightly on the stool as his dirty flannel work shirt slipped off his arms and back onto the floor. Frank tied to speak but instead of words coming out his mouth simply fell open and bubbly giggles came out instead.

Georgie was standing in front of Frank holding his wallet.

"Looks like his name was Frank, Joey"

"Hmmm he doesn't look like a Frank now"

Frank mindlessly rubbed his face which now felt baby smooth

"What about Frankie?" asked Georgie

"Oh I like that, what do you think Frankie" Joey asked the man formerly known as Frank

He just sat there slack jawed struggling to comprehend what was going on. His hands, once leathery and thick now smooth and strong found their ways creeping up his naked torso, rubbing his new abs and grabbing his pecs as he moaned.

"I think he likes it"

Frankie just sat there admiring his new body and worshipping himself.

-------

A few days had gone by and nobody had seen Frank, a missing persons report was called it but it mysteriously got marked as solved when two cops came into the club and got a free hour alone with the new hottest dancer.

Frank, the big chubby lazy officer worker was gone,

But lucky Frankie, the horny himbo slut was there to fill his place...

[latenightdaydreams]

Ok so first off I'm so obsessed with both your writing and könig right now, I just wanted to get that out, your writing is amazing.

I was wondering if I could request könig with a gn/fem s/o who's a burlesque dancer or stripper? I've started dancing this year and the thought of giving this sweet big boy a lap dance or seeing him in the audience keeps me going lmao (I'm going to be dancing to nicklebacks Animals and carly rae jepsens cut to the feeling in the next two shows I'm in, if you want to use either of those sort of vibes ✌🏽) tysm, lots of love

Thank you!! I love the idea of jealous König having a partner in that industry. he'd be so jealous but also cocky. "Yes, the hottest dancer in the club is MINE."

Gentlemen's Club (fem/gn)

(fem body but no gendered speech)

MDNI🔞

Master List

>cw: fem/afab body, strip club, lap dance, oral

1.3k word count

💃🏽

.

.

When König got with you, he knew you were a dancer. He’s never had an issue with it aside from minor jealousy, but he understands that is just his own insecurities. He’s never actually seen you dance before, or visited you at work. Today, he was going to change that. König has just gotten back from a seven-month long mission, seven months without his Schatzi. He can’t wait for you to get off of work.

König enters the club. It’s not his vibe. The music is incredibly loud. Flashing lights annoy him, and he hates the type of men these clubs attract. He towers above everyone as he walks through the crowd. His blonde hair pulled back into a man bun as he wears a black suit that compliments his well-toned frame.

As König walks through the club, a dancer approaches him. She’s around 5’10 in heels with red hair in pigtails, her makeup bright and glittery. Her outfit is a neon purple color that glows under the lights. 

“Hey handsome. Are you looking for some company?” She asks, putting a hand on his peck.

He politely and gently removes her hand and looks her in the eyes. “I’m looking for y/n.” 

You’re on-stage dancing with two other girls as you all share the stage. You lean your body back after a spin on a pole; you see a familiar figure that towers over everyone else. With an excited look on your face, you turn around quickly. “König!” 

König walks up to the stage and reaches a hand out to you. He lifts you off the stage and hugs you tightly, your legs wrapping around his waist. His fingers dig into your thighs, feeling your soft flesh poke out through the holes in your fishnets.

“You look so sexy up on that stage, Schatzi.” König leans in and kisses your lips.

“Look at you!” Your lips hungrily kiss every inch of his face. “I’ve missed you so much.” 

“I miss you too. That’s why I’ve come to look for a…what’s it called?”

“The VIP treatment?” 

“Ja, VIP treatment.” He repeats, smiling at you.

“Okay, put me down and follow me.” You giggle as you’re put down. 

His massive hand slips in yours as you walk him to a private VIP room towards the back of the club. As you walk, men watch your breasts bounce and hips sway. König notices their gazes. He tries his best to not let their stares get to him. Your body is stunning and you’re dressed revealing. Of course they’re looking. If you weren’t his, he would still look.

König lowers his eyes to watch your thighs and ass instead, so he doesn’t let the men ruin his reunion with you. His eyes gaze around the room you bring him into, a large leather sofa against one wall. 

You gently push his chest for him to sit back on the sofa, straddling him as soon as he sits back. His hands like a magnet grasp your ass, moving your hips to grind on his erection. Slowly, he moves his hands lower, trying to stick a finger into your pussy.

“There are cameras, you’ll have to wait for home to touch me like that.” You whisper to him before kissing him more.

“Then let’s give security a show, ja?” 

A soft giggle escapes your lips as he speaks. “You’re so naughty. How about a dance?”

“A dance…a dance would hold me over until you get off work.” König’s hands travel the curve of your plump ass and move up to your back. 

You stand from his lap, his fingers falling from your fleshing leaving him wanting for more. His eyes are glued to the way you stand before him, leaning your body over his and putting your hands on either side of the couch behind him. 

There is a sexual aura about you as you turn a switch in your head and treat König as if he were a paying customer. He sees a new look in your eyes that draws him in. His little Schatzi turned into a little vixen. As you pull away, he leans forward, as if he’s desperate to have you that close to him again.

König chuckles at his own reaction and leans back. His hand moving over his cock to give it some of the friction it’s craving for you right now. The way his pale blue eyes travel across your body makes you tingle. He’s hungry. It’s been almost a full year without you.

Your body moves in a hypnotic motion, hands moving slowly behind you to pull on the bikini string around your back. The fabric pops up to reveal under boob to König. He gazes with anticipation as he watches your hands reach behind your shoulders and let your top fall to the ground. 

“Beautiful…” He whispers once your hardened nipples and full breasts are exposed to him. König can’t help but to lean forward. His large hands reach out to cup your breasts. His thumbs passing over your nipples before you playfully swat his hands away. 

“No touching König. Be a good boy.”

A growl escapes his lips as you hit his hands. He gazes up at you, pupils blown from desire and lust. “I can’t control myself, Schatzi.” With his last inch of will he leans back, continuing to rub his cock.

You stand before him, hips swaying with the music blaring throughout the club. His eyes drop from your breasts to your rear as you slowly back up to him. Your ass widens as you sit on his cock, his erection twitching in his pants. A warmth radiates over his crotch from you sitting on him. 

König’s hands caress your thighs, slipping his fingers between the holes in your fishnets. He has to use all of his self-control to not pull them and rip them off of you. You roll your hips on him, matching the beat on the music. A small groan leaves his lips as he pulls you back to rest on him. 

His lips are hungry as he kisses down your neck, his sharp canines dig into your neck pulling a whimper from you. You lean your body back as he continues to bite down your neck. His hands move up, gliding across your body until he cups your breasts. He pinches your nipples and lets out a tender sigh.

Your hips are still grinding on him causing König to close his eyes and enjoy the moment. He begins to daydream about you bouncing on his cock right now. How the security guards would be beating their meat looking at you getting fucked by his massive dick.

In a fluid motion you move away and off of König. His hands still reach out for you, he hates how good you are at teasing him. Your eyes drop to the bulge in his pants, causing you to bite your lower lip. 

Approaching him, you lift your leg up, resting it on his shoulder. He turns his head and kisses your ankle and leg. 

“Kö Kö, pay attention.” Your tone teasing him.

König turns his head and looks at you. You move the thing fabric of your thong to the side, exposing your waxed pussy to him. König’s jaw drops and stares. He’s been dreaming of that sweet cunt all these months. His eyes watch like a hawk as your fingers move down and begin to rub that tiny little clit.

“Mein Gott…” He reaches out to feel your wetness when you slap his hand away again. His eyes meet you instantly as he shakes his head.

“You can’t touch.”

“Like hell I can’t.” König whispers as he moves forward and grasps your ass, pulling your pussy to his face. He breathes you in before kissing all over your soft lips and clit. Your head drops back in ecstasy as he sticks his tongue out to lap at your cunt.

You grab his bun and hold it tightly as he eats you out. Your leg on his shoulder twitching slightly with every pass. It’s been so long; you’ve missed how his mouth feels. While pleasing you, his hand rubs along his cock, stroking it slowly. He knows they’re being watched, but fuck it. He needs you now.

[scoonsalicious]

Unwanted: Chapter 23, Undressed - Pt. 1

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Fem!Reader

Summary: When your FWB relationship with your best friend Bucky Barnes turns into something more, you couldn’t be happier. That is, however, until a new Avenger sets her sights on your super soldier and he inadvertently breaks your heart. You take on a mission you might not be prepared for to put some distance between the two of you and open yourself up to past traumas. Too bad the only one who can help you heal is the one person you can no longer trust.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language, mentions: of drug use, drug dealing, stripping, prostitution, drug overdose, seizures, organized crime.

Word Count: 1.6k

Previously On...: After using your quick wit and computer skills to get you both out of a sticky situation, Tony offered you a job, and a beautiful friendship was born.

A/N: And we are ON THE MISSION! Welcome to Atlantic City, besties!

NOTE! The tag list is a fickle bitch, so I'm not really going to be dealing with it anymore. If you want to be notified when new story parts drop, please follow @scoonsaliciousupdates

Banner By: The absolutely amazing @mrsbuckybarnes1917!

Thank you to all those who have been reading; if you like what you've read, likes, comments, and reblogs give me life, and I truly appreciate them, and you!

Taglist: (Sadly, tag list is closed; Tumblr will not let me add anyone new. If you want to be notified when I update, please Follow me for Notifications!) @jmeelee @cazellen @mrsbuckybarnes1917 @blackhawkfanatic @buckybarnessimpp @hayjat @capswife @itsteambarnes @marygoddessofmischief @sebastians-love @learisa @lethallyprotected @rabbitrabbit12321 @buckybarnesandmarvel @fanfictiongirl77 @calwitch @fantasyfootballchampion @selella @jackiehollanderr @wintercrows @sashaisready @missvelvetsstuff @angelbabyyy99 @keylimebeag @maybefoxysouls @vicmc624 @j23r23 @wintercrows @crist1216 @cjand10 @pattiemac1@les-sel @dottirose @winterslove1917 @harperkenobi @ivet4 @casey1-2007 @mrsevans90 @steeph-aniie @bean-bean2000 @beanbagbitch @peachiestevie @wintrsoldrluvr @shadowzena43

Tumblr will not let me directly tag the following: @marcswife21 @erelierraceala @jupiter-107 @doublejeon @hiqhkey @unaxv @brookeleclerc

The Wiggle Room was nothing like Beantown Burlesque, of that you were certain. For a stripclub, Beantown had still managed to cater to a relatively upscale clientele, demanding exorbitant cover charges, selling overpriced drinks, and charging a premium for lap and private dances– hell, Tony Stark had gone there. And they never, ever, encouraged you to take on any ‘extra’ services for customers. Sure, clients asked, but girls were fired for accepting, and if a client wouldn’t take your ‘no’ for an answer, Beantown’s bouncers were more than happy to send them flying out the door on their asses.

You quickly learned that The Wiggle Room played by an entirely different set of rules when a customer asked if he could snort a line of coke off of your ass during your first shift. Everyone, it seemed, was high on some kind of drug, customers and coquettes alike. It made it surprisingly easy to get information out of people without rousing too much suspicion onto yourself.

Within the first two weeks, you and Sam were able to uncover that most, if not all, of the missing women you were investigating had either been, or tried out to be, dancers, bought drugs, or prostituted themselves out of the club. You were definitely in the epicenter of the disappearances. You positively had the where, but you were still far from discovering the why and the who.

You and Sam had set up a temporary caseboard in the dining nook of the apartment you were using as your safehouse. The two of you had already been good friends, but playing a couple at the club and sharing tight accommodations had intensified the power of your bond, and as you sat in front of the caseboard eating your Chinese takeout together, you couldn’t help but rib one another.

“Lavender definitely has a thing for you,” you pointed your chopsticks at him, referring to one of the club’s older dancers, who, at 45, had taken a shine to the Falcon from the moment he’d taken his position as member of the club’s security team.

“Well, can you blame her?” Sam said, slurping up the noodles of his lo mein. “Hard to resist a good piece of dark chocolate, and Ole Sammy’s a fine box of Godiva.”

You wrinkled up your face. “Okkkay,” you said, “ignoring the fact that there’s so much gross in that statement that I don’t even know where to begin, should I give her your number, then?”

Sam nearly choked on his food. “Absolutely not!” he coughed. “She’s got six kids!”

“Wow, Samuel,” you said, pretending to be offended on Lavender’s behalf, “I didn’t realize you were prejudiced against single moms. Does Sarah, know that fascinating tidbit about you?”

“Nuh-uh, Baby Girl. Don’t you go tryin’ to put words in my mouth. I got nothin’ against single moms– they’re the backbone of this country– but Lavender’s also got six baby daddies she doesn’t know how to quit. I ain’t lookin’ for that kinda drama in my love life, thank you very much.”

You took a bite of your chicken & broccoli. “Fair point,” you conceded. “I’ll allow it.” Sam tipped his head to you in his thanks. 

You let your attention drift back to the board. In addition to photos of the missing women, you’d also managed to populate it with a combination of ID photos and mugshots of the club’s employees and management. As you’d learned the identities of your coworkers, you’d been able to piece the hierarchy of the organization together, but you only got as far as the club’s owner, Vladimir Kozlov. When you’d sent his name and some covert photos back to the Tower, you hadn’t been surprised to receive word back from Natasha that Kozlov had, at one point, been a low-level thug in the Russian mob. What you hadn’t yet been able to decipher, however, was how he kept the club afloat. According to your research, the Wiggle Room was hemorrhaging money, its expenses far surpassing its recorded income, yet Kozlov dressed himself in the finest European suits and drove a seemingly never-ending rotation of sports cars that would rival Tony’s. 

You and Sam had both come to the shared conclusion that Kozlov didn’t have the brain cells to run a successful, let alone lucrative, criminal operation on his own, and therefore, there must be silent partners involved in the club that you’d not yet been able to identify. The drugs that were sold out of the club could account for some of its income, but not nearly enough. 

“I’ve got an idea,” you said, turning back to Sam.

“Why do I feel like someone just walked over my grave when you said that?” he asked you with an exaggerated shiver.

You cocked your head. “Probably because it’s a terrible one.” Nibbling on your lower lip, you debated whether or not to tell him. He was going to hate it, but you couldn’t think of a better way to get closer to Kozlov’s inner circle. “I think I should start buying drugs from Kozlov’s men.”

The look Sam gave you was withering. “Pocket,” he warned, “that’s an actual crime.”

“I’m not going to do them, Sam!” You put down your carton of rice. “I just need to make them think I am. Kozlov keeps the girls that buy from him close– he likes how they come to rely on him. I think it gets his rocks off to have them be dependent on him. I wouldn’t be the least bit surprised if he lets things slip in front of them because they’re too strung out to pay attention.”

Sam seemed to consider your proposal. “I don’t like it, Baby Girl,” he said. “It sounds dangerous. What if he tries to take advantage of you?”

You held up the silver bangle that served as your distress signal. “Then I call for the calvary,” you said. “I won’t actually be high, so I’ll still have my wits about me.”

“So, you think you know enough about gettin’ high to fake it in front of a bunch of drug dealers?” Sam asked, clearly thinking you were overestimating your acting abilities. 

You puffed a breath out of the corner of your mouth. “Yeeeeah. So, here’s the thing… I might have spent a good chunk of my teen years on a variety of illegal substances.”

Sam’s eyebrows went comically high. “Come again for Dark Chocolate?”

How to be truthful yet maintain your sense of dignity here? “Everyone at the Tower knows how my childhood was rough, yeah? That my parents were shit? And that’s the reason I don’t have anything to do with them?” Sam nodded. This much of your past, at least, was common knowledge, and you were more or less keen to leave it that way. “Alright, so, part of that shit was that my mom and her boyfriend were drug addicts. Mom preferred meth and booze, but the boyfriend was less discriminate. He’d do anything if it got him high enough. When he needed me to… let’s say ‘behave,’ he’d give me something, whatever he had on hand. Weed, MDMA, coke, benzos, Special K, opiates. Really didn’t matter to him. The drugs made me easier to control. So, I know how to act like I’m high, because I’ve been high. A lot.”

The look in Sam’s eyes morphed from disappointment at your idea to horror at your revelation. “Fuck. Baby Girl, I had no idea.” You couldn’t meet his gaze; unlike your past as a stripper, this was something you were deeply ashamed of.

“It’s fine, Sam,” you told him, picking your food carton up again just to give you something to focus on. “It was a long time ago.

“What made you stop?” he asked, no judgment, just genuine sincerity in his question.

“Same thing that saved the rest of my sorry ass,” you shrugged, playing with the flaps of the paper carton. “Tony. By that point, though, it was mostly just Adderall to focus on school work and so I could stay awake to take more shifts at the club, and weed for when the Adderall wouldn’t let me sleep.”

“One time, I took too much Adderall to cram for a final, and I had a seizure. Tony had to take me to the hospital, and he was furious– I’ve honestly never seen him so mad. Trust me when I say it made his fight with Cap look like a playground spat. I thought for sure he was going to wash his hands of me. I wouldn't have blamed him.”

The memory of it played through your mind, the sheer disappointment in Tony’s eyes as the doctors told him what they’d found in your system. 

“But, the thing was, Tony blamed himself, said he’d put too much pressure on me. Kept saying he was turning into his father, and he couldn’t have that. So, instead of tossing me out on my ass like he should have, he got me help.”

Sam’s mouth hung open. “I’m sorry, but I think we know two different Tony Starks. This altruism does not jive with the man I work with.”

You smiled and shrugged your shoulders again. “Not my fault he likes me better than you, Samuel. I am a lot cuter.”

“Debatable,” Sam replied before taking a swig of his beer. He looked thoughtful for a moment. “If you don’t think it’s gonna be too much of a temptation for you,” he said after a pause, “I think the drug-buying might work. We can give it a shot, at least.”

You sipped your iced tea. “Won’t be a problem, Sammy. The girl who constantly did that stuff is gone, and she’s not coming back.”

<- Previous Part / Next Part ->

[faghubby]

Kings and Queens

"just sit here and watch" Judy told me over the loud music. Then kisses me and allowed the young woman to help her on stage. The woman kissed my wife pushing her against the pole my wife reached over her head and grabbed the pole holding as this woman tore open her shirt and unhooked her bra. The crowd louder now cheering her on. It had been Judy's idea to come to the strip club after I had bought up watching her with another woman. And now in front of dozens of guys she was on stage. Another dancer joined them. Judy just stood stood there as these two woman kissed and caressed her. Her skirt was pulled up bunched around her stomach as the first woman worked her fingers into Judy. The crowd now in a fever. I was pushed back from the stage. As men came in for a closer look. I found myself in the back of the crowd. When I felt a hand grab my arm. I turned to see a man in his 50s. Salt and pepper hair with a bit of a belly. He was my height I guess about 5'8".

"That your wife son?" He laughed I just nodded looking back towards the stage. His hand still held my arm. He guided it to a bulge in the front of his sweat pants. I turned sharply to look at him again.

"Go ahead, hold it" he grinned I was shocked but I looked down his sweats where stretching outward. He turned me away forcefully and shoved my hand down his pants. I was like a deer in headlights I stared at my wife on stage as I grasped this man's hard cock in his pants. At first just feeling it how big and thick he was.

"Stroke it bitch" he muttered in my ear and still looking away at the stage I stroked this man. The woman had Judy naked and kissed her pussy. Then pushed her to the stage floor where one sat on her face. While the other rubbed her clit.

"Nice whore of a wife you got there hey bitch" this man laughed in my ear. "Tell her I want a private dance" he told me. I didn't know what to do. I released his cock and walked up to the stage. Judy was already getting off the stage. The girls wrapped a robe around her. I approached her and was stopped by the bouncer.

"No it's okay" Judy giggled. And kissed me.

"Want to give a man a private dance?" I asked her.

"Really?" She laughed. She nodded when she realized I wad serious. And walked to a private room. The man followed her. I went to go to but the bouncer stopped me.

"Come with me" he told me he showed me to a hall with a window. It was one way glass. Obviously the bouncers used it to keep an eye on the dancers. I watched my naked wife dance for this stranger. It didn't take long till she was on his lap. She slid off and pulled out his cock. Her eyes lit up at the size. He was enormous! She laughed and told him something then sat on his cock. She went slow obviously adjusting to his size. She took him bareback. This total stranger.

I so wanted to masterbate but in this busy hallway I was embarrassed. So I just watched.

"Your the husband? Or should I just call you her cuck?" A beautiful woman said walking up behind me. I didn't even turn to look at the half naked dancer focused on my wife riding this man's huge cock.

"I saw you, jerking Andrew off. I told her" the woman laughed.

"You saw Ty, the bouncer" she asked. "I bet he would love his cock sucked"

"I'm not gay" I replied without looking away. She grabbed my hand and led me into the room. Judy just looked at me and smiled as she let 10 inches of cock slide into her. Suddenly the bouncer joined us. I turned the dancer pushed me to my knees.

"Suck his cock, your wife ate me for you" she commanded. The bouncer dropped his pants. The Dancer stroked his cock and pushed my head towards his cock.

"Do it baby, do it for me" Judy moaned. Ty grabbed my head and shoved his cock in my mouth. I suddenly had the head of a big black cock in my mouth. I heard Judy cum. I could sense people moving around the room but Ty head my head used me moving my head forcing me to please him. I was gagging and crying. I don't know how long it continued but although I wanted him to stop. But I didn't push him away. Suddenly he tensed then my mouth was full of Ty's cum. I couldn't swallow I gagged coughing cum shooting out the corners of my mouth even dripping out of my nose.

"Come back anytime bitch" Ty laughed pulling up his pants. I looked around. Judy was dressed in an outfit she must of borrowed from one of the dancers. Just sitting there watching me.

"Ready honey, or you need more cock?" Judy laughed. I couldn't look at her. She walked out I jumped up to chase after her. She took her time walking out saying goodbye to the dancers. I got alot of laughs I figured it was because they all knew what had transpired but when I looked at a mirror as I followed Judy out I noticed there was cum in my hair, all down my shirt. I was a total mess. I tried to clean my self up in the parking lot but Judy just pulled me along.

"Leave it, you like cum so much. Maybe you would like to clean my pussy when we get home" Judy smiled. As I drove home. Wondering what this all meant.

[strawbeerossi]

Tiny Dancer

Pairing: Fem!Reader x Spencer Reid

Description: After Spencer meets you while you are on an undercover mission, it isn’t long until you two get to know each other. After your first date together, you give him a few lessons.

Content/Warnings: Awkward Spencer, strip club, minor case matter, lap dancing, cumming in pants.

Word Count: 2.8K

Kinktober Day Nineteen: Lingerie

Navigation || Kinktober Masterlist || AO3

This is my least favorite fic. I apologize in advance.

“Are we sure this is a good idea?” Emily asked, gazing at the front of the strip club where Aaron was smoothening out his suit jacket and glancing at her and Spence.. “One million percent. Don’t get too distracted here. I have a friend who is in sex crimes working undercover to catch someone who is taking advantage of strippers and call girls. She agreed to meet us but you have to be prepared for the way she’s going to talk to us. It’s not going to be a traditional interview.”

The two agents looked between each other in confusion. What did he mean by that? Regardless, they both walked inside the not too busy club. This was a more upscale place, one of the strip clubs that kept the high paying men of the city anonymous, able to enjoy the likes of a the establishment without someone going back and telling wives, girlfriends, or employers. The safety due to the membership only status worked out in their favor, only having to flash their badges and mentioning they needed to scope out the place before they were let inside.

Once in the dimly lit building, Aaron’s gaze was scanning the room before his eyes landed just on the undercover agent they were looking for. You had gotten the hint he was here to see you, so you were moving away from the man you were currently talking to before twirling your hair around your finger. “Hi sweetheart. Looking for a dance today?” You asked sweetly, glancing back at the other agents who were waiting as well.

“Yes. My friends and I woulda actually like to ask for a private dance. Is that something we could do?” Your gaze lingered on one particular agent; Spencer Reid. He was a living legend around the FBI due to his intellect, of course you’d heard about him around the office. “I charge extra for groups.” You added soon after, which you were leading the three agents back to the safety of the private room while you closed the door. “I really wish you would text me before you do something like this.” You scolded Aaron while holding a hand out to take the money he was getting out of his wallet. The cameras in the room made it hard to have a normal conversation, you having to play along to the private dance fantasy.

After pushing the bills into the babydoll lingerie top, you were going to the pole in the middle of the room. “I know. However this is an emergency that I didn’t plan for. One of our victims worked here. Her name was Amanda Raymond. What can you tell us about her?” Aaron stated as if there wasn’t a half naked woman in the room that had Spencer’s face bright red and Emily practically drooling at the sight.

“Mandy?” You asked, smile faltering hearing about how your missing friend was in fact dead. “She was a sweet girl. I mean, she worked damn near every night to support her son.” Your leg hooked around the pole as you did a spin around it, ultimately moving away. “She hasn’t left with anyone that I know of. I mean she had some sketchy regulars but I can get you their information,” You shrugged, moving to straddle Emily’s lap while laughing at her reaction. “Prentiss, stay focused.” You’d teased, smiling as you could feel her soft hands against your hips as she cleared her throat.

“Right, sorry. Anyone in particular that you have both serviced?” She asked, unable to help her gaze over your exposed body. How was she gonna look you in the eye around the office after this?!

“There’s Michael Lewis. He’s actually a deputy on the police force. He’s really violent. He’s left bruises on my arms and hips before whenever security couldn’t get here fast enough.” You’d answered, thinking it over. “And Trevor Brown, a college professor who likes to try and take every dancer home,” You responded, laughing a bit as the raven haired woman was pushing a twenty in your lingerie top before you were moving to Spencer.

He looked like he was gonna pass out the minute you were bending down in front of him, continuing on with your dance routine as you let your hips play with some rock song playing over the speakers of the private room. “Y-you-“ Spencer was bright red, adam’s apple bobbing in his throat as he clutched the arm of the leather sofa. The outfit left very little to the imagination. “I’m sorry.” He squeaked while his eyes were diverting their gaze from your ass perched in his face. “You said that they’ve t-touched you, I can assume it was insitent?” Spencer asked, his own hands itching to touch your soft skin. “Yeah. They weren’t very kind and they were pushy. I’m sure you’ve seen the type on the field. I’m just sure they don’t grab you the way they’ve grabbed me.”

You turned to face Spencer again as your arms loosely draped around his shoulder, your tantalizing hips having Spencer drunk in the moment. The genius would think you were doing this on purpose, almost as if you enjoyed the act of teasing him and rendering him speechless. He had to admit that he was definitely a fan. He just wished his boss and coworker wasn’t with him, this interview would’ve gone just a tad different. “I can give you their information. I’ve had them leave their numbers and some business cards as if I would ever talk to them outside of this job.” You added, your dance coming to an end anyway as you were heading to a stack of cards and such.

The girls had gotten used to tossing any kind of numbers or other things on one of the tables in the room. Sifting through the numbers, you were smiling whenever you came across the two cards. “I really do think they should be watched closely.” You spoke while handing a card to Aaron. Now you were going to tease Spencer more, putting the card between your teeth before heading over to bend in front of him once more, leaning in close so he could retrieve the card.

Due to his germaphobia, he definitely wasn’t taking into his mouth, however he slowly took the car as his honey colored eyes were overshadowed by lust and embarrassment from seeing how much of an effect you had on him. “You three get out of here safely. Don’t call too much attention to yourselves. I’m not saying there is anyone here who could hurt you at the moment but.. Feds around here would terrify the mass amounts of customers who are trying to stay on the downlow.”

The three agents were getting up from the couch as they had gotten all the intel they needed. “Alright. You three keep your heads down.” You spoke while walking them over to open the door. There were a few moments where Spencer was stopped, his gaze on you. “Got a business card you wanna add to our table?” You couldn’t help but tease him, a smirk on your face. “What if I uh..” He was awkwardly reaching in his pocket, getting out a card with his number in it before he caught you off guard, slipping the card into your cleavage. The bold move was overshadowed by his embarrassed little blush, a shaky laugh leaving his lips. “Please don’t put it on the table. I’d rather have you contact me directly.” He said softly, only glancing back when he could hear Emily calling his name. “We gotta go but.. Call me?”

“You got it, Dr. Reid. Go save some lives.” You grinned, waving him off as you were walking out of the private room again to get right back to your post.

After that, the BAU did what they did best. They caught the man on a murderous rampage against sex workers, his view of them as being dirty and deserving the release of death to forgive them of their sins. Which you never understood but hey, you weren’t a psychopath so it made sense why you didn’t understand.

You’d been texting Spencer throughout the week, mostly just small talk while his awkwardness and shyness translated to messages as well. You found it endearing. He was a charming man who did have a small confidence issue but you were happy to tell him just how attractive he was and help the best you can to boost that confidence without making his ego inflating too much. You’d both agreed to meet up for coffee on a Sunday morning, the both of you meeting at a small cafe in DC.

“I’m glad you came. I was nervous you wouldn’t.” Spencer admitted as you were sitting at one of the outdoor tables with him, a smile on your face as you sipped from the cup in your hand. “Why wouldn’t I come? I’ve liked talking to you! It’s been an honor to get to know you, honestly. I mean, you’re very well known around the FBI as a whole so actually meeting you is nice rather than just hearing about you.”

The words had him blushing, hand rubbing the back of his neck. “Well, I’m just not used to asking anyone out. Which I mean, if you don’t want this to be considered that I understand.” He spoke while you were letting one hand gently pat his hand resting against the table.

“Well. You did a great job asking me! I also have to say that I don’t want this to end early. How about we go back to my apartment? I know how much you love Doctor Who and I have the whole classic series! I like the earliest seasons but I am willing to watch what you want.” You added with a smile, Spencer not daring to turn it down as you were pushing themselves to stand. Thankfully, the walk to your apartment wasn’t too long considering you lived only a couple blocks away from the cafe. After leading Spencer upstairs and unlocking the wooden door, he broke the threshold and headed inside right behind you, his hand moving to gently close the door behind you both. “You have a really nice place.” He’d commented.

It smelled like vanilla, the atmosphere being welcoming and so inviting that he had no problem towing off his shoes at the doorway before making himself comfortable as you were going for the case that held all the classic films and shows you had taken a liking to. “Here we go. Should we start with season one?” You asked, although you both didn’t share any confirmation as you were popping the disk in. After getting the remote, you were hurrying to leap onto the couch beside Spencer, the both of you laughing as you were crossing your legs to get comfortable.

The binge-watching had gone pretty standard, your body leaning comfortably against Spencer’s while your cheek was against his shoulder, his arm wrapped loosely around your shoulders. Despite his dislike for most human contact, he had to admit that he liked sitting like this with you. It helped that your body was warm against his. The contact was oddly intimate — At least to Spencer.

It was well established in the past that this guy doesn’t know how to go slow. So as you were so engrossed in the first season of your show, he was too busy thinking of the future opportunities of you both sitting on the couch like this and enjoying each other’s presence. “Can I ask you a question?” His voice finally spoke up as he glanced at you, your head lifting from his shoulder. “Yeah. Go ahead!” You offered a smile. “How long have you been doing undercover work at the uh.. You know.” He asked, eyes gleaming with curiosity.

“Well. I was just assigned to do it. I took pole dancing classes in college with a few friends. It’s actually a really good workout and I enjoy doing it. I just wish it wasn’t in front of a crowd.”

You answered honestly. It wasn’t something that you ever pictured yourself doing, however you were happy to catch sick fuckers that occupied the place. “Wait. They have classes?” The male asked, the hobby piquing his intrigue in the subject. “Yes! Why, want me to give you a lesson?” You joked while offering a smile. “I can teach you how to do a lap dance. I’ve already given you one so I don’t think it’ll be awkward. Right?”

Hell no it would not.

“I don’t- I don’t think so!” His voice squeaked as you were moving to stand with a smile. “Perfect! Don’t worry, you can touch me this time. No need to be freaked out.” You teased, hand retrieving the tv remote to get the screen turned off. You had moved to playfully toss your hair around, acting as if you had to gussy yourself up for the part. “Let me put on a costume. I feel like I need to do this perfectly.”

Which you disappeared for ten minutes, finding a silk purple negligee with lace stockings. You may have been overembellishing just a tad, however you wouldn’t mind Spencer putting his hands on you in any way he chose. Whenever you were coming back to the living room, your hands were on your hips as you sauntered to the couch. When the male’s eyes fell on you, he felt the wind get knocked out of him. This wasn’t at all what he was expecting. “What do you think?” You asked, doing a turn while grinning. “I was gonna put on some heels but I felt like that would be overkill.”

“I think you look stunning.”

“Flattery will get you absolutely everywhere, Dr. Reid.” You smirked, hand retrieving your phone as you were searching for a suitable song for the occasion.

As you’d landed on an old school rock song, it wasn’t long until you were dragging your hands up your body, watching as the agent in front of you was giving you his full divided attention. As you walked around the couch, your hands were sliding down his chest from behind him. The mere touch had his cock springing to life in his pants, especially when you ran them up his chest and rested a hand under his chin before making his head tilt up to look at you.

After lingering contact and leaning down to press a kiss to his left cheek, you were walking back in front of him again while bending. Your hands were against his knees while you lowered yourself, the angle making your cleavage nearly spill from the silky top of the ensemble and catching his attention. As your touch dragged up his thighs, you couldn’t help but grin at the way his body reacted to the touch. It was like he was so desperate to be touched and he hadn’t had any sort of intimacy like this in a while. Your hands squeezed his inner thighs before you were straddling his lap.

With your hands against his shoulders, you were humming along with the music as your hips rolled down into Spencer’s, the friction against his clothed cock being heavenly. His large hands were quickly moving to your hips, his mouth agape as he watched the intoxicating movements of your hips.

He could remember being jealous of Emily when they talked to you, the way you put on a show for her and gave Spencer hardly anything. This was a hell of a way to make it up to him though. While your hips gyrated against his lap, he was letting his head tilt back against the sofa while letting out a gentle whine. Your movements were overwhelming, hips rocking to stimulate riding his cock so good that it could nearly be considered the real thing.

By the end of the song though, Spencer could feel arousal building up in the pit of his stomach. His heart was beating fast, face red as a thin layer of sweat was collecting on his forehead from how hot he felt in these fucking clothes. What happened next was out of his control, the friction of your hips rubbing him just right as his hands squeezed your hips, a whine of your name slipping out before he could feel his cock twitch in his underwear. The arousal snuck up on him, unable to hold back as he soiled his underwear with cum. You knew all too well what had happened, your hips slowing down as you looked at him with wide eyes.

“Did you just..” You began, blushing as the male was quickly looking away in embarrassment. “I’m sorry! I can’t- I didn’t mean-“ Your hand was what cut him off as it rested gently over his mouth. “You don’t have to apologize.” You said softly while laughing some. “I’m flattered! But I think that we should probably get you cleaned up, don’t you think?”

Spencer didn’t catch on at first, not until your hands were on the button or his slacks. “Y-yeah.” He spoke shyly, lifting his lips in order to help you tug the bottoms down his legs.

“Good boy.”

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What If the Only Thing Stopping You Is You?

There’s a beautiful park here in Rome.

I often go there when I need to take a break, when my thoughts feel cluttered, and I get the sense that I can’t see things clearly. This morning, after hours in front of the computer, I put on my sneakers and stepped outside.

Walking is one of those simple things that seem insignificant, but in reality, they make all the difference. The body moves, the breath steadies, the feet find a rhythm, and before I even realize it, my thoughts start falling into place. Spring amplifies everything—the air feels lighter, the branches fill with new leaves, and there’s that sweet scent in the air that makes you slow down, look around with curiosity.

And it was precisely while walking, with the sun filtering through the trees, that a thought came to me: how often do we stop ourselves out of fear of making mistakes? How many times do we stay still, waiting for the perfect moment that never comes? And what if, instead, we tried to see things from a different perspective?

Just like how changing paths, even slightly, makes the park look different—and with it, everything else.

Success, whatever it means to each of us, doesn’t depend on talent or luck, but on how we choose to face challenges, on the courage to keep going even when we feel unsure of which way to turn. When my husband and I decided to start our business, we had no idea what we were doing. We came from completely different backgrounds, with no experience in entrepreneurship, no perfect plan—just the willingness to try. We made mistakes, of course, more than once. We faced difficulties, made the wrong decisions. But we didn’t stop. And that’s what makes the difference.

The fear of making mistakes is one of the most dangerous traps—it stops us, makes us postpone, keeps us stuck waiting for the right moment that, in reality, doesn’t exist. If you make the right decision, great, you’ve taken a step forward. If you make the wrong one, just as good, because you’ll have learned something valuable for next time. The problem isn’t making mistakes—it’s staying still.

So, what do you do when you feel stuck? Step outside, change your perspective, find a way to break the loop of thoughts spinning endlessly in your mind. Take action, even if you don’t feel ready, because no one ever really feels ready. Learn to see mistakes not as failures, but as part of the process. And above all, stop focusing on problems and start looking for solutions.

There were times when everything felt too difficult, when challenges piled up one after another, and we asked ourselves why we had even started. But it was in those very moments that we realized the most important thing was to pause, take a breath, and remember why we had begun in the first place.

Success is not a destination—it’s a journey. And the only real mistake is stopping.

Looking back now, I realize that the hardest moments were the ones that took us the farthest. Because they forced us to grow, to find new ways forward, to become stronger. And maybe, in the end, life is exactly that—a long walk. The secret is to keep moving.

Source: What If the Only Thing Stopping You Is You?