#double pole stages

[dsthomefurniture21]

White Look Water Fountain For Wedding Decor

This Setup includes –

One big FRP Fountain with

Four Moroccan lamps

This Beautiful setup is manufacture by us and exported to our client in Switzerland. They have done amazing work with our extra-ordinary props. These Props can be used on many occasions like for weddings on Haldi ceremony as well as after marriage on the baby shower.

[copper-16]

You Didn't Let Me Finish

Ingrid had a rule that she had held onto ever since she started working as a stripper: she doesn't sleep with clients.

Usually.

Ingrid doesn't usually sleep with clients. Exceptions must be made for most rules anyways though, right?

(a/n: Yes it's a stripper fic. I mean absolutely no disrespect to anyone, this is just a silly little idea I had in my head and decided to write on a whim. Feel free to skip if it's not your thing! Also I didn't proofread it, so ignore any mistake lmao)

Sometimes, Ingrid wasn’t exactly sure how she had ended up here. 

The Norwegian had done a semester abroad in Spain when she was in university, and found that she absolutely loved the city. So when the opportunity to move to Barcelona presented itself after graduation, she jumped at the chance to go. Her study abroad had been in Madrid, but it was still Spain, right? 

And the Norwegian actually preferred Barcelona to Madrid, the longer she lived here. She enjoyed the energy of the city, how posh and lively it was, how wonderfully kind the people were. The job she was offered was modest, and despite the fact that she got by, Ingrid wasn’t all that comfortable with living from paycheck to paycheck if she didn’t have to. 

Which was exactly how she had found herself at Dollhouse. It was the most exclusive strip club in Barcelona, catering only to those clients who could pay for the supreme services, and they only accepted the best when it came to their girls. 

The owner had taken one look at Ingrid, roving his eyes up and down the dark haired woman with interest before he was nodding, clearly pleased with what he was seeing. Her ability to speak both English and some Spanish came in handy, and she became a regular for many of the international clients. 

Ingrid was paid well, only worked three nights a week, and it helped her to nearly double her salary with the tips she was given. She gave lap dances, some pole work, did a few shows on the main stage, served customers when asked. It was an easy gig, and she couldn’t help but feel appreciated given the reaction that she could stir up in most men. It was addicting, really. She felt powerful and in control, her confidence only rising the longer she worked there. 

It wasn’t sex. People often got that mixed up, that being a stripper meant sex. It could mean sex, if that was what the girls wanted, but Ingrid had little interest in the older men who came into her rooms. She was as gay as they came, and it was very rare for them to receive a female client, and Ingrid had never had the pleasure of having one, not personally. 

But she wasn’t entirely opposed to the idea, if the right person came along. 

It’s just, nobody had. 

But perhaps that would change. 

—

It was a Sunday night, which meant that the Dollhouse was relatively calm. Ingrid was in the back room with a few of the other girls, getting ready for her show in around thirty minutes when Miguel came back. 

“Ingrid, Misa!” He called, and both women turned to look at him, one eyebrow raised. They stood, setting their makeup down to walk over to their boss, who was in charge of the scheduling. 

Miguel was gruff but kind, and he always made sure the girls were comfortable and not exploited. He could be a bit rough around the edges but he never failed to make the girls feel cared for as people and not just objects, and in return they did their best to make his life as painless as possible. It was a good gig, they all knew that, compared to the nasty bastards at some of the other places around town. 

“We have two clients in separate private rooms. Footballers, booked after winning something big I think, I want the two of you to take them,” Miguel explained, and he looked between Misa and Ingrid with a critical eye, clearly trying to decide who to send where. 

Despite the fact that Ingrid was Norwegian and Misa was Spanish, the two actually looked quite similar. Ingrid was paler, taller, and less tattooed than Misa was, but in terms of build and physical appearance, they were rather alike. 

“Misa, I want you in Room One and Ingrid in Room Two, Misa your Spanish is better than Ingrid’s. The girls will cover your sets for the night so don’t worry about that. They’ve booked for the rest of the night so make sure to give them their money's worth but you’re free to leave when you are done, alright?” Miguel decided, and Ingrid and Misa both nodded. 

“Oh and–”

“If they do anything creepy we will come find you,” Ingrid and Misa rattled off in perfect unison, and Miguel scowled at his predictability before he shooed them away to go get changed, the two women smiling at the action. 

Ingrid and Misa walked back to the changing room, each of them looking through the different lingerie sets they could wear. 

“What are you thinking?” Misa asked as she pulled out a purple lace set before shaking her head, shoving it back in her closet. 

“Well if they paid for the whole night then clearly they have money, probably want something expensive and distinguished. Footballers can be assholes and handsy, and they think too much with their dicks and not enough with their heads,” Ingrid scoffs lightly, and Misa snorts as she looks over at the dark haired woman’s closet. 

“Hmm…you’re going to wear this,” Misa decides, pulling out a hunter green piece of lace, and Ingrid raises her brow before nodding her agreement, looking over at the Spaniard’s closet. 

“And you’re going to do this, I’ve seen you in it before and your chest looks amazing in it,” Ingrid says with an air of finality, and Misa smirks at the outfit before they both went into their changing rooms to slip their clothes off and put the lace on. They don’t bother with robes, the hallway to the private rooms is secluded from the rest of the club anyways, so the two women make their way back together, chatting lightly about their day jobs, what their weeks look like. 

By the time they make it to Room One and Room Two, the women are both relaxed and ready to do their job. Neither of them really has any idea what lies beyond the door besides a footballer, so with one final goodbye they both enter the passcodes to the room before stepping in. 

Ingrid closes the door behind her before turning around, and she can’t help the way that her eyebrows jump in surprise when she sees who it is sitting at the table. 

The room is set up with a bed, a couch and two loveseats, as well as a table with four dining room chairs. Lap dances are usually given in the chairs at the table or the loveseats, but the rest of the room can be utilized however the girls may choose to. 

The thing that surprises Ingrid though, is the fact that the person sitting at the table is a woman, and not a man. 

The woman stands, the chair rustling against the floor as she pushes it back before she steps forward to examine Ingrid. Her gaze is curious but not sharp, her entire body language relaxed. She’s clearly a footballer, her body muscled and well built.  

She can’t be more than a few years older than Ingrid, and she’s just an inch or two shorter than her with light, sandy blonde hair that is straightened just past her shoulder. Her hazel eyes take Ingrid in, the light lace that covers her body, and she nods appreciatively for a moment before cocking her head. 

“Hello,” she offers, and Ingrid is quick to respond, the woman’s gaze making her feel a little bit hot. 

“Hi,” Ingrid responds, not entirely sure what to say. The woman was speaking to her in English, so clearly she recognized that the Norwegian was a foreigner, though she wasn’t exactly sure how she noticed that before she had even spoken. 

“Why did they send you in here to me?” The woman asked curiously, her hazel eyes still boring into Ingrid. The question is surprising, considering the fact that they were at a strip club. They sent her in here to do her job, but the Norwegian gets the sense that isn’t what this woman means, so she answers with more candor.  

“My coworkers' Spanish is better than mine. Presumably your friend only speaks Spanish, but you clearly can speak English well, so here I am,” Ingrid supposes, and the woman nods slowly before her lips quirk up in a smirk. 

“My friend can speak enough English for tonight, I promise. I think you should switch rooms…I insist actually. I think she’ll be quite charmed by…” the woman looks down at Ingrid once more before her gaze returns to the dark haired woman’s eyes, “...you.”   

Ingrid’s eyebrows raise in surprise before she nods in agreement, never one to say no to a client request unless it really was something she couldn’t do. 

“If that’s what you wish…” Ingrid trails off, still unsure of the woman’s name. 

“Alexia. And my friend's name in the other room is María,” she supplies, and Ingrid regards her for another minute before slipping out of the room, Alexia turning back to sit down in the chair she had been in originally. 

The Norwegian walks over to Room One briskly, rapping on the door three times before she steps back, waiting for Misa to come out. It only takes a few seconds for the Spaniard to slide out of the room, her eyebrows furrowed in clear confusion. 

“We need to switch, the other woman requested it,” Ingrid explains, and Misa nods for a second before she looks back at the room. 

“Can you believe it’s women? And god, if the second one is as hot as this one…” Misa trails off, practically drooling, and Ingrid can’t help but laugh lightly, because really she quite agrees. Misa is the only other gay woman at Dollhouse, and Ingrid finds solace in the fact that she isn’t alone, calmed by the Spaniards presence. 

“I don’t think you’ll be disappointed. Her name is Alexia,” Ingrid adds before the younger woman can leave, and Misa nods before she gestures back at the room next to them. 

“Names Mapi,” Misa supplies, and Ingrid’s eyebrows furrow at the fact she’s now been told two separate names for this woman. But honestly, if she was even half as attractive as the first woman, Ingrid was seriously going to be in trouble. 

The first woman, Alexia, hadn’t exactly been her type per say, but objectively she was very attractive. 

As Misa disappears down the hallway Ingrid takes a deep breath, trying to center herself and remain calm at what is about to occur. She knew what the deal was with men, how to dance and act. 

But women were different, Ingrid knew that even if she had never had a female client. They were more watchful, more appreciative, more in tune. 

And well, if this woman was as attractive as Misa was making her out to be, she might be in a bit of trouble. 

The green eyed woman punched in the code before she stepped into the room, once again shutting the door behind her. 

Ingrid turned around, taking in the room and the woman who was settled on one of the room's two armchairs. 

And god was Misa wrong. 

This woman wasn’t attractive. 

She was mind numbingly, astronomically stunning, and it takes everything in Ingrid not to let her jaw physically drop. 

The woman had her hair down in beach waves, lighter highlights against the brunette of her hair accenting the dark strands, framing dark eyes and supple, light pink lips that are set in a smirk. 

She’s wearing a button down that has far too many buttons undone, but it only serves to show off her cleavage, biceps straining against the tight black fabric. She has on gray dress pants, and she shifts her shirt sleeve up to glance at her watch before she stands, making her way over to Ingrid. 

“Hola princesa,” the woman greets softly, her voice raspy and deliciously low, and if Ingrid wasn’t wet at just the sight of her, she was now. 

If there was anyone who was going to break her rule of not sleeping with someone, it would be this woman. That was assuming she wanted to as well, but if the glint in her eyes was anywhere near as serious as it looked, Ingrid thought her chances might be relatively high. 

She scrambled to gather as much Spanish as she possibly could. It was a little pathetic that she wasn’t more fluent, but between this being her third language and the fact that her work was in English and most of her friends spoke the language, her Spanish could definitely use some work. 

“Hola,” Ingrid rushed to reply, internally cringing at how bad her accent was while understanding washed over the woman’s face, and she switched to a heavily Spanish accented English. 

“Ah, English, no?” The woman suggested, no malice in her tone, and Ingrid let out a small sigh before she nodded. 

“Si,” she acquiesced in a bit of a defeated tone, but the woman simply tipped her head back in a delicious laugh, something light and breathy, her neck on full display. She had a tattoo on it, and Ingrid could see more ink peaking back at her on the woman’s available skin. 

It did absolutely nothing to help the green eyed woman’s aching core, but she ignored it in favor of returning to the problem at hand, to the fact that she needed to get on with the performance for this woman. 

“Sit?” Ingrid asked gently, gesturing to the table and chairs that surrounded it, walking over to pull one of them out. 

The woman made no move to walk over, seemingly not done with the conversation. 

“I’m Mapi,” she said instead, and Ingrid raised her brow at the woman, clearly a little curious. 

“I’ve been told by a confident source that your name is María,” Ingrid sidesteps the introduction to ask the question, watching the way that the woman’s eyes darkened with lust when she says her name. 

“Have you now?” Mapi drawls, the surprise clear in her face. The smirk is back, and she finally begins to walk toward the table, but before she sits she stands in front of Ingrid, still only looking her in the eyes. 

The Norwegian keeps waiting for her to drop her eyes down, to look over the lace that could hardly be described as modest, but the smaller woman seems hell bent on keeping her eyes trained on Ingrid’s. 

“And you are?” She asks lightly, the dark haired woman answering her question quickly and easily. 

“My name is Ingrid,” she murmurs, once again gesturing at the chair, and this time Mapi takes her up on her offer. The Spaniard sits down before she looks up at the Norwegian, who strolls over to turn the music on. 

“Any requests?” Ingrid questioned, looking back at Mapi to find the woman staring at her with hooded eyes and a hungry gaze. She shakes her head, finding no offers. 

“Whatever you prefer,” Mapi decides, and Ingrid observes the woman for a moment before nodding, turning back to the speaker system. She sets up her playlist, playing the song TiO by Zayn, which had been a recent favorite of hers. 

The song is a bit of a quicker pace, which she liked to start out with. It was easy to flash the quick movements before she let things get sensual, and her approach for this woman is absolutely no different. 

She turns back toward the table, walking over in long strides before she comes to rest in front of Mapi, her ass pressed back into the table behind her. 

“Can I touch you?” Ingrid asks in a low voice, tossing her thick, dark hair over one shoulder. Mapi looks up at her with an unreadable expression, holding eye contact before she nodded carefully. 

The Norwegian stood from the table, stepping forward. She turned, rounding the chair that Mapi was currently settled in, just watching. The brunette didn’t look back at her, but did meet her eyes when Ingrid finally circled all the way back to the front of the chair. 

It’s at this point that Ingrid brings her hand up, resting it over the Spaniard’s collarbone carefully. She slides her hand up, coming into contact with bare skin as she pushes her middle finger inside the cuff of the woman’s popped shirt. 

The dark haired woman plays with the collar for a moment before she begins moving once again. She drags her fingers around to Mapi’s back, stopping when she is standing in front of the Spaniard’s back, pressing both of her palms to the brunette’s back, fingers down. She slowly runs her hands down, into the small of the footballers back, before she shifts, moving them to caress her sides gently. 

She’s gone as soon as she arrived, however, continuing around the chair. Her hands travel over the Spaniard’s arm, down her side and around the underside of her chest before she splays it over the top of the brunette's abdomen. 

The muscle beneath her palm is rock hard, and she cannot help but let out a harsh breath at the feeling. She hopes that the footballer doesn’t notice, but when she looks up to see that Mapi is smirking back at her, she considers the effort fruitless. 

Ingrid’s hands retract from the Spaniard’s skin, and she shifts so that she can move her hips down and into the brunette’s lap, her back to Mapi’s front. It’s a bold first move, but she’s quick, in time with the song for just a tease before she’s gone, several steps away. 

Mapi is watching her with eagle eyes as Ingrid runs her hands up her own sides, squeezing at her own chest, letting her eyes flutter shut at the feeling for emphasis. It’s a little pornographic, and perhaps a little bit of a sell out, but she doesn’t care. 

The Norwegian makes sure to spend several moments just watching, teasing herself in whatever way possible, reveling in the way that the Spaniards eyes darken at the sight. Her nipples strain against the lace, hard and begging to be freed, but the dark haired woman ignores them in favor of returning to the footballer. 

The song changes to Lose Control by Teddy Swims, something more slow and sensual. Ingrid stalks back to the brunette, her intent clear when she places her hands on the woman’s knees, sliding them up her thighs before squeezing, lightly. 

The Norwegian moves her hands up the Spaniard’s side as she settles in her lap, her knees spread wide as she presses forward into the brunette’s personal space. She moves her hips slowly in an infinity pattern, sensual and enough to drive any man crazy. 

And yet still, Mapi has yet to touch her. Her arms remain listless at her sides, rather awkwardly. It’s a staunch change from the male clients she has often, who feel that they are allowed to touch, to take as much as they want. They consider the fact that Ingrid has been paid for, that they are allowed to do whatever they want to her, within reason. 

This doesn’t seem to be the case for this woman, however, and it only turns Ingrid on more. She leans forward even further, placing one hand on the woman’s shoulder while the other remains firmly planted on her side. Her lips are on the shell of the woman’s ear as she speaks, her voice low. 

“You can touch…you know,” the Norwegian drawls, her words breathy and filled with lust. She leaned back to look the footballer in the eyes, noting that her gaze was dark, the way her tongue flicked out to wet her lips. 

They held the others' gaze for a moment, neither moving until finally, finally Ingrid felt two hands carefully, respectfully placing themselves on her side, down toward her lower back. 

It was the Norwegian who moved them, removing her hands from the Spaniard to place hers over the brunette’s, sliding them lower, lower, lower, until they were resting firmly on her ass. Only then did Ingrid remove her own hands, planting them on the back of the chair as she rolled her hips down into the brunette. 

Mapi was staring at her intently, and she gently palmed at the Norwegian’s ass to test, rewarded greatly for her efforts when Ingrid arched into her, letting out a breathy noise. 

The dark haired woman’s body could only be described as fluid as she moved above the Spaniard, finally moving her leg to hook over the back of the chair, wrapping around the brunette’s back. 

Mapi slid her hands up, pulling Ingrid’s body more flush with hers. The Norwegian smiled, their faces just centimeters from one another. The Spaniard’s breath on hers was hot and insistent, her eyes roving over Ingrid’s face, finally eyeing the lace that covered the dark haired woman’s body. 

“You like it?” Ingrid purred, a smile evident in her voice as she gripped Mapi’s shoulders. The Spaniard scoffed lightly, looking back up at Ingrid. 

“You could say that,” the brunette hummed, her voice thick and low. It sent a shot of heat straight to the Norwegian’s core, and she arched even further into the smaller woman. 

Ingrid turned her head, brushing her nose against the Spanaird’s temple, her breathing shallow. 

“I don’t sleep with clients,” the Norwegian explained, and felt the shift immediately from the woman beneath her, the instant reaction to move away.

Ingrid had to give the footballer that, she was nothing if not respectful. It only made the Norwegian want her more, only made her flush further at the thought. 

It was her choice. 

Ingrid intercepts her hands, shoving them back down onto her ass before she brought her own to the brunette’s neck, pulling her in. 

“You didn’t let me finish,” the dark haired woman pouted, her lower lip jutting out slightly. Mapi reached forward, running her thumb over Ingrid’s lip slowly, softly. 

“Lo siento, princesa,” Mapi soothed, her expression willing Ingrid to continue. The Norwegian smiled gently, leaning down so that her lips hovered over the Spaniard’s throat. 

“I don’t sleep with clients, not unless I want to,” Ingrid continued, her hot breath leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. Her fingertips trail up Mapi’s side, running over ridges of muscles and soft skin, dipping under her shirt before they retracted. Never direct, always teasing. 

“And trust me, I want to,” the Norwegian promised as she brought her face back to level with Mapi’s, her eyebrow quirked, almost daring the Spaniard to disagree. 

But the brunette would never do that, especially not when she has the most gorgeous woman she had ever laid eyes on sitting in her lap. 

They are left staring at one another for a few moments, their eyes flickering back and forth between the others eyes and lips, waiting to see who breaks first. A game of wills, a question of who is going to hold the power. 

It’s the Spaniard who snaps first, lunging forward to capture Ingrid’s lips in her own. She’s impatient, unable to resist having Ingrid in front of her looking so delectable, without doing anything about it. 

Mapi’s mouth is hot and insistent on her own, the brunette’s hands coming up to cradle Ingrid’s face as she kisses her senseless. 

It’s only a few moments later that the Spaniard presses her tongue into the Norwegian’s mouth, silently asking for entrance. The dark haired woman allows her access instantly, completely floored at the feeling of Mapi’s mouth on her own. 

The footballer swipes her tongue over the roof of Ingrid’s mouth, smiling into the kiss at the whine that slips past Ingrid’s lips at the feeling. 

The Norwegian’s head is dizzy, completely and utterly overwhelmed with the feeling of the Spaniard, of her hands being everywhere, of the press of her lips to Ingrid’s. It feels as though life is being breathed back into her, transformed into a fire that is sent straight to her core. 

She knows that she’s soaked the lace beneath her completely, but she can’t bring herself to care. Especially not when Mapi leans back, gesturing for her to stand. Ingrid is quick to comply, not bothering to try to make herself seem as cocky as she was pretending earlier. 

It’s been a long time since she’s been fucked properly, and something in this woman’s eyes tells her that the Spaniard is exactly what she needs. 

“Get on the bed,” Mapi instructs, and Ingrid is quick to comply, walking with purpose before laying back on the bed, sitting with her head up near the pillows, still clad only in her lace. 

The Spaniard stands from her spot on the chair, flipping the lock on her watch open as she sets it on the table in front of her. She pulled her shirt up from its spot having been tucked into her pants, looking over at the Norwegian as she undid the last few buttons. 

She laid the shirt down on the table, the picture of control and composure. The loss of the garment leaves her in only a black bra, which contrasts against the tan of her skin. She loses the belt she had on but elects to keep her pants on, instead moving toward the bed. 

Throughout this, the footballer had never let her eyes leave contact with Ingrid, not wanting to let the Norwegian out of her sight, even for a second. 

Ingrid lays back as Mapi joins her on the bed, crawling up the Norwegian’s body until she was positioned over the taller woman’s body, where she had wanted to be from the beginning. 

“You tell me to stop the minute you do not like something, si?” Mapi asked, her voice clear and leaving no room for argument. The Spaniard had no interest in making Ingrid do anything she did not want to. 

“Si,” the Norwegian parroted, squirming just slightly under the Spaniard, desperate for her to do something. 

Once she has confirmed Ingrid’s answer, the Spaniard is quick to begin her descent down the woman’s body. She captures the dark haired woman’s lips in a bruising kiss, applying just the right amount of pressure and tongue to have Ingrid gasping for more. 

She releases the Norwegian’s perfect, plump lips only in favor of working her mouth across Ingrid’s jaw, sucking and nipping lightly at the skin there. When she reaches the dark haired woman’s ear, she works her lips down and over the column of Ingrid’s throat. She pays close attention to the areas that make the taller woman let out a heavier breath, or the ghost of a whine, doubling down on her attention to those spots. 

She kisses over soft, pale skin, and down toward the soft flesh of her chest. Ingrid is arching into her before she even reaches her destination, desperate for more. 

“Can I–” Mapi removes her lips only to start a sentence that is never finished. 

“Yes, please, do anything to me,” Ingrid gasped, her entire body on fire at the thought of Mapi’s mouth over her chest, at the apex of her thighs. A flush is blooming on her chest as the Spaniard pulls the lace down, revealing Ingrid’s chest. 

Her nipples are peaked, aching to be touched and played with. The footballer doesn’t even bother with using her fingers first, simply leaning down to wrap her mouth around one of Ingrid’s nipples, her hand coming to cover the other. 

“Aye, María,” Ingrid hisses at the feeling, her whole back leaving the bed as she arches into Mapi’s mouth. Her hand has flown to the Spaniard’s head, her fingers tangling in the brunette’s hair and tugging lightly. 

Mapi doubles her attention at the feeling, swirling the tip of her nipple around her tongue, teasing her teeth over the sensitive area. Ingrid ate every lap of attention up, basking in it. She couldn’t remember the last time someone had made her feel so much, and it was turning her on in a way that was borderline painful. 

“Please, more,” the Norwegian begged once attention had been laved to both sides of her chest, and Mapi released her other nipple with a lewd pop sound. The footballer raised a brow at her, but Ingrid shook her head, her breaths shallow and desperate. 

The stripper is well aware of the irony, given her profession. She’s the one who is supposed to be pleasuring, not the other way around. But there was something about the way this woman composed herself, something about the reverence with which she touched the Norwegian that made her comfortable.

Mapi considers the request for a moment before she relents, pulling further at the lace, signaling that she wanted it off. The dark haired woman is quick to comply with her request, removing the hunter green fabric before she threw it to the ground, already forgotten. 

Ingrid lay back down on the bed, her hair splaying out against the pillow. The Spaniard watched her with hungry eyes, her lips turning up into a smirk. 

“So beautiful,” she murmured softly, her words filled with clear appreciation. “Espléndida, princesa,” Mapi whispered as she returned to Ingrid, softly holding the Norwegian’s face in her hands. Her lips were gentle against the taller woman this time, leaving the Norwegian with the feeling that she was delicate, and deserved to be treated as such. 

Oh, and what a different feeling it was to be touched by the Spaniard, as opposed to the heavy handed men she usually interacted with. 

To be touched and praised as though she was the most important thing in the world. No drug could compare, not to her anyways. 

Even as she trails down the Norwegian’s body, Mapi stops to press kisses into her skin, imbuing the fire of their interaction with a level of sweetness and ingenuity Ingrid had not been expecting. 

But nothing, absolutely nothing, could have prepared the Norwegian for what the first run of the Spaniard’s tongue through her would feel like. 

She is unsure of where her voice ends and Mapi’s begins, but all she knows is that two moans are filling the room, both equally desperate. Ingrid clutched at the sheets desperately, her hands fisting the pristine white fabric beneath them as Mapi ran her tongue through her again. 

The Spaniard eats her out as though it will save her, with an intent and passion that Ingrid cannot remember ever having in the bedroom. She brings her tongue up to circle the Norwegian’s clit several times, and every time a new wave of pleasure washes over her. 

“You taste perfect,” Mapi mumbles against her heat, and Ingrid flushes completely at the praise, struggling to compose her own pleasure. She attempts to bring her hand up to cover her own mouth, something that Mapi notices instantly. 

“Aye, I want to hear you,” the Spaniard chides softly when she sees what Ingrid is doing, and the dark haired woman lets out a filthy moan as she removes her hand, at the feeling of Mapi’s finger teasing at her entrance. 

“Is this okay?” The footballer confirms, waiting for the fervent head nod that she receives from Ingrid before she finally dips her finger in at a painfully slow rate, before curling gently. 

Ingrid is writhing under her, letting a string of mewls and moans that tumble from her lips of their own accord. She doesn’t care that she had no idea if anyone can hear them, only focused on her own pleasure and the feeling of the brunette’s body near her own. 

“Si, si, si,” Ingrid begs, moaning unabashedly when Mapi adds a second finger, curling with more purpose this time. 

The footballer could admit, her plan had been to tease more than this. She was a playful woman, and enjoyed picking her partners apart before allowing them to come, usually. 

Something about this Norwegian, the flush in her chest and the noises slipping past her lips, has Mapi throwing her entire playbook out the window.

She’s more than happy to continue this, so long as Ingrid continues making those noises. 

“You like that, princesa?” Mapi asks, her voice hoarse with arousal. Ingrid nods tightly, her chest arching up as the Spaniard curls her fingers deep within her. 

The set of her jaw, the way it opened with pleasure left Mapi flooded with the need to please, so the Spaniard lowered her mouth down to Ingrid’s clit, sucking lightly. The dark haired woman cries out, her hips rutting down into Mapi as the footballer continued her brutal pace. 

“Fuck!” Ingrid wailed, her voice dripping with need as she hurtled toward orgasm. Her hips grew erratic, jumping into Mapi’s hand as her whole body squirmed. The brunette could tell that the dark haired woman was close, doubling down on her pace and intensity, intent on getting her there. 

It only took a few more curls of Mapi’s fingers from deep within the Norwegian for the taller woman to let out a sharp cry, her whole body tightening. The Spaniard couldn’t help but smirk against the dark haired woman’s core as her whole body began to shudder, her orgasm working through her like a forest fire. 

Her whole body was arched off the bed, the sheets gripped in her fists as Mapi worked her through her orgasm, her entire body shaking. She collapses against the sheets, her breath coming in quick gasps as waves of pleasure flooded her system, her eyes still screwed shut. 

It took her a few moments, but she forced her eyes open when Mapi removed her fingers from Ingrid. The green eyed woman looked up at the Spaniard, who had sat back on her heels, her own breath short and lustful. 

The brunette reached her finger up to her own face, brushing some of the arousal away from her lips with the pad of her thumb as Ingrid looked up at her. The Norwegian’s dark hair was a sharp contrast to the pillow, the flush of her chest and stomach the complete antithesis to her pale skin. 

Mapi would never see a sight prettier than this under her again, she knew that for certain. Ingrid turned her head, glancing over at the clock and realizing with a rush that they still had several hours before either of them had to go anywhere. 

When the Norwegian looks back up at the Spaniard, it’s with a smirk on her lips, one eyebrow raised, almost as though she was challenging the brunette. 

“Fuck, princesa,” Mapi swore before surging forward to claim Ingrid’s lips once more, pressing her back into the bed. 

Ingrid let herself moan out, half at the feeling of Mapi’s body above her own, and half of the self satisfied feeling of knowing that it was going to be hard to walk tomorrow. 

So yeah…maybe some rules are worth being broken every once in a while. 

[bimbobaggins69]

Stripped

punk!steve x rockstar!eddie x stripper fem!reader

summary: the two men you crushed on in high school, find their way into your club. They’re shocked to see the pastors daughter, the cute shy little church mouse is now stripping, but that’s not who you are anymore. Both men who also crushed on you in high school are eager to see, just how much you’ve changed.

⚠️warning: SMUT 18+MDNI, in this au steve was also apart of the freaks of hawkins high, sorry no king steve here, mmf threesome, fingering (f receiving), p in v sex, p in a sex (female receiving), oral (m and f receiving), spit roast, double penetration, dirty talk, hair pulling, spanking, use of sir and master, Eddie and Steve kiss, squirting, cream pies.

A/N: god, this au really has me hot and bothered! (Please remember to tip your writers with a comment and reblog)

photo edits of Steve and Eddie: @eddiemunsons-missingnipple

It’s the busiest night of the week at foxy’s cabaret. The clubs pink and red lights accentuated your two piece red faux leather bikini, the bottoms were extra cheeky which only meant one thing; it was gonna be a good money night.

You didn’t go on for another hour, so you made your rounds scoping out possible customers that would like a private dance, you had already done three, all 60 minutes each. So you were ready to go on stage, make your money and go home.

These nights were mostly accompanied by older married men, looking to blow off steam from their wives. Most of them used you as a marriage counselor, spouting off terrible things about their spouses. It made you feel gross to have to listen to grown men, whine about how their wives are “always bitching” because they want their husbands to be home more, while they’re here getting a lap dance by you. But it was all part of the job and you’ve long learned how to de-compartmentalize it all. This was about money and nothing else.

Finally you’re called out on stage, you saunter on in your red pleasers that matched your two piece perfectly. You felt so hot tonight, and all eyes were on you, as you swung your hair and shook your ass on the pole.

Eddie had just gotten home from a big U.S. tour with corroded coffin. Him and his best friend Steve hadn’t seen each other in a year, so what better way for two friends to catch up then with some beers, hot chicks and tits. That being the exact thing Steve said to convince him to come out tonight. Eddie was kind of over the “hot chicks and tits” having seen too many to count at his shows and on the tour bus. That being said, he couldn’t turn down the chance to hang out and drink some beers with his best friend.

Eddie and Steve instantly felt out of place among all the older, rich, suit and tie assholes. They both wore band tees and vests, that show cased patches of their favorite bands. Not to mention the numerous amounts of tattoos they had; both had sleeves on each arm along with neck and face tattoos. They were definitely being thrown dirty looks by the older men, while the strippers were giving them both “fuck me eyes”. They were stopped by a few girls, to ask if they wanted private dances as they fan girled over Eddie Munson being in their club. The boys declined and Eddie kept the small talk to a minimum.

As they moved closer to the stage, your red bikini and shiny hair caught their attention. They both grabbed seats in the front row, eyes glued on your body. Steve couldn’t place it, but he had seen you somewhere. Eddie couldn’t even think as his eyes took in the sight of you, now with your legs wide open as your thighs shook and your pussy lips almost spilled out of the tiny g string.

Once you began crawling to the front of the stage, swinging you hair away from your face, Steve took you in, not your body, you. His eyes widened at the realization.

“Holy shit, dude,” he says, as he nudges Eddie’s arm with his elbow.

It took a second for the trance Eddie was under, while watching you to break.

“What, man?” Eddie says, eyes not leaving you as he leans in closer to Steve.

“That’s y/n, you remember y/n? From high school?” He says in disbelief

“No fucking way!” Eddie almost shouts

That catches your attention, you look over at them. Your eyes scanning over their tattoos, clothes and then finally taking in their faces. Your heart rate began to pick up.

Holy shit, that’s Eddie and Steve.

You hadn’t seen them since high school, you had been enamored with both of them. They were considered freaks for the way they dressed and their music taste but you didn’t give a shit. They were always nice to you and um, hello? They were hot as hell.

You bought weed from Eddie once when you were feeling particularly rebellious, you ended up smoking it in the back of his van with them, they were really sweet, and maybe a little flirty, but at that time you were so shy, you had absolutely no confidence to even bring yourself to flirt back. You were not the person you are now, that’s for sure.

Once your set is over, you walk off stage and decide “fuck it, you’re not that little shy church mouse you use to be in high school.” Yes, your father was a pastor, which made what you do for work all the more shocking.

“Eddie? Steve?” You say as you walk up behind them. They’re deep in conversation, leaning in to each other while they whisper, back and forth.

They immediately turn towards you, their cheeks look flushed and they almost look nervous.

“Y/n? Wow, how’ve you been?” Steve breaks the ice first. They stand up and each lean in for an awkward hug, almost like they didn’t want to accidentally touch your exposed skin.

“I’ve been good, how’ve you guys been?” You take in their faces better, now that they’re up close. You haven’t kept up with Eddie and his band much, mostly since you’re always busy working, but your club will occasionally play “Indiana’s very own corroded coffin” as your boss likes to calls them. The last time you officially seen them was at Charlottes grad party, and that was years ago. They’ve gotten even hotter since high school with all those tattoos, piercings and the facial hair. your eyes were shamelessly roaming their bodies.

“Actually would you guys like a private show? It would give us a chance to catch up?” You look from Eddie to Steve, silently hoping they’d take you up on the offer.

“Yeah, yes. Let’s do it.” Steve says

Eddie’s mouth still hangs open, he’s clearly in shock. You figure it’s because of your prude, church girl image you had in high school, being such a big jump from the girl now standing in front of him.

“Cool, follow me.” You lead them to the private rooms, that sit behind heavy red velvet curtains. Their eyes are glued to your ass in that little g string, they’re being hypnotized by the way it jiggles every time you take a step.

“Here we are.” You open the curtain and motion them inside.

The room is small, a black leather couch sits in the middle, along with a couple chairs, underneath lays a shag rug, while just above the couch holds a red neon sign that reads: “girls, girls, girls”

“You guys can take a seat, do you want anything? Bottled water or another beer?” You ask with a polite smile.

Both boys shake their heads no, but thank you for the offer. You decide to take up the seat in between them, it wasn’t very much space, leaving their legs to rub up against yours, but you had no complaints. Their rough jeans against your soft skin, shot a thrilling tingle straight to your core.

“So?” Eddie finally speaks, “how long have you been doing this?” His eyes begin to scan your face, admiring your soft, delicate features. Features he use to spend hours day dreaming, about. His eyes began to move down to your tits, he wanted to be a gentleman, but he didn’t exactly come here for that. So he decided to indulge.

“Oh, um. It’ll be a year next week, actually.”

They both nod their head, taking in your answer. It feels a little awkward, like theirs something they want to say or maybe ask, but then Eddie begins, again—

“Your dad still the pastor?” you could tell he wasn’t trying to make fun, just a curious question. One you get a lot, but more so in a mocking tone.

“Uh, yeah yeah, he is. But we don’t talk, for obvious reasons,” you say as you gesture to the room around you.

“Yeah, I could imagine. So, how does a good girl like you get mixed in with this?” Steve asks, partaking in the curiosity.

“Well, I had to get out of my parents house, ya know? I wanted to live my own life, so I ended up moving in with my roommate brandy, she had been doing this since she was eighteen, she offered to help me get the job. It’s fun, brought me out of my shell a lot, I’m not that little shy girl you remember.” You didn’t mean for the last line to come out so suggestive, but both Eddie and Steve’s eyebrows shot up, in intrigue.

Making Eddie lean into your ear and whisper, “put on a show for us then, baby.” The tone made you shiver with equal amounts, nervousness and excitement. You’ve grown accustomed to your job, rarely ever feeling nervous before a dance, but right now in this moment in front of Eddie and Steve, you felt that timid girl you once knew creep back into your consciousness.

You stand up, doing your best to push it all down. Slowly swaying your hips as gimme all your lovin’ by ZZ Top, plays in the background. You keep eye contact with each of the boys as you do your little routine. Their eyes roaming the expanse of your body, as they begin shifting in their seats, something most customers do when you know you’re doing a good job. The thought of making their cocks hard underneath their pants, gave you the burst of confidence you needed.

You straddle Eddie’s hips first, leaving him to tense in surprise, so you grab his hands that are folded across his chest and place them on your hips, bringing your glossy lips up to his ear, “you can touch me.” You whisper.

As soon as his hands find your skin, he begins rubbing over your hips and thighs, slowly moving down to your ass, taking two handfuls and squeezing before they’re moving back up to your hips. You look over at Steve who’s intently staring at you both, so you take it upon yourself to bring him closer. “Cmon, you can touch me too.” You say with a doe eyed smile. You grab his hand and place it just under Eddie’s.

“Oh yeah? You want both of us to touch you, princess?” Eddie continues to whisper to you. Smug smirk adorning his face as he looks over at his best friend, you couldn’t make out what they were trying to silently tell each other, but it made your stomach flutter. You were excited for this to go where it seemed to be going.

Steve swiftly lifts you by both thighs, placing you on his lap with ease. His hands roaming your body, as he leans in to whisper to you—

“Please tell us, you want this as bad as we do, baby?” Fuck, their voices alone were making you soak through your little panties.

“I-I do, I want you both. I have since that time I smoked weed with you and Eddie in the back of his van.” You giggle, making your hips jerk over Steve’s hard on. The friction made a whine slip out of your mouth.

The boys laughed at the memory, until they heard you, the whine caught their attention. Steve’s face switches to something more cocky

“Mmm, did that feel good, sweet girl?” He grabs your ass and rubs your core over his cock again, this time making you both moan out in tandem.

You bite your lip as you nod, while eddie scoots in closer to you both, he begins playing with your bikini. His calloused fingers rubbing over the swells of your breasts, hardening your nipples that lie under the red fabric. His fingers find the strings in the back, that are holding the bikini together.

“Can I take this off?” He asks softly

“Yes, please.” desperation has now taken over your voice

“Mm, and she still has her manners. Such a good girl.” The praise doing nothing to help the wetness pooling between your thighs.

Once he gets all the strings untied, he slowly lets it fall onto Steve’s lap. Your tits now on full display for them.

“Holy shit.” They say in unison. Eddie’s jaw clenches, while Steve groans. They each take one of your tits in their hand, squeezing and pinching at your nipples. Every little touch shooting straight to your core.

You’ve never done this before, you knew a lot of your co workers would give blow jobs or have quickie’s with their customer for extra cash, but that was never something you were comfortable with doing.

Yet, here you are, engaging in a threesome with two men you were obsessed with in high school, one who is now a big rockstar. The thought makes your head spin.

Steve grabs you by the back of your hair, pulling you out of your thoughts, as he interlocks his lips with yours, you allow his tongue entry while Eddie is moving his neck kisses down to your chest. He takes your nipple into his mouth and lightly sucks, gently teasing you. You whine into Steve’s mouth, breaking the kiss to look down at Eddie, his big brown eyes already looking up at you through his thick lashes. Your furrowed brows and pouty lips were almost enough to do him in, right then and there.

“So eager and impatient.” He growls as he slaps your ass, hard.

It makes you jerk in Steve’s lap, simultaneously moaning at the friction.

“Naughty girl, likes being spanked.” Steve says as he looks to Eddie, mischievous smirks taking over their once flushed faces.

“Now who would’ve guessed that?” Eddie says, making them both laugh. You feel like they’re laughing at you, but you’re too far gone to care.

Steve grabs your chin, turning your head back towards his and Eddie’s, smiles no longer on display, the air became thicker as you swallowed down the excessive saliva now coating your tongue. “You think you can take both of us at the same time, princess?” Your eyes widen at the thought of both of their cocks inside of you, it makes your stomach flip and you eagerly nod as if you’re a child being asked if you’d like some candy.

You’re by no means a virgin, you’ve had your share of one night stands and an occasional boyfriend here and there, but anal is still uncharted territory for you. You can’t lie that the prospect does excite you though, you would do just about anything they asked of you right now.

“Words, sweet girl. You need to use your words with sir and master.” Fuck

“Yes sir, yes master.” You said wantonly

“Good girl.” Eddie now had his hand wrapped around your neck, lightly squeezing

“This is what’s gonna happen.” Eddie starts “you’re going to lay down on this couch, while me and Steve get you ready for our cocks, how’s that sound, pretty baby?” His words are filthy, but his tone and smile are so soft, you could swear you were transported back to high school, they were making you fall in love all over again.

Love? No, no way. Don’t be crazy

“Yes, sir.” You nod, getting up from Steve’s lap

“Fuck, she’s so obedient.” Steve says to Eddie, like he’s enamored by you. Can’t believe you’re real.

They stand up, allowing you to lie down on the squeaky, old, black leather couch. As you lay, body flush against the cushions, you open your legs wide for the boys as they take in every curve, burning it into memory. Steve starts by taking off your stilettos, placing gentle kisses at the top of your foot, moving up to your calf and over your knee, stopping in the middle of your thigh, while Eddie palms himself through his jeans, admiring the scene in front of him.

Surprisingly, this is something Steve and Eddie talked about quit a few times in high school, they both wanted you. The time they smoked with you in the van, they were going to make a move but decided they didn’t want to make you uncomfortable, you were so shy and timid but Eddie couldn’t deny that little shy demeanor you had really got him going. They both thought you were beautiful, sweet and cute as fucking button.

They were disappointed after you all graduated and they still didn’t make their move, even at Charlottes grad party, but you had been on the arm of Chip Reynolds. Coincidentally, you also lost your virginity to him that night, after one too many shots.

“Can I take these off, baby?” Steve hooks his index fingers inside the red material of your g string, but looks up for your answer before he proceeds. You nod your head, while you bite down on your lip, granting him access by lifting your hips. The room around you feels hot, as you hear; looks that kill by Motley Crue booming through the club speakers.

Before Steve widens your legs, Eddie walks around you and Steve and takes a seat on the couch, by your feet. Not wanting to miss the view, they’ve been dreaming about for years.

“Open those pretty legs for us, baby.” Eddie says as his fingers walk up your leg, you gasp when you feel the spine tingling sensation shoot through you. You want to squeeze your legs together for some kind of relief of friction, but you know better. So instead you hike your legs up, like you’ve done so many nights before, for men who don’t truly see you, you’re a sex worker to them, someone there to appease their needs. You begin to wonder if that’s how Eddie and Steve see you now, but you can’t dwell on that thought.

You’re now bare and on full display for them, your juices creating a glistening coat on the outside of your well trimmed pussy. Steve and Eddie audibly groan at the sight, insecurity began creeping up as they gawked, but you didn’t know they were equally losing their restraint.

Steve’s the first to trail his hands towards your sex, slow and agonizing. The tips of his fingers barely grazing your skin, just enough to leave goosebumps in their wake. When he finally gets to where you’re dying to be touched, he starts by rubbing the tips of his fingers up and down your slit, he finds your clit and begins slowly drawing small circles. They take in every expression and whine you give them, eating it up like the only sustenance left on earth.

“That feels so good, Steve.” Your mouth falls open as the pressure of his fingers on your clit, pick up. Finally giving you the right amount of friction you’ve been begging for.

Eddie starts taking his cock out of the confines of his black jeans, the tightness being too much for him to handle. As you hear the zipper you lift your head up, not wanting to miss anything. Once you’re met with Eddie’s cock, your eyes widen and your jaw drops, it’s fucking beautiful —

“Well thank you, pretty girl.” Eddie snorts

Fuck, you’re so far gone, you thought you said that to yourself.

But it is, so beautiful. About seven and a half inches, thick and veiny, the spongy heads an angry throbbing red, precum beading at the tip.

“See, told you, you had a nice cock, Munson.” Steve says, before sending you a wink. That mischievous smile making its comeback. The insinuation making your pussy pulse, as more wetness continues to glaze your outer lips.

Eddies cheeks, blooming a pretty rosy pink at Steve’s words. You could tell he was uncomfortable diving in deeper to the depths of what was said, and you didn’t want to push it, no matter how curious they left you.

“Can I taste your pussy, baby?” Eddie now asks, leaning in closer to your thighs, while he continues stroking his heavy cock.

“Yes, master.” You say, trying not to sound as eager as you felt.

Steve stands up and begins fiddling with the button of his red and black plaid pants, riddled with different patches, some you’re able to make out: circle jerks, misfits, buzzcocks and minor threat to name a few. They look interesting, maybe you’ll remember to check their tapes out whenever you go to your local record store.

Your thoughts quickly being broken by Eddie’s tongue swiping over your clit, making you moan out a “oh my god!” In surprise

Steve’s cock springs out, and bobs in the air. A little bigger than Eddie’s but not by much, the tip matching his best friends; angry and red. They’re both fucking beautiful, and you want them inside you so bad.

Steve starts fisting his cock as he walks up towards your face, “Aw, no complement for my cock, baby?” Steve mockingly coos

“You’re both beautiful, you and your cocks. Want them so bad.” You moan, as your hips buck up towards Eddie’s tongue, which is now fucking your hole, before moving back up to circle your clit.

“Mmm, that’s better, sweet girl. Now open wide for me, kay?” Steve says as he begins tapping his cock against your lips. You open your mouth and stick your tongue out, Steve audibly growls at your obedience before he’s plunging it into your mouth, he grabs a fistful if your hair working you up and down on him, just the way he likes it. Meanwhile Eddie, takes it upon himself to insert two fingers into your wet weeping hole, making you moan around Steve, the vibrations making his cock twitch, deep in your throat.

Eddie’s tongue continues lapping up your juices as Steve is fucking your throat, the whole scene making euphoria pass over you, as if you were high off the best drug. Their cocks were your drug, and they were giving you the perfect high. Eddie’s fingers hit that spot inside of you, that always has you gushing. You scream out, as he’s relentlessly hitting it. Both boys, slowly becoming more and more aggressive. But you did not mind, in the slightest.

Your muscles start tensing and your legs start shaking, as your pussy spasms around two of Eddie’s heavily ringed fingers.

“Fuck, you’re squeezing my fingers so tight baby, I can’t wait to fuck you. Mmm, Cum for us, pretty girl.”

Eddie’s ministrations speed up, making your toes curl.

You release Steve’s cock with a pop, as you begin moaning and screaming.

“I’m cu-cumming, fuck don’t stop, master please!” Eddie’s fingers speed up, as wet squelching fills the room. You cum with a splash of wetness to Eddie’s chin and neck, making him growl.

“Fuck, you’re a squirter? Goddammit, you’re fucking perfect.” He’s so ready to be inside you, that he’s willing to spill all his dirty secrets and the feelings he’s harbored for you throughout the years.

Steve is on the other side losing his shit over the way you’re sucking his dick and the fact that you just squirted all over his best friends face. They needed to fuck you, want was out the window.

Eddie gets up from his laying position between your thighs, he brings the back of his hand to wipe the juices that he wasn’t able to lick away, while Steve pulls you off of his cock and back up onto your feet.

Steve sits down on the couch first, before his fingers are pressing into your hips and he’s guiding you to straddle his naked lap, having completely removed his clothes before sitting down. Once fully seated he takes his cock in his hand giving it a few strokes before he looks at you with eyes that could make you puddle right there on the floor.

“You ready, sweet thing?” He asks while he beams up at you, awaiting your answer but also admiring your beauty while trying not to blow his load at the fact that the girl he spent so much time admiring from a far when he was a teenager, is now seated on his lap, naked.

“Yes, sir. I’m ready.” Your words coming out so sugary sweet, making his head drop to the back of the couch, as he does his best to pull it together. He’s never had this problem before, you were completely ruining him, making him feel ways he hasn’t for any other girl.

He lifts his head back up, looking you in the eyes as he takes your chin between his fingers, his other hand still stroking himself. “You’re such a good fucking girl, you know that?” He says with a smirk

Eddie’s off to the side, watching the whole display closely. “She is such a good girl? Isn’t she Harrington? I think it’s time we reward her with both of our cocks. How does that sound, princess?” You moan, while your hips grind down on to Steve’s precum coated cock.

“Yes, please. I need sir and masters cock inside me.” If anyone from your congregation could see you now, they’d think you’d been possessed by some sort of sex demon, the way you were moaning, groaning and writhing about on top of Steve’s lap, you even felt like it in that moment.

Steve finally breeches your soaked hole, making him shudder beneath you. As you begin sinking down on to his cock, inch by delicious inch, Eddie comes and sits on the back of the couch where Steve’s head is resting, he’s stroking himself with the most devious smirk, pupils blown black from lust. If you were being possessed it would be Eddie’s doing.

“Get me nice and wet, baby. Need to be able to slip into your asshole with ease, okay? The sloppier the better.” He winks, while you quickly obey. Opening your mouth and allowing yourself to sink down on Eddie and Steve, simultaneously.

Steve grabs the globes of your ass and starts his own pace while helping you bounce on his aching cock. You’re gagging on Eddie, tears rolling down your cheeks as spit falls from your mouth and down onto the leather of the couch cushions. Both boys eyes are rolling back into their heads, they’re in fucking heaven. In that moment they both have the same thought— they never want to let you go.

Eddie pulls you off as he wipes up the remaining spit hanging from your chin, bringing it down to stroke his already glistening cock, and rubbing the wetness over his balls before he’s behind you, opening up your ass cheeks and using his spit to rub his middle finger over your puckered hole. “I’m gonna put my fingers in first and loosen you up, a’right?” You look back at him, eyes all doe like, lips swollen and wet from his cock. Fuck, you were a captivating portrait of beauty, if he’s ever seen one.

“Yes, master. Please,” broke him out of his thoughts as he breeched your virgin hole with the tip of his finger, making you groan in pain and pleasure. Finally, his finger is fully seated in you to the second knuckle, while Steve begins rubbing your clit as he still fucks into you, “you’re doing so good pretty baby, so good for us.” Steve whispers into your ear, as Eddie’s finger starts moving faster in and out, you can’t contain the screams that are falling from your mouth. Steve continues— “I know baby, I know. It’s a little uncomfortable at first, but I promise you, it’ll start to feel so fucking good, okay? You’re gonna love it by the time he’s done.” His words making you bounce back on his cock and Eddie’s finger. “That’s it, princess. Fuck my finger.” Eddie growls.

“I’m gonna put a second one in, okay?” Eddie says as he slips the second one in with the first, this time it goes in smoother, sinking to his tattooed knuckles. “Oh, fuck-” Steve cuts of your moans by bringing his lips to yours for a sloppy kiss, of tongues and spit, moaning into each others mouths as you get both your holes filled.

Once Eddie thinks your ready, he gets up from his kneeling position, holding out his hand under your chin as he demands you to spit, then doing the same to Steve. He rubs the mixed spit glob onto his cock for extra lube, he doesn’t want this to hurt you, he wants to make it as pleasurable as possible. Once it’s to his liking he lines his red tip up with your pink throbbing hole, he pushes in and fuck, it’s an indescribable feeling, but it’s so good.

“Oh, fuuuck!” Eddie groans, pushing even deeper inside you. “You’re so tight baby, fuck I’m not gonna last long, I’m just letting you both know that now.” He chuckles making you and Steve laugh, too. “I’m so close, been edging myself this whole time.” Steve says

Finally, Eddie is bottomed out inside of you, grabbing your hips but not moving until you give him the okay. “Just let me know when you’re ready, sweet girl.” — “I’m ready, please eddie, I’m ready.” He grabs a handful of your hair and yanks it back until you’re looking at him upside down. “It’s master, remember? I’ll let that one slide since you have two cocks inside you and you’re too fucked dumb, to think. But, next time I will punish you, do you understand?” He says through gritted teeth.

“Yes, master. I’m sorry.” You want to cry, not for being reprimanded but from the sheer pleasure of it all. “That’s my good girl,” he says leaning down and pressing a sweet kiss to your forehead.

They both start pounding into you, it’s almost too much but you wouldn’t dare ask them to stop, not when the knot in your stomach is tightening and you can feel yourself reaching that ultimate high.

“Fuck, Steve I can feel your cock hitting mine.” Eddie growls, making Steve clench is jaw and throw his head back. “Mm, you like being able to feel my cock inside her, big boy?” Steve nods his head, while moaning out expletive after expletive.

Them talking dirty to each other while inside you, was about to throw you over the edge, along with their hands that wouldn’t stop rubbing and grabbing at your skin, taking handfuls of whatever they could.

You lean forward and put your head against Steve’s shoulder, while they continue to fuck you, the slight shift giving them better access to your holes, but also bringing Eddie and Steve’s faces closer together. Eddie smiles and winks at Steve as their cocks moved in and out in unison, meanwhile Steve grabs Eddie’s hair and smashes their lips together in a heated kiss. The smacking of their lips brings your attention back to them. It was so insanely hot, making you clench tightly around both boys, Steve pulls away first, “fuck, I think she likes that. You like watching me and Eddie kiss, angel?” Steve says in a mocking tone, all you can do is nod your head, as your high hits you like a ton of bricks.

“Oh my fuck, im cumming, holy shit.” You wail as you squirt all over Steve’s cock and lower stomach. Steve couldn’t hold it any longer, your moans and the splash he felt against his lower half, made him lose it. “I’m cumming, fuck where do I-” he says before you cut him off. “Inside, both of you, I want it inside please!” You whimper

Eddie takes your chin in his hand, turning your face towards his and kissing you deep and passionately as he follows right behind Steve, both boys empty themselves inside your tight, clenching holes. You continue milking them dry until Eddie pulls out slowly, followed shortly by Steve.

Eddie lifts you up and softly put you down so that you’re seated on the couch as he falls down on the cushion beside you.

“Wow.” You three said in unison, making you all laugh out hysterically.

Once the laughing stops, you’re all met with comfortable silence as the background noise from the club penetrates your ears, and you’re brought back to your surroundings.

Then the silence is broken as Steve asks, “So, what are you doing this weekend?”

Thank you for reading!

•taglist•

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@ilove-yourmoms-f33t @roxanamaier64 @daniellabrandt @thoughtsoftheantagonist @agalsmaraudersobsession @harrycanyonmoonn @steveharringtonswifey09 @ashdoctor @luna-munson83 @randodummy 

[dirtyvulture]

Can you make like...How do you think the avengers would react if they found a Flashdrive witn Y/n modeling pictures... after she forgot in a table

I’m not technically taking requests right now, but I’ll give this one a shot:

“I thought you said we weren’t supposed to stick unknown flash drives in our laptops,” Steve points out as Tony spins the silver flash drive with a coating of chipped red paint towards himself.

“I said you guys aren’t supposed to,” he says, “But I can do whatever I want.”

“That doesn’t make any sense. You’re still putting everyone at risk if–” Steve continues, as Natasha rolls her eyes next to him and wonder why he’s even putting up an argument.

“What do you humans keep on those tiny sticks anyway?” Thor asks, his entire hand shoved into a nearly empty box of Poptarts.

“We’re about to find out.” Tony connects the flash drive to his laptop. He opens the drive to reveal a single folder. Steve, Natasha, and Clint crowd closer to him to get a better view, while Thor discards his box of Poptarts and goes hunting through the cupboards for another snack.

“It looks like a bunch of pictures and some videos,” Tony says, reading off the file names. But the thumbnails are too small to tell what they are, so he double clicks on one, opening a very high-resolution photo of you in black lingerie, posing by a stripper pole on some kind of stage.

“Oh no,” Steve squeaks, turning away as if to protect your modesty.

“Hell yeah,” Clint says in approval. “Go Y/N.”

Natasha feels her mouth go dry as she stares at your hardly covered body.

“Is this what Y/N does on her days off?” Tony says, clicking through the photos. The photoshoot seems to have no end, as you move from posing on the stage to lying out on a couch, progressively losing more and more of your clothing until–

“Yep, that’s enough for the day.” Tony shuts the lid of his laptop. “Someone should tell Y/N to at least password-protect her flash drive.” 

“Let me make a copy first,” Natasha mutters.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

AN: This is a Nat x R blog after all, so hopefully you didn't expect anything less. :)

[mermaidgirl30]

✨Javi’s Playground✨

A/N: Ahhh I’ve been wanting to write a Javi one shot for a while, and I finally got the inspiration after listening to “Sex & Candy” by Marcy Playground. Thank you to @mountainsandmayhem for helping me come up with a name and beta read so I didn’t chicken out and not post 😘 This is my first time writing Javi, so I’d like as much feedback as I can get 🥰 I tried my best with the Spanish translations.

Summary: Javi decides to blow off some steam at the strip club, but he doesn’t intend to attempt to take one of the dancers home with him.

Pairing: Javier Pena x fem! reader

Word Count: 3.2k

Rating: Explicit (18+ MDNI)

Tags: smut, flirting, Javi goes to a strip club, alcohol, smoking, unprotected p in v, oral, Narcos era, reader is a stripper, reader has long hair, switching POVs, some Spanish (translations at bottom of doc)

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

The glow of the amber lights swirl above his head as a crystal disco ball spins slowly, throwing its sparkly essence into the crowded strip club. This isn’t his normal place, Paradise Cove. It’s only a distraction, a secret alcove to let go of any thoughts of drug lords, innocent bloodshed, Pablo Escobar, or any traces of misery he’s been holding on to over the past treacherous year. This was a place for forgetting, relaxing the mind, indulging in mere fantasies he could only wish to grasp his torn hands around. So he’d drink, smoke, and indulge in beautiful women in peace on this lonely Friday evening. 

   The red walls are smeared with flecks of sparkles, and the atmosphere is bursting with energy and dim lighting. The cool glass of amber whiskey sits in his hand as he gulps down another swig, letting the burn coat his insides as he flicks the small lighter and lights up another Marlboro cigarette. He lets the smoke surround him, fogging his vision as he inhales the nicotine and lets it sit there dwindling around him in a blur. Just for a couple of seconds, just enough to take the edge off of his growing migraine. 

   He throws his head back and exhales, blowing the smoke out as the music changes over to a tune he knows. “Sex & Candy” by Marcy Playground starts to play from the blaring speakers, the song slowly slipping through his ears as he sits up just a little straighter in the black leather chair. 

   The crowd hollers when the next girl takes the stage, low whistles reverberating off the side mahogany tables as the volume of the music picks up. He doesn’t realize what they’re all making a fuss about until he looks up and sees you. The most beautiful girl he’s ever seen. Esplendida. 

   You’re so radiant, the way you strut across the stage in your crystal clear stiletto high heels as you spin in slow motion, running your fingers through your thick, long curls as you look over your shoulder and flirt with the crowd. Your legs are so long, the curve of your thighs begging to be touched as you sway your hips side to side and get lost in the song.

   And then there she was, in platform double suede. Yeah, there she was. Like disco lemonade.

   He can’t help but grip the damp glass in his hands a little too tight as he spreads his legs wide and relaxes into the plush leather, his eyes glued to you as you slide down the pole gracefully. He wets his lips as his tongue glides across his bottom lip, his cigarette burning his flared nostrils as he oogles the way you please the crowd with every single move you make across the reflective stage. 

   He watches the way you push the swell of your breasts up with your delicate hands, eyes the tiny black lingerie set that barely covers your porcelain skin, assesses the way the lacy thong skims across the curve of your hips, and nearly drowns on his sip of bubbling whiskey as you bend down and show off the thick globes of your ass. 

   Javi sets the half empty glass of alcohol down beside him on the little sturdy table and grabs his denim clad knee as he sinks his nails into the fabric, trying to hold himself together as he listens to the track play through the massive club, watching the way you keep turning and finding his searing gaze. 

   I smell sex and candy here. Who’s that lounging in my chair? Who’s that casting devious stares in my direction? Mama, this surely is a dream. 

   His brown eyes blow wide every time you turn and wink his way, casually flirting as you flip your hair and bite your lower lip, sending him spiraling as he feels the blood rush to his cock in his tight jeans, feeling just how hard he is now as his thick cock presses into the metal of the zipper. It’s like you know what you’re doing, sparkling eyes penetrating his gaze as you flirtatiously bat your long mascara coated eyelashes and eye fuck him from the glowing stage, making sure he’s getting exactly what he came her for. To feel good, to indulge in his fantasies, to make him think you want him. But customers don’t get to take strippers home. That’s not how this business works, not how it’s supposed to run, unless… 

   You slide slowly down the metal pole, ending up on the floor of the lit up stage as you spread your legs wide and tease him just a little as you play with the straps of your panties and press your heels into the floor, giving him a view that just about takes him out. He leans his elbows against his knees, rakes a hand through his thick mustache as he groans into the palm of his hand while sweat sticks to his tanned forehead. 

   He loves the view that’s on display, loves the outline of your pussy as he swears he can see wetness pooling there in between your legs while you sit there and tease him with the biggest smirk on your face he’s ever seen in his life. Those red, plump lips, those glistening thighs that deserve to be kissed, that pulsing core that begs to be lapped up. He can see it now, you splayed out on his bed while he fucks you deep, bottoming out as you scream his name, claw at his tanned skin as you beg for more. He’d take care of you. God he would. And fuck does he want to. Desesperadamente. 

   He can feel the precum sliding against his thick length, can feel just how badly he wants to palm himself through his tight denim as he watches you fall apart on the stage before him. At this point he has no restraint, can barely sit here and watch as you start to crawl on your hands and knees toward him, hypnotizing eyes that lock on his as he leans forward and unfastens the black tie that clings to his button-up white collared shirt. 

   His eyebrows furrow, lips parting unbelievably as you curl your finger and beckon him to come to the side of the stage, your gaze flicking over his figure as he prays you don’t see the erection that’s begging for some kind of release that’d involve hands, or maybe a mouth, a warm tongue…

   He takes another drag of the sweet nicotine and pushes himself out of the leather chair, slowly trudging up to you as he lets his eyes trail generously over your perfect body. When he finally makes it over to the end of the glossy stage, he sees just how beautiful your eyes really are, eyes that were just eye fucking him seconds ago, eyes he’d love to gaze into while he cants his hips against yours roughly. Eyes he could lost in, swim in.

   You smirk his way, letting your hands run through your tousled curls as you flutter thick eyelashes up at him. He digs into the pit of his denim pocket and pulls out a crisp twenty dollar bill as he cautiously slides it inside the lace of your push-up bra, his fingertips grazing the edge of one of your perky breasts as he groans in response. Your skin is so soft, he thinks what you have underneath the lace will be even softer, divine, delicious. 

   You bite your bottom lip flirtatiously and play with the end of his loose tie, letting the silk slip through your fingertips as he watches in a blissed out daze. You could’ve chosen anyone to target, could’ve had attention from any of the sleazy men in this nightclub, but you chose him. The one with the flecks of honey eyes, the one that couldn’t keep his eyes off you for one second, the handsome stranger who must’ve been new to this place. 

   “You new here?” you ask curiously as you eye his stance, watching the way his eyes seem to light with burning fire every time he even dares to look your way. 

   “Been here once or twice before, but this is the first time I’m seeing you, hermosa.” He lets his dark eyes slide down your body, a smirk curling across his plush lips as he leans in closer, until you can smell the tinge of nicotine lacing through his taste buds. “You sure look good up on that stage, amar. Prettiest thing I’ve seen in a city like San Francisco.”

   “Oh? You like what you see?” you blush as you hang your legs off the end of the stage, just enough to brush his thighs as you feel how strong they are. 

   “Oh, I like what I see alright. Jodidamente perfecta.”

   You feel your cheeks burn bright red, feel your thighs clench up as you see how thick his fingers are, how dark and ravenous his eyes look, how hard he is underneath the fabric of his tight jeans. You don’t ever get this wound up about customers, but something about well dressed, smoldering men makes you want to lose all dignity and throw yourself at him. He must be so good in bed. With the way he’s staring at you, all hot and bothered, he may as well just carry you out of this club. Even if it’s technically against the rules. 

   “What’s your name, handsome?” you ask as you brush your heels against the side of his ankles and watch him tense up under your touch. 

   “Javier. Just call me Javi for short, though. And yours, hermosa?” You tell him your name, your real name, not your stripper name, even if that’s against the rules, too. You clearly don’t care about any fucking rules at this point. 

   “Ahh, that’s a gorgeous name. Telling me your real name, yeah? Aren’t you a little rule breaker,” he teases as he cocks up a thick eyebrow and slides his thumb over his lips as he brushes against his thick mustache. You wonder what it’d feel like with his mouth covering your core, his mustache brushing over your swollen clit as he licks and licks until you come apart on his large tongue. 

   You pull yourself out of ridiculous wet fantasies and watch the smoke fall off his tongue. “I live to break rules,” you tease as you pull him closer, catching the end of his black tie as he’s so close now that you can see the embers of brown flecks scatter across his dark eyes. He’s so handsome, you think you want to go home with him. 

   “That right, hermosa?” he asks as he takes another long drag of his cigarette and blows the smoke away from your face as that smug smirk still encases his playful teasing. 

   “That’s right,” you giggle as you gently curl your fingers over the wrist that holds the burning cigarette. 

   He watches you carefully, eyes full of trouble as he puffs out a breath and fills your nostrils with the stench of whiskey and nicotine. “What do you say, hermosa? Wanna take a tour of my bedroom tonight?”

   You carefully snag his lit cigarette from his outstretched hand and slide it in between your crimson lips, taking a slow drag of the cigarette as he watches you with dark, wide eyes and parted lips that shine with the gleam of amber colored whiskey. You gently blow out the smoke in his face and lean forward as you wrap your manicured fingers around his loosened tie. “You can give me money, yes, but what else? I have plenty of money. What is it that you want, handsome?”

   He grabs the cigarette from your open hand and takes a whiff of the nicotine, letting it blow right back into your face as you smell whiskey, smoke, and trouble fill your lungs.

   “Te deseo…” He says it slowly, meticulously like it’s the most sensual thing he’s ever said to a woman before. You don’t know what it means, but it damn sure sounds like you need to say yes. 

   Your eyebrows raise as you smile wide his way. “I don’t speak Spanish, handsome. But I think I want to say yes. Wanna indulge me in what exactly it is you want?”

   He takes another slow drag of his cigarette as he smirks your way. “I want you, hermosa. In my bed, underneath my body, so I can fuck you fast and hard. Wanna rip off that lace and devour your sweet pussy until I have you coming apart on my tongue. Wanna make love to the beauty that stole my heart away tonight.”

   Your breath hitches as you gasp out of breath, not realizing you clutched onto his leather belt and clenched your sticky thighs together as slick pools warmly in your lace. You should’ve known he was a handsome menace the first moment you saw him sitting there with his glass of cold whiskey and lit up cigarette. You should’ve fucking guessed. 

   His body is now too close to yours, chest pressed against yours as you stand shakily off the stage and feel just how bad he wants you through the fabric of his tight jeans. You can see that way his dark eyes flick over yours, feel the heavy breaths coming from his broad chest, smell the stench of trouble and nicotine lacing around your wrists as he slowly grabs a strand of hair and whispers your name into the shell of your ear. 

   It’s almost too much, almost enough to get you fired right on the spot until the music suddenly changes to a Rhianna song, signaling it was time for the next dancer to come out. You abruptly pull away from him as you feel the tension sit thick in the air, almost like a fog takes over and you can’t see anything clearly anymore. 

   It’s your time to go, to mingle with other clients, and he knows that, you can see it in the understanding of those big chocolate eyes that stare adamantly at you. You give him a flirtatious wave and brush up against his large arm as you whisper up to him, “I get off in an hour. Meet me in the back.”

   He watches you saunter off, half smiling as he realizes he got the girl. He never misses, almost never gets turned down, but this one he might want to see again. He can already tell he’ll want you to stick around, maybe even make you his. Maybe he won’t have to walk this lonely, overbearing life alone anymore. Maybe…. just maybe you’ll stay. Maybe he’ll let you stay. Maybe for a night, a month, a year, forever. 

   The smell of sweat covered bodies, vanilla scents of sensual movements and whiskey clad tongues fill the room as you move at a slow, passionate pace. His meaty hands and smooth tongue are everywhere, sliding down your neck, pulling your pebbled nipples into his warm mouth, and lapping thoroughly at the slick between your sticky thighs. 

   Your moans come in sync. Elated, deafening, ravenous every time he licks a thick stripe over your dripping core. He groans each time you rake your fingers through his mess of dark locks, your pleasurable moans filling the room every time he pulls your puffy clit into his mouth as his thick fingers curl up into the spongy walls that make you see blinding stars in your vision. He doesn’t stop even after the first time you come for him, spilling all your pent up slick as he laps up every single drop between your thighs. 

   He pulls out another mind blowing orgasm with his experienced tongue alone, and he doesn’t even give you a minute to breathe before he’s splitting you in two with the slick cock that fills you to the brim, bottoming out in you time and time again until you feel him everywhere in your system, like the nicotine and whiskey that fill his lungs night after lonely night. He licks into your mouth, his smooth tongue dancing along with yours until you can’t taste anything but the tang of neat whiskey and toxic nicotine that bleed into your bloodstream, tasting like sweet addiction and danger, a lover in disguise. 

   You’re already close again, almost spilling yourself around his thick cock as he bends your knees back and folds you like an acrobatic so you can feel him deep, rough every single time he snaps his hips against yours and buries his face into your neck with furrowed eyebrows as he sucks and bites against the base of your neck. 

   “Come for me again, hermosa. There you go, such a good fucking girl. Let me feel you again. Squeezing so tight around my fucking cock,” he growls as he guides his thumb down to your clit and starts to circle nice and slow, the pressure building in your spine as you start to let go. 

   “Javi,” you moan as you scratch your long nails down his bare back, clawing at his tanned skin every time he guides his slick cocks inside you, reaching that spongy spot that makes you plead and moan with every thrust of his hips. 

   “Attagirl, hermosa. Tan encantadora,” he pants as sweat covers his glistening forehead. Once, twice, three more tight circles on your bundle of nerves and you’re squeezing his cock, spilling yourself all over him as you moan loudly into his ear as he comes seconds after, throwing his head back as he groans with pleasure as thick ropes of white come paint your insides. 

   He topples over next to you in the damp, twisted sheets and pulls you against his broad chest while his free hand lights a cigarette up while he gets lost in the thick cloud of nicotine and musty sex. While he sucks on the addictive stick of nicotine, his dark eyes wade over you as his lips graze warmly over your sweat covered forehead. 

   “Did so good for me, hermosa. You wanna stay the night? I can get you all cleaned up in the morning, and we can go for breakfast. Maybe eat you out on the kitchen counter while I make you coffee. What do you say, hermosa?”

   You shift closer against his side, sliding your fingers over his glistening chest as his deep breaths fill the void in the spacious room. You flick your eyes up to him and study him, watching the way he inhales smoke and stares warmly down your way, like he’s in a lucid dream just watching the girl of his dreams. “You mean like… you want to keep seeing me? This wasn’t a one time thing?”

   His jaw goes slack as his lips parts open, putting the burning cigarette out on the pale blue ash tray on the edge of his mahogany nightstand. “That’s right, hermosa. A sweet, beautiful, gorgeous girl like you deserves more, and I want to give you that. If you’ll let me.”

   You take in his offer, your fingers threading through his as you crawl over him and graze your swollen red lips against his. “Okay then, Javi. Show me your world.”

   He cups the back of your neck and brings you down to his lips as he slots his tongue between your lipstick smeared lips, pulling you deep into him as you taste every shade of red he can paint you, coating you in desire you’ve only ever dreamed of. 

   He tasted like sex and candy, and you were just getting started. 

If you enjoyed this fic, please consider reblogging or commenting or leaving me asks 🩷

Spanish Translations:

Hermosa - beautiful

Esplendida - gorgeous

desesperadamente - desperately

jodidamente perfecta - fucking perfect

Tan Encantadora - so lovely

Tags: @keylimebeag @sawymredfox @littlevenicebitch69 @milla-frenchy @aurorawritestoescape

@vivian-pascal @msjarvis @amyispxnk @jasminedragoon @burntheedges

@akah565 @princesatracionera @rav3n-pascal22 @604to647 @pedrostories

@syd-djarin @tuquoquebrute @r3dheadedwitch

[blorbocedes]

For the prompt game: woke up in the wrong body? Clonecest? German twincest? They get freaky friday'd? Whatever your heart desires

Lewis doesn't actually notice anything’s wrong until Nico says, “Don’t worry, we’ll be good. Right, Lew?” to Toto at the end of the Wednesday debrief, flashing a sunny smile.

Lewis stiffens immediately. Nico hasn't called him that in years. What angle is he playing at here? And since when does he joke around during debriefs? Thinking back, Nico had been bouncing around the garage, peeking at both their cars’ suspensions and chatting animatedly to the engineers, even on Lewis’ side of the garage.

The meeting ends, with Toto and Paddy dispersing the team and Nico hangs around, lingering.

“What was that back there?”

Nico sways, shifting his weight from one heel to the other. “Just being good teammates. Buddies, friends.”

Before Lewis can react, Sebastian Vettel storms in with his Ferrari race suit unzipped at the waist, snapping in rapid German.

Nico looks guilty in a sheepish way, says something back that Lewis can only make out his name from.

What the fuck is going on?

Lewis turns to Seb because he doesn't want to deal with Nico being weird. “Hey, man, you're not supposed to be here.”

Seb grimaces, it looks all wrong on his mouth. And his hair is… styled? Coiffed, almost. Lewis wasn't aware Sebastian owned a brush. Nico, on the other hand, had completely unstyled hair today, bangs falling over his eyes like he air dried after taking a shower; not his usual put together self. Lewis doesn't think about him or his hair routine to wonder why.

“You are right,” Seb says with none of his usual playfulness. His mouth is flattened into a thin line. “Nico, a word?”

“Am I in trouble?” Nico quips. “I barely even looked at the cars! Seriously, might be better for your championship chances if you're not dangling your balls in the pool.”

It's a pretty nonsensical remark, especially from Nico who uses controlled diplomacy as a double edged sword. Sebastian, on the other hand, frowns – eyebrows scrunching and mouth going in an almost perfect displeased scowl. It doesn't suit Seb, but it's a face he’s seen a million times on Nico, has teased out of him, has put it on every time he misses a pole, a win, a podium. The way Nico’s standing, his hair, the way he's carrying himself – it's all wrong.

Lewis grabs Nico by the arm. “You're not –” Lewis doesn't even finish his accusation because it's absurd.

Nico looks at him, surprised, and then breaks into a shit-eating grin, self possessed and cocky. “He really doesn't give you enough credit. He thought you wouldn't notice.”

“I shouldn't have trusted you to act normal.” Is Sebastian’s sullen reply, eyes narrowed and zeroed in on where Lewis is holding Nico’s arm. Lewis lets go, suddenly self-conscious.

He hates this, being talked over like he's not even there. The mechanics are starting to notice from outside that Sebastian Vettel in red in their conference room, as if Silvia’s going to come chasing after him any minute. Lewis’ curiosity wins over the facade of being cool and not cracking in case Sebastian and Nico woke up and decided to become best friends and pull an orchestrated prank on him.

“Will either of you tell me what the fuck is going on?”

“Lewis, we need to talk. Somewhere private. Your motorhome.” Sebastian’s tone is bossy, standing arms crossed. He doesn't wait, setting off with a determined ease like he knows exactly where it is.

Nico follows suit, adding in a stage whisper, “By that, he means sex.”

[kazutora-kurokawa]

Mmm, maybe Bonten!Baji x Stripper!Reader

Bonten!Baji x Stripper!Reader

♡ SFW and NSFW, fem reader, biting, slight fluff, mentions of arson, stripping obviously, drinking, Bonten!Chifuyu and Kazutora ♡

note: I like the way you think anon 🩷 just some quick headcanons

❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀

🔥 Met you while he was at a strip club for Kazutora's birthday

🔥 Had to do a double take when he saw you on stage because goddamn you were fine as hell

🔥 The way you spun around that pole had him gone, this man was ready to risk it all for you

🔥 Kazutora bet Chifuyu a thousand dollars that Baji would fall in love with you within a week (he won the bet btw)

🔥 Approached you when you left the stage and offered to buy you a drink

🔥 Took you back to his place after you were done with your shift and fucked you like you've never been fucked before

🔥 You woke up with sore legs and bite marks all over your body

🔥 Threatened to burn down the club you worked at just so you could spend all your time with him (he's totally normal about you, not insane at all fr)

🔥 He moves you into his house and even installs a stripper pole in the bedroom

🔥 He loves when you dance for him, he'll absolutely melt if you give him a lap dance

🔥 Baji is so whipped for you, anything you want is yours, just say the word

🔥 The rest of the executives tease him a lot about settling down with a stripper, but he just brushes them off because you're most definitely the best thing that's ever happened to him

❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀

Taglist

@arlerts-angel @i-literally-cant-with-this @trevengersprincess @giugiette @katshimizuu @happy-trenchcoated-impala @rindousbarbie @drunkcheesecake @darkstarlight82 @reiners-milkbiddies @livefromnc

[gingerlurk]

Honey

Din Djarin x f!Reader

A Lovers' Crest one-shot (Here's its Masterlist)

Summary: You and the Mandalorian hatch a plan to trap an elusive bounty. And Din Djarin absolutely hates it. Until he doesn't.

[Or, the characters from Lovers' Crest have a little post-story adventure! Can be read standalone.]

Word count: 2.5k

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, pwp, unprotected piv (be safe), creampie, semi-public sex, (there's an unconscious guy in the room), established relationship, Din lifts you but damn he is a strong strong man, Reader described: wearing a dress, heels, having longish hair, does a lil pole dance. I know this isn't how a 'honey pot' situation works but oh well it's just a bit of fun.

A/N: What's this? It's the first fic I ever wrote. Posted to AO3 in June last year. No idea if it's anything anymore, but it dragged me out of a desperate writing slump - and led me to write the longer fic - so I will always feel affection for it.

--

‘No.’

‘Oh, come on!’

‘I said no!’

‘Why not?’

‘I don’t like it. It’s not a good idea.’

‘It’s a great idea. And… all we’ve got.’

So, Din Djarin sits in an upscale-style club sharing a table with Mythrol mobster Earl Gorstrik. 

The crime boss has been an elusive target for months, and a royal headache for Greef Karga. Taking out shipments of essentials, extorting construction projects and all manner of agency rackets, Gorstrik’s activities had pushed poor old Greef into upping the reward to nearly double.

‘Just get this fucker out of my business, please,’ Greef had begged him last time they’d dropped into town.

Then you had proposed an idea that had set his blood to boil, a constant roll that continued to this very moment. He’d remained unconvinced by the whole plan, but especially by your assertion that you would be sure to ‘really make it worth his while’. Din is dubious.

He doesn’t even get to have Grogu for company. This is not a child-friendly mission.

Gorstrik is yammering in his ear.

‘Seriously, Mando,’ he slurs. ‘I’m so glad a man of your calibre recognises the value of partnering with my… endeavours…’

Din is barely taking it in. Why are these types always so verbose? He mutters something about ‘needing to expand prospects’ and that sets the mob boss off to wax lyrical about property scams.

Din swears he’s going to ditch this whole, terrible attempt, when the music pounding in every corner of the place transitions to one of heavy bass and soaring synths.

Earl Gorstrik slaps at Din’s shoulder. ‘Oh excellent! It’s starting. Ever been to one of these Mando? No, bet not. Haha! Sit back and enjoy!’

Lights dance on the raised catwalk that dominates the middle of the room. Long, shiny polls descend from above, dropping within arm’s reach of the stage. A tall, lovely twi’lek female struts into view. Skin-tight body suit and stratospheric pumps. She reaches up to a poll and spins, smiling at the whooping and hollering rising from the patronage.

A short, sultry routine ends as the poll she holds rises back toward the ceiling. Din follows it, and her, up to spy the lofted gang plank that vanishes into an upper area.

Gorstrik leans into Din’s space.

‘You like that?’ he breathes. ‘Best part? If you spot someone you really like, you can arrange your own little meeting. Heh, up there,’ he points to the disappearing legs of the performer. ‘Just wave down a tender.’

Two human males saunter to neighbouring polls. They look to be twins. A stunning display of athleticism and strength concludes as they too rise upwards. Din spots several hands frantically waving at the establishment’s staff.

Fed up, Din is about to take his leave – to go find you – when a vision walks onto the stage and sucks all the air from his lungs. He’s locked rigid in his seat and his cock swells so fast it’s almost painful.

An adept lighting droid starts with revealing a pair of black, luxurious stilettos that step with languid grace down the catwalk. Silhouetted legs are shown to be bare as they curve up, all the way up – impossibly far – to the hem of a scant black dress. Deliciously tight and hugging every single curve.

Reaching the pole at the very end of the stage, the vision twists to face away from the crowd and is lit up all at once. The Mandalorian’s eyes are wide and his mouth has fallen open behind his helmet, made utterly transfixed by what he’s seeing onstage.

Glossy hair cascades over bare shoulders, swishing gently as you turn back to the crowd with a flourish. Your glittering eyes lock onto Din’s visor for a split second and he fair nearly blows his load then and there. 

You take hold of the pole and give a single lazy spin, letting Din’s eyes roam every inch of you. Then you slide down the pole some and spin again, extending your legs so the sides of your knees and shins skim the flooring. 

A few of these rotations before you tuck your long legs under you to stand for a moment. You make one swaying motion to put momentum into the pole and swing yourself up, using a turn away from the audience to open your legs, kick up and cross them to lock over the pole. 

With your lush thighs riding the cool metal, you lean back and extend an arm out to the audience, gazing upside down into the pulsing darkness.

You let the pole drift back to stillness, allowing every set of eyes in the place drink in your figure, bust heaving, hair falling below you and swaying. Then you swing your upper body upwards, grasp the pole and drop your hips so your legs release out into open air and propel it all into a renewed twist. 

After a moment, you plant your heels and the pole lowers with you as you sink into a narrow squat, facing away from the audience, which is by this time splitting the air with pitched screams and shouts.

You look over your shoulder with mischief in your eyes and the whole place goes ballistic.

The pole begins to rise and you move with it to stand. You let it slip along your figure, waiting until it is moving past your head to slide your arms around it and lift from the floor. It is given to look as if you’re floating on air, still twirling and giving an exquisite 360 view of your legs.

As you vanish into the loft, Din’s reverie is interrupted by a waving hand next to him.

He turns, Gorstrik is beside himself. A frenzy of other hands bat at the air, but Din’s table companion always gets first flush.

‘God damn,’ he exerts. ‘What a show. You do not get enough of that type of cream around here anymore.’

Din fights to quell the incredible urge to rip this pig’s head clean off his shoulders. He channels it all into issuing the slightest shrug he can manage. Gorstrik scoffs.

‘Suit yourself, man,’ he stands. ‘I’m getting my ass a front row seat to the encore. M’sorry, Mando you understand. Particulars can be worked out with my second here.’ He gives a vague wave to the pinch-faced twit next to him and scurries toward the elevator.

Din seethes.

Your voice crackles in his helmet, whisper quiet.

‘Staff access is on the residential side, basic hatch code to get in. Stairs, then make a left. My booth is second along.’

He makes a grouchy show of ‘only doing business with the actual boss’ before leaving the irate lieutenant at the table.

He stalks onto the street and rounds the building to the alleyway that connects the red-light district to the high-density worker housing. Spotting the door you described, he makes short work and slips inside. Climbing the stairs two at a time, he’s trying to concentrate and stop his mind wandering to all the ways this could go wrong.

Could be going wrong.

Why has he let you be alone with this scumbag. That was incredible. What if you’re not quick enough. Hells, fuck! Where had you learned that? What if… So fucking sexy. Why didn’t he just… Maker but that was incredible. He follows your directions and slaps the booth’s open panel.

The door slides across to reveal the scene. A small, velvet-lined room. One long bench against the far wall with a floor to ceiling one-way window looking out over the club floor. Your back is to the door and you’re settled in that narrow squat again, heels spiked into the floor, nimbly cuffing the unconscious Gorstrik, who is sprawled out by a drinks stand.

‘Just in time,’ you say. You peak over your shoulder at Din and slowly, agonisingly, start to rise up. Knees straighten first, keeping yourself bent at the waist. Ass on full display, the hem of your dress has ridden up to show just a hint of cheek. Finally, you lift your torso and turn toward him, something droll to say on the tip of your tongue.

You don’t get the chance. Din has kicked the door hatch closed and barrelled into you. Hands grip your waist first, pushing you back into the wall, then reach down to lift your knees to lock them at his sides. Holding you up, he paws at your ass.

‘Where’d you get this dress,’ he growls into your ear, letting you loop your arms across his shoulders and use the purchase to grind yourself against his erection.

‘Boutique in the main square,’ you mutter, eyes already closed and focused on lust. ‘Only used some of the advance.’

‘It’s obscene.’

‘Mmm, I don’t have to keep it.’ You rub the front of the dress against his chest plate, pushing your breasts into the firm pressure. ‘Could turn it to scrap for engine cleaning,’ you tease.

‘Absolutely not,’ he grinds out. He rubs at your thighs until the dress inches up, exposing your soaking panties. ‘This dress,’ he grunts. ‘This dress is for me now. You’ll wear it for me.’

‘Fuh—Fuck,’ you huff. ‘Thought you’d like it.’

‘Mmm, so fucking divine,’ he keens. He leans back a little. ‘Help me out here, love. Get this cock out for me.’

You reach a hand down and fumble with buckles and garment until you can push his pants low enough for his screaming hard on to bounce free. You immediately move your hand and tug the edge of your underwear aside.

‘Now Din,’ you moan, looking down. ‘Fuck me n— ah!’ He sheaths himself home in one go, piercing you to the wall. 

Hips sitting flush, Din trembles at your tight walls stretching and fluttering around him. He lets you adjust. ‘Oh fuck, so ready for me. That performance of yours get you just as worked up as me, did it?’

Humming an affirmative, you reach up to brace your elbows on top of each pauldron, locking your hands together behind his helmet and nuzzling your face into his neck. Like this, you can tilt your hips back and forth to grind into where you two are connected, his pelvis making a perfect surface to work at your aching clit.

It’s so goddamn sensual when you use him like this.

He holds onto your ass and helps you along by lifting you up with each one of your thrusts, creating a harsher connection each time. You writhe and work yourself against him, legs shaking with effort.

‘Din, Din,’ you lift your head with a gasp. He watches your eyes screw shut and your mouth fall open to release harsh, pained puffs of air. You’re so close, he can see it. You press your face into the sharp curve of his helmet and whisper, ‘Din, tell me t--’

‘Come for me, mesh’la,’ he snarls into your ear. ‘Do it, come now.’

You cry out and smack your head back against the wall. Din loses himself in your blissed out features. In the feel of your legs spasming around him, tightening muscles drawing aching throbs out of his cock. You push your hips in tiny little circles to suck down every drop of your climax. ‘That’s it, beautiful. That’s perfect,’ he murmurs to you. ‘You’re perfect.’ 

Huffing harsh breaths, you open your eyes and smile at him. 

He pulls out of you and takes your quivering legs from around his middle, dropping them to plant your heels on the floor. Then he pushes off the wall, spinning you to face the bench and bending you over. A heavy boot nudges at your ankles to spread them apart. He’s back inside you in one intense thrust of his cock.

This position affords you the view through the one-way window, so you’re both looking down at the bustling bar floor. 

Din begins to move, barely letting any room between your bodies as he grinds hard and deep. You shuffle your feet wider to give him even more. He chokes out a groan.

‘When you were on that stage,’ he hisses from behind, hands in a bruising grip on your hips. ‘Fuck, when you were up there, everyone down there wanted you.’ He sees your head turn to roam over the crowd, you look over your shoulder again at him, eyes unfocused and lustful.

‘Oh yeah?’ you say, hands sliding a little on the bench with your movements. ‘All of them?’

‘Every. Single. One.’ He punctuates each strangled word with a harsh, deep thrust. ‘Wishing they were here now. Wishing they could have you like this, know the feel of your clenching pussy. Sucking me in so hard, can- can barely pull myself- out…’   

He grips a fistful of your dress and uses the leverage to drag himself back before pistoning into you again. The obscene sounds of your slick flesh pumping against each other fill the air.

He’s so deep he can feel the pressure building within you again right as you slam your fingers hard against your clit, letting the friction of his furious thrusts carry you over the edge into another orgasm.

‘Fuuuuck,’ you both groan in unison. He loops an arm across your front and slings you up, back flush to his chest as he drives up into you. His rhythm is starting to falter, the haze of pleasure reaching toward unbearable. You know what he needs and how to bring him over the edge with you. He trusts.

‘But none of them can have me,’ you gasp. ‘Only you. Only you- know- this- pussy, Din.’ The final words are accompanied by the last few slams of his hips as he spills inside you with another strangled moan. He feels, as always, like his soul is being sucked from him and drained into you. It goes on for an age, wave on wave as you squeeze and clench around him. He finally slows.

His hand moves from your chest up to cup your face, fingers sifting through the hair at your shoulder.

As he huffs deep breaths into his helmet, you squeeze again and he gasps in near pain.

‘N-n, please mesh’la, you’re gonna kill me.’

‘Mm, sorry, thought you liked “the feel of my clenching pussy”.’

‘Oh I do, I do. Hope you let me feel it again when we’ve actually finished this job.’

‘Admit it was a great idea,’ you clench one last time and at that he withdraws from you. Groaning a raspy sigh. He turns to your captured prize.

‘Honey pot,’ he mutters. ‘Ridiculous.’

--

Din tucks himself away and bends to hoist the limp quarry over a shoulder, readying to exit. 

You adjust your dress, feeling delicious as Din’s seed slides past the hem. A job well executed and a fucking great time had by all. You grin to yourself. You’re going to walk down the street with this man’s spend slicking your thighs together. It’s filthy and you love it.

--

Thanks for reading! Have a great day and drink some water x

[bridgetotheskyyy]

Sirenic - Kishibe

Kinktober Masterlist

Warnings: 18+, smut, stripping, strip tease, blowjobs

A/n: Day 31: Stripping! We're done, and we arrive at the end with a cute little Kishibe romp. Whew, this has been an ... interesting month for sure. But I'm finally done! (I've got more prompts I haven't finished but shhhh). I love Kishibe and I like to think he loves me back asdfgh -

Word count: 1.8k

Read on ao3

“Why would a devil be in a strip club?”

At the club’s entrance, you looked over your shoulder at Kishibe with a playful shrug. 

“I don’t know, Kish,” You said. “Maybe devils like to twerk their shit too? Don’t be so judgy.”

 You did a little dance, attracting unneeded attention to yourself with others in line. The bouncer unhooked the sling and allowed you inside where you sounded off with murmurs of, “No, he’s with me” and “Yes, he’s my father.” Kishibe refused the bait, though allowed himself an alleviating eye roll before following you. 

Upon entering, the mood shifted, blurred. The lights of the club flared blue and purple, washing over the gyrating attendants. He found you among them, winking back at him, and somehow having the decency to let him catch up to you.

“I’m glad you’re in such a cheerful mood, but,” Kishibe leaned into your ear, “if you call me your father again, I’ll kick your ass.”

You feigned shock, hand to your chest. “You’d never. You love my ass too much.”

“Try me.”

“All right, fine! I remember when you used to be fun!” You leaned into him with a chuckle. “Is daddy okay, though?”

He eyed you. “Depends on how you say it.”

“I’ll hold you to that.” You motioned your head forward, smiling. “Let’s do this thing.”

He followed you — to where, he wasn’t sure — without question or word. Kishibe was thankful for the respite. He could only bear so much teasing, could only bear so much tugging on his heart. He had known you for so long now; you were impossible not to fall for. But you played games, and he was too old to delude himself into thinking you held any sincere interest in him.

Kishibe turned, glanced at the stage to where the strippers were, pole between their swinging legs. They twirled and beckoned to the crowd, and he couldn’t help but feel like this would be a more fitting career for you, with all your sirenic sensibilities.

“She’s beautiful.”

Your voice tore him from their trance. Kishibe raised his brows. 

“Didn’t know you swung that way,” he said. Inwardly, he sighed; why were the good ones always lesbians?

“I don’t have to,” You said. “I have eyes. So do you, apparently.”

You gave him a once-over and went on ahead. Kishibe tilted his head. Was that … jealousy? No. Nah. He was just overthinking it. Maybe you just thought better of him to be the kind of man distracted on the job.

You led Kishibe to where, he guessed, were the backrooms of the club, where men played double to be teased. You whispered something to a man in sunglasses and he went away, leaving the two of you alone in the dark VIP.

“Here’s the deal,” You said. “We can’t let the devil know we’re here; we’ve got it cornered. You asked why it’s in a place like this.” You shrugged. “I honestly don’t know why it’s been frequenting strip clubs, but if we scare it off we’ll never know.”

“Right,” Kishibe said.

“You’re gonna be bait,” You said. “I’m going to secure the perimeter. If this gets ugly, we’ve got to find a way to evacuate all these people. You good with that?”

“Sure,” Kishibe said.

“Signal to me if anything goes wrong,” You said. “Don’t wanna lose you any time soon.”

“Nothing will go wrong,” he waved you off. “Just go.”

You nodded and, without ceremony, disappeared through the curtains.

Kishibe settled on the velvet couch. He sighed. God, he was tired. He wanted to go back to the good ol’ days, when devils got off on fear and and depression and existential sadness. That was simple. Now they got off on nut, too? 

Kishibe waited for what could have been hours. He lit a cigarette and put a game face on, taking in the quiet of the —

The lights dimmed, leaving the room in a primordial darkness. The only light now came from behind the curtains. Kishibe perked. This is it.

The curtains were drawn back by beautiful, feminine hands. The crimson light grew stronger. But it was no devil.

Kishibe froze, cigarette falling from his fingers to singe the floor.

You … You were standing there. You were in a pretty, sparkling crimson halter dress, split down the middle to expose your tits and complemented with black pumps. You smiled at him with red lips. Red red red.

“Hey, Daddy,” You said.

“(Y/n).” Kishibe swallowed in a dry mouth. “What — What —“ God, he was a malfunctioning Macbook. 

You walked toward him, one pretty leg after the other. You stepped on his cigarette to put it out.

“Careful,” You said. “Don’t wanna start a fire.”

You bent a leg between his legs and leaned in, a hand on his chest. Kishibe could only blink as your lips grazed his in a teasing kiss. You broke away, smiled at him again, this one sweeter than the last.

“I’m starting to think I’ve been tricked,” he said.

You giggled. “Time for a little show, though it’s a shame you don’t have any money for me — questions after,” You added, pressing a finger to his lips. 

You lovingly traced the scare lining his face before drifting away. Music simmered in, a slow, sensual beat. You swayed your hips, the hem of your dress creeping over the fat of your ass. Kishibe inclined forward without thinking, dumbstruck as your hands threatened to lower the straps of your dress. You looked over your shoulder at him and smiled. 

“Want me to take it off?” Your voice was coquettish and right out of his daydreams.

From within, Kishibe trembled, but from without, he tried to maintain his cool. A losing battle, especially in this lava room. “Yes.”

You raised your brows in challenge. “Everything?”

“… Everything.”

You giggled and turned away. You elbowed out of your straps, the arching movement exposing the fine plain of your back to him. Kishibe exhaled to see your pretty, kissable skin under the light. Your dress pooled at your ankles, and with no bra, you were left in nothing but your panties.

“Fucking hell …”

You laughed, and it was more sincere this time than any other since surprising him. Slowly, you trailed hands down your hips, two fingers from each hand slipping into the elastic of your panties.

Yes yes yesyesyes —

You retrieved those fingers with a snap and bent forward, giving him an ample view of your ass. You straightened up and swayed. You waved arms over your head and shook your hips, your ass following your swift movements.

You were gonna kill him. 

His cock twitched as your fingers dipped in your band again, and this time you pulled, bringing them down your thighs, legs … 

You turned around, now totally nude for him. Perfect tits bounced as walked toward him, until you stopped and lowered to your knees. You crawled to him, and Kishibe watched you watch him with predator’s eyes. You prowled, every second a century. Your hands slipped up his knees, past his thighs, and bumped against the imprint of his hard cock. 

“That didn’t take long, now, did it?” You palmed his erection triumphantly.

“How did you do this?” Kishibe could hear his own labored breathing. “How and why —?”

“I know the guy who owns this place,” You said, fiddling with his zipper. “He owes me a few favors.”

A few —?

Kishibe stopped there, all the blood needed for his brain to form more questions rushing to his throbbing cock. You brought the zipper down and slipped a hand into his boxers. His cock sprung in your face, your hungry face.

“Can’t believe you’ve been hiding this all these years.” You kissed his tip, precum glossing your lipstick.

Kishibe caressed your cheek, helped you dip your head. What universe was this? Where you were naked in front of him and about to blow him? There was a different reality where you were the devil and he had fallen for your schemes and was too besotted and hard to care. But this was reality and you were — were really — no. No, he was not about to get emotional abouta blowjob.  Kishibe couldn’t find it in himself to care about the multiple realities, only this one, where you took him in your mouth. You left lipstick prints on his dick and his mind turned to mush just imagining how long they would stay there.

Kishibe held the back of your head, fisted into your hair, and you seemed to like the harsh grip of his hand; you hummed your approval and took more of him.

“Fuck …” Kishibe hung his head back. The vibrations of your mouth rang up his spine. He could feel you bob your head. He shivered against the perfect, wet velvet of your mouth. You were going to do it, you were really going to tear him to pieces. 

You removed him from your mouth to run your tongue along the length of him, all before inviting him back in. Kishibe looked down at you, at your cock-stuffed mouth, but your eyes were already on him, unwavering. He could feel himself jerk in your mouth at the mere sight. Kishibe tightened his grip on your hair but did not pull you forward; it was more satisfying to know you were more than willing to do all the work to get him off.

He feared his grip could draw blood as your bobs intensified, your cheeks hollowing to milk him. You popped him from your mouth, replaced the wetness of it with your hand and pumped ferociously.

“Cum, Daddy,” You murmured your plea against his foreskin. “Cum for me, c’mon —“

Kishibe groaned, his hot cum roping from his cockslit. It landed on your face, painted your lips white. You sucked on his tip, willingly sucking out the rest he had to offer. You collected what landed on your face and the sight of you eating his cum was enough to get him hard again. Once you were done, you raised and sat by him, snuggled into him with a peaceful smile. You even tucked him back into his boxers before facing him expectantly.

Kishibe blinked. “So … You like me.”

You huffed. “What was your first clue?”

Kishibe shrugged. He could feel the warmth in his face, but despite the flush, forced his face neutral. His eyes wandered your face.

You sighed after seconds of no answer. “Yes, Kishibe, I like you. I’ve always …” Even in the dark, cherry room, your blush was evident. “I thought this would be a fun way of confessing.”

He brought you closer, landed a soft kiss to your forehead. “I could get used to this. Reciprocity. It’s nice.”

You chuckled into his neck and he hoped you would do it forever. “You can.” You raised, hands traveling his chest, unbuttoning his shirt. “And you will.”

[the-soliloquies-of-sadists]

#343

“When I told you that you could move in my spare room in my basement, when your parents threw you out for being gay, I knew you had no money. I said I’d figure something out. Well pussy-fag, I figured it out.  Every morning your job is to eat my shithole….

“Bitch, don’t act so surprised.  I know you are a pig.  I know you like what you see; your towel is not hiding your rock-hard pecker.  I’ve known for a while you’ve been into men.  I heard from a buddy that you frequent the bushes at the river front boat launch, not just frequent, but you suck or get fucked by a number of fishermen, dads, hell any man that makes his way into those bushes.  I asked Coach James about you, and he said that he caught you getting cornholed by quarterback Jenkins.  The only reason why nothing came of that is that Jenkins turned 18 and you were still underage, and he didn’t want his prize quarterback in any trouble.  I’ve known for some time—well before I saw you walking on the road to town—that you were a service minded faggot.  Now drop the towel and get that tongue to service my shitter. 

“Oh fuck!  You can lick the crack on occasion, but I need for your tongue to spend most of its time inside my hole….  Like that.  Fuck.

“I know you had the hots for me for some time.  Every time I would go into the Starbucks you work at in my Deputy uniform, you failed miserably to mask your lust for me.  It’s so easy to spot a hungry sperm burper with a cop fetish. 

“I knew you were still underage.  So I waited and watched over the next couple months, casually asking key men about you. Once you graduated and turned 18, I made sure that your conservative parents knew that you were a pole rider who frequented the boat launch. Then I waited for you to make that long walk into town from their farm. That’s when I picked you up and brought you here.

“Fuck your tongue feels so good inside.  You do have experience tongue fucking a man’s shithole.  Every morning, I want you to service me with your tongue.  Then every time I get off work, you will help me undress and meticulously fold and store my uniform.  Afterwards, we will go into the playroom through that door.

“Here pull back.  Let’s go in there now…. Leave the towel on the floor.  I want you naked at all times from now on.  Follow me.  Now you can look at the meatiness of my ass and appreciate it.  In this room, I have all the toys and equipment that it takes to satisfy me.  You look terrified.  Good….  Don’t worry, it’s going to take you time to get you ready for all this.  Hell, it’s going to be a while before you actually see my dick, not just over-flowing in my jock. 

“Ha!  That made you look down.  Go ahead stare at it.  It’s fucking huge, and it’s not even hard. 

“Your service to me is going to come in stages.  The first thing, see that chair in the middle of the room?  Next to it you see the table with the whisky and a cigar.  I want that ready to go before I get off shift.  After you undress me and put away my uniform, we will come down here.

“That cabinet over there is a humidor.  It holds over 4,000 cigars, but right now I have about 1,200 in it.  You will be trained on everything cigar related.  Every day you will select one for me to enjoy and set it on that table next to the chair.

“That is a wet bar over there.  You will pour me a whisky from one of my dozen or so varieties.  Again, you will be trained on everything whisky related.  A double on the rocks will need to be placed next to the cigar and the TV remote.

“I have over three thousand porn videos.  You are to select one and have it playing when I come in.  It should be muted.  I would also like voiceless smooth jazz playing over the speakers.  You will get to the point to where your selections of cigar, music, whisky, and porn all work together for my enjoyment.

“When I come in here, it’s to relax after a long day at work.  I want to hear soothing music, a nice cigar, some smooth whiskey, while watching hot porn, and a faggot’s tongue worshipping my shitter.  See that hole in the seat?  Your face is going to be under it when I plant my beefy ass for you to clean.

“Go on, around back and climb under it.  This chair was specially made for me by this rim chair designer who lives in the mountains with his slave.  Your head should fit snug but fine.  There should be neck support. 

“You look like you always belonged there.  Before I sit, I am going to show you my cock.  It’s not going to be hard, but you can appreciate its size.  Open your mouth.  You ever drink piss?  No?  That’s going to change right now.  I don’t expect you to swallow it all at once, but do make an effort.  You won’t get my dick until you have earned it by drinking my piss and cleaning my shithole. 

“Oh fuck.  You really must want my dick.  You aren’t freaking out like most other boys.  Swallow as you fast as you can, then open up for another piss load.  That’s good.  Don’t worry, I’ll have you well trained in no time.  Now it’s time for my ass. 

“The best part of this chair is that you cannot pull yourself out if I am sitting on it.  There’s very little movement side to side.  Your mouth is perfectly aligned with my shithole.

“You are to clean it, regardless of condition.  I don’t care if it stinks of sweat or piss, you clean it.  I don’t care if there are skid marks, you clean it. 

“It’s dark hunh?  You will find that the claustrophobia is rather liberating.  Focus on two things, my shithole and your mouth.  There is nothing in this universe other than those two things.  Going forward, you will put a blindfold on and noise cancelling headsets.  Again, it all comes down to my shithole and your mouth. 

“Now it’s time for me to relax, truly relax.  Oh, that just slipped out.  Consider that me blowing you a kiss.”

[fineprintedsunsets]

LEMON GUMDROPS

This Is For Haunted Hoedown Day 9! | My Haunted Hoedown Master-List

toxic exes + "why do you keep following me?"

Synopsis: Lloyd Hansen won't leave you alone, but what if you don't want him to?

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: semi-public sex. toxic relationship. lloyd (yes that is in fact, a warning). arguments. strip clubs? p in v sex. unprotected sex. slight breeding kink.

"she might be your girl but she's calling me daddy"

“Hey, Sunshine.” The words are comparable to a bullet passing through your body, the pain and weight of a metal object ringing throughout your insides. But the anger, toward whoever dumb fuck shot you in the first place, radiates throughout it all.

You're on stage, prancing lightly around the golden metal pole. Your fingers feel slick with sweat as you watch the men follow you with their eyes, occasionally throwing 20’s. This was normal, this was what you did for work. Although, a certain pair of eyes lay on you, watching with his leg perched on the other, a smug smile as he leans forward in his chair.

You want to scream, tell him to get the fuck out, but you can’t for obvious reasons. Your stage set is almost finished anyway, after this horrid song. You arch your back against the pole, kicking your legs with dramatic effect. The men stare, obvious hard-ons tenting their pants. Your ex though, he’s on the opposite side of the stage, residing in V.I.P. of course.

You close your eyes, moving your hips with the beat, the yellow smoke and neon lights enhancing your performance.

“Just thirty more seconds”. You whisper through clenched teeth, trying hard not to focus on the hundreds being thrown your way, of course, by Lloyd.

Bastard.

With a few more twists and turns, finished with a spin, the song fades out, and you exit the stage, making your hips bounce as you walk toward the backstage.

“Lemon!”

“Lemon!”

Men cheer your stage name and a rush of adrenaline shoots through you. The men are just customers, but you can’t lie, you do appreciate the praise. You check the clock as you make your way to the dressing room, you're out on the floor in another 10 minutes.

The club has been a dream job, but you are always nervous coming to work, afraid that Lloyd would show up, and now that he did, you couldn’t get that smirk out of your head, or his stupid mustache or his stupid fucking hair-

“Gumdrop?”

You freeze, watching yourself in the mirror. He’s not allowed to be back here. How the fuck did he get back here?

You turn to face Lloyd, who now walks into the backstage dressing room. Thank god no other girls are back here, this was about to be a shit show.

“Go away, Lloyd.” You mutter, turning back at the mirror. A lipstick closed around your sweaty palm. You were scared of Lloyd, and you wished your body would stop acting like it.

Because the more terrified you looked, the more Lloyd wouldn’t leave you alone.

“You did great on that stage, sunshine. All those men were begging to get a taste.” You cringe, but somewhere deep inside you, the darkest parts, a flame is lit. Was Lloyd jealous?

You quirk your brows, popping off the lipstick cap. “And you?”

“What about me, gumdrop?” He replies, inching just a bit closer to where you sit, eyes locking with your reflection. Music blasts just outside, the loud chatter of men, and the clacking of heels is your safe space for the moment.

“Did you want a taste?” You tease, but your face is stone cold, you twist the lipstick up, watching the bright yellow color shine. Lloyd comes full circle, standing just behind you, strong arms gripping the back of your chair, his fingers brushing against your back.

He leans close, eyes locking with yours in the mirror as his voice echoes in your ear, his breath coating the smooth skin, “Would you let me?”

You slam the lipstick down, pushing out your chair to hit Lloyd right in the abdomen. He barely doubles over, having shown no signs the attack affects him at all.

“Why are you here, Lloyd?”

He laughs, his lips pursing in amusement. You glance up at the clock again, five minutes until you're out on the floor, looking like a piece of ass for old white men. And the tips are good too.

Really fucking good.

“Why do you keep following me?” You ask again, waiting for the answer, wanting it so bad you watch his lips, hang onto every sentence like he’ll never speak again. Even after everything Lloyd did, a part of your heart still beats for his words, his touch.

A dark part of you.

“You not happy with me?.” He bites, backing towards you. The only thing that separates you from walking away is the chair you pushed towards him.

Your back pressed painfully against the vanity. “I’ve never been happier away from you.”

It’s not entirely truthful, but Lloyd only smiles, offering no signs of backing down. His toned arms flex against his chest, crossing them. The stance is meant to be intimidating, but you're done being intimidated by pieces of shit like your ex-boyfriend.

“Sunshine, no need to lie.”

You grit your teeth, your jaw clenching. Skin is exposed all around your body, showing off your curves. But Lloyd doesn't look, it’s the only decent part of him.

He would never violate you in that way. It doesn't offer any comfort though, Lloyd is plenty capable of a lot more than a glance.

“You would know about lying, Lloyd.”

He stops, his mouth closing. You take it as an opportunity to escape, “Leave me alone.” You dive away from him, pushing out the chair, heading for the door, but of course, he catches you.

His forearm faces out as he cages you in, blocking your exit. You could scream, get out of this situation, but that dark part is now a raging fire.

A part of you wants him to cage you, to talk down on you, to use you. It’s a part you’ve been trying to understand for years.

When Lloyd came into your life, he added fuel to the fire, and now he is the only person it burns for.

“Why should I?”

Anger courses through you, but the heat that’s present, it’s not in your bones, it’s between your thighs. “Because I asked you too, you prick!”

“You're getting all riled up for me, sunshine?”

Something snaps, breaks, demolishes. You push Lloyd, hard enough to get him away from the door, and you wobble, these heels are exactly ex-fighting material. He smiles the bastard fucking smiles.

“Can’t you see what this is!” You shoot, pushing him farther, each time words exit your mouth, the deeper you push him into the dressing room.

“I’m not in love with you.” Another push as Lloyd huffs, never ever putting a finger on you, he takes your shoves, each and every one of them.

“I’m happier without you!”

“Can’t you just-” Your voice shakes, seeing you’ve backed Lloyd into the opposite wall of the dressing room, tears are threatening to burst, but you won’t let them. You will not cry in front of this man. “-Let me be happy?”

Lloyd keeps his mouth shut though, and only then do you understand, your hands placed against his muscled chest, pushing him deeper in the concrete wall.

He’s getting off on this.

He wants you to be angry.

He wants you to let your guard down.

You pause, breath heaving, anger filling your vision. You glance at the clock. You shove off of him,

“Fuck” Your stage set starts in less than 3 minutes, and instead of getting ready, you've yelled things you’ve wanted to release for years. Lloyd stands there, his mouth cocked up in a twisted smile.

“Sunshine-”

The vicious sound of skin meeting skin, of eyes burning bright with both anger and desire. Your hand comes up, meeting Lloyd’s cheek. His jaw twists to the side, shutting his eyes as he lets the pain fill him.

He’s used to much worse, no doubt, but coming from you if his heartfelt anything at all, it would have hurt more than a knife to the abdomen.

“Don’t you dare, Lloyd” With those parting words, your eyes burning bright with anger, you walk away.

And for the first time, walking away feels right. You don’t feel guilt, every single time life is good, every single moment a sliver of joy blesses your features, Lloyd likes to remind you of his existence.

And this time, you reminded him of yours.

🍋

“Lemon, we got a private request for ya’.” Tasha, one of the managers says, stopping you. You quirk your brow, A private dance? That means money.

A shit ton of it.

“In the backroom to the left.” She instructs, smiling. She will be getting a good payout. You're happy too, tired of walking around the floor, watching others dance.

As soon as you make it over there, pull back the private room curtain, you want to replace and walk away. Especially because something hard and heavy is stuck against his chest, his legs parted as his strong fingers pat his thigh.

“No.” You say firmly, that you haven’t seen Lloyd for two hours since your argument, and the fact he stuck around is beyond you.

“You're going to deny a customer?”

“I don’t want your money.” You bite, closing the curtain behind you, this isn’t a sex club, if anyone knew Lloyd had his cock out, he would be kicked out, and you, a strict talking to. He tilts his head, his lips lifting in that fucking smile.

“You want your job?”

“Are you threatening me?” You're trying very hard not to look at his cock. It must hurt him, the reddened skin and pulsing veins-

Lloyd tilts his head suggestively, “Show me how mad you are.” The air sizzles and crackles, tension building high like calvary.

“I’m not riding your cock.” The words spit out like poison, you want to retract them immediately. Heat flushes your cheeks as your thighs clench

“Use me like I used you." Your mouth parts at his words, and Lloyd takes advantage of it, grabbing at your wrist until you're on top of him. He sits in the leather chair as he positions your hips to rest on top of his cock, your mouth is agape, but your skin burns, feeling your body form to his own.

“You want me to use you?” The darkness, it’s back, it’s here, and oh is it begging to be set free, You look down at him, your eyes looking with the raging oceans of his irises.

“Is this supposed to be an apology?” Lloyd doesn't answer, he presses at your bare back, urging you to take his cock, to use him.

The consequences of your actions don’t set in, because now the fire has burned past its confinements, spreading everywhere. Your breath heaves as you glance at the curtain, your fingers moving to the thin strip of fabric below your navel.

Lloyd’s breath pitching is unforgettable, looking to wear you’ve just exposed your cunt, hooking your panties to the side as you let him guide you to the tip of his cock. His calloused palms keep steady at your hips.

You breathe in and out, trying hard not to scream. The music will cover most of the noises, but if someone happens to walk by-

“Ride me, sunshine.” Lloyd pushes in, right to the hilt on the first thrust. You yelp, tears sliding down your cheeks at the pain. Sex didn’t come easily since you left Lloyd, and your dildo wasn’t even comparable to his cock.

“Fuck yourself on my cock.” He demands, and you find your body following. Lloyd holds you but allows you to pull him out yourself. You wince, taking him to the tip, before taking him all.

“That’s it-” He praises, your hand comes up to his mouth, cutting off his words. If he wanted you to use him, then you would. From what you can see, his face twists in pleasure, trying hard not to buck his hips up into you.

You remove your hand, allowing yourself to hear his panting breaths more clearly, allowing him to speak to you.

“This pussy is mine, no one takes care of it like I do.” Lloyd smiles as you continue to take his cock, sliding him in and out.

“Shut up.” You hush, your breaths tangling together. Lloyd stops talking, but not because you asked, because your lips are so close together. Somehow, riding his cock was intimate enough.

You freeze, halting your orgasm.

Don’t kiss him. Don’t kiss him. Your mind repeats, but you break away, trying hard not to focus on his lips, you speed up, and this time, Lloyd helps, bucking you with his movements, filling your cunt with his cock.

Lloyd can see your close by the way your chest heaves, and your hips wobble. “Gonna cum on my cock, sunshine?”

Unfortunately yes.

The music draws on, as you ride Lloyd, feeling every emotion that’s ever existed. A mix of rage, fire, and passion.

Love.

No, lust.

Yeah, lust. That’s all this was.

Your orgasm builds to meet Lloyd’s, as your breaths tangle and you look down at him, he smiles. “Be a good girl, and come for me, gumdrop.”

So you do.

And of course, Lloyd works you through it, rubbing your clit, forcing you open as you take his cock. You whine at the over-stimulation, begging him to stop, but the fire wants him to push it further.

“Gonna come in that pretty pussy, sunshine. I have to fill you up.”

Before you can protest, the warm relief of his cum flooding you, filling you up with delicious desire, makes you smile.

You're his.

Always have been.

Always will be.

[ravencincaide]

Who’s really in control?

Summary: You were a sweet temptation, a guilty sin that brought out the worst in him, satisfied him, tortured him. He wanted to take you with him but you were not ready to leave.

Pairing: Chuuya x Fem!reader 

Inspired by Kinktober prompt 4: prostitution.

Warning: 18 +, Minors DNI! Prostitution/ prostitution-by-choice, stripping & striptease, lap dance, brothel, blow jobs and deep-throating, mention of orgy, cursing, drinking, unhealthy infatuation- kinda, questionable life-choices- definitely!  

Author note: If only you knew the kind of shit I had to google to complete this fic. My sanity, or search history, will never recover from it. Seriously. 

Enjoy.

______________________________________________________________

It was no secret that Chuuya visited more than a handful of shady stripclubs which doubled as brothels in his life. While it may not be a weekly or daily obsession for him like it was for Dazai, he did spend a good portion of his pay on it. In his defense, visiting these kinds of places was practically expected of an executive. After all, meaningless one night stands were always more favorable than deep attachments. And Chuuya couldn’t deny that some days, coming to these kinds of places was all about satisfying his carnal desire; the need to fuck a warm hole. The face, voice and age, not mattering. Other days however it was a bit more intimate than that. 

Twirling the glass of cheap wine in his hand, Chuuyas blue eyes flickered to the dancing girls, one slowly stripping on the main stage. Twisting her body around the pole, to show off her barely covered cunt underneath the glittery skirt. Her shirt gone, with only an ugly bright green bra holding her silicon filled tits in place. Twirl after twirl, she swayed her hips to the rhythm of the music in a poor attempt at seduction. She kept going until she was happy with the number of twenties at her feet, before taking another piece of clothing off, the ugly bra, keeping the crowd of drunken men with no tastes entertained. They responded by throwing more cash at her feet which she crawled and rolled towards. On the smaller stages on either side of her were clothed pole dancers; twirling in a much slower fashion, licking the poles or shaking their asses as a teasing preview of the kind of things they could do behind closed doors. 

Not them. 

Chuuyas' gaze moved further towards the two almost-empty bars. Then flickered up towards the darked DJ booth looming above the stage where girls would hang out prior to their dances. Still no. He readjusted himself in the seat and glanced behind himself towards the private rooms. Often girls would loom outside them, hoping to catch the eye of a man rich enough to pay for one of those rooms. 

“ Looking for someone?” He heard your familiar voice from behind, before feeling a pair of arms wrap around him. He felt you rest your head on his shoulder, a gentle floral scent of your perfume filling his senses- a pleasant refreshment against the cheap wine, sweat and hormones. 

He didn’t reply. 

Instead Chuuya swirled the glass in his hand again as he considered whether he should drink the dark red dish-water this place called wine or not. He didn’t bother bringing up the fact that you were late. And you, as always, did not bother to apologize for wasting his money. You both knew you’d make it up to him sufficiently and in whatever way he wanted. 

He just needed to ask for it.  

You moved closer, pressing your breasts tightly against his back, leaning forward ever so slightly. “ What’s your poison tonight?” 

In reply Chuuya raised the glass and let you take a sniff before bringing it back to his lips and finishing it. Underneath the wineglass laid a simple black keycard with golden painted letters. 

Room 13. 

You reached out and took it, bringing it to your lips. Holding it there until Chuuya finally looked up at your face. Then you gave your best seductive look as you untangle yourself from him. “ Shall we then?”  Chuuya watched you move towards the private rooms, lingering long enough to drop a tip towards one of the waitresses- if one could call them that- before going after you.

Chuuya watched you wave the card at the bouncers who were quick to open the doors into a long dark hallway full of rooms on either side. Soundproof. One of the first doors was opened wide, giving full view of the fucking inside. Sounds of exaggerated moaning, dick thrusting in and out, balls hitting ass and slapping reached your ears. Then the voice of a man stating ‘my turn’, silence before followed by another cry from the girl. Then more vigorous thrusting. 

 Neither you nor Chuuya gave her or whatever was happening in that first room any of your attention as you made your way towards the last room of the corridor. Located on one side, golden numbers 13 glimmered under the lamplight. You stopped right outside the door and stretched the card towards him. Chuuya didn’t hesitate when he took it from your fingers, pushed it in, then typed the one-time code into the card reader. 

The door swung open with ease.

Chuuya was the first to go in, making his way towards the chair straight ahead. To his right was a large bed with silky black sheets, surrounded by mirrors from various angles, including the ceiling. On the opposite end was a leather couch and a bar right next to it filled with exclusive bottles reserved for high-end clients, such as himself. That was where you went, first eyeing the different songs you could pick from the playlist by the bar, then once you picked one you liked you reached over towards a bottle and began pouring a glass of wine that you deemed would suit his tastes and mood. Just as Chuuya dropped himself into the chair, you came over with it and stretched it towards him. Your fingers brushed his as he took it from you, taking a sip.

 His attention on you clearly said he wanted more than wine. And you were not one to disappoint. 

You circled the chair, your fingers trailing him from one shoulder, over his tense back, and then to the second. You did a twirl so you were in front of him, hands on his thighs, chest bent forward. You saw his eyes flicker down to your breasts then back up again, drawing in a breath as you dragged your hands slowly to his knees then back up to his hips, up his stomach, chest and landing on the back of his neck. You inched closer, your breasts closer to his face, your hips swaying side to side, your ass brushing against his thighs with each move.   

“You seem so tense tonight Chuuya, work got you all pent up?” You purred as you turned around, your hands leaving him for a moment. You placed them on his knees, lowering your ass down to his crotch. There you ground yourself against him a couple of times. Before you twisted back around, saddling his lap. You were face to face with him now, one hand in his hair. You moved against him to the music, each movement of your hips rubbing against his crotch and the growing bulge. A little heat, a little friction and just a hint of your pussy feelable through your thin clothes. 

You watched him swallow, the blue of his eyes growing darker. He flickered his attention between you so seductively moving in his lap and to the red of your lips. Just as he made a movement towards your lips you slid off his lap to your knees, your face inches from his clothed dick. Then you crawled backwards out of his reach. Chuuya growled, a sound of impatience and approval. He was ready to bend you over and fuck you almost as much as he wanted to continue watching your dance. Another moment away from you and he settled back into the chair, waiting for you to continue. 

Up on your knees you ran your hands up your body, pulling your shirt upwards along the way.  Soon it found its way to the floor as you shifted to your feet in a crouched position, then you seductively leaned upwards, bringing attention to your round ass which you gave a slight twerk until you were standing straight in front of him. You took a step out, showing off your long leg, partially hidden beneath your skirt, before you made another circle around his chair. 

“ I don’t wanna talk about work.” Chuuya replied stiffly, his eyes flowing your twirl until you were back in front of him again. He licked his lips, his eyes flickering from your half sheer bra to your hips, where the skirt met your skin. 

In response you swayed your hips more, running your hands up and down your body, pausing on the top of your skirt. Slowly you pulled it lower, revealing the edge of your panties before you dropped on your knees and slowly crawled towards him. Gripping his thighs you pulled yourself up, your face going up between his legs, up his chest and stopping inches from his lips. You could smell his breath on your face; wine and cigarettes. And he could smell yours, cherry flavored gum. Your hips were doing a figure-eight in his lap before you leaned back and sat down on his thigh. You hooked a finger into the waistband of the skirt and slowly began pulling it down, revealing more of your sheer underwear. You barely got them down an inch before his fingers found the material and he tugged it off your ass and down your legs in one rough motion. 

You flickered your eyes towards the place where he threw your skirt before turning back to him, licking your lips as you moved more roughly against him. His hands found their way to your breasts, groping and fondling them through the thin lace of your bra.  You threw your head back, a soft moan on your parted lips before tilting your head to the side. Your bottom lip between your teeth; you could feel him growing harder beneath you.

Then you moved back, sliding off his lap again until your knees made contact with the carpeted floor, fully intending to do another circle around him, maybe two before losing more clothing. However you only made it back to the soles of your feet, before Chuuya had other ideas; gripping a fist full of your hair, Chuuya yanked you down then forward, forcing you back to your knees. Your head now inches away from his bulge. “ Get on with it.” 

“ It will cost you extra hun” You stated, your flat tone the only indication that you didn’t approve of the rough treatment. 

“ This enough?” Chuuya dropped a wad of cash at your feet, giving you just enough time to glance its way before he pushed your head towards his crotch again, growing impatient. 

You licked your lips while your hands focused on getting rid of unnecessary clothing. Then you took anything-but-small Chuuya in your mouth, swirling your tongue over the tip of him. His lengths was in your hands which you stroke up and down in a twisted motion, like a corkscrew. You could feel him relaxing into the touch. After a few moments you released him and moved your lips lower and lower, until your tongue was trailing his balls, first one then the second. You didn’t hesitate to take one in your mouth, your lips caressing them. Then you let it out with a pop, giving the second one equal treatment. 

“ Just like that doll” Chuuya groaned, his hand tangled in your hair. You could feel him twitch. Letting go of his testies you rubbed him a handful of times with your hand before leaving it at the base. Then you ran your hot tongue up the entire length, stopping only until you were back at the tip. Your eyes flickered up to him, locking onto the pools of dark blue as you took his full dick in your mouth, as far as it would go.  

Chuua moaned loudly, his head thrown back. 

You twisted your tongue around him as you slowly pulled him out until just the tip was in. There you gave two flickers of your tongue over his slit before taking him all the way back in again. You pulled back just half way before taking him back in again, picking a rather slow yet steady speed finding a comfortable rhythm. You could feel his muscles twitching under you, as if Chuuya’s goans of pleasure weren’t enough of an indication that he was having a good time.  

“ You’re taking me so good doll, just like that” Chuuya moaned, his hips suddenly thrusting upwards into your mouth. Your eyes widened, tears gathering in your eyes as he gripped your hair tightly for a few thrusts, then bringing your head down to meet his thrusts “ Come on keep taking me like that yeah. Good, nice and deep, yeah?” 

You made a humming sound, your hands gripping his thighs as he fucked your face, growing more and more erratic with each thrust. Then you felt it; his hot seed hitting the back of your throat. 

If you hadn’t been humming you would have definitely been gagging. You were glad for knowing this old prostitutes trick. 

You did little as he continued to thrust into you salvaging the last moments of his orgasm. With each thrust cum and spit would spill past your lips, down your chin and drip onto the floor, mixing with your tears. A few more, then his hand clasped over your nose, eyes dark as he waited for you to swallow whatever was left of his cum in your mouth. You sent a glare his way before you did that. Feeling the seed sliding slowly down your throat. Satisfied, he let your nose go and pulled out of your mouth; the residue sliding down your neck to your breasts, joining the mess on the carpet.  You wiped your lips on your hand then locked eyes with Chuuya as you licked your fingers clean. Then you leaned forward and used your tongue to lick up the white ring of cum and spit at the base of him. 

Only once he was clean did you stand up. 

When you returned you had two glasses of wine in your hands, a fresh one for him and one for you. Once he took it, you moved to sit beside him on the armrest of the chair salvaging the cool wine against your sore throat. His arm was draped around your waist and your legs were draped over one thigh,you feet hanging  between his legs. Your tall heels just barely scraping the carpet. You looked relaxed yet ready; an order from him and you could either saddle his lap or drop back on your knees in front of him. Whichever picked his fancy tonight. 

“ I can take you out of here” Chuuya stated suddenly in a sober tone rather than tell you how he wanted to fuck you. When you glanced down at him you saw that he was fully focused on nursing the alcoholic drink in his hand instead of giving your body attention. “ I have the money for you to be comfortable and you’ll be in control of your life.” 

You stared at him for a few moments longer, unsure how to respond to his offer. Then you licked your lips before leaning towards him until his eyes abandoned the dark red wine and focused on your face instead. 

“ Tell me executive Chuuya Nakahara, who’s actually in control?” Your hand reached down his body, grasping his length, earning you a groan of pleasure. You found it cute how flushed he becomes despite you having just sucked his dick and he having just fucked your mouth. It was adorable how quickly he responded to your touch;” The man coming here every two weeks, spending money earned through blood, sweat and murder or the prostitute who spends an hour on her knees, never dirtying her hands, never dealing with gore or rudeness, having a ton of free time and yet matching the monthly pay of your highest subordinates?” 

Your eyes stared into his own. You wondered if he understood that not all prostitutes were damsels in distress. Understood that this between you was strictly professional- this was as much a job for you, as his next kill was for him. You wondered if he’d stop the pity- maybe he’d finally realize this palace was not good for him and stop seeing you all together. Or at the very least stop staring at you with those eyes. The eyes that made it too easy for you to have him coming back to this filthy club, coming back for you. But you said nothing to him, not really. The money he brought in was good, and he was always nothing if not gentlemanly. 

“ This one is on the house.” you winked before sliding down between his legs and taking his lengths deep into your mouth, ready to give him a round two. A round that was bound to have him keep him coming back for more. To keep him hooked on the unhealthy fantasy of seeking out these meetings with you, in hopes that one day you’ll get tired of playing a whore and finally decide to build a home. With him.  

[bobawitch]

The Different Stage (Jack Wilder x Reader)

warnings: fluff, mentions of stripping, suggestive situations.

A/N: i was rewatching the now you see me movies and I am absolutely obsessed with Jack Wilder so I thought I’d write a fic abt it. So in this reader is a stripper, she’s not a prostitute but she pole dances at a strip club and Jack goes in with Atlas and Merritt. Jack likes her and wants to actually get to know her. that’s basically it! Hope y’all enjoy!

Word count: 1307

Chapter 1:

It was just another night at the club. You had to work, in fact your hours had just about doubled since your rent went up. Though that’s just how it is in New York isn’t it. Thankfully you had done your last dance for the night and were packing up to go back to your crappy apartment. You pulled your hair up into a messy bun held together by a big clip. You walked back through the drinking area, the dancer scheduled after you had already taken the stage. You looked at her, smiling at her and waving, she smiled back. All the dancers were close, you all had to be to make sure no one got in trouble with a creepy customer. You turned to resume your journey home when you knocked into someone. A smooth male voice hit your ears and you found yourself face to face with these beautiful brown eyes. “Miss?” He spoke and you realized he had definitely said something else. The other two men that were with him eyed you before shrugging and walking to a table. “Oh uh, sorry. I wasn’t paying attention to where I was walking.” You said before moving to the side to push past him. He let you leave but watched you very closely as you did leave. Then he found his friends. Jack sat down with Atlas and Merritt, still looking back at the door you had left from. Atlas nudged Merritt with a devilish grin. “Look Jack’s got a crush!” Jack smacked Atlas’s arm, his eyes not leaving the doorway for a few more minutes. “Shut up.” Merritt and Atlas laughed before their night went on.

The next day you found yourself thinking of the man you ran into. You had never seen him around the bar before but he looked so familiar. You tried to push the beautiful stranger from your mind as you got ready for your night. You chose a fan favorite dance tonight, with the fan favorite outfit too. You didn’t enjoy your job but you were damn good at it. You walked out onto the stage after their announcement of your stage name and the music began. It was your most popular song for stage dance, So High by Doja Cat. You slowly strutted to the pole, throwing one leg around and letting yourself swing around. Your arms stabilized you on the pole and your head made a slow circle. It was the first time you actually looked at the audience and when you caught a pair of chocolate brown eyes you nearly stopped your routine. It was the man from the night before. He had come with the other two men again though one was being escorted off for a private lap dance. You let your eyes linger on him as his eyes burned your skin with intensity. You slowly dragged yourself back up the pole before moving to the side of the stage. Fingers twisting together you dropped to your knees at the beat, crawling forward before touching up your torso as the chorus began. Soon you lost yourself in the music, temporarily forgetting about the candy-eyed man. After your performance you had groundwork to do, that of course entailed a costume change and small makeup touch up. Once you changed your outfit and pulled your hair to one side you walked out. You were headed to one of the tables in your area when you were stopped. A man had walked in front of you, causing you to look up. Once more you found yourself in an intense staring match with the handsome stranger. “Uh.. hi.” He said, obviously a bit flustered, You smirked and touched his shoulder, walking next to him. “Hello loverboy.” You replied, beginning to walk away, your finger signaling for him to follow behind you. Upon hearing his footsteps behind you, your smirk grew. You got to the bar and picked up a tray for one of the tables. The stranger finally caught up and leaned on the bar. “So what’s your name… y’know your real name?” He asked. You laughed, “I don’t give my name to customers, sorry sweetcheeks.” “Then who do you give your name to?” “Hm, let me think on that.” You winked at him before moving to the table you were to serve. You set down the drinks, chatting up the gentlemen at the table for a few moments. A few tips were made through that before you walked back to the bar, handsome stranger was waiting for you. “I’m Jack, by the way.” He said. “Alright Jack, you going to buy something or just keep talking to me?” You glanced at him, smirking again. “Hm, how much would a date cost?” His lips cracked into a smirk to rival yours. A sultry giggle escaped your lips before you shook your head. “Dunno, how much you willing to pay? And what do you want me to do for that date?” Out of the corner of your eye you saw him shake his head. You leaned against the bar now, looking at him and holding tense eye contact. His cheeks had gone a bit pink as you spoke but he composed himself as he replied. “No no, not that kind of date.” “Hm, how about I think about that? Maybe I’ll let you know at the end of my shift.” You shrugged, grabbing another drink tray before moving to deliver them. As you began to walk to the table one of Jack’s friends came over, obviously drunk as hell. “Heyy Jack! You found her! Great job!! Hey, how about I pay for a private lap dance huh?” He spoke, smirking at Jack and still blocking your path. Jack began to protest the idea of a lap dance, giving you an apologetic smile. You giggled a bit, his smile was kinda cute. But his friend had already pulled out the money and stuck it in your top string. You sighed, handing your drink tray to one of the other girls to deliver. Jack looked down at you when your hand pressed to his chest. “Well, come on loverboy, a lap dance was ordered.” You wrapped your fingers around his tie and pulled him off. “You don’t have to give me a lap dance, I’m so sorry about my friend.” He spoke in pure panic until you got to the booths for private lap dances. You turned and wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him close. Hesitant hands found your hips and you smiled. You leaned in, your lips almost brushing against his before turning him around and pushing him into the chair. You climbed onto his lap, your thighs trapping him beneath you. You leaned down to his ear and whispered, “If you want me to stop, just say that.” As your words left your lips you began the dance. Your hips grinded gently in a circle, your hands dragging up his chest. Jack opened then closed his mouth, his hands not knowing where to touch. You leaned forward, pulling yourself up. Your chest was at his eye level yet his eyes stuck onto yours. You brought your hands around his head, playing with his hair. You dragged his head back, leaning into his neck to whisper. “I’m Y/N. And a date sounds nice, if you still want that.” Jack’s hands finally found your waist and he sat you down on his lap, looking at you with a different kind of intensity. “When do you get off?” “11.” “Let me get you food after work.” “You have a deal Jack.” You stood back up and pushed your hand onto his shoulder. Slowly you climbed off his lap and opened the curtain. “See you at 11 Jack.” You winked and walked off before he could get another sentence in.

[just-antithings]

Antis needs to get out of the persona Fanbase and stop playing the game because it's clear they either aren't actually a part of the fandom and never touched anything about the Games or they are truly showing their hypocrisy. I'll even list it

Persona 3 Reload

The start of kenji's social link is about how he wants to romance a teacher in his school.

Some students (+ chairman) spies on the protagonist while he sleeps.

Persona 3 portable

if you picked the female character you can date Ken Amada, He's a romancable character even though he's supposedly around roughly 11 (at the oldest) according to online posts.

In Persona 4 golden

In Antis eyes kanji & Rise should be considered sexualised in the game!

And before any antis claim Rise had some meaning besides sexualising she's in a strip club, didn't need to be in a strip club and could have been in like a TV or stage set or something to showcase corruption of Fame while under 18 instead of like her being a pole dancer in a strip club lol. It was cool tho

Oh also you can date the Loli character if you join a club, I think the music club specifically.

Persona 5

Just look at the romance-able character.

1. Futaba Sakura, The 'sister' vibe character who depends on you at the start a lot.

2. chihaya Mifune who's an adult

3. Sadayo Kawakami is Teacher and maid, (double power dynamics)

4. Tae Takemi, the shady doctor

5. Ichiko Ohya, Journalist who takes you to a bar and gets drunk a lot.

Sorry for the rant, I'm just sick of antis having issues with Persona fanworks while this is the game they claim to be fans of!

[stargirlfics]

The Gentleman Chapter 5: Éclosion

Alfred Pennyworth x Black Dancer!Reader

Summary: Harsh realities and a dangerous new enemy push you and Alfred to be upfront about your feelings

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, canon typical violence, chemical attack mentions, light angst, soft concerned bf!alfred vibes, romantic gestures galore, brief allusion to smut, fluff & feelings!

Word Count: 4.9k

Note: So happy to be bringing you all more of this story I know it’s been a minute! Hope you enjoy this one, it’s special in a lot of ways! The soundtrack for this chapter and the title come from Èclosion by Tony Anderson which I listened to while writing. It makes me think of what falling in love feels like!

[series masterlist] [series playlist]

Tension lay heavy over the city in the days after the fear toxin attack, people were wary and on edge, the weather even starting to turn cold and dreary while unease hung thick in the air.

Paulie’s Diner was now the site of a police investigation, the entire street blocked off, the news coverage of the attack on a twenty four hour cycle, just barely contained panic swirling over this fear toxin and what it could do. 

You couldn’t lie that it was terrifying, hearing what those who’d been injured said about the toxic gas, what it did to them; hallucinations of a nightmarish hellscape drawing out everyone’s anger and fear, driving them mad. 

It sounded awful and then there was Scarecrow’s chilling warning, the mystery of who he was and what his motives were bringing back eerie memories of the year before and how out of control things had gotten. 

Worry twisted taut in your stomach, exhaustion in your limbs as you finished out your last show of the night, the fourth one in two days in fact, your body and mind run ragged. 

Oz was a smart man but he was predictable.

The new late night hour dance slots added to the schedule weren’t a coincidence, you were sure he was using the distraction to make more money, every dancer working doubles late into the morning hours now, Madame Olena working quick to teach new choreography, a refresher on some pole tricks and sexier strip teases and dances added to the repertoire of shows. 

There were bruises already blossoming on your shins from where you had to push against said pole as you climbed it, inching your way up so the audience could see you float and twirl around it, and as fun as it was, as much as you enjoyed getting to dance with your friends on stage beside you each night, you were tired and sore and just wanted to sleep for a year. 

Certain rituals were getting you through the grueling hours though.

Sleepy phone calls with Alfred before you drifted off when you got home, his sweet encouragement texts and reminders for you throughout the day and how he’d stopped by every other day this week so far to see you even if just to say hello before heading back to the office. 

You’d both been busy since the night of the attack, not finding much time inbetween work to spend the kind of time together that you wanted, a reluctance in both your voices when trying to soften the sting of it likely being the entire week and maybe even the next before you’d get to see each other properly.

That didn’t seem to sway Alfred much though, even when you insisted he didn’t have to go out of his way to come by if he was pressed for time, he showed up anyway, as often as he could. 

You were grateful for it, relieved that he didn’t find your disappointment about your schedules selfish with everything going on, just as content to get any second spent with you that he could. 

Reminders of him were everywhere now too.

The throw blanket on your sofa that smelled faintly like him, the new bouquet of fresh flowers he’d come by one afternoon with, the space near the front door made for his shoes and coat next to yours, like tiny little puzzle pieces were beginning to fill in, ones you didn’t even know you seemed to have all the perfect pieces for.

It made you laugh to yourself now, laid out on the floor in your living room, trying to ease the ache in your muscles, stretching each limb gently while pondering on how tangled up your heart was.

All these feelings were so intense, one part of you cautioning yourself to slow down, not get too invested when you’re not sure he even feels the same, or wants a relationship while another part felt sure about trusting the groundwork that had been laid so far.

So much was going on and you were sure a proper conversation would happen soon, when there was time—if it was Alfred that much you were sure of, knowing he’d never leave you wondering for too long but you did worry. 

Maybe it just wasn’t a good time, with Scarecrow loose and wreaking havoc and the recent reminder that you were under Penguin’s thumb indefinitely; it didn’t bode well for fostering a relationship and in Gotham that was tricky enough on its own. 

But you also couldn’t deny what you were feeling and experiencing. 

Another half suppressed smile coming then, a dreamy breath sighed out at the memory of the previous evening, when Alfred had come by to drop off some takeout only to see you icing your shins, his immediate concern when you greeted him making you laugh, something he didn’t find as amusing in the moment. 

His slightly stern but still soft, “Darling, what happened? Who did this?” made you squirm against the cushions while also making haste to explain before he got too upset. 

The worry on his features faded just a touch after, as he fussed over you, though you didn’t miss his slight eyebrow raise of surprise and intrigue when you said “pole dance”, reminding yourself to circle back around to that subject at a later date…you wanted to see how far that interest went. 

It’s just that he didn’t ever make you feel like these visits were a chore, that’s what you kept coming back to, remembering how his coat and cane were discarded to the side immediately so he could kneel down and take over icing your muscles, soothing hands kneading the stiffness from your calves, insisting that you start eating while he take care of you. 

How could you ever get over that? The gentleness with which he touched you? 

Wanting him felt like oxygen, just as normal as breathing and inevitable as falling asleep, his kisses tasting of hope and something sweet. Things felt different now that Alfred was in your life, the good kind of different, the exciting kind and it almost felt silly to be unsure if you could lean into this but the more you thought about it, the more clarity you came away with. 

There was a reason he spoke to you with such respect, his thoughtfulness about your feelings present in everything, and god the way he looked at you with so much fondness, how his expression could go from sweet to simmering in seconds, leaving you aching, feeling special and adored at every turn, it had to mean something. 

Lost in the web of your thoughts the chime of your phone’s alarm nearly startled you, the time letting you know you had to get ready for rehearsal, your focus now pulled in a different direction and you reasoned with yourself it was best not to overthink this if you could help it. 

The pattering of rain hitting the windows made you wish you could stay in instead, a daydream already forming about curling up with Alfred on the couch, snuggled under the blanket, napping together for the whole evening. 

Rushing out the door before traffic hit you couldn’t help but gaze out in the direction of Wayne Tower, wondering what he was up to, hoping his day was going okay and already counting down the hours until you could hear his voice again. 

Just across the city, staring out at the winking lights of traffic on the streets below, Alfred paced the floor of his study, his thoughts and emotions a tangled mess. 

He couldn’t remember the last time he felt this way, or felt this much about someone, realizing that he’d gotten swept up in it all, reality washing over him like ice now. 

The past week had been stressful to say the least, things were already busy with certain projects and due diligence with investors and financial advisors at Wayne Enterprises, now this fear toxin attack had taken center priority as well, he and Bruce already starting to work around the clock to get a handle on things. 

That meant there was less time available to be with you and even though it had only been a handful of days so far, and despite his frequent visits he still felt distant.

He missed you terribly when you weren’t around and it didn’t take much to see that his feelings for you were really entering serious territory. 

He should be happy about that, he knows he should be, but all there is for him in the moment is fear, because this could only ever end one way and he knows it.  

It was foolish to think he could have something proper with you, something not tainted by secrets that weren’t his to tell, tainted by a dangerous obligation he’d taken on to be at Bruce’s side in his mission as Batman.

That was an obligation he would never ever regret, all of it done out of love it’s just that most of his life had been spent with some proximity to danger and there had been many close calls.

Far too many tragedies had already happened he couldn’t let that become the case for you too. He wouldn’t allow it. 

You were too important to him already and he couldn’t drag you down into all this, especially not now with this Scarecrow figure coming out of the woodwork. 

It did hurt though, just the mere thought of ending things, his heart lurching painfully, not wanting to entertain the thought of letting you go for a single second.

A door he once thought was closed for good had opened the day you met and he let himself get close, captivated in every way, each time hoping it wouldn’t be the last time he would see you.

He was awestruck by how quickly you disarmed him, seeing him so clearly and the fact that you wanted him as well, that you wanted his attention?

He was helpless to do anything except be swept up, but now he had to understand he’d never be able to have that. 

It’d be alright, it would rip him open but this wasn’t the first time he’d chosen duty over feelings, he’d have to find comfort in knowing he had experienced this with you no matter how brief it was, already knowing he wouldn’t quite ever forgive himself for hurting you this way. 

“What’s wrong?” 

The question catches him by surprise as Bruce makes his entrance out of Alfred’s peripheral, still drying the rain from his hair. 

Perfect. Just in time for dinner. 

“Nothing, just working on some numbers in my head. How did it go?” 

His own question had been a deflection, one he’s not proud of but he just needed a second to get his bearings, to screw his head back on straight after thinking of you. 

“Went alright. They don’t have much to go on, Gordon says they’re trying to get a read on the chemical mixture in the gas but that could take awhile. I’m going back to the diner tonight, I have to try and find some clues, whatever I can get.” 

A rough hand passes over the scruff of his jaw as he considers the information, nodding after a moment. 

“I’ll be on standby if you find anything. I’ve been doing some digging myself, nothing concrete so far but there may be more security footage we haven’t seen that could identify him.” 

There's a moment after where it’s quiet, the two men moving around each other in comfortable silence before Bruce caves first, a light chuckle let loose, almost mixing with the downpour of the rain. 

If Alfred were any older he was sure he wouldn’t have heard it but he did, flicking one of his pointed looks at the young man. 

“Seriously, Alfred, what's wrong? Something’s on your mind.” 

He resisted the urge to brush it off or get defensive, softened at this offer to discuss, treasuring these moments of depth with Bruce whenever they came.

All he had to do was say your name and Bruce was nodding, his heart tugging at the sound of it, sighing and pinching the bridge of his nose before explaining further.

“I think I may have to end things. I-I’m worried about keeping her safe through this and ultimately she’s just better off. I’d have to lie to keep her from finding out, from getting involved and I don’t want to have to do that, it’s what’s best.” 

More silence, his heart sinking now that the words had been said out loud, the crushing reality setting in just a little more. 

“But you don’t want to let her go right? You do have feelings for her?” 

Alfred can sense the careful line of questioning, deciding to be truthful as vulnerable as it made him feel, nodding a yes. 

“I do, I have feelings for her.” 

“Good, I don’t think you should end things then.” 

Oh that wasn’t what he was expecting to hear.

“Bruce…it’s not as simple as that, she doesn’t know, she can’t know, that could put her at risk, you at risk, we don’t know when there could be another attack, I can’t let-“ but the words are falling short with a placating hand.

“Look I see the way she makes you feel and I don’t think you should let that go. I can’t let you do that actually, you shouldn’t have to sacrifice that, Alfred,” there’s a moment in between, a look that says he wants to say something else but finding the words is hard, “I never actually told you this but before Selina left town, I met up with her, saw her one last time. She wanted me to come with her and I-”

Alfred’s eyes widen for a moment, a sympathetic nod given as the sentence trailed off because he understood now what he always suspected but never pried about.

He figured Bruce had feelings of some kind for Miss Kyle but of course, his boy had chosen duty over feelings, just as he was contemplating doing himself. 

It was a clever way of calling him out on it he had to give him that. 

“I know you’re worried she’ll get hurt and I know you’re scared she won’t want anything to do with us when she finds out but I see how much you trust her, so I trust her and I think she’s safest close to us. You don’t have to lie to her, tell her just enough for now and we can keep her protected from it for as long as possible, you can tell her on your own terms.” 

His heart quickened, mulling it over, pacing again without realizing, struck by the sincerity in Bruce’s words.

The weight in telling him he didn’t need to make this sacrifice, carefully guiding a stubborn old man out of his head and setting him straight again, because the answer could be that simple for once even if everything else wasn’t. 

He’d be an even greater fool not to try just because it might be hard, knowing already that he’d regret not giving you every bit that he had to give out of fear and his own self doubt, so with a cautious nod he was agreeing, ribs loosening with a breath he felt like he’d been holding in for ages.

Nightfall was approaching now and Bruce had since snuck off after a little more discussion and a flat toned promise to eat dinner before going anywhere else, leaving Alfred sat at his desk with a newfound clarity to things. 

This made sense to him now, the swirl of thoughts racing through his brain. 

He knew how he felt about you and could admit he wanted to be with you, hands buzzing as he racked his mind for how to tell you, because it had been weeks now and he didn’t want to waste anymore time, he needed you to know he was serious and wanted a relationship and by god he hoped you felt the same. 

An idea came to mind on the tail end of his thoughts, Bruce’s earlier words echoing as he pulled out a few pages of his favorite writing paper, adjusting his glasses quickly before he picked up a pen and began writing.

The first snowfall in Gotham was just beginning to blanket the streets, snowflakes melting against the frosty windows while you got bundled up to go out on a date!

A small window of time opened up over the weekend and Alfred had taken the reins on it, telling you he wanted to take you out again, properly and his pick this time, promising to plan something he thinks you’d really enjoy.

You swear your heart skips when you see his sleek car pull up outside your apartment, feet already carrying you down the steps to meet him outside. 

“Hello, love. You look beautiful!” that smooth, accented voice causing your cheeks to burn despite the chill of the snow falling around you. 

Running into his arms he embraced you tight, pressing a chaste kiss to your temple before getting you tucked into the car.

“Thank you, same to you, handsome. I missed you.” your wistful sigh came softly as you put your seatbelt on, already trying to figure out where he was taking you. 

“I missed you too, more than you know. Ready?” His warm hands caressed your knee for a moment, squeezing as you gave him an answering nod. 

The car rumbled to life and you were off, the heat turned up comfortably while you slipped into an easy conversation that continued until he was pulling into a parking spot, one of the quieter downtown streets lit up and glittering through the window. 

“Are you treating me to pastries and hot chocolate right now? Is that the date because if so please say yes!” your excited shiver earned you a laugh when you step out, his cane in one hand and your own clasped around his arm, squeezing his bicep as you walked towards the sweet smelling cafe up ahead. 

“As many pastries as you’d like, darling…I also may have ordered us a special dessert ahead of time too.” his sheepish grin warming your heart. 

He was so impossibly sweet there were times where you wondered what you ever did to deserve him.

“Ooh that sounds fancy, are we celebrating something?” the innocent question hung opened ended as he got the door for you. 

“You could say that, yeah.” 

-

Later, foamy whipped cream lined the edge of your lips from sipping on the hot chocolate you’d taken to-go, Alfred kissing away the sugar quickly after even when you giggled out a protest against his lips.

Rounding the street together, it felt so nice to be this close and receiving his affection, holding hands as you walked.

You found it so cute how he checked to make sure no one was watching before he ducked down for another quick kiss.

Just as cute as when he sat next to you at the cafe, a reassuring hand resting over your thigh, absentmindedly playing with your fingers and the hem of your outfit while you indulged your sweet tooth.

That special dessert he ordered turning out to be one he used to love when he was younger, his wish in sharing it here to make a new memory of it with you.

Oh, he couldn’t be real.

That effortless charm was getting him everywhere and the delight didn’t seem to stop because now you were in front of a quaint, cozy looking bookstore, his arm already at the small of your back guiding you inside. 

The smell of ink and paper filled your nose, a homey feeling in your chest browsing over the shelves; your first bookstore date together.

You couldn’t have been more excited, glancing at Alfred every few seconds, all smiles and bright eyes pointing out familiar titles and old favorites, reading the descriptions of interesting looking novels together, a real and definite shift in the air. 

Something in the eye contact was different…heavier, a weight to it that made you feel short of breath.

Almost achingly so, your body was acutely aware of his closeness to you, the soft wrap of his hand over your waist, how his shoulder bumped into yours when you wandered over to the romance novel section, it made you feel like your chest was caving in, and you weren’t even afraid.

No, you were happy to let yourself collapse into the feeling.

The bookstore made you feel a little like you were in a romance novel yourself, faded patterned rugs draping the wood floors, soft fairy lights hanging above you and the rows of books and haphazard stacks laid out in armchairs all felt whimsical, romantic; perfect for two bookworms turned lovers.

“This is part two of my date plans, you know. Whatever books catch your eye, I’ll buy for you, my treat.

As if he didn’t aready have the key to your heart. 

“Even if the book is an erotic novel?” you beamed back at him, smiling at the one he’d picked up off the shelf you were peering at, recognizing the cover anywhere.

“Oh especially if it’s that.” 

“How crass, Mr. Pennyworth, I would have thought you to be more of a Shakespeare guy!” you joke and pluck the book from his hands, thumbing through a few pages.

“I most certainly am but I do have skills in other areas too, darling. It’s important to be a well rounded reader.” 

He says it with an edge to his voice that leaves you speechless, your brain lagging just a second behind as he leads you further into the store, a beeline made to the poetry section. 

-

A short while later and both of your arms were balancing a stack of books each, you trailing behind Alfred as he lead him you to a secluded spot in one of the reading corners in the store’s second level so now you were sitting side by side, musing over your book picks for each other. 

True to his words, he’d bought you all the books of your choosing along with some he’d gotten just for himself too; a photobook of the English countryside, another about hand to hand fighting and then a few books about chemical compounds finding their way into the mix too.

You didn’t know he had an interest in chemistry but didn’t question it, forgetting about it a moment later when he pulled out a book he found of different black burlesque dancers through history, a little gasp filling the quiet space when he told he got it as a gift for you.

As if you needed anymore reasons to fall for him further, all this was taking the cake.

- 

Hours had gone by, the two of you huddled together sharing stolen kisses in between the last sips of hot chocolate and the turning of pages, truly feeling like you were in a world apart with him, like whatever was happening out there in the world couldn’t touch you, at least not here. 

Heat tingled on your lips when you kissed him again, a little more soundly this time, showing him just how much you missed him. 

It had been too long.

Remembering that the last time you’d been intimate like this was the morning of the attack, part of you wishing you could be in his bed right now, spread out underneath him, taking him until you were making a mess of his sheets but the other part of you didn’t want to leave this moment in time with him, a whole different level of intensity to this all on it’s own.

You’d never felt so connected, so close in your life, so much unspoken sentiment in the way his larger hands were grasping your much smaller ones, holding them warmly before his forehead was pressing against yours.

“I have one more thing to give to you, sweetheart.” 

Your eyes fluttered open then, the gentleness in his whisper wrecking you, sitting patiently as he moved back a bit. Watching with bated breath, he fished an envelope out of the inside pocket of his coat and placed it in your hands, leaving the rest up to you. 

The way your heart was clammoring in your chest and your own anticipation kept you from noticing the nervous jitter of his hands, seconds feelings like minutes while you unfolded the paper, realizing he’d written on it, recognizing his handwriting right away.

With trembling hands you brushed your fingers over where he had written your name, words beginning to sink in as you read the letter addressed to you. 

My love, 

I fear there will never be enough words to describe how dear you are to me but I will try my best to write them all here. I’ve never felt so sure about someone before, about the way you make me feel and how vast those feelings are. The morning we met I had a feeling that there must have been a reason we crossed paths and now I know there was. You must know I couldn’t sleep that night, because all I could think about was if you were okay and if you had made it home safely. I just couldn’t get you out of my head and then there you were again at The Magpie wanting to talk to me and I knew then I was the luckiest man in the world.

Glancing up from the page you locked eyes with Alfred for just a moment, a perfect mirror of your feelings reflected in them. 

Never in a million years did I think I’d ever feel this way again but I do and I need you to know that being a man worthy of your affections is all that I want to be. You were meant to shine as brightly as you do, my darling, I never want you to feel as if you have to hide your talent or temper the big, wondrous ideas you have. They’re all I ever want to hear. You do in fact have my heart, love, as much of it as you want to take, it is yours. 

Tears welled along your lashes as you kept reading, everything in you softened by each line, your heart opening, hatching, blooming at his words, hearing how much he felt for you too. 

…things are less than ideal right now I know, and there are things you don’t know about me yet either, things in my past and certain things in the present that I want to tell you about but have to be careful of first, your safety is always a priority for me but I do plan to tell you in time. Darling, I know how I feel about you and I think and hope you feel the same about me. I cherish every second I get to spend with you, there’s so much I want to show you, so much I want to tell you and do with you by my side if you’ll have me. 

There was one more page left, filled with more words that made your stomach flip with butterflies, those tears threatening to fall because what he was saying was everything you had hoped for and then some.

And you think you understood what he meant about needing to be careful with certain secrets before he could speak about them, thinking on your own situation with Penguin—you still hadn't told Alfred those men where his that had been sent to follow you.

It was wonder how your heart was still inside your chest at this rate, a tear breaking free to fall down your cheek as you finished reading, lingering where he signed his name.

Yours always,

x Alfred. 

The letter lay in your lap as strong hands- no longer trembling- reached for you again, brushing the stray tear from your cheek. 

Your face was cupped so tenderly in his hands you almost started to cry for real, never knowing it could be like this, that you could be told and shown in so many ways that you were wanted and adored.

“I know we haven't really discussed this yet and so much has gotten in the way but I want to say it here and now, I would really love it if you wanted to be mine. Admittedly it has been some time since I’ve dated anyone and I am rusty, you’ll have to forgive me if this could have been better but I do want to be with you, I have all this time.” 

“Oh, Alfred. Yes, of course I want to be yours! I’d love nothing more. And shut up, this was a perfect way to tell me, you’re not rusty at all, old man.” 

You sniffled with a laugh, leaning in to press your forehead against his again, both of you sinking into the moment together, feeling tethered to one another now, connected in a way you hadn’t been before. 

Things had just gotten very real and for as much as you’d pondered and daydreamed of this moment, you didn’t feel an ounce of fear at the gravity of feelings before you.

Trusting in Alfred’s words, ones he’d actually taken the time to spell out to you on paper so you could keep the reminder of his devotion forever, the gesture easing any worry there might have been. 

Snow was still falling outside as you sat together for just a little while longer, Alfred pretending not to notice you sneaking giddy glances at him while you gazed over the letter one more time before stowing it safely away in your bag. 

Your hand finds his, fingers lacing together while you rest your head against his shoulder, closing your eyes contently for a moment when you feel his cheek press against you.

The odds still seemed grim, the whole city on edge with so much uncertainty left on the horizon, cause enough for isolation and the walls around people’s hearts to come up but not here, not with you and Alfred.

You felt stronger for it, having faith that whatever was coming your way in the time ahead, you’d have him by your side and that gave you all the hope in the world.

---

A/N: Soo they finally got their moment! I actually began this chapter with the ending of it in mind already, I was listening to the chapter title song in the playlist and was like oh this is where it would play, this is the moment where he admits his feelings and asks her to be his girl

There were times where writing this chapter was such a challenge but also really exciting and wholesome too! Hope it gives you all the feels it gave me and I'm giving kisses to those who pick up on all the little details in this too, thank you so much for your patience while I write this series and for all the love!

(dividers used are by the wonderful @saradika 💫 )

Let me know what you think!! Thank you for reading as always!

some tags, no pressure! @eupheme @squidlywiddly87 @the-eyes-of-andyserkis @tarabyte3 @tarrenterror25 @ozarkthedog @peachyteabuck @unrefinedmusings @aislupu @mariahthelioness29 @flamingdisputes @ayoarticulate @fluffyprettykitty @kneelforloki @allaboardthereadingrailroad @xoxovivarecs

[myrfing]

hi!!! sorry this might be a bit of an odd ask, but i saw that you get some comms from the crepe site (the eating gif one is sooooo cute) and i wanted to ask what the process was like to use that site to order commissions? is knowledge of korean needed? is it like skeb where you can enter comm details in english and it auto translates it for the artist? thank you for your time!

HI not odd at all! I hope more people use crepe, there's many talented artists on there. There is no auto-translate like on skeb. I run everything through the DeepL translator or good old google translate. I also use the Simple Translate extension for Firefox to make this a lot easier. I have 0 knowledge of Korean so I like to double check back and forth & try to use simple, straightforward phrases. Thankfully the website is also designed pretty intuitively, it's just a lot double checking on my end :J...

I pay via stocking up on Points via Paypal and use that to pay artists. In short: you select a commission type from the artist's page, fill out and send in their request form (it seems to be customizable on their end so they differ between artists), and if they accept your commission, they will invoice you via the site's chat system. They will also likely ask any questions they have about your request in here. Once the site confirms your payment, then it's relayed to them to begin working on your commission. Some artists offer check sketch, etc., stages that are facilitated by the site in the same chat, some don't. When they finish, the site will notify you via email & that chat thread, you receive the file, review it, and confirm the completion. At that point, no changes can be made, and the transaction is complete.

Here's a shitty mspaint guide:

To sign up via email:

Follow this link. Enter your email and hit the link to send an authentication email.

2. In the email from crepe, hit the verify button.

3. Fill out your new credentials, then hit the create account button. You can review the terms & services via the subtitle link.

4. This next page asks you what your account is for. The left box = I'm here to commission artists. The right box = I'm here to take commissions as an artist. Make sure the left box is selected and hit next. (Text below informs you you can swap to an artist account later, and artists can commission from other artists)

5. It then scrolls you to the option to verify your identity. This lets you communicate via kakaotalk, adds a layer of security, and verifies your age for 18+ commissions, but unless you have some form of S. Korean ID, hit "I want to do it later". Then hit the "I don't want to verify now" option again on the confirmation popup. I'll add on to this post on how to verify via passport as an overseas user, but it's not necessary unless you want to get hole & pole commissions.

6. Account creation complete :~)! the button just takes you to the front page which displays random commissions you can browse.

To commission an artist:

I'll use the artist who did the snacking animation for me as an example! Say you find an artist you really like, and you go on their page. Here's an overview.

Let's say I click on the top one. It will take me to this page. Scroll down and review all the information and terms about this particular commission type. Artists will tell you what you get, what they will and won't draw, pricing caveats, what you're allowed to do with the commission, and whatever other pertinent info here.

2. Once you've reviewed everything, scroll back up and hit apply. The price is a range; artists will tend to charge more for high detail/addons!

3. You will be taken to their application form. Again, this is different for each artist, and you're gonna need to carefully fill it out case-by-case. Once you've filled out everything required, scroll all the way down and the submit button should no longer be greyed out. It's purple like all the buttons so far. Hit that, and it will show you your completed application and send it to the artist.

4. At this point, you wait for them to either accept or deny your commission. Here's an overview of your header bar menu, click on your icon to access it. You can check commission progress history, the application you submitted, and your messages here. Your messages are where you're going to be alerted if the artist accepts or not, it will have a notif mark. You can also stock up on points, but you can also do that when they invoice you.

5. Once the artist accepts, you'll get a message. It's in the messages where you'll deal with all communication and the procession of your commission. If you're not completing your steps (i.e. paying, checking the sketches) by hitting the purple buttons, the commission can't continue. These buttons will sometimes take you to different pages, i.e. charging points for the invoice, to the comm timeline page to receive your files and confirm steps...U Must play it by ear here and translate on your own because I'd need an ongoing commission to show you & I'm on ice soup week right now

But that's pretty much it! Some things:

I usually begin my applications with a blurb specifying I'm using a translator as an overseas customer in case they are not comfortable working with the language barrier or I start saying some crazy ass mistranslated shit to them. Ex: 안녕하세요! 저는 기계 번역을 사용하는 해외 고객입니다. 번역이 제대로 되지 않은 텍스트에 대해 사과드립니다. 해외 고객은 받지 않는지 알려주세요.

I tried asking if an artist takes tips once, but there's no built-in system for it and Paypal seems to be the only avenue for it, which I think the site disallows you from sharing (?) to keep transactions moderated by the site. They said "don't worry about it", but I dunno if this is universal

Try to not leave descriptions in your ref images, it's hard to read in your application. Enter it as text in the boxes.

I leave a review once per artist within a month, I am nooot sure about the etiquette about leaving multiple reviews. I don't think it would hurt but uhhh I haven't checked

"Omakase" = artist's choice for most of the image composition. You can still give refs of course and make a simple request, but this means you can't nitpick/have total control over what the artist draws.

"Water level" = NSFW 18+ stuff. I habe no idea what a better translation for the term is yahoo mario water level

👍 enjoy your beautofial art